Chapter 119: V.S. Drum Cans

They were not Insectum. They were not Bubbles either. That said, they did not look like Tooths. In that case, the enemy was probably human.

That was the conclusion I reached.

The world inside my scope showed me metal cylinders moving on caterpillar tracks.

Mechanical cylinders, sprouting arms and carrying machine guns on their heads, were in the middle of loading a group of children onto a truck. A single dog and a single Monoz had launched a surprise attack on them.

That was the scene.

“…”

But something felt wrong.

What?

I thought.

The truck.

The truck’s tires were not Monoz. They were ordinary tires. That was what felt wrong.

And then there were the ten drum cans. Cylindrical mechanical soldiers. Those were strange too. They were not Monoz.

The weapons belonged to a completely different technical lineage from the things of now, developed on the assumption that Tree Crystals existed.

That was a problem.

I had no idea where their weak points were.

“A2, increase speed and ram the truck’s driver’s seat. After that, purge and transition to close combat.

“R2, change of plan. Cancel the early detachment. Move to armored-vehicle defense. Get the hostages inside.

“S1 will detach here. Slow down in three seconds.

“Let’s go. Three, two, one—enter.”

I attempted a five-point landing for the first time since taking the course at Double C. I threw the Type Five away and protected my head. Toe, shin, thigh, back, shoulder—in that order, the impact was supposed to bleed off. Apparently, if done properly, it could save you even from falling three stories onto concrete.

I read that in a manga once.

Sadly, however, I was not a grappler.

I was a sniper.

I had the distinct feeling I had already failed at the toe.

Leaving the mechanical left leg aside, my flesh-and-blood right leg hurt. Not dramatically. Just enough to be annoying. I could not run.

I could not run, but that was fine.

I was not a grappler.

I was a sniper.

I hopped my way over to the Type Five I had thrown aside, dropped prone, and began adjusting the sight.

As expected—or maybe as common sense should have told me—you apparently should not throw a sniper rifle. The shift was large. It was a little hard to use now.

Well.

Fine.

Do not care. Do not think about it.

I decided that.

“Rat Unit.”

Situation Report: Data link with Rabbit Unit complete. Enemy weak-point analysis deployed → power source confirmed behind the eyes.

“Understood.”

Well, I had no intention of working for a little while.

I decided to keep my presence hidden.

I peered through my binoculars and checked the battle line.

Since securing the hostages took priority, each unit was handling things up close. Which meant the one still holding the line was Rudo, all by himself.

He looked like he was having a fairly miserable time of it.

“Snake Unit from S1. Can you provide sniper support?”

Response: Possible.

“Then pin them down. Do it.”

One shot to stop them moving.

The moment it checked a drum can’s advance, Rudo sprang at it. Since he had to worry about the children, he could not use electricity; his only weapon was his bite. But apparently, even with genetic modification, teeth did not bite through iron. It had no effect.

No effect—but enough.

A1 made contact.

Dog Unit, Rooster Unit, and Monkey Unit leapt to the front line, swapping in for Rabbit Unit, who was not meant for frontline work. Rabbit Unit pulled back. A drum can advanced after it, as if in pursuit.

It turned this way.

I saw its eye.

I could shoot.

I wanted to shoot.

But I held off.

“Rabbit Unit, try shooting for its eye.”

Now inside communication range, Rabbit Unit attacked. Its grouping was only a little better than mine, but somehow, Rabbit Unit’s machine gun punched through the drum can’s eye. That must have killed its function, but it did not stop moving.

The drum can toppled with its own momentum and went rolling.

Effect confirmed.

In that case—

“Rat Unit. Time to work.”

I drew in a breath.

And held it.

The armored vehicle rammed forward and crushed the truck’s driver’s seat. That took away its ability to move. I could see the backs of the drum cans starting toward the armored vehicle.

Their eyes were not visible.

But what I was aiming for was the power source behind the eye.

I could shoot it from the back just as well.

So I shot.

I imagined the position of the eye I could not see. Aimed straight behind it. Fired. Hit.

The one running at the rear slammed into the ones ahead of it without losing momentum. None of them fell, of course, but they had to stop to keep from toppling over.

In other words, an opening.

“A2.”

Maybe I did not even need to give the order. Tiger Unit sliced one drum can clean into rings, and Boar Unit’s tackle folded another out of shape. Ox Unit and Horse Unit took down one more.

Five down.

Five remaining.

Fuuuh.

I let out the breath I had been holding. One shot for the test, one shot just now. Four rounds left. Not enough to take out one more on my own, but…

Fine.

That was what I thought. I still think the judgment itself was reasonable.

But I was wrong.

The drum cans’ movements synchronized.

It looked as if the orders they had been given were just rewritten. That was the sort of expression that fit. They switched objectives.

From abducting the children, to resisting enemy forces, and now, to eliminating the enemy commander.

The drum cans spun around.

Every one of their eyes fixed on me.

Then they came straight for me in a line.

That behavior was impossible.

Yes, I was the one commanding the Monoz. If they shot me, and if the Monoz had no loyalty of their own, then maybe the attack would stop there.

So the move itself was, technically, valid.

If you ignored the distance between me and them.

In other words, they were not making judgments.

They could not think for themselves the way Monoz could. They were simply following a prewritten program and selecting the highest-priority target for elimination.

Meaning they were not being remotely operated or commanded.

They were carrying out their mission automatically.

“…”

Something was still wrong.

This was a problem that would never have happened if they had used Monoz.

“S1 to A1. I want to capture one without breaking it. Cover me. With that said, I’ll take the lead unit. A2, R2, handle the others from behind. Oh, and Rudo. I want to see if your shock works on them. Take one.”

I said that, then fired into its treads.

That much would not stop it, but it was enough as harassment. It swerved to avoid the shots, and its speed dropped.

Now I just needed Dog Unit’s nippers and Monkey Unit’s ripper to tear off its arms, legs, and machine gun.

I reloaded while keeping an eye on the ones behind it.

The lever I worked gave a hard gashunk.