Clicking tongue reverberated.
The epidermis of Goddesium was scorched, and the movement of the left arm, exposed under the sun with artificial muscles darkening, was unsteady.
Moore's reaction to accepting this fact was just that.
"─Is Elysion adjusting like this... isn't the conduction efficiency bad?"
It was a hastily constructed defense facility from the first invasion, probably made of reinforced concrete during the initial assault. Likely some sort of field command post.
Shivering uncontrollably, the group of Counters and Metis, dragging the trembling Laplace with them, reached the nearest abandoned facility.
In any case, first aid was necessary. Especially Moore's mechanized left arm, despite being grazed by the beam, was beautifully burnt, with some parts charred.
Maxwell, sitting in front of Moore on the floor, used the tools at hand, occasionally expressing dissatisfaction with Elysion, a competing company in terms of Nike manufacturing, while proceeding with first aid, furrowing her brows.
Finally, Maxwell, manipulating a terminal connected to a terminal inserted into the scorched epidermis, seemed to achieve a satisfactory result. The expression used was still "current situation," however.
Nodding once, she pulled the terminal out and turned her turquoise-blue eyes toward Moore.
"Yes. How is it? It's just first aid, but is it better than earlier?"
"Yeah, thanks... It's much better."
As if checking, he repeatedly clenched and opened his left hand, confirming its movement. The epidermis was burnt, but fortunately, the artificial muscles and frame inside seemed to be fine.
"Well, when you get back to the Ark, you'll have to replace it, though."
"...It's been a string of bad days."
There were spare eyeballs, but there were none for the prosthetic hand and leg. Moore couldn't help but think that it would be good if Elysion had them in stock.
Exhaling a sigh, Moore's gaze then turned to Laplace, sitting in the corner of the room, huddled with knees drawn up.
"...The weaponry didn't deploy, but..."
"I'll check it during maintenance. But... probably... that was..."
Maxwell, hesitating in her words, stood up and walked toward Laplace. While watching her back, a momentary noise ran through Moore's housing covering both ears.
"──20 seconds, please wait."
The communication partner was Shuen. Though a mechanical voice, while listening to the solid confusion it unintentionally conveyed, Moore stood up, gripping the assault rifle.
Recognizing Moore's intention to head outside, he raised his hand to restrain Rapi, Anis, and Neon, who tried to follow him and then went out into the corridor.
A bit away from the room, exactly 20 seconds later, he once again used the headset's microphone, pinching it with the fingertips of his left hand—a bit clumsier than usual—and opened his mouth.
"──I apologize for the wait. I will report the situation."
Slipping into the adjacent room, he briefly reported to Shuen the encounter with a swarm of Rapture creatures about twenty minutes ago and the results of the skirmish, including approximately twenty Raptures, including the Load class, being encountered. Ultimately, all of them were defeated, but Trouble occurred in the process.
"...I don't have the hobby of treating such things as jokes. I'm reporting what I saw. It may seem like post-traumatic stress disorder PTSD after psychological trauma... Unfortunately, I'm not an expert in that area."
Shuen's voice, not attempting to hide confusion, resonated from the depths of the housing. Meanwhile, Moore took out a soft pack, shook it lightly, and lit a cigarette with an oil lighter.
Considering Shuen's reaction to a report beyond expectations or assumptions, Moore had expected either a greater disturbance or a scolding tone. However, there was nothing but silence from the depths of the housing.
Whether Shuen was trying to remain calm or had become unable to react due to the unexpected nature of the report—either way, it was good that things were quiet.
Exhaling purple smoke, he surveyed the room he had slipped into.
How many decades had it been since a living person entered this room? It was inevitably dusty, but there were several mugs left on the neglected desk, giving a sense of life.
Casually approaching the desk with some abandoned mugs, his attention was caught by a book that seemed to belong to someone.
Picking it up, he blew away the dust covering the cover with a breath of purple smoke from his cigarette.
Glancing at the cover while still holding the cigarette in his mouth, he flipped through the pages.
"──Out of the night that covers me."
"...Oh, it's nothing. I apologize. So, what do we do? Personally, I recommend retreating, but..."
"...Shuen."
With a sigh mixed in, Moore addressed Shuen informally.
Laplace wouldn't be effective in combat. Considering the current situation, the first thought that came to mind was to retreat, and perform maintenance and detailed inspections while waiting for the opportunity to redeploy.
To the extent that she didn't understand, she shouldn't be foolish.
Clicking tongue reverberated.
The epidermis of Goddesium was scorched, and the movement of the left arm, exposed under the sun with artificial muscles darkening, was unsteady.
Moore's reaction to accepting this fact was just that.
"─Is Elysion adjusting like this... isn't the conduction efficiency bad?"
It was a hastily constructed defense facility from the first invasion, probably made of reinforced concrete during the initial assault. Likely some sort of field command post.
Shivering uncontrollably, the group of Counters and Metis, dragging the trembling Laplace with them, reached the nearest abandoned facility.
In any case, first aid was necessary. Especially Moore's mechanized left arm, despite being grazed by the beam, was beautifully burnt, with some parts charred.
Maxwell, sitting in front of Moore on the floor, used the tools at hand, occasionally expressing dissatisfaction with Elysion, a competing company in terms of Nike manufacturing, while proceeding with first aid, furrowing her brows.
Finally, Maxwell, manipulating a terminal connected to a terminal inserted into the scorched epidermis, seemed to achieve a satisfactory result. The expression used was still "current situation," however.
Nodding once, she pulled the terminal out and turned her turquoise-blue eyes toward Moore.
"Yes. How is it? It's just first aid, but is it better than earlier?"
"Yeah, thanks... It's much better."
As if checking, he repeatedly clenched and opened his left hand, confirming its movement. The epidermis was burnt, but fortunately, the artificial muscles and frame inside seemed to be fine.
"Well, when you get back to the Ark, you'll have to replace it, though."
"...It's been a string of bad days."
There were spare eyeballs, but there were none for the prosthetic hand and leg. Moore couldn't help but think that it would be good if Elysion had them in stock.
Exhaling a sigh, Moore's gaze then turned to Laplace, sitting in the corner of the room, huddled with knees drawn up.
"...The weaponry didn't deploy, but..."
"I'll check it during maintenance. But... probably... that was..."
Maxwell, hesitating in her words, stood up and walked toward Laplace. While watching her back, a momentary noise ran through Moore's housing covering both ears.
"──20 seconds, please wait."
The communication partner was Shuen. Though a mechanical voice, while listening to the solid confusion it unintentionally conveyed, Moore stood up, gripping the assault rifle.
Recognizing Moore's intention to head outside, he raised his hand to restrain Rapi, Anis, and Neon, who tried to follow him and then went out into the corridor.
A bit away from the room, exactly 20 seconds later, he once again used the headset's microphone, pinching it with the fingertips of his left hand—a bit clumsier than usual—and opened his mouth.
"──I apologize for the wait. I will report the situation."
Slipping into the adjacent room, he briefly reported to Shuen the encounter with a swarm of Rapture creatures about twenty minutes ago and the results of the skirmish, including approximately twenty Raptures, including the Load class, being encountered. Ultimately, all of them were defeated, but Trouble occurred in the process.
"...I don't have the hobby of treating such things as jokes. I'm reporting what I saw. It may seem like post-traumatic stress disorder PTSD after psychological trauma... Unfortunately, I'm not an expert in that area."
Shuen's voice, not attempting to hide confusion, resonated from the depths of the housing. Meanwhile, Moore took out a soft pack, shook it lightly, and lit a cigarette with an oil lighter.
Considering Shuen's reaction to a report beyond expectations or assumptions, Moore had expected either a greater disturbance or a scolding tone. However, there was nothing but silence from the depths of the housing.
Whether Shuen was trying to remain calm or had become unable to react due to the unexpected nature of the report—either way, it was good that things were quiet.
Exhaling purple smoke, he surveyed the room he had slipped into.
How many decades had it been since a living person entered this room? It was inevitably dusty, but there were several mugs left on the neglected desk, giving a sense of life.
Casually approaching the desk with some abandoned mugs, his attention was caught by a book that seemed to belong to someone.
Picking it up, he blew away the dust covering the cover with a breath of purple smoke from his cigarette.
Glancing at the cover while still holding the cigarette in his mouth, he flipped through the pages.
"──Out of the night that covers me."
"...Oh, it's nothing. I apologize. So, what do we do? Personally, I recommend retreating, but..."
"...Shuen."
With a sigh mixed in, Moore addressed Shuen informally.
Laplace wouldn't be effective in combat. Considering the current situation, the first thought that came to mind was to retreat, and perform maintenance and detailed inspections while waiting for the opportunity to redeploy.
To the extent that she didn't understand, she shouldn't be foolish.
