The Rubber Human Project

In the highest-level conference room of the Armaments Bureau, an emergency meeting was underway. It was an urgent mission personally assigned by the Second Prince himself. The sheer weight carried by the word "Prince" left everyone present—Valentine, Ella, and the other core development officers—with identically grim expressions as they listened to the messenger's briefing.

Serian also maintained a rigid expression while watching the briefing, though her reason was entirely different. Ugh… my head is killing me. She swore she would never drink again. Alcohol was nothing but a useless poison that tasted bitter going down and came back to haunt you with a hangover the next day. She deeply regretted chugging so much in a fit of irritation yesterday.

At that moment, the administrative officer Martin quietly approached. "Chief, the iced chocolate you requested is ready."

"Thank you."

Khh, nothing beat iced chocolate for a hangover. Without it, her life at the Armaments Bureau would have been far more miserable. The cool sweetness hit her tongue, and Serian felt her brain finally waking up.

"…That concludes the briefing on the critical situation."

The prince's messenger finished his explanation right on cue. To summarize—there had been a recent battle in the Schmidt Territory, which shared a border with Astra to the west. During the fighting, the captain of the Schmidt Knights and the border lord himself, Lord Schmidt, had been killed in action.

"Lord Schmidt… wasn't he one of the Empire's most renowned 5-star knights?" Valentine muttered in disbelief. A 5-star knight was a being capable of shifting the balance of an entire battlefield on their own. They could single-handedly contend with dozens of knights and function as a living weapon of war. For such an existence to die so meaninglessly…

"According to the intelligence department, a mage was recently appointed as commander of the knight order in the Astra border region. It appears to be his doing."

Defeating a 5-star knight… that means he's at least a 5-star mage himself. Serian had graduated from the academy recognized as a 4-star mage. But she understood better than anyone that crossing a single rank wasn't simply a matter of being "a bit stronger." It represented a fundamental dimensional difference in how one understood magic and communed with the world itself.

"That's not all. According to survivor testimony… he used magic that called down lightning from the sky."

"Lightning?" Ella, seated beside her, asked in astonishment.

Despite the grandiose description, magic in this world hadn't developed to any particularly advanced degree. As far as Serian remembered, Lost Empire sat ambiguously on the boundary between low-power and high-power world settings. Fundamentally, it was low-power. A trained combat mage could hurl fireballs from their hands or shoot crackling electricity, but that was the limit. Dropping meteors that could swallow an entire castle or magic that allowed dimensional travel existed only in myths.

Of course, as the protagonist's myth-level story progressed, irregular beings did begin to appear. Lucian, the Winter Tower Master of the Silver Horn Fortress, was exactly such an outlier. Even he, however, could only wield that level of power because he had seized control of the massive mana reactor powering the entire fortress—a very special case.

But lightning? That was on another level entirely. This wasn't simply generating electricity at one's fingertips. This was magic that controlled natural phenomena themselves. As far as Serian knew, no magic of that caliber had yet been discovered anywhere in the Empire.

The messenger's grim report continued. His finger pointed to a spot on the massive military map marking the western border.

"With the current Schmidt Knights and remaining forces, they won't be able to hold out much longer. At this rate, the western defensive line will collapse, and the front will be pushed all the way past Marquis Hans's territory."

Serian, who had been listening, tilted her head. Something feels off…? Her eyes scanned the troop deployment chart on the map. Resting her chin on her hand and idly rattling the straw in her iced chocolate, she spoke in a detached tone.

"Even without them, if you combine the rear forces from Marquis Hans's territory with the nearby garrison, shouldn't there be enough available troops to establish a new defensive line immediately?"

In an instant, every eye in the conference room turned toward her. The messenger asked in a flustered voice, "W-well… that's precisely the problem. The Schmidt family is currently refusing all support from Marquis Hans."

"…Pardon?"

The staff officer wore a troubled expression. "Ever since things became awkward between the Schmidt family and Marquis Hans over a marriage proposal… they have been rejecting requests for reinforcements."

No matter how awkward it is, refusing help in a situation like this? That doesn't make sense.

Reading the bewilderment on Serian's face, Valentine added an explanation. "It seems they're worried that with the previous lord gone and his young sibling—who only recently came of age—now serving as the new lord, the Marquis might use 'assistance' as an excuse to march in with his army and swallow the entire territory. Marquis Hans has quite a poor reputation, after all."

"Serian, do you think you can handle this?"

All eyes focused on her once more. Ella swallowed dryly. Their opponent was an unknown mage who could defy the laws of nature itself. Creating a weapon to counter such a being in such a short time was nearly impossible. No matter how much of a generational genius she was called.

As Ella watched with worried eyes, Serian continued rattling the ice in her iced chocolate cup, chin still propped on her hand. She seemed to ponder for a moment before opening her mouth with an indifferent expression.

"Yes, of course. I'll take ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it on."

This year, Franz Schmidt turned seventeen. He was a 2-star knight and the head of the Schmidt family, which guarded the western border. Those unfamiliar with the Schmidt family's circumstances might wonder—how could someone so young inherit the title of border lord?

The reason was simple. Not long ago, his older brother, Albert Schmidt—a 5-star knight—had died in battle. As a result, the titles of border lord, family head, and knight order captain had all been inherited as a set by his fifteen-years-younger sibling.

"My lord, please make a decision soon."

The vassal council, which he had only attended formally until recently—simply nodding along as he listened—now had numerous elders and retainers demanding decisions from him.

"That's right. If we continue like this, we won't last even a month. We must request reinforcements from Marquis Hans immediately."

"…That won't do." Franz cut them off firmly. Yes, it absolutely wouldn't. Whatever else, that was the one thing he could not do. Marquis Hans's territory lay directly behind the Schmidt lands. Geographically the closest and possessing the strongest nearby forces. But Franz would rather die than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bow his head to that man.

The root of the problem had begun with a marriage proposal from Marquis Hans some time ago. His youngest sister, Matilda Schmidt, had been fifteen at the time. Marquis Hans was now forty-five. Even though political marriages and early unions were common, the thought of marrying his beloved sister to someone old enough to be her father was unbearable.

That wasn't the only issue. Rumors about the Marquis's violent tendencies and debauched lifestyle had already spread far and wide. So the previous family head, Albert Schmidt, had firmly rejected the proposal. It was only natural. At the time, the Schmidt family's power had been strong enough that they didn't need to fear repercussions.

The Schmidt Knights were famous throughout the Empire. Even as the western border had been slowly encroached upon during decades of war with Astra, the Schmidt border lord's ironclad knight order had never once been pushed back by the enemy. Albert Schmidt, who had been both knight captain and family head, had become a 3-star knight at the age of fifteen. After their father passed from illness, he had taken on the role of family head while leading the knight order and eventually reached 5-star.

A 5-star knight was a being capable of changing the balance of war itself.

And yet. Such a brother had died so meaninglessly at the hands of a single mage.

"We're barely holding on right now, but we don't know when that mage will appear again!"

"Without borrowing Marquis Hans's strength, this territory will…!"

The desperate cries of his vassals hammered at his ears. Franz bit his lip. Their words weren't wrong, which only made it hurt more. If he requested reinforcements now, they could overcome the immediate crisis. But Marquis Hans would begin demanding payment, one by one, using that aid as leverage. Not just his sister Matilda, but eventually the entire Schmidt Territory.

The influence of a knightly house ultimately stemmed from the personal martial prowess of its leader. A position gained through strength had to be protected by strength. Franz blamed himself. This is all because I'm… too weak.

Of course, reaching 2-star at seventeen was an impressive achievement even if it didn't compare to his brother. If he had continued accumulating experience, he might have become one of the Empire's renowned knights. But before the flower of his talent could even bloom, the enormous weight of his family's fate was crushing down on his shoulders.

An elderly vassal asked one final time. "Then, my lord, what exactly do you plan to do to protect this territory?"

At that question, Franz barely managed to lift his head.

"I sent a letter directly to His Highness the Second Prince and received a reply today. The Empire's Flash, Lady Serian Elhardt… has agreed to help us personally."

After the meeting ended, Ella came to Serian's laboratory. She stood at the door, hesitating for a moment before finally making up her mind and speaking.

"Um, Chief Development Officer?"

"Sip." Serian, still seated at her desk, raised a finger to cut her off. "Senior, I told you it makes me uncomfortable. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Just call me Serian."

"No matter what, this is the Armaments Bureau and we have a hierarchy…"

"Sip. That's an order. Unless we're in an official setting, keep calling me like you used to."

At her firm tone, Ella finally raised the white flag. "Haa… Fine, Serian. But isn't the timeframe too tight? Magic research and development doesn't just pop out overnight. Creating something to counter that monstrous magic… even if it took several months it would be cutting it close."

She wasn't wrong. Research and development was originally like that. It required countless trials and errors, failures, and a bit of luck before a single result emerged. But by then, the Schmidt Territory would already be flying Astra's flag.

Hmm—how should I handle this?

In truth, she hadn't put much thought into accepting the project during the meeting. It had simply looked difficult at first glance, like the perfect kind of project to fail spectacularly. Still, she couldn't just take on a job and then do nothing.

Until recently, she had been the youngest development officer. But now the situation was different. She was the chief development officer. On top of that, the Empire's Flash! Everyone's expectations were already piercing the heavens. If she dawdled and wasted time doing nothing in this situation, people would start suspecting her. Is she doing this on purpose?Did she receive a scouting offer from Astra?

That wasn't just a reputation for incompetence—it was a shortcut to being branded a traitor. In short, she had to do something.

Hmm….

Honestly, she wasn't very confident. Lightning magic was an almost completely unresearched unknown field within the Empire.

Tap. Tap. Serian unconsciously drummed her fingertips on the desk. Then, from the corner of a messy pile of documents, a familiar sheet of parchment caught her eye. It was the list of plausible-sounding failure projects she had written up while dreaming of "escaping," intended to waste the budget.

…This is it!

It couldn't be more perfect. A sly smile that no one would notice spread across Serian's lips.

"Don't worry, Senior."

She picked up the parchment and dipped her pen in ink.

"I happen to have just the right method."

Without hesitation, she began writing down the project title.

Her eyes sparkled with the lazy satisfaction of someone who had just found the perfect way to look busy while doing the bare minimum.