037. Author (1)
037. Author (1)
The next day.
After finishing the backlog of paperwork with Alicia, I brought Rinne to the Precision Analysis Room.
Rinne had insisted her spec data couldn't be properly verified, but I needed to confirm it for myself regardless.
Who knew—maybe Rinne was simply mistaken about something.
Unfortunately, the results were exactly as Rinne had described.
== Biodroid Precision Analysis Results ==
[Basic Information]
Designation: Rinne
Model: Kurenai Type 28 (Kaguya Heavy Industries)
Role: Artistic Creation (Writing and Composition Specialized)
Phase Resonance Rate with Commander: 11%
[Primary Stats]
- Endurance: F / ?
- Strength: F / ?
- Agility: F / ?
- Phase Sensitivity: F / ?
- Combat Proficiency (Total): F / ?
* Sniping: F / ?
* Bow Mastery: F / ?
* Tactical Judgment: A / ?
- Synchronization Rate (Primary Weapon: Bow): ?%
[Primary Components]
- Skeletal Frame: Akairo Type 28
- Sensor Unit: Fantastica (Synesthesia Type)
- Core: Dreamcatcher
- Phase Resonance Circuits: Yellow No.1 & Ultramarine No.7
- Skill Module Slot 1: Empty
- Skill Module Slot 2: Empty
[Special Notes]
This biodroid is not a military biodroid. Due to the characteristics of the Precision Analysis system, which is specialized for military biodroids, there is a high probability of errors in the result values.
== ==
As you could see, every stat ceiling came back as a question mark.
In other words, there was no way to know just how much each stat could potentially be developed.
...Of course, not knowing the development ceiling wasn't a major problem. Stats would naturally rise through training regardless. There might be some inefficiency in not being able to set priorities, but that was literally just a matter of efficiency.
The more problematic aspect lay elsewhere.
Namely, there was no way to know which skills and equipment would suit this one.
Normally, if I pressed the [Find Compatible Skill Modules] button here, it should have displayed skill modules and equipment with high synergy based on this one's components, design, and stats.
In Rinne's case, however, only this message was output.
[No Compatible Skill Module Data Found.]
[No Compatible Equipment Data Found.]
I couldn't blame the performance of the precision analyzer.
Rather, it was literally a data problem. In the military's database, there was not a single recorded case of equipping combat skill modules onto the exact same components and structure as Rinne.
That made sense, of course. Who would ever think of attaching combat skills to a body built for writing?
At the very least, I'd hoped for stat-based recommendations, but not only were her stat ceilings unclear, her actual applied stats were also quite low.
No—beyond just quite low.
"Absolutely everything is F-rank."
"Th-there's one A in there, you know?"
Rinne shot back.
Well, as she said, Tactical Judgment was A-rank. Her components were probably specialized in logical construction.
Rinne's own brain had probably been trained through coding and writing, too.
But Tactical Judgment alone wasn't very useful.
Naturally, there was no way to identify compatible skills or equipment either.
In short, we were completely in the dark.
"...So it really won't work? Getting stronger?"
"Who knows. It's not that it absolutely can't work."
As I'd said before, Rinne had no precedent, and all her stats were an obscured black box.
So there was no way to know in advance whether any given skill module would actually work for her.
However, not knowing in advance was one thing—actually testing them one by one was entirely possible.
"...So you're saying we try slotting in new skill modules and taking them out again until we find one that fits?"
"That's the basic idea, yes."
The problems were cost and time.
Even with cheap skill modules, producing them indefinitely with the goal of 'finding one that fits' was far too burdensome, and above all, even if we did slot them in like that, compatibility couldn't be assessed immediately.
That was obvious.
Right after equipping, the module level would be 1, and judging synergy on that alone would be nonsense.
Take Laika, for example. At level 1, Rampage not only had poor synergy—it had literally been the cause of her being branded a washout. But now, after leveling that same Rampage up, I was using it quite effectively, wasn't I?
So to determine whether a skill worked or not... you'd have to reach at least level 3 or so.
And more than anything else.
"Modules are easy to equip, but they're difficult to remove, you see."
Safely detaching one was a process complex enough to rival a core replacement.
So the plan of acquiring physical modules and equipment to swap in and out was rejected.
The method I proposed instead was simulation.
"...Simulation?"
"Want to follow me for a moment?"
I said that and stepped out of the Precision Analysis Room first.
The place we soon arrived at was the Simulation Room, located not far from the analysis room.
As I activated a simulation pod inside, I finally spoke.
"Come to think of it, Rinne, have you ever had simulation training?"
"...What if I haven't."
She hadn't.
Well, I'd expected as much. This one had been holed up in the basement, utterly neglecting everything a military biodroid was supposed to do.
Though things would be different now.
"It's nothing complicated. Just think of it as an incredibly realistic VR game."
"Even I know that much."
"Then did you also know that during a simulation, you can try out skills you haven't equipped yet?"
At those words, Rinne's ears perked up.
"Skills I haven't equipped?"
"Yeah. You can try out more than a hundred standard skills registered in the military database, basically as trial versions. You can even adjust their levels."
Well, they might be somewhat less realistic than actual skills.
Nevertheless, it would be enough to gauge compatibility.
"So basically, find the right equipment and skills through simulation, configure them accordingly, then gradually develop them from there."
If we did just that, even Rinne, who wasn't military-spec, could become plenty strong.
At those words, Rinne's face visibly brightened.
"What? So you really are a competent Commander."
"If you're grateful, at least listen to what I say from now on."
"Not a chance~ Why would I~"
With that sort of feeling, we chattered cheerfully together, as if every problem had been neatly solved.
No—we truly believed it had been.
Because neither I nor Rinne could have predicted it in the slightest.
That even after testing over a hundred skills and all twenty weapon types Krädel could provide, there wouldn't be a single compatible one.
We simply couldn't have foreseen it.
***
We spent a week running tests.
At first, we started with the most commonly used offensive skills, like 'Flame' or 'Phase Field.'
But neither was any use. Taking Flame as an example, even with the level adjusted to 10, it barely managed to produce a flame the size of a palm.
Next, we tested self-buff skills like 'Weapon Enhancement' and 'Acceleration,' but to no avail.
Support skills like 'Emergency Activation' and 'Pseudo Phase Resonance' as well.
Even the more complex and niche skills.
Completely useless, without exception.
The weapons were the same story.
Since the bow didn't seem to suit her, we tried switching to a sword.
When she couldn't swing a sword, we switched to a gun, a shield, a spear.
In none of them did Rinne show any notable talent.
So much so that I ended up thinking the bow, which I'd initially considered the worst option, was 'comparatively' better.
We repeated that cycle—try something, conclude it didn't work—until a week had passed.
Once again, Rinne stepped out of the simulation pod after adding another skill name to the 'no talent' list.
She muttered something, unclear whether it was directed at me or at herself.
"...Let's just quit."
The resolve she'd had when we first started the simulations had long since vanished.
What remained instead were deep dark circles and a face worn haggard by stress.
In that state, she continued in the voice of a zombie forced to keep living.
"I've done enough. If I've tried this hard and it still doesn't work, then I really don't have the talent. More than that, of course I don't. I wasn't military-spec to begin with. So I just want to stop. I don't want to keep reminding myself that I'm a useless idiot who can't do anything."
"Hey, still, you never know, so..."
"Stop. Just stop. Don't fill my head with empty hope by telling me I can do it or that this time will be different."
At that, Rinne began to choke up.
"It's been a week. I've tried fifty skills and seventeen pieces of equipment. I wasn't just going through the motions—I tested them for twelve hours a day and gave it everything I had! And it still doesn't work! What do you expect me to do when nothing works?!"
I couldn't say anything.
Because inwardly, I agreed with what Rinne had said.
Over the past week, she hadn't half-assed it. As diligently as Laika, she had used her own time trying out numerous skills and weapons.
On some days, she'd even clung to me and dragged things out when I said I was too tired to continue.
That was how desperately, how earnestly, she'd tried to become stronger.
And even so, it hadn't worked.
I couldn't just lecture her about willpower. There was a limit to platitudes like "you can do it if you try."
Especially since she was a biodroid. Her mind might be human, but her body was unmistakably a machine.
As a machine, her body had built-in performance limits and intended uses.
And if that performance was catastrophically bad, then there truly was nothing to be done about it.
...Not that I could replace all her components wholesale, either.
Putting aside the lack of such a massive budget, it wasn't physically possible in the first place.
Because even Rinne's core wasn't made for combat. It couldn't properly interface with combat components.
I'd even thought of replacing the core itself with a military one and sought Sumire's opinion, but the answer that came back was that Rinne could die during the replacement process. Her brain's synchronization rate with a military core was simply too low.
In short, Rinne had no talent as a 'soldier' from the very beginning.
It wasn't that she lacked aptitude for one particular skill. She was unsuited to combat itself.
...How had someone like her ended up becoming a soldier?
And for that matter, why had she abandoned her strike and resolved to grow stronger?
The question I'd briefly raised and then let go at first came back to me.
However, afraid that asking such a question at this point would wound Rinne, I hadn't quite been able to bring myself to voice it.
Perhaps a bewildered expression had shown on my face.
Huddled in the corner of the simulation room, Rinne asked me quietly.
"You're thinking it right now, aren't you? How did a girl like this end up a soldier? Why become one just to be a nuisance?"
"...I wasn't thinking the second part."
Because I didn't think of her as a nuisance.
At that answer, Rinne let out a snort.
Then, a moment later, she quietly added.
"Sorry about this."
Rinne had never even been the type to greet me first.
And yet this one had apologized without being prompted.
That alone showed just how deflated Rinne had become.
But having already broached the subject, I couldn't back off now.
"While we're at it, let me ask. How did you end up working for the military? More importantly, how were you even accepted for military procurement?"
"The procurement was possible. When I was first delivered, I wasn't a combat soldier like I am now."
"Then?"
"I worked in the Public Affairs Department."
The Public Affairs Department.
In short, it was the department that wrote and edited the military's press releases.
If she'd worked there, it made sense how Rinne, a writing machine, had come to work for the military.
The question was how that Rinne had ended up working here as a combat soldier.
"The Public Affairs Department is directly under Allied Forces HQ, isn't it?"
HQ and forward operating bases were technically part of the same Allied Forces, but in practice they were separate entities.
If I compared it to restaurants, HQ was the franchisor and forward bases were franchise locations connected to it only by contract.
For that reason, it was extremely rare for HQ personnel to be assigned to a forward base.
On top of that, even within HQ, Rinne hadn't been used as a combat soldier. She'd worked as a human keyboard who churned out articles.
Why on earth would they send someone like that out to a forward base?
Unless she'd pulled some insane stunt and volunteered to become a combat soldier——
"...I came down voluntarily."
"What?"
"I asked the higher-ups to transfer me. I told them I wanted to work as a combat soldier at a forward base."
I was dumbfounded.
"Why?"
"Because there was a hive I wanted to clear with my own hands."
Having said that, Rinne quietly corrected herself.
"No—it's not just that I want to clear it. It's a place I absolutely must clear."
In those words, I felt a resolve I'd never sensed in Rinne before.
I composed myself and asked carefully.
"Where is that place?"
Soon, Rinne answered.
"The Cradle of Silence."
I froze.
It wasn't because the name was unfamiliar. I'd heard of the Cradle of Silence before.
I hadn't come across it in tactical doctrine manuals or military maps, though.
I'd seen it in a novel.
That novel Rinne had gifted me last time.
The light novel series Beyond the Cradle definitely featured a hive called the Cradle of Silence.
And so, I was utterly bewildered.
"What are you saying? That's just something that appears in a novel."
"No, it's not."
Rinne shot back without a second's hesitation.
"The Cradle of Silence undeniably exists. It was just classified as top secret. The author wrote the novel based on information they came across before it was designated confidential. Something similar gets mentioned in the author's afterword in volume one, doesn't it?"
Well, I hadn't bothered to read the afterword.
Even if the author truly had claimed the Cradle of Silence was real in the afterword, that would be nothing more than a story the author made up.
Because in the region where the Cradle of Silence was described as existing in the novel, there was nothing at all marked on the military map.
And no hive with the same name, or even a similar one, existed in any other location either.
As a commander with access to military maps, and as an Academy graduate who had already been educated on information about major hives, I could say that with certainty.
Even so, Rinne refused to budge.
Rather, as if she had been waiting for my rebuttal, she fired back confidently.
"No. The author's afterword isn't a lie. The Cradle of Silence really does exist."
"And how do you know that?"
Rinne answered my incredulous question simply.
"Because I'm the author."