What It Means to Be Competent
I carefully examined the documents one by one. But what can I say? It had started out feeling like a proper study session, yet somehow only content that felt oddly familiar to me was written there. If I had to compare it to something, it'd be like a guidebook. No—a cadaver guidebook, through and through.
It detailed the characteristics of P.V. Virus mutations with specific traits, how their hosts typically manifested, and all sorts of other information. To ordinary people, this might seem a bit unfamiliar. The documents even covered countermeasures against cadavers and their weaknesses, but how often does a civilian ever have to face off against one? Anyone who did would already be dead.
Man, this is boring. Trying to think of it as "studying for the first time in ages" was triggering a full-on rejection response from my brain. I already knew everything here anyway. Sure, I couldn't explain it in such technical terms, but it was like knowledge bubbling up instinctively from my body. Anyone who'd seen the ending of this game, Project: Dawn, couldn't possibly be ignorant of what's written here.
Screw it. Toss it aside. Studying a little won't magically improve my social skills anyway. And honestly, weren't my social skills already maxed out? I'd grown up under a vicious boss (the Doctor) for ten whole years. Sure, my social graces might be a tad lacking, but my situational awareness? It's razor-sharp now. Social skills? Pfft, what's so hard about them? Just read the room well, that's all.
What I really needed was a more efficient way to siphon off some ampoules. At this rate, the number of doses I'd get could dwindle to nothing—or worse, get cut off entirely. But suddenly pretending to respond better to the drugs would look suspicious too. Over the past five years, I'd been acting like my immunity to the P.V. Virus was gradually strengthening. Of course, at first I overdid the "super immunity" act and nearly caused a disaster, but after that, I'd eased into it bit by bit. I'd make sure to show at least the minimum reaction after each dose.
But the current results apparently weren't pleasing the Doctor at all. As the days passed, dissatisfaction crept into his expressions more and more, until he was finally glaring at me with cold eyes. Five doses a week was plenty for most, but for me, now much stronger, it was starting to feel insufficient. Back then, even 2-3 ampoules a day made me nauseous. Now? My liver barely noticed. The dosage frequency was regressing even as I'd fully adapted. And the Doctor, oblivious to my feelings, had turned his attention elsewhere!
Speaking of which, time to check on my pet rock. Who—or rather, what—is this "pet rock"? It's the new pet(?) the Doctor had taken in after turning his eyes away from me. Not sure if it qualifies as an animal, but since it's based on animal cells, it's not entirely wrong.
I headed to the lab where the pet rock was staying. Pushing open the door, I saw it deeply asleep. Not that I could tell for sure—it had no eyes, no arms, no legs, just a round blob with a bunch of tentacles sprouting from it! Still, we had a bond built over a year. We're connected by an invisible neural network, so we can sense each other's presence without any sensory exchange!
...Probably!
The pet rock looked like your standard creepy alien lifeform. The Doctor must've been really lonely to bring in a creature like this, no matter how "cute" he found his pet.
I glanced around. Between the reinforced glass isolating me and the pet rock was a nameplate.
Guardian
Guardian? No matter how I thought about it, that wasn't a fitting name for such a monster. But if you considered the intent behind it rather than the appearance, it wasn't so strange. The hardliners wanted to prepare for any potential crises and craved a powerful weapon to protect themselves. The sector was safe now, but outside lurked cadavers whose evolution who-knew-how-far they'd come. And among them were beings humanity couldn't possibly stand against—sort of like monarchs.
The pinnacle of cadavers! Enter the Overlord!
No Overlords had been sighted around the Central Sector yet, but humanity had already tasted a glimpse of their terror. Back when sectors could still communicate, word came from a distant outer sector: they'd discovered an individual with an activation index (A.I.) of 6.0 stage.
Everyone laughed it off as a lie, but the next day, that sector vanished from the maps! Unbelievable! The final message from the doomed sector was utterly despairing. What was it again? "Please, struggle as much as you can. We'll all inevitably perish someday anyway." Something like that.
Later, the entity was named Apeiron. The reason no one believed the initial report from that obscure outer sector? It claimed, "The mountain range is moving." They said it disappeared from the maps, but whether the sector truly vanished or its walls were simply breached—who knows. Of course, I know. I went there in the game, and it was utterly trampled—physically, not metaphorically!
Anyway, after that last report, no more contact from the sector. Then came reports from other sectors of similar bizarre entities: Nexus and Niebla. Nexus was a plant-based cadaver. Using mutation-type traits, it infested dozens of kilometers of terrain with plant-form cadavers—a truly terrifying monster. Niebla was a microscopic cadaver. It looked like mere fog, but it was actually a high-concentration virus zone at 6.0 stage A.I.! As the ultimate radiation-type, each wisp of fog acted with intent, hunting down living beings. Forget civilians—even enforcers who'd undergone the Star Adaptation Procedure turned into cadavers the moment they entered. Being microscopic, you couldn't even kill it; in the game, encountering it meant you were screwed and had to die!
Incidentally, Niebla was why communications between sectors had been cut off. Surprisingly, it had enhanced special-type traits too, with its widespread fog emitting jamming signals on its own. Humanity, whose game story hadn't progressed yet, didn't know the Overlords' traits precisely. They were just trembling in fear from fragmented reports like "mountain range sighted," "plant colony sighted," "purple fog sighted." No wonder—with none of the reporting sectors still in contact, even I'd be scared.
In summary, the Overlords were cosmic horrors existing mostly as rampant rumors for now.
Anyway, the pet rock in front of me was a fearsome beast at a solid 4.0 stage A.I. Not long after discarding me, he'd created this thing. The Doctor was mad, but his genius was undeniable. And this guy obeyed the Doctor's commands perfectly. It was isolated in the glass tank simply because hosts naturally emit the virus—purely to prevent infection.
And me? Heh, if we're comparing, I'm similar to those cadavers but fundamentally different. Cadavers are just cells infected and controlled by the virus, but my cells were born fused with it! In simple terms, my body produces P.V. Virus instead of antibodies. I'm the one in control, not the virus. No wonder the Doctor rants about the "new humanity."
Playing with the pet rock was secretly fun. It followed my orders like a real pet. As if it instinctively knew my danger. I'd never measured it, but my A.I. probably surpassed 4.0 easily. Maybe even past 6.0 by now?! Anyway, just looking at me, it senses it instinctively: I'm above it! Did it feel the same? I'd never seen it threaten me. Even when the Doctor was going all out to subjugate it, it never came at me. Those were fun days—every time the glass cracked, the Doctor's body would twitch in fear. Guess even humans fear monsters, huh.
But seriously, how long is this guy gonna sleep? The master has arrived, and not even a twitch? No way it doesn't know. Its flesh is wriggling—it must be awake. This pet rock, sleeping in front of a senior? Wake up!!
*Tap tap.*
I knocked on the glass tank. As if waiting, its tentacles shuddered violently, then it lunged at me—only to be blocked by the cold glass between us. The smooth vertical tank offered no purchase, but the pet rock desperately anchored itself with its tentacle suckers.
Good, good—skills haven't rusted. Let's get started.
Whack-a-mole time. Whap, whap, whap.
Every time I tapped the glass, it scrambled desperately. Reverse whack-a-mole, basically. It knew one wrong hit could kill it, so even my feints sent it trembling into a corner. Since it wouldn't play along properly, I had to compromise. Still, it was fun in its own way. Moving like this let me feel just how much stronger I'd gotten.
I kept at it for quite a while.
Over the next few days, I pondered how to showcase my brilliant intellect to the Doctor. And surprisingly, I had a great idea.
In Project: Dawn, there are combination formulas. Generally, any ampoule used in the Star Adaptation Procedure boosts your stats, but the order matters. The total traits acquired so far and the sequence of P.V. Virus ampoules used determine the stat gains. Same materials, wildly different results. I struggled hard in the early story because I didn't know that.
Why bring this up now? Apply it to the pet rock, duh? It's not human, but it's going through a similar process, right? Me too. Worth a shot. Worst case? Oh well, no skin off my back.
Problem was my brainwashed setting. Butt in on the Doctor's research too suddenly, and it'd look weird. Sure, brainwashing doesn't turn you into a mindless mute. But I'd stuck to the mindless mute concept so far—that was the issue.
Screw it. Just go for it? Staying quiet changes nothing, and the Doctor wouldn't expect much from a "failure" like me anyway.
The Doctor started sorting the ampoules he'd brought as usual. He'd inject them in that table order and record the pet rock's evolution. Now was the moment.
"That... in reverse..."
The Doctor's eyes snapped to me sharply. Emma's gaze followed suit.
Whoa, intense. Did I mess up saying anything?
"Was that you speaking just now? You? What did you say? 'In reverse'?"
Oh dear, way more emotional than expected. I'd figured his ego would make him snap at any critique of his methods, but this felt different.
"Asking too many questions turn you into an idiot who can't even answer? Speak up. What should be reversed? The order?"
"Yes."
"Hah... unbelievable. You think you're her or something? Huh? Useless thing—you think you can lecture me just because you're that bitch's daughter?"
That bitch? Why bring up a woman out of nowhere? If it's research-related, probably Lily? But I couldn't grasp why he was so pissed. Still, this was surprising. I'd thought he saw himself as the top researcher, but his reaction screamed massive inferiority complex. No way he killed Lily out of that... right? His usual behavior makes it hard to deny, though. Top researcher, sure—but kinda lacking in humanity.
Anyway, operation failed. Who knew one word would trigger his complex? I didn't even know he had one.
"Try it."
Whoa, really? Heh heh, leave it to me. No disappointments here.
I quickly rearranged the ampoules. The Doctor watched silently, then began injecting in my new order. Inject, observe, record. He said nothing throughout.
Huh, weird. Why so quiet? Did I screw up? I'd memorized the happy ending guide before character creation. But that was 10 years ago. People change in a decade; memory fade isn't weird.
Ugh, I trusted my brilliant mind, but guess it's still just average.
"Ha... the readings jumped."
Yes! Good, right? Then why the murder face?
"How... how did you figure it out? It's identical. Identical. Identical. Looking at you now, you take after that bitch completely. Those eyes, those features, those lips—even that inexplicable insight...!"
Heh heh, compliments! Suddenly, he gripped my shoulders hard.
"No! This isn't research...! True conclusions come from piling up countless failures, but she skipped the entire process. She pulled out in months what took me months of toil—with mere intuitive guesswork! That's not research! Just arrogantly regurgitating known knowledge. Deception, all deception...! Isn't it?!"
Oof... starting to get it. Seeing him rage like this, Lily must've been a real genius. And that's why he hates her? He'd extended his researcher lifespan a bit with the pet rock, but the funders wouldn't be satisfied. A 4.0 stage cadaver is strong, sure, but they're everywhere outside. At best, it replaces ten newbie enforcers. Helpful, but not what the hardliners crave—mere manpower substitution.
Heh heh heh, Doctor—think I can refuse this hand? You need it! Reach out to me. Admit you're abandoning research, quick!
His emotions were so intense, lasers seemed ready to shoot from his pupils. But he ground his teeth, then released my shoulders.
Right—he might lack humanity, brim with inferiority, and be a weirdo obsessed with odd things, but he's not that irrational.