Chapter 129: Slip In, Circle Around

“Ox Unit, set the cover. Ox Unit handles the stakes. Sheep Unit, A3, fall back.”

Tactical proposal: This unit and Monkey Unit should remain as skirmishers.

“Then do that.”

To send Snake Unit deeper and deeper inside, we had to keep fighting too.

So we set up a simple position. Ox Unit carried in the plates we had prepared beforehand—iron plates.

No.

Earth plates.

It set them in place, giving us makeshift cover. Dog Unit and Monkey Unit, light on their feet, apparently decided not to take cover and instead harass the front line. I should move too. The battle line had pushed deep enough that from here, there were places I could no longer see.

I jumped down from the top of the checkpoint.

I knew perfectly well I did not have the athletic ability to handle a drop of roughly two stories, so I entrusted everything to my mechanical left leg. Since I was wearing Centipede as well, my heavier body shook the ground when I landed. Even so, with a creak and a flex, the steel left leg fulfilled its purpose.

I stumbled forward, almost pitching over, but managed to break into a run without falling. Rabbit Unit rolled along beside me.

“Rabbit Unit, can you tell what’s happening farther in?”

Response: Current situation unknown. This unit recommends use of ball drones.

“Are you going to make them?”

Response: This unit intends to use the five prepared in advance.

“…Sheep Unit has the recipe too. I’ll pull him off the front and have him handle mass production. Work with Rat Unit and send the drone feed to my headset. I won’t be using my left eye, so put it there.”

As I spoke, I slid behind cover bolted to the ground.

The enemy was currently using ARs, SMGs, and LMGs. The earth plates, hardened beyond iron by mixing in construction material, were being gouged, but not pierced. If their equipment was standardized and limited to what I recognized, then the only thing I needed to watch out for was probably grenades.

The cover only came up to around my solar plexus, so I could not stand. Leaning against it, I hid my head and watched through my left eye as Rabbit Unit and Rat Unit began producing results almost immediately.

The kill zone widened.

But I did not shoot right away.

There were too many enemies, and the fight was tangled. Under Rat Unit’s instructions, A3 hid behind the cover and fired in two teams, each covering the other’s reloads.

The rain of bullets did not break.

If I shot in a scene like this, my round would become one among many. That was incomplete work for me.

One shot.

One kill.

One round changing the battle line in a meaningful way.

That was what the sniper’s role could do.

So I looked.

No.

I observed.

I watched the flow of the battlefield. Its movement. Which of the enemy pieces was the trump card.

I saw it.

“…”

Amazing.

Mass production.

The standardized mechanized soldiers and drum tanks had no variation, and their roles were evenly distributed. Their operational style was closer to the Bubbles than to Tooths or Insectum.

For a war of numbers, this was fine.

Being the same was, by itself, strength. Standardized individuality was exceptionally effective on a battlefield. Their speed was the same, so the battle line did not scatter. Their thinking was uniform, so they did not mistake priorities, and their support was precise.

Because every unit performed the same function, there was no single machine that served as the keystone.

But even if they could perform the same function, they could not stand in the same place.

A role was born from where one stood. So even if there was no keystone unit, there was still a keystone position.

For example.

Yes.

For example, the head of a reinforcement wave.

“…”

In the dim interior, far back in the gloom, it appeared within the vision Rabbit Unit and Rat Unit had spread out for me.

Feeding forces in piecemeal was bad practice.

But if you could keep feeding them in without caring about numbers, that changed the story.

Rather than swallowing quality with quantity, it was more like shaving it down.

Still effective.

Then I had to stop that.

I hated how strong the wind was.

The fact that it was blowing in through the entrance was even worse.

The wind struck the walls, stirred, tangled, and refused to let me grasp its shape.

No good.

That was what I thought.

All I could picture was the bullet drifting off course.

The third shot would be perfect.

Even the second, I could imagine landing.

I wanted to spend the first round reading the wind.

But hit it.

On the first shot.

A sniper had to give meaning to every bullet he fired.

If this was the enemy’s home ground, and if the enemy might be watching, then I would put fear into the first blow.

“—, —”

I inhaled.

Exhaled.

The reticle rose and fell with my breath.

The world rose and fell.

I read the wind from the flow of dust caught at the edge of my vision. I fixed the line the battle would allow.

Shave it down.

Down.

Down.

Sharper.

Sharper.

Sharper.

Click.

—Somewhere in my head, the second hand of a clock cried out.

I pulled the trigger.

The bullet flew, carried by the wind.

The bullet flew.

The bullet struck.

One shot / One kill

I crushed the lead unit of the reinforcement wave just before it emerged.

Enemy shadows spread left and right to avoid the stopped mechanized soldier at the front. Their speed dropped. I was given time to chamber the next round.

The feeling I loaded into it was 『thank you』.

A bullet packed with gratitude did the same work as any other.

Right.

Second unit.

Another shot.

Left.

Third unit.

The reinforcements slowed further.

Another opening to attack.

As if I would let it go.

Four.

Then five.

Five shots.

One clip.

I fired it dry and changed the magazine.

Not yet.

Let me hold you there a little longer.

A creak entered the enemy routine. If left alone, that creak would eventually warp them, then collapse them.

Could the enemy correct it?

Well.

Probably not.

I had done my job.

My Monoz, who were used to my work, would never waste the result.

Tiger Unit, Boar Unit, and Dragon Unit—the high-firepower group—were the trigger. They tore the line open all at once, punched a hole through it, and into that hole went the skirmishers: Dog Unit and Monkey Unit.

The reserves meant to support the collapsing line, I had crushed.

The end was near.

***

Did we overdo it?

That question occurred to me when enemy reinforcements stopped coming entirely.

Then, without warning, the shutter ahead opened.

“…”

No dust rose.

The noise was not that bad either.

The movement did not match the age and decay visible in the structure. From that alone, I could guess it had been maintained and used recently.

Hand signal.

Spread out.

We ducked into the cover straight ahead first, then lowered ourselves and crawled along the floor, splitting toward the walls on either side.

But the only ones who could do that were me, Rudo, and the small and medium Monoz. The large units—Ox Unit, Tiger Unit, Dragon Unit, Horse Unit, and Boar Unit—could not.

So they would have to show themselves and serve as bait.

To prepare for a surprise attack, I pulled them back near the entrance and had Boar Unit and Dragon Unit, the two capable of long-range heavy fire, ready their gunfire and bombardment.

Beyond the open shutter was only darkness.

“…No.”

Wrong.

A rattling sound.

Treads.

Caterpillar tracks.

That sound, and the presence of something heavy moving.

A tank.

A weapon that could kill humans with ease.

Probably that.

But it was not especially frightening.

It was not as if Tank Dog was inside it, and this was indoors, where a tank could not run around properly. I was almost curious what it intended to accomplish by coming out here.

Even so, I took one breath.

Deep.

Drove the carelessness out.

I asked myself: was that really true?

Well, yes.

That was my conclusion.

If the opponent was a slow-moving tank—

“Sheep Unit. Can you make that?”

Response: One minute.

“Fast.”

Lovely.

If it would only take that long, there was no need to shoot and pin it in place. Let the thing make its grand, heavy entrance.

Perhaps out of consideration for me, since I had no head armor and could not see through the dark, Rat Unit projected the world it saw onto my headset.

The number was, as I had guessed from the sound, one.

What did it actually want to do?

That was what I thought.

Still, if it made things easier, I had no complaints.

Report: Construction complete.

Sheep Unit brought over a rectangular plate with cables connected to it.

Ideally, I would have liked to set it in place beforehand, but we did not have that much time. Nothing for it. I would do it myself.

Across the way, I gave simple instructions to Dog Unit, who was commanding from the other side, and then to Boar Unit out front as well.

The tank slid out of the dark and into the light.

Desert camouflage.

Not even night camouflage.

Completely unsuited for use here.

What was it trying to do?

Question.

Ignore it.

Conclusion.

I killed my breath and killed my presence.

The tank passed directly in front of me.

Not yet.

Boar Unit opened fire with its LMG. The tank took the bait and increased speed.

Now.

From the opposite side, Dog Unit burst out while firing on the move. The sound of iron striking iron fell like rain.

Thinking that, I threw the plate Sheep Unit had made.

It slid across the floor and stopped beneath the tank.

As I dove behind cover, I pressed the button at the end of the cord in my hand.

A pillar of fire rose.

With a deep goun, the chassis lifted, then shook the ground as it came down.

That was the end of it.

A tank with no infantry support and no speed amounted to about that.

“…”

What was it trying to do?

***

The question had an answer, apparently.

After the tank came a swarm of drones.

After that, mechanized soldiers with gas equipment.

After that, apparently, the opponent wanted a sniper duel.

Each one came alone.

If, for example, they had used the gas to pin us down and then forced us into a sniper duel, things would have been bad. But they did not.

It felt like a game.

The moment I thought that, I also thought:

We are being measured.

I found it suspicious and had Rabbit Unit search the surroundings. When it confirmed a large number of cameras, suspicion became certainty.

Someone here was measuring me.

For what?

How should I know?

But once I knew the opponent’s objective, I had options.

“Rat Unit and I will move ahead. And—yes. Tiger Unit and Rudo too. The rest of you, slip into another route. Dog Unit, you’re the leader.”

Question: Is the objective to support Snake Unit, and by extension rescue the hostages?

“…No. Confirm and rescue. Priority in that order. If that becomes impossible—pull back.”

Response: Understood. Good luck in battle, my friend.

“Thank you. Good luck to all of you as well.”

I said that and watched the separate detachment go.

If they had no intention of killing us, fine.

There was no point gathering all our strength around me.

Countless cameras were watching us. For all I knew, Snake Unit had already been spotted too. But even so, it was probably all right.

Once you fought someone, their shape began to show through.

The opponent was alone.

And this opponent was a clever fool.

Not a genius.

A high achiever.

Because effort lay at their root, their response to fields they had never touched was horribly lukewarm.

They were probably not involved in the military.

So I would widen the area they had to watch.

Even with the facility supporting them, how would he—or she—respond to us splitting our hands?

Like germs, we spread through the facility.

I have learned that writing “work has settled down” causes work to become busy.

A flag, as they say.

So I will absolutely never write it again! I will not write “work has settled down”! I will absolutely never write the words “work has settled down,” okay?!

Hm? Did work actually settle down, you ask?

That is why I said I absolutely will not write “work has settled down”!!