Colonel Grasam saluted the figure on the communications screen with a tense expression.
The person on the other end was General Michel, Supreme Commander of the Southern Regional Security Force.
It was only natural for Colonel Grasam to be nervous.
After all, General Michel served not only as Supreme Commander of the Southern Regional Security Force, but also as Governor-General of the Southern City.
◆◆◆ Before the Great War, this world had seven "Cities."
They were fully circular, tiered cities built by concentrating the most cutting-edge technology of the era. Their population capacity was an impressive fifty million.
The entire world had cooperated to realize this dream — an automatically controlled support environment.
In this perfect city, people did not need to work.
To be precise, under the complete control of artificial intelligence, a leisurely and comfortable lifestyle was guaranteed for all.
A small handful of people involved in the city's operations would set policy, and every last mundane task was handled by machines.
Minimum food, clothing, and shelter, plus access to public entertainment.
All of this had been promised to every one of the fifty million citizens.
But however — The total population at the time was ten billion.
With the population increase, the world was reaching its limit.
Those who were promised perfect rest, and those who were not granted its blessings.
Among ten billion people, only a handful of the chosen could live in paradise.
It might be said that the resentment born from this disparity was inevitable.
The Unified World Government had been proceeding with city construction plans in stages.
But the frustration of those who could not wait for that grew.
Hanging their own laziness on the shelf — no, precisely because they were lazy, they envied and loathed those living in the "Cities" all the more deeply.
War is something born from the impatience of the thoughtless and trivial triggers.
Climate change caused water shortages to become critical faster than computers had predicted.
When the prediction that a great famine would strike before the remaining cities could be completed took on a grim sense of reality, it happened.
A riot.
Those who could not enter the cities launched attacks against them.
The riots spread across the globe, and the spark of conflict grew into a blaze.
And so, war broke out.
— And now.
Of the seven "Cities," only five remain in existence.
This is the territory of the Mechanized Empire Armsbein.
Armsbein, who had been the supreme leader of the city's operations, was installed as Emperor, and the surviving city dwellers became soldiers defending the empire's territory as its subjects.
Everyone accepted this as the best means of surviving this harsh environment.
The riot that had sparked the war took place in a city — one that had been deprioritized in the construction schedule. Its local government's jealousy-fueled rampage made it the first victim of nuclear attack.
The rioting populace had infiltrated the city from within, preventing the defense systems from activating.
The other cities panicked. They cut off contact with the outside environment and declared independence.
Even amid nuclear war, they survived thanks to their outstanding defense systems.
After the war ended, one city attempted reconciliation with the surviving populace.
That "City," from humanitarian considerations, accepted the people who had survived the nuclear war — only to be pillaged and destroyed by the very ones it had tried to save.
At this point, those belonging to the Mechanized Empire Armsbein stopped believing in anyone other than themselves.
The decisive break came less than a year after the nuclear war.
Those who could not live in the cities began hiding in vast underground shelters.
The shelters spread throughout underground spaces across the globe, but few were places where humans could maintain livable conditions.
Furthermore, animals that had fled underground had mutated into Otherworldly Beasts, creating spaces hostile to humanity.
These various Otherworldly Beasts, possessing all manner of supernatural abilities, were threats that unequipped humans could never hope to overcome.
The humans inhabiting this world are now hurtling toward rapid extinction.
Of the ten billion who once existed, only a few hundred million remain.
Even so, humanity's habitable zone remains limited — too narrow to sustain all the survivors.
The survivors have wagered their very lives on a battle for survival in this world.
— There is no concept of good or evil here, only the survival instinct of a species — ◆◆◆ Governor-General of the five remaining "Cities" — her power was absolute.
In other words, she was effectively the King of the Southern City.
Her cold, cerulean eyes gleamed with an unwaveringly strong will.
Her pale blonde hair was trimmed neatly at the shoulders, as if to reflect her fastidious nature.
Her beautiful yet stern countenance had become fertile ground for cultivating deeply devoted followers among her subordinates.
Judging by appearance alone, she looked as though she might not have yet turned twenty.
Because of that, one might assume her position was granted by bloodline...
But to anyone who knew her, that assumption would draw nothing but amused dismissal.
After all, Michel was, without question, one of the monsters.
Her official title was Four-Armored Machine General — Michel.
She was one of the synonyms for "strongest" within the empire.
Michel listened to the report and let out a sigh.
She was indignant that nuclear weapons — classified as the worst among the obsolete weapons — had been used, even if the world was already contaminated.
Yet her expression did not waver in the slightest, concealing the fury within.
"— So the Resistance has developed a new type of weapon. Let us keep that possibility in mind. What about the follow-up measures?"
Michel's adjutant, Jigil, directed a sharp gaze toward Colonel Grasam on the screen and asked the question.
Jigil had a long history with Michel and was a woman of mature years.
But with those piercing eyes, she kept men at a distance entirely.
Colonel Grasam, who was more than twenty years her senior, was also worn down by Jigil's rigorous questioning.
"Sir! According to the report, we have assembled a pursuit unit and are having them scout for the enemy base. Regarding the unknown weapon, I have relayed the instruction to capture it if possible."
Hearing Colonel Grasam's response, Michel furrowed her brow.
She was curious about who exactly had been sent against an entity capable of destroying three Killer Hounds single-handedly.
Sending soldiers to their deaths went against Michel's principles, and Colonel Grasam certainly knew that.
If so, it stood to reason that at least an appropriate level of combat strength had been deployed...
"— Colonel Grasam. Was it the Armored Squad led by Captain Karman that you sent?"
Michel spoke the name without breaking her immaculate posture, still seated in her chair.
Colonel Grasam looked slightly startled, but then broke into a confident grin and confirmed Michel's guess.
"Sir! Your insight is most admirable. Furthermore, Lieutenant Hiragi continues to conduct combat analysis, so even in the worst-case scenario, we need not worry."
Michel felt an even more bitter taste upon hearing Colonel Grasam's words as he bowed.
As Supreme Commander of the Southern Regional Security Force, Michel knew the name, abilities, and personality of every one of her subordinates.
Applying that knowledge to the current situation, the only force Colonel Grasam could deploy that met the criteria was the Armored Squad.
That said, it was the worst possible choice among the options Michel could conceive.
The "worst-case scenario" Colonel Grasam mentioned likely referred to the possibility of the Armored Squad's defeat, but that was beside the point.
Lieutenant Hiragi and Captain Karman.
These two had the worst compatibility.
It was not that they got along poorly — quite the opposite.
They shared a very similar sensibility, and when assigned to the same operation, their success rate increased dramatically.
That alone would be desirable, but the problem lay in the process.
As the report indicated — Lieutenant Hiragi had used nuclear weapons without hesitation — their actions took no consideration of collateral damage whatsoever.
They pursued results rationally, and results alone.
Of course, they certainly took care to minimize friendly casualties. But that did not extend to the enemy.
They showed no regard for the enemy's circumstances and acted with the sole objective of completing their assigned mission.
Lieutenant Hiragi, the research maniac who showed no mercy in operations.
Captain Karman, the battle maniac who pursued nothing but victory.
When these two teamed up, the battlefield was said to become even more horrific.
Their compatibility was too good, and that was precisely why pairing them was the worst idea.
As military personnel, perhaps they could not be faulted.
But Michel did not like these two.
She could flat-out say she disliked them.
Fundamentally, Michel did not condone killing.
As the formal name of the city's military — the Southern Regional Security Force — indicated, their purpose was maintaining security.
Not annihilating the Resistance.
They, too, were members of the human race, and could have been comrades — that was what Michel believed.
Their positions simply differed slightly...
That said, as long as the city had a capacity limit, she could not take them in.
She could not afford to walk the same path as that "City" that had been destroyed.
So, regardless of her personal feelings, Michel approved every operational plan submitted by her subordinates.
Even when informed after the fact that nuclear weapons had been used, she did not complain about excess.
She did not consider the Resistance an enemy, but neither were they complete allies or friends.
Prioritizing her subordinates, the citizens of the city, was only natural.
And — though it would never be made public — there was also a mole within the Resistance.
Subtly providing decommissioned food production plants, arranging for unguarded food storage depots to be raided...
Through roundabout means, Michel had been quietly extending a hand to ensure the Resistance could survive at a minimum.
And now.
Michel sank deep into her chair, closed her eyes, and thought.
The Resistance developing a new weapon — that was impossible.
There had been no reports from the mole, and the Resistance could not possibly have the resources for such a thing.
Then it was either a spy from another city, or...
(So there was a surviving research facility somewhere? I can't say for certain it's impossible, but... the probability is low. No, now is not the time —) She forcibly cut off her thoughts from drifting toward the entity's capabilities and instead considered what would unfold next.
If Lieutenant Hiragi had been deployed, she would not have let the enemy escape.
That meant they must have already identified the Resistance base.
If Captain Karman were to join forces there, the Resistance base would become a battlefield.
Captain Karman had personality issues, but her combat ability was highly regarded.
The Armored Squad consisted of five tough soldiers equipped with Enhanced Exoskeletons.
The Mechanized Soldiers, enhanced through super-science surgical modifications, could handle the extreme loads imposed by the Enhanced Exoskeletons without issue.
Among them, Captain Karman was a genius when it came to combat.
Far stronger than a previous generation of mass-produced weapons like the Killer Hounds.
If this force turned against the defenseless, it was highly likely the people in their hideout would be massacred.
(A single base hiding roughly a thousand people, I believe. In that case, Karman's squad could easily wipe them all out...)
Michel spent a few seconds thinking before reaching a conclusion.
"— The top priority is assessing the capabilities of the unknown hostile entity. The Resistance is not a threat, but if it possesses combat strength exceeding the Killer Hounds, it cannot be ignored. Convey to Lieutenant Hiragi that she is to analyze it thoroughly. Also, tell Captain Karman not to push herself too hard."
There, Michel hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to make her position clear.
"Colonel Grasam, I assess that deploying the maximum force at your disposal was not a mistake. However, against an unknown enemy, you should have first sent expendable mechanized troops. I do not wish to lose anyone else. Do you understand?"
"Hah, hahaha!! Such kind words — this Grasam is deeply moved. I shall issue a renewed order to carry out the mission with the utmost caution to prevent any casualties, so please rest assured!!"
"Very well. I look forward to a good report."
She delivered her orders and ended the communication.
The moment the screen went dark, Michel let out a deep sigh.
She had said enough, she figured, to shift attention away from hunting down the hiding Resistance and toward the unknown entity.
She felt bad for the enemy of unknown identity, but she had decided to use it to buy time.
All that remained was to contact the mole and instruct them to navigate the situation skillfully.
Jigil also smiled wryly and offered her superior — and friend — some words of comfort.
"Good work, Michel. It must be difficult, deflecting your subordinates' complaints while sheltering the Resistance."
"Yes... But there's no other way. Their arguments are perfectly valid, and from the standpoint of fairness, one could say we are in the wrong. Besides, we simply don't have the resources to provide for everyone, so they have no choice but to endure..."
Michel gave a small, wry smile in response to her friend's kindness.
Few knew the fact that the Mechanized Empire Armsbein had no genuine intention of exterminating the Resistance.
Only the upper echelons of central command and a handful of people in each city were privy to that information.
If there had been abundant resources in the first place, the initial Great War might never have occurred.
When individualism runs too deep, resentment accumulates easily over others gaining benefits.
And when lives are at stake, that only intensifies.
In the current state, it was impossible for the food production plants owned by the empire to prepare meals that would satisfy all of humanity.
Providing housing, food, and clothing sufficient to satisfy everyone was a dream within a dream — some layer of the population would inevitably be forced to endure.
The destroyed cities were proof enough of that.
That was precisely why Michel's father, Emperor Armsbein, had abandoned those outside the cities through his own self-righteousness.
— Reconciliation is not what we desire.
I will not destroy them, but I will not save them either.
At the very least, distribute the surplus from the cities in a way that nobody realizes it — Those were the emperor's words.
Few knew of these circumstances.
The judgment had been that no consensus could be reached.
"Then I'll make the contact."
"Yes, please do, Jigil."
With a bow, Jigil departed briskly.
And Michel was left alone in the room.
"— Destruction, is it. In a situation like this, perhaps all we can do is delay the arrival of the end as long as possible... but having an enemy as a resistance force is, strangely enough..."
She closed her eyes and thought.
Even if the world was heading toward destruction, Michel had decided to resist it.
For that sake, she could be as ruthless and cold as necessary.
Right now, the Resistance was not a threat — quite the opposite. They had become a concrete enemy, giving her subordinates a goal to live for.
Michel could only pray that the current situation would continue.
Despite that — (— Even so, a mysterious hostile entity, huh.)
She found herself curious.
She had brushed it off, but it seemed to possess a considerable level of combat strength.
Since its point of origin was unknown, it could not be ignored.
In any case... a problematic subordinate had been sent. Her identity would likely be revealed soon enough.
(— Still, I hope the Resistance doesn't get carried away...)
If the time came when their existence became harmful to the "City" — Michel shook off that gloomy thought.
(— If only a storm would come and blow everything away...)
This world, steeped in the fear of destruction, suspicion, and a suffocating sense that one could only find purpose by identifying an enemy.
The atmosphere was contaminated, and the sun could never be seen, even during the day.
Even if asking God for salvation was naïve, one could not help but wish.
Michel gave a self-deprecating smile and let out yet another sigh.
◆◆◆ The sizzle of iron — something cooking on a hot plate.
A delicious, savory aroma drifted through the air, and a crowd of children gathered with gleaming eyes.
"Kuahahaha! It'll be ready soon, so line up in order! And don't forget to bring your parts!"
It was Veldora.
Veldora was cooking okonomiyaki on a hot plate.
Never mind where he got the hot plate or how he was managing the heat — don't worry about such details.
It was Veldora, so anything went.
"Oh, it's ready. Hey, you're first in line, right? Which part did you bring?"
The moment the okonomiyaki was done, Veldora called out to the child at the front of the line.
"This! It's a 'Drill Arm' with a powerful built-in electric motor!"
"A Drill Arm!? Now that's cool! Alright, I'll trade you!!"
"Thank you!!"
"Who's next?"
"Here! Is it okay to trade for this?"
"Oh, a 'Caterpillar' track? Hmm, no problem. It's hot, so be careful not to burn yourself."
"Yay! Thanks, big bro!!"
"Mm-hmm!"
Exchanging these words, Veldora handed out freshly cooked okonomiyaki in exchange for the parts the children had brought.
He looked thoroughly satisfied, narrowing his eyes happily at the steady stream of parts arriving.
The children who received the okonomiyaki stuffed their cheeks with it and cried out in rapturous delight.
"Delicious! This is so, so delicious!!"
"What is this!? It's hot and my tongue hurts. But I can't stop eating!!"
Though the flavor varied so as not to grow monotonous, what the children usually ate was always the same thing.
Naturally, it had neither the warmth of hot and cold nor any range of flavor.
The difference between natural and artificial was stark.
But now, the unfamiliar thing Veldora had prepared exploded with first-time flavors and warmth inside the children's mouths.
Some even burned their mouths despite being warned.
"Kuahahaha! How is it? Delicious? Don't rush — there are still plenty of ingredients left!!"
Children gathered around Veldora.
In no time at all, Veldora had become the children's hero.
He was essentially bribing them with food, but Veldora was over the moon.
As for how this had come about — In this suffocating underground space, the adults went through the same days with no hope for the future.
But even the children, within those daily routines, sought out something to enjoy.
The game the children had invented themselves — Robot Sumo.
It involved gathering discarded parts, building robots that could move, and having them fight.
The best-performing robots were incorporated into the Remote Mobile Weapons Group and actually deployed in real combat.
That was the highest honor a child could achieve.
They would sift through the mountains of junk their parents brought home, digging out parts that looked promising.
They would figure out the mechanisms on their own and integrate them into their own robots.
They built what they considered the ultimate machine.
The older children taught the younger ones their techniques without hesitation.
They believed that everyone sharpening each other's skills was what made the game more fun.
A predetermined outcome was the most boring thing imaginable, and people would lose interest quickly.
That was precisely why each child praised the others' techniques, and in doing so, elevated their own...
In this environment, the children had acquired a remarkably high level of scientific and technological knowledge.
That day — The children had gathered as usual and were starting to adjust their robots, with nothing else in particular to do.
It was then that Veldora appeared before them, drifting over casually.
...
...
...
Veldora was sulking.
The reason was simple.
After the meeting with Sharma and the others, Veldora and his companions had been guided to the base.
They had not been fully trusted, but it was judged that they posed no danger.
Above all else, Ramiris's ability was captivating.
"So Lady Ramiris can freely manipulate water?"
In response to Sharma's question, Ramiris answered with her nose held high.
"Well, duh! I mean, I'm a capable woman, you know?"
"Oh! Wonderful. There's actually something we'd very much like to ask of you, Lady Ramiris..."
"What is it? Well, go ahead and ask. I'm a generous person, so I'll at least hear you out!"
"Oh no, for someone as great as Lady Ramiris, I'm sure it's hardly anything at all!"
"Great!? Me? You've got a good eye for people, I'll give you that. I'm impressed!"
"Ha ha ha, it's nothing of the sort. So the favor we'd like to ask is—"
The moment Ramiris confirmed she could manipulate water freely, Lindau, acting on Sharma's behalf, smoothly took over the conversation.
And so, showering Ramiris with flattery, they began negotiating to get her to agree to their request.
The request was to fill their water storage tanks.
They weren't expecting them to be filled to the brim — even a modest amount of stored water would be a godsend, driven by that desperate hope.
Water was the most precious resource in this world.
It took considerable time to filter it little by little until it was safe.
In the underground otherworld where Otherworldly Beasts — mutated plant-type beasts that had undergone their own unique mutations — ruled and rejected humanity, some of these creatures could easily filter and store water.
But those pools of stored water served as drinking spots for the Otherworldly Beasts, and seizing water from them would require the Resistance organization, Dawn's Light, to accept significant casualties.
Desperate times called for desperate measures, but that was a last resort.
Into this situation appeared Ramiris, so Sharma and the others requesting her help was entirely understandable.
"Leave it to me! Something like that is a piece of cake for yours truly!!"
Ramiris was simple like that.
She was delighted by the praise and accepted the request without hesitation.
Puffed up with pride, Ramiris went to the storage tank she had been shown and filled it to the brim with water she generated.
Sharma, Lindau, and even Zaza could only stare with mouths and eyes wide open in astonishment.
It exceeded their expectations — no, that didn't even begin to cover it.
The water supply, which they had thought would barely last another year at current consumption, had been filled to a level that would sustain them for three years even with generous use. Their shock was entirely justified.
"M-Magnificent, Lady Ramiris! The heavens must have sent you to us. From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you for this encounter!"
"Truly, thank you so much! If only water filtration could be a bit smoother..."
Hearing the words of gratitude from Sharma and Lindau, Ramiris nodded with a satisfied "hmm-hmm."
"Water filtration? That's easy. Beretta, handle it!"
And with that, she issued orders to Beretta.
Beretta did wonder whether this might lead to problems — but figured it was a step above the food situation from earlier, and consented.
"If that is Lady Ramiris's wish —"
With that, Beretta used "Mineral Manipulation," a property of her Ultimate Gift, King of Automatons, to gather the heavy metals and other harmful substances from the water stored in the tank, effortlessly purifying it.
And so Beretta, too, was bathed in admiration and praise.
"I-Incredible!! Not just combat, but functions like this as well!?"
"A truly versatile weapon... The technology is beyond belief..."
And that was how things went.
Unlike Ramiris, Beretta completed the task in a matter-of-fact manner, and at the end made one observation.
"— While I'm at it, let me point something out. You mentioned earlier that 'water filtration could be smoother.' The cause of that lies in the filtration system's malfunction. As Lord Rimuru once said, machines require maintenance. This machine has been running continuously for quite some time, hasn't it?"
That was what she said.
And her observation was correct — the filtration system installed in this evacuation shelter had been operating without any maintenance whatsoever.
Stopping this device would mean halting the water supply, so in a sense it was unavoidable, but the fact remained that it had drastically shortened the machine's lifespan.
That alone might not have been so astonishing...
"Beretta, can you fix that?"
"I can, but —"
"Then go ahead and fix it!"
"..."
Ramiris, puffed up and riding the high of being flattered, happily ordered Beretta around.
Beretta started to say something, but gave up and obeyed the order.
And so, by pointing out the filtration system's deterioration and then repairing it herself, Beretta had also become a go-to expert in those fields.
"As expected, Lady Ramiris must be a renowned scientist?"
"Well, of course, of course!"
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you perhaps look at some of our other machinery as well?"
"Sure, leave it to me! Let's go, Beretta!!"
Having this conversation, Ramiris and the others departed, leaving Veldora behind.
"Eh? What about me?"
Veldora's quiet murmur echoed emptily in the abandoned water storage area.
...
...
...
And so, left behind in that fashion, Veldora returned to the base with a grudge.
There, he encountered the children adjusting their robots.
They had only just discussed that favoring the residents of this place should wait until they knew more about this world — but sulking Veldora couldn't have cared less.
He tossed that conversation into the far reaches of oblivion and did as he pleased, becoming king to the children.
And now, drawn by the savory aroma and the children's cheers, adults had begun to gather around Veldora as well.
The commotion naturally reached Sharma and the others — It was not long before they came rushing back to Veldora's side.
The first to act was, as always, that person.
Veldora-san!
Tell him not to do it, and he'll do it.
That's the promise!