The Upgraded Arsenal
"Hmm."
Current Ark population: approximately 32,000.
Trading three gunships and three pilots for 5,500 lives had been a rather profitable exchange. Weighing lives on a scale was never pleasant, but if I truly lacked the aptitude for it, I would never have been selected as Controller of Ark No. 17 in the first place.
The 5,500 people we had brought in this time were clearly survivors who had fought monsters fiercely for weeks on the surface. Even through the camera feeds, their condition looked utterly wretched. The sight of a young child still clutching a pistol, unable to shake off his fear even after entering the Ark, went beyond pitiful into something truly harrowing.
"Time to prepare the incineration operation."
Burning the entire urban districts to the north, south, east, and west would prevent a repeat of the previous disaster. We would pour napalm nonstop for a full week; anything still alive would be reduced to ash. Of course, some stubborn creatures would still survive amid the concrete jungle of ruins, but the Ark's ground forces, now thoroughly enraged, could handle monsters of that caliber.
"AI. Connect me to the maintenance division."
> Connecting...
In preparation for the scorched-earth operation that would follow the incineration, the military of Ark No. 17 had undergone numerous qualitative improvements. The disastrous performance in the first battle for the western district had revealed countless areas for enhancement. I had compiled those lessons, organized them, and presented them to the maintenance division. After completing repairs, they had immediately begun upgrading the equipment. Exactly one week had passed since then.
And last night, a message arrived from the maintenance chief stating that all equipment upgrades were complete.
"Ah, Your Excellency. I was just wondering when you would call."
The high-definition hologram displayed the maintenance chief's face. Though smeared with grease, he wore a bright smile, radiating pride in his work. I gave him a brief nod and cut straight to the point.
"Quite the enthusiasm. So? How are the upgrades coming along?"
"A picture is worth a thousand words. Please take a look at this first."
The maintenance chief brought up an image on the screen, showing the newly upgraded combat walker. It looked markedly different from the previous model. The chief in the hologram stared at me with eyes that clearly pleaded, Please let me explain.
"Go ahead."
"Yes, sir! First, to prevent bone fragments or flesh from jamming the joints and reducing mobility, we've sealed all joint sections. The sealant uses corrosion-resistant materials capable of withstanding acidic bodily fluids."
Indeed, the joints—previously exposed—now stood out prominently, covered as if wrapped in waterproof fabric. The matte-black walker joints decorated with beige sealing gave an almost stylish impression.
"Next is the armament. We've mounted a large bayonet on the 40mm autocannon, replaced the hydraulic systems in the arms and legs with larger, heavier units, and added spikes to the fists and feet to increase striking power."
"Interesting."
For some reason, the walker looked far more brutish than before. I hadn't realized its size had actually increased. The autocannon fitted with a bayonet over three meters long appeared devastatingly powerful.
"Additionally, after analyzing the black boxes from the destroyed walkers, we found that most cockpits were destroyed in a single strike by large monsters rather than through sustained attacks by smaller ones. Therefore, we've thickened the armor and added more electric motors. The increased power demand is covered by replacing the fuel cells with the latest models."
"Impressive. Very well done. The weight must have increased... What's the current mass?"
"After all the additions, it gained roughly five tons. Still, at around thirty tons, mobility shouldn't be significantly impaired."
"I see. Five tons heavier. Excellent work regardless. AI, upload the new walker's schematics to the mainframe."
Processing complete. Schematics have been stored.
I was curious about the new walker's combat performance, but the maintenance chief's enthusiastic explanation was far from over. With the armored equipment finished, it was time for the infantry gear. The chief whistled, and a soldier wearing the new powered exoskeleton stepped forward.
"There were many opinions on how to upgrade the exoskeletons, but after extensive discussion, we concluded that maximizing combat endurance would be most efficient. We focused on weight reduction and fatigue mitigation."
As he finished speaking, the soldier began demonstrating the exoskeleton's lightness by rotating his joints, running, and performing sergeant jumps.
"A fully loaded old-model exoskeleton weighed 220 kilograms. The new model has been lightened to only 150 kilograms even with full combat load—the weight a soldier wearing the exoskeleton can drag by hand. Of course, this came at the cost of reduced durability..."
With those words, footage appeared on screen showing both models being shot with anti-armor rifles. The old model suffered heavy denting and twisted connections but retained its overall shape, while the new model had its armor plates shattered and its joints twisted beyond recognition before the frame itself disintegrated. However, not every monster possessed the power of a 35mm shell. Against the small monsters that were the infantry's primary targets, the new design would prove far more suitable. By investing the saved weight into mobility, soldiers could now dodge attacks they previously could not avoid.
"We've also upgraded the rifles."
"Show me."
"Of course."
The maintenance chief retrieved the new rifle and held it up. Its shape was completely different from before. Unlike the conventional rifle of the old model, the new one was a bullpup design. Like the walker, it featured a fixed bayonet—quite a long one—making it look less like a rifle with a bayonet attached and more like a bayonet with a rifle mounted on it.
"Whoa. With a bayonet that long, won't it hinder movement in urban combat?"
"Haha. No need to worry, sir."
The chief smiled and pressed a green button on the trigger guard. The blade instantly folded away, shrinking to a normal size. So it was a folding blade after all. Even I hadn't anticipated such an ingenious solution.
"Impressive. This will be a tremendous help."
After watching the maintenance chief unfold the blade and pierce through thin steel plate, I had no grounds to question its durability or power. The magazine had also been changed from a box type to a helical design, likely because the added weight was concentrated forward, necessitating the bullpup configuration.
"There's no arguing that 105 rounds are better than 30. Though it's rounder, it's still compatible with existing ammunition pouches, so there's no need to replace the combat packs. It took quite a bit of effort to produce these."
"Outstanding. With this, our casualties will decrease further while our combat results rise. We need to begin mass production and distribute these to the troops. Oh, and your maintenance division gets a three-day, four-night leave."
"Yahoo! Thank you, Your Excellency! Everyone! We're on leave! Pack your bags!"
I terminated the hologram before the cheers could fully erupt. The AI had already uploaded all the upgraded weapon schematics to the mainframe. Using the Ark's automated production facilities, we could rapidly strengthen the troops' armament.
"Now we must prepare to activate the Production Bureau."
The Production Bureau, the organization overseeing all manufacturing within the Ark, was finally ready to have its wrappings removed. With the influx of new personnel providing additional manpower, it would be ideal to establish the bureau before the incineration operation and have it supervise the production of the necessary napalm.
"AI. Select suitable candidates for the Production Bureau. Those with accounting or statistics certifications would be preferable."
234 personnel detected.
"Good. Among them, appoint those with the highest work efficiency as bureau chief."
The transfusion of 5,500 people had once again breathed life into the Ark. It was no surprise that the population, previously 27,000, now began with a different digit. What truly surprised me was that of the 5,500 rescued, over 5,200—more than half—were of working age. Yet it was hardly remarkable. Tragically, those incapable of labor—the disabled, the sick, the elderly, and children—lacked both combat ability and mobility, making them the first to be devoured by monsters.