Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Fierce Competition
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The competition was fierce.
"Black Metal production has been way too low lately. Just give us some time...!"
"No, look. We can supply it the cheapest!"
Some were raising their voices, frustrated that things weren't going their way.
There were even cases of people hassling the guide bots and getting kicked out.
I strolled through slowly, watching the spectacle.
'No one recognizes me?'
As far as the public knew, the real power at the institute was Director Fontana.
Beyond that, it was common knowledge that the Mohaim royal family and the Monarch house were involved.
In reality, he'd handled almost everything, and my name only came up in rare cases.
No wonder people saw Fontana as the big shot.
Thanks to that, I could cross the lobby without any hassle.
But midway, one group in particular caught my eye.
"Sniff...!"
A man shedding tears nonstop.
His face told a story of hardship.
Given that he'd just come out of one of the meeting rooms, it was easy to guess things had gone south.
Soon, a few who looked like his colleagues approached to console him.
"Kim, don't take it too hard."
"At least we got paid. We can start over with that."
At those words, the man wiped his tears and yelled.
"Paid? This pittance? This is supposed to be compensation for the technology we've bled and sweated over for thirty years?!"
"Well, that's..."
"Say something! Come on!"
"You're right, but..."
The whole group sighed in frustration.
The man called Kim slumped again, murmuring blankly.
"Is there really no other way...?"
"It was gonna get buried anyway unless it was for autonomous combat machines. Try to understand."
"Yeah. Royals, nobles—they're all the same."
"If we could just meet Director Fontana, it'd be different."
My footsteps halted as I followed R3D3.
I'd caught a keyword I couldn't ignore.
'Why are royals and nobles coming up here?'
The institute hadn't even been open for half a year.
It was practically a newborn.
Big in size, but short on everything else.
External contracts and factory ops were run by staff lent from the Mohaim royal family and Monarch house.
That meant the chatter was limited to specific areas.
I steadied myself and approached the man and his group as they started to leave.
"You said it'd be different if you met Director Fontana?"
"Huh? Who...?"
No need for a headache-inducing solution.
I'm the boss.
I gave them a bright smile.
"I'm with the institute. Let's hear your story."
*
I arrived at the institute's deepest core, following R3D3.
Complex security checks repeated at every zone, but I passed without issue.
The process didn't even feel tedious.
'Whoa...'
Was this what the inside of a cutting-edge future lab looked like?
All sorts of wonders filled the surroundings.
Industrial autobots hustled about carrying materials on one side, and deeper in, performance tests for autonomous combat machines were in full swing.
"Ooh!"
Robot fights, straight out of a show.
The thrill and flashiness—hard to see in organic brawls—dazzled the eyes.
Mini-missiles launched to counter aliens effectively, only to be lasered down point-blank and detonated.
The residual impact was shaken off with a back-roll using posture control, while venting trace barrier elements from the frame.
Precision combat.
A scene that showed just how well the battle AI was designed.
"You could take them, right?"
-This model is not suited for combat. Combat capability is under 30%.
"30% is still impressive."
-Fully upgrading available combat resources could boost combat power by up to 102,400%.
"102,400%? That's 1,024 times?"
-Affirmative.
"I underestimated you, great one."
I eyed R3D3 anew.
Deformed to look a bit dopey, but the base was still a combat machine.
Especially the War Spider model—reliable average performance in any situation.
And this size packing that kind of punch.
That put it in hyper-tech territory, like Core Weapons.
'How do you even get that kind of absurd inflation?'
Probably a special design focused on expandability.
Up close, the materials were clearly not mass-production grade.
I patted R3D3's head.
It beeped in response each time.
Tempted to mess with it more, but I held back.
Wouldn't want it powering up later for revenge.
"When do we get there?"
-Approximately 38 seconds to destination.
Deeper in, the spaces narrowed bit by bit.
Same structure, but no transparent panels like before.
Far fewer researchers milling about.
At intervals, not R3D3-types, but seriously menacing autonomous combat machines were stationed.
High-end models, not standard production ones.
'No regular force could even peek inside.'
Rare mid-sized models dotted the area too.
Robots of all shapes and varieties.
Fun to look at.
-We have arrived.
"Ah, thanks."
R3D3 stopped before a door.
It opened to a space that reminded me of Fontana's old lab on that remote planet.
Table placement, gear layout—the works.
Spotless aside, it was almost identical.
"Did you set this up on purpose?"
"Oh, boss. You're here?"
Fontana greeted me warmly.
"You've gone full neat-freak. Total opposite of first impressions."
"Have to deal with big shots, right? And it's not just me anymore. Gotta manage the team, keep you happy. Lots on the plate."
He winked.
I stepped back half a pace, scanning the lab just in case.
"Anyway, glad it worked out. I figured you'd handle combat machines and that'd be plenty."
"That was the start."
My plan had ended with luring Fontana to my institute.
A guy with over a century in autonomous combat machines—no need for other fields.
But things panned out better.
"Tinkering with these hunks of junk was always the most fun. Till I met you. Realized I'd been stuck in a narrow world."
Even laser-focused, Fontana's knowledge spanned everything.
Science integrates as it advances, right?
He was living proof.
His expertise knew no bounds.
"I beheld the repository of knowledge with my own eyes."
"...Haha."
Fontana fixed me with an intense gaze.
Intimidating, almost.
"Couldn't go back after that. Like Odin learning of Mimir's well."
"That much...?"
"No, no. Boss, you need to get it."
He leaned forward, emphasizing.
Legends in their field have that unique aura.
I found myself silenced by it.
"The info you wrote—it's a whole different system from humanity's accumulated knowledge. Not comparative advantage. It's like—bam!—brand new out of nowhere."
"I've heard this a few times."
"That's 'cause you haven't internalized it."
I got it.
Just couldn't fully grasp it.
Fontana was preaching that my vast info was top-tier science.
"Every time I look, it's fireworks in my brain. Know what I mean? Boom boom!!"
He plopped both hands on his head, clenching and unclenching fists, acting it out full-body.
"If even a bit leaked, it'd shut up the idiots calling Aliens a human-made disaster, the ultimate false flag by the Alliance. Slam them with this evidence—what could they say? Nah, they'd deny it anyway, even if we call 'em extraterrestrials."
He wet his lips and continued.
"Anyway, get it? How amazing what's in your head is."
"Yes. I do."
"Fine, assume you do. Problem is, you're spilling it too slow. Can't lock up the boss! If you were my researcher, I'd chain you for 24/7 input."
"Haha..."
"So I prepared this. Follow me."
Fontana whispered, grabbing my arm and leading me deeper.
Through an inner door, outside.
Wider space here.
Experiment floor, with massive gear installed.
He took me to a weird headpiece machine by one of the big rigs.
"Ta-da. What do you think?"
"What do I think...?"
Hundreds of wires to a head rig.
Restraints for limbs, chair, and a bit of blood on the floor.
For a second, I thought it was a trap.
"Oh, that blood? From my test run. Output was stronger than expected—accident."
"Accident?"
"Yeah. Total accident. No worries. I tested it myself."
Not buying it.
Looked way too dangerous.
I shook my head at Fontana's beckoning to sit.
"I'll pass."
"Why? This'll double your input speed. Get used to it—10x, 20x no problem."
"It's an MC in the end. Mind Connector. The failed old tech. For me, typing's way faster."
I knew what it was.
Device to command machines with thoughts alone.
Once famous.
Evolved since debut, but limited uses.
'Complex thoughts spike errors exponentially.'
Humans aren't perfect.
We botch basic movements and get hurt.
MC reads fuzzy thoughts, turns to commands—misuse it, and boom, disaster.
Sure, convenience keeps it in niches.
With 'trained' personnel.
I'd tried it myself.
Machine that wrote thoughts as they came—pure gold for me.
Tried it. Failed.
Speed was real.
Double handwriting, even first try.
But errors everywhere.
Couldn't parse complex formulas, text-dense info.
Time to check, fix, rewrite? Typing won.
Plus headaches from prolonged use.
Squeezed-brain nausea, even vomiting.
Ditched it after a few goes.
Fontana insisted, full of confidence.
"I know. That's why I made this."
"Still an MC. No difference."
He scratched his head, disappointed.
"Mine’s different. Custom for you. No training needed. Accuracy skyrockets with use. Well?"
"Side effects?"
"Uh... might worsen a bit. If you tough it out...?"
Knew it.
I turned away, no room for debate.
"Improve it first. Then I'll try. Oh, redesign too. That look? Scares people off. Feels like a lab rat setup."
"So much work."
"You're the boss?"
"Right. Damn boss..."
Fontana grumbled his assent.