Namihei-kun, analyze our current situation. We are desperately trying to survive.
One day has passed since I awoke as a clone soldier.
It’s been a whirlwind of a day. My brain capacity is completely maxed out.
Anyway, I’ve mostly grasped the situation. Now it’s just a matter of how to survive.
Let’s organize the situation.
First, this wasn’t Japan. Or rather, it wasn’t Earth.
I initially thought I’d been sent to the future, but it was completely different – a futuristic otherworld.
However, it bears a strong resemblance. The language Dr. Shijima speaks is almost identical to Japanese, and I’ve seen a world map that’s quite similar to Earth. The only difference is that the island nation in the east is Izuruha, not Japan.
This means Dr. Shijima is from Izuruha.
Others are similar too. The United States of America is the Atlas Republic, Germany is Garum, and France is Flam. The names are different, but there’s no major sense of incongruity.
And there are no nuclear weapons. Perhaps uranium and plutonium don’t exist in this world. Naturally, there’s no concept of nuclear deterrence.
I never really thought about it in my original world, but perhaps the existence of such destructive weapons was indeed a deterrent.
Though, that doesn’t matter to me right now.
To my shock, despite my expectations, the scientific technology here is more advanced than in my original world.
As a humanities student, I can’t predict the exact difference, but it seems considerable in certain fields.
Especially in biotechnology-related fields, there seems to be a significant gap.
I could feel this firsthand. Though I didn’t realize it yesterday, this body would be considered superhuman by the standards of my original world.
I only understood about half of Dr. Shijima’s explanation, but the technology to enhance living humans into superbeings through genetic manipulation and nanomachines is already in practical use, and they collectively refer to this technology as Bio-Metal.
As a soldier, I was, of course, Bio-Metalled.
That must be why I was put in a separate room under strict security yesterday.
When an apple was served with breakfast this morning, I tried crushing it with one hand, and it turned to powder with surprising ease.
I see, if they can create such superhuman soldiers, they’re much cheaper than tanks.
If tanks costing billions are destroyed by anti-tank rockets fired by genetically manipulated soldiers, it’s impossible to compete in terms of cost-effectiveness. War, frankly speaking, is a world where capital power speaks loudest.
What’s more, this body has something like a bio-computer embedded in it. For example, if I aim at a crow flying outside the window, its distance and speed are displayed on my retina. Amazing, it’s like something out of a movie.
However, to be honest with you… this isn’t right, is it? This feels wrong.
Because in this kind of story, the protagonist is usually transported from a modern society to a less civilized era or world, where they then dominate with their modern skills and knowledge! Doctors and cooks are stories like that!
What’s more, the world I was originally in is the backward one. What should I do? I’m just an uncivilized person at this rate.
…Let’s think positively.
Come to think of it, I was just an ordinary university student. Even if I were transported to a less civilized world, I wouldn’t have any skills or knowledge to make me dominant. …That’s not a positive thought at all.
And the biggest difference from my original world is that there are magic users in this world. Or rather, I should say psychics.
I was able to experience this firsthand.
As Dr. Shijima taught me, I thrust my left hand forward and imagined a wall.
Then, a semi-transparent thin wall about 50 centimeters appeared in front of my left hand. It’s perhaps like an AT Field.
In fact, Dr. Shijima also called it a Psyche-Barrier. Apparently, being able to freely control this is a mark of a first-class soldier.
Suddenly, an alarm blared. Dr. Shijima’s face appeared on the monitor.
“Number 12! What are you doing?”
“Ah, I was just trying to review what you taught me…”
“I told you not to use the Psyche-Barrier in your private room! If you’re deemed to have escaped, you’ll be disposed of!”
“I didn’t mean to. I won’t do it again, so please stop the alarm.”
Disposal, huh. They probably mean executed, right? I’m likely a military secret.
However, escape. That is something to consider. Staying here for long won’t lead to anything good.
But not now, at least. Failure equals death. And unlike a game, there’s no continue or retry.
“Please. You’re the only success case we’ve finally achieved.”
I don’t think Dr. Shijima is an utterly evil person, but he is heartless, in a way he’s not even aware of.
To Dr. Shijima, test subjects are like lab hamsters, and my being special is only because I’m the (in his opinion) only successful case.
I didn’t really want to hear it, but Dr. Shijima, like many researchers, tends to prattle on about his field of study. From what I understood, my previous test subjects all lacked self-awareness.
That’s only natural. They cultivate a 20-year-old body overnight through rapid culturing, so the brain has no time to gain experience.
In my original world, there was the successful case of cloned cows, but that was merely using a surrogate mother and giving birth normally, resulting in a genetically cloned calf. They weren’t creating an exact replica of the original organism overnight.
It’s probably ethically problematic too. Though people like Dr. Shijima and those at this laboratory have easily overcome such hurdles.
Dr. Shijima and his colleagues’ research aims to mass-produce excellent, ready-to-deploy soldiers by forcibly implanting self-awareness into rapidly cultured clone soldiers.
I don’t know how nefarious the World Unification Organization Army is, but ethically, they’re on this side. The Alliance Army of the Free Cities, as I recall them being called – the Alliance Army – I suspect they’re much the same.
As I pondered this and remained silent, Dr. Shijima seemed to misunderstand and spoke to me with a syrupy voice (though I thought it was a voice that would make a cat run away).
“You have your first live combat training this afternoon, and I understand you’re nervous. It’s true that I think it’s premature. But we need results quickly. My colleagues and I.”
“I’m not nervous. However, I can’t guarantee I can meet your expectations.”
After all, I’m a pedigree herbivore who’s never even had a fistfight in his life.
“No, Number 12, you can do it. Please. Most importantly, for your own sake too.”
I don’t care about Dr. Shijima’s position, but more importantly, my interests align with Dr. Shijima’s for my own survival. It’s certain that I just have to do it.
“This is a training sword. Don’t worry, as you can see, the blade is blunted. Your opponent, Number 10, is using the same one. If it gets dangerous, Number 10 will be stopped, but we need you to win.”
Don’t expect too much. My Grandpa, a Shinto priest who also practiced Kendo, taught me until I was in elementary school, but after he disappeared, I stopped practicing Kendo and hardly did any sports.
Due to my father’s wishes for me to attend a prestigious high school, I was forbidden from even playing sports after middle school!
I don’t intend to complain about my father, who paid the not-cheap tuition for my private school and my living expenses without a word (literally, with absolute silence), but knowing this would happen, I should have continued Kendo… What an idiot I am.
Is there such a conveniently timed thing in life as wishing you knew?
“Besides, my previous test subjects didn’t have self-awareness, right?”
“They didn’t. But they had a fighting instinct. That’s the thing.”
Use your words precisely, Doctor. You tampered with my brain like that, didn’t you?!
“The Psyche-Barrier can be used not only as a shield but also to wrap around your sword for offense. You should try it.”
“You’re throwing too much at me all at once! It’s like asking an elementary school student to solve simultaneous equations!”
“Huh? I could do that easily in elementary school?”
What an irritating guy!
And with no right to refuse, which was discarded somewhere in the galaxy, I had no choice but to hang the sword and step through the gate.
Beyond it was a domed circular arena. Welcome to the world of Grappler, perhaps?
There are no spectator seats, but a transparent, reinforced glass-like barrier is installed on a raised section of the arena.
I can’t see it from this side, but beyond that glass, I imagine the higher-ups Dr. Shijima mentioned are watching.
Then, the gate on the opposite side opened, and Number 10 appeared – a soldier exactly like me. This world never ceases to bore me!
I wish the rainy season would end soon.
