Come to Your Senses Yet? (2)
"Don't worry. There's nothing to be concerned about."
"You're saying three guys against rank ten is the same as three against rank five?"
"Think about it. Unlike Menaldo, the ones going after Laura are just three players in the top five hundred."
"Even accounting for that, it's still not the same."
There was the fact that they were deploying rankers stronger than Menaldo, of course. But on top of that, the Humanity Clan officer decided to share one more critical piece of information with the clan members involved — the truth.
"And Laura? She worked as an outside mercenary during the Justice Clan's defense battle in the Central Zone last time."
"Oh? Meaning?"
"Meaning that bitch's main fleet is still under repairs. She's a lot weaker right now than any of you are imagining."
With that, the Humanity Clan officer pulled up verification screenshots of Laura's main fleet being mutually annihilated. The clan members and the personnel assigned to the operation each let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Meanwhile, completely unaware that any of this was happening—
"Commander, the people approaching from the front aren't responding to any of our communications!"
"Haha. These fucking bastards."
I felt a surge of irritation at the attitude of the assholes gearing up for a concentrated beatdown, but I decided to check the enemy fleet's strength first.
"Jessica, what's the current status of the enemy fleet's forces?"
"One moment — the recon data from just a moment ago is still being analyzed… Ah, I can show you now!"
And then the fleet analysis reports, compiled by the base's supercomputers and analysts as per the game's setting, popped up in full on the command console in my hands and the massive monitor at the front of the command center.
And that insane force composition.
Seven battlecruisers alone, with over two hundred destroyers pouring in. Looking at that mess, I found myself briefly wondering if I should just surrender.
This is bullshit. How the hell am I supposed to fight something that size?
Of course, realistically, those bastards' fleets weren't moving as a single perfectly coordinated body. In practice, five separate players would each be controlling their own forces independently. If I approached it the way you usually handle one-versus-many — picking them off one at a time, aiming for individual defeat — I might somehow manage it.
The problem was a matter of scale. Even including the mercenary corps, if the enemy outnumbered me by more than double… all they had to do was roughly split their forces in half, have one half pin down my entire fleet, and casually push the other half into my base, and the game would be over.
So I resolved, as a grand strategic decision, to at least convey my intention to surrender to those bastards—
But right at that moment, chat notifications started flashing wildly in front of my eyes.
What the hell?
Wondering what on earth was going on out of nowhere, I held off on sending the surrender message and first opened the source of the chat alerts — the so-called Solo Players Room.
The moment I opened it, Laura and Menaldo's frantic messages filled the screen — and right alongside them:
It was, quite literally, a room full of solo players wailing in despair. And then:
Faced with the reality that surrendering would not bring happiness, I took my entire surrender posture, dumped it in the trash, and resolved to show those damn bastards the will to fight to the bitter end.
Of course, that was one thing — and the moment I started burning with fierce resolve to resist, the chat flooded with responses perfectly suited to my announcement…
These absolute pieces of shit.
I supposed that was what came of surviving so long in this den of vipers. Everyone had remarkably sturdy mental fortitude. With that thought, I closed the chat window and hurried to prepare my resistance against the five bastards charging in.
And the very first thing I did was this:
"Jessica, are there any ships currently being dismantled at the shipyard?"
"Yes — one heavy cruiser and one destroyer are in the process right now."
"Cancel the dismantling on all of them. Repair them and put them back into service."
"Ah… Understood."
The ships I'd been dismantling for points would be hastily revived and secured as combat power. After giving that order—
"Jessica, remaining resources?"
"Sorry? Ah — ninety thousand minerals and ten thousand rare resources!"
"That should be enough."
Even if it meant burning through every last resource I had, I was determined to hold out against this damned numbers game. I quickly made my way over to use the unlimited mercenary hiring function of the Mercenary Office — a benefit I'd gained from acquiring Marianne.
But it was there that I ran into a problem I genuinely had not seen coming.
"I'm sorry, Commander Icarus, but the Mercenary Office currently has no capacity to hire anyone."
"Huh?"
"Oh, of course it's not that any restriction has been placed on you, Commander. The issue is that our office is having trouble finding mercenary corps suitable for you to hire."
"…"
Until now, I'd never needed to hire more, so I hadn't properly understood the system. There was no limit on me hiring from the Mercenary Office — but separate from that…
Just as Marianne had told me yesterday, so many troops had been mobilized for the recent wars that the Mercenary Office was struggling to supply mercenary corps I could actually hire.