Rebuild world volume 3 p.., p.1
Rebuild World: Volume 3 Part 1, page 1
Chapter 70: The Buried Ruin
Akira had become a relic hunter to escape his life in the slums. In the Kuzusuhara Ruins, he’d met Alpha and accepted a commission from her, making them partners from then on. The checkered career that followed had tempered him, enhancing his skills at an astonishing rate. Alpha’s support—an advance payment on their contract—had given him a powerful advantage, swiftly transforming an ordinary slum kid into a hunter so accomplished that Kugamayama City had requested him by name for one of its projects.
As a result, Akira now had the life he’d dreamed of during his days in the back alleys, when he’d worn dirty clothes, eaten food so unsafe it was practically experimental, and never known whether he’d be killed in his sleep. He’d longed for decent clothes, a healthy diet, and a safe room to sleep in—humble wishes, but far beyond the reach of most slum dwellers.
And now he had them. His clothes were good, although they were combat gear. He’d eaten meals so delicious they blew him away. He’d rented a house larger than the average rookie hunter could afford. In short, he’d left the slums behind, and he was living his dream.
Even in his newfound affluence, however, Akira’s mind had remained trapped in the back alleys, where scorn, distrust, and murder were the norm. Yet even that was now slowly changing in the course of his work. Seeing people unflinchingly risk their own lives for others had opened his eyes to a new side of humanity. And then there had been a few words, spoken by a girl called Yumina:
“The thief is to blame, obviously!”
Coming from anyone else, in any other circumstances, this statement wouldn’t have left such a strong impression on him, would never have shocked him as it had. But as it was, the words loomed large in Akira’s mind. The day he’d heard them, his spirit had taken its first small steps out of the back alleys where it had been loitering and into the outside world. More such steps would carry him forward, leading him further into his career and closer to accomplishing the job he’d promised to perform for Alpha—and to achieving, one day, a wish he didn’t even realize he had.
Akira and Alpha had a lot more hunting ahead of them, each in pursuit of their own desires.
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Akira had successfully fought off a gang of relic thieves in Kuzusuhara, and then sold the credit for his achievement to Kugamayama City for 160 million aurum. But he’d already spent 150 million of that: sixty million on hospital bills after the battle, eighty million to replace all the equipment he’d lost, and ten million on high-end medicine.
Years of harsh slum life, followed by a series of even more brutal battles, had left his body a wreck. Thanks to his costly hospital stay after his fight with the thieves, however, he was now as healthy as those who lived in luxurious safety within the city walls.
To reach new heights as a hunter, he needed powerful weapons and a good powered suit. But the best gear commanded steep prices. Effective medicine, too, was a product of advanced technology, and hence expensive. Yet Akira would be far less likely to survive combat with injuries slowing him down, so products that could cure wounds on the spot were worth the small fortune they’d cost him.
In short, Akira needed all his recent purchases. He hadn’t wasted a single aurum. Nevertheless, the string of exorbitant payments had steadily chipped away at his financial sensibilities. No trace remained of the Akira who had once been ecstatic to make a mere two hundred grand.
He’d already ordered his full new kit from Shizuka. He’d been buying gear from her as long as he’d been a hunter, and he trusted her so completely that he hadn’t hesitated to pay her the full eighty million aurum up front. And now the news had reached him that his long-awaited order had arrived, he was rushing off to her store.
I see someone’s in a good mood, Alpha remarked, observing his excitement with a sardonic grin. Are you really that eager for your new gear?
’Course I am. I mean, did you see the list on the quote? I can’t wait! Akira replied matter-of-factly, taking more care than usual to stick to telepathy as he entered Cartridge Freak—he didn’t want to get carried away and let Shizuka see him talking to himself.
The shopkeeper was so beautiful that some hunters patronized her business purely to improve their chances with her, and she greeted Akira with a friendly smile on her lovely face. “It’s good to see you, Akira. Right this way.”
She stood up from behind the counter and beckoned to him. As Akira followed her into the back room, a sudden thought struck him, and he asked, “Shizuka, are you sure you can take time away from the front?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t get a line of waiting customers just because I left the counter for a bit. I only wish business was that good.”
“Y-Yeah?” Akira mumbled, looking torn. While he could tell Shizuka was joking (even with his paltry communication skills), he still didn’t think blithe agreement seemed the proper response. Yet he couldn’t think of a better one, so he returned to his original question. “No, I mean, what if someone steals a gun from a display or something?” From his perspective, this was an obvious concern. He was used to things being stolen the moment they left his sight.
Shizuka sensed where his question came from and inwardly deplored the life that must have given him such ideas. Yet she didn’t want to show him needless pity, so she kept smiling as if he’d said nothing unusual. “Oh, so that’s what you mean. Don’t worry about that either. All my display models are locked to their stands, and I’ve got security cameras watching the shop. I even have an insurance policy linked to a private security firm, so everything will be fine.”
Even if robbers did take this opportunity to burgle Cartridge Freak, Shizuka explained, her insurance would cover the damages and keep her store’s losses to a minimum. And to uphold its reputation, the private security firm under contract to her insurance company would capture the thieves—and then go about recouping its expenses. The robbers’ safety would ultimately depend on their ability to pay damage claims filed under a dizzying array of pretexts. If they lacked funds, their property, bodies, and futures would be converted into cash by any means necessary until they met with a fate that fit their crimes. Whether they merely lost assets to confiscation, got conscripted into backbreaking labor, or ended up as unwilling test subjects for new drugs and technologies depended entirely on how much they had cost the company and its clients.
Of course, once the firm mobilized, they usually didn’t care if they took their target dead or alive. The company would rather kill a suspect than lose face by letting them escape. So the opportunity to pay damages and live on applied only to thieves who survived capture.
Even after hearing all that, Akira still seemed a little uneasy, so Shizuka decided to try a different tack. “Anyway, even if I do lose something because I stepped away from the counter, I’d still call it a smart business decision.”
“You would?” Akira asked, incredulous and baffled to the extreme.
“Yes. You’re a big spender and a regular customer in the making,” Shizuka answered, not entirely seriously. “Showing you a little favoritism to keep you coming back will be better for my bottom line. So, step right this way, my good sir.”
Akira realized she was trying to reassure him and decided to stop worrying. With an answering smile a little too broad to be natural, he said, “All right. Let’s go.”
A “regular customer in the making,” huh? he reflected, struck by Shizuka’s choice of words, as he followed her into the back room. I’ve already spent a lot buying all my gear here, and I’ve made plenty of visits to stock up on ammo, but I guess that’s still not enough to make me a regular in Shizuka’s book.
He found himself regretting that he hadn’t yet made the cut, and he was just wondering how he could improve his standing with her when Shizuka said, “By the way, I always appreciate your business, but I’d like it even better if you bought more from my inventory. When it comes to something like a powered suit, I’m essentially just placing an order on your behalf. So to be honest, there isn’t a lot of profit in it.”
“Oh, er, I hope you don’t mind waiting a little while for that,” Akira said awkwardly, avoiding her gaze. She’d put him on the spot, and he didn’t know how else to respond.
“I don’t. I have high hopes, but remember: don’t do anything reckless.” Shizuka spoke chidingly, as if to a child, although she never lost her concerned smile.
“I understand,” Akira replied earnestly. He had just been thinking that, as a shortcut into Shizuka’s good books, it might be worth running a few risks, if they earned himself more opportunities to visit Cartridge Freak—and more money to spend there. But her casual admonition banished that idea before it was fully formed.
“Good.”
Shizuka’s storeroom doubled as a delivery entrance, and its shelves were packed with the heavy weaponry and ammunition she traded in. While Akira stared at the vast array of goods, she pointed to a shutter which led to her garage. “Now, that’s where you’ll find the new gear you ordered.”
Akira looked inside, shock and delight plain on his face. Although he’d known what to expect, he could still hardly believe his eyes. “Shizuka,” he asked hesitantly, “I read your sales quote, but are you sure I can have this as part of my new kit?”
Shizuka flashed him a proud grin. “Of course! I made sure to keep it in your budget.”
Before them sat a truck built for the wasteland. No compact car, confined to paved city streets, could match the intimidating presence of this five-meter-l
“All right, I’m going to check that your full order is here, and I’d like you to go over it with me.” Shizuka produced paper copies of her sales quote and handed one to Akira. Then she began pointing out each item on the list, confirming that all were accounted for.
“One Tatsumori Heavy Industries Telos Type 97 desert utility vehicle. It’s a used truck, but it’s in perfect repair, and it has an onboard control system with a threat-detection module.”
Wasteland vehicles, as they were commonly known, were built to traverse rugged, rubble-strewn terrain. More than that, they were designed to address the unique challenge of wasteland travel—monster attacks. The Telos Type 97, for example, lacked a roof so that passengers could easily open fire from inside the vehicle. (Hunters in powered suits often carried weapons far more devastating than typical onboard systems.) Its high suspension and large, rugged tires allowed it to drive right over the minor obstacles that littered the wasteland.
The truck’s body was also covered in plates called “armor tiles,” which responded to impacts by engaging force-field armor. Some of these tiles were thick, heavy plates, while others were as thin and light as stickers. But large or small, almost all were designed to affix to a surface and to peel and crumble away after activating their protection. Onboard force-field generators did exist, but only in top-of-the-line wasteland vehicles geared toward the high-ranking hunters who could afford their prohibitive energy costs. At present, that feature was out of Akira’s price range.
“One CWH anti-materiel rifle and one DVTS minigun,” Shizuka continued, “both mounted on the truck so you can use them even without a powered suit.”
The rear of the truck was an open bed with two gun emplacements, each of which held one of the weapons. The mounts weren’t on the front of the vehicle because monster encounters in the wasteland more often involved fleeing a target than driving toward it.
“You can detach them to carry with you, of course. But be careful with the DVTS minigun—it really guzzles ammo. Just to be safe, I had custom parts installed to expand its capacity. It’s designed for use with compatible high-capacity magazines, but don’t worry, it can still take standard ones as well.”
The minigun rested on a sturdy emplacement and looked so imposing that Akira had trouble believing a human could carry it. An ammunition belt stretched from the heart of its firing mechanism to a massive magazine stored behind the weapon. Although too large for portability, it could support rapid fire from the truck without resorting to custom parts. If Akira ran into another pack of monsters, he could simply mow them down.
“The custom parts for your AAH and A2D assault rifles are in that box. They’re compatible with either weapon, so you can mix and match them however you like later.”
Akira had purchased both rifles at the same time he’d ordered new gear, and he’d left them unmodified so that he could fire them without a powered suit. Naturally, they wouldn’t do much damage to Yarata scorpions and other hard-shelled beasts. He planned to keep one stock for emergencies and customize the other to fire overpressure ammo, among other upgrades that he could only take advantage of with his suit on.
“Two Tatsumori Ference data terminals for wasteland use. They’re built tough and equipped with armor stickers. They’re also both pre-synced with your Telos Type 97, so you can use them to control it remotely. When it comes to the features of wasteland gear, I’d say durability is king, wouldn’t you?”
Two terminals lay on the truck’s passenger seat. They shared a rugged design, although a less charitable observer might have said that they’d sacrificed any sense of aesthetics in the name of durability. The covers that protected their screens when not in use looked almost as if someone had just slapped armor tiles over them. But their ability to survive trips through the wastes made them right up any hunter’s alley.
“And last but not least, one ERPS powered suit with a fully integrated scanner suite. The manufacturer calls it Powered Silence. It comes with a full set of accessories in that storage case there. This includes a rifle sight it can sync with, so remember to install that later if you plan to use it.”
The back of the truck held a large case that only barely fit on board. Akira currently needed a new suit more than any other piece of gear—he couldn’t reap the full benefits of Alpha’s support without one. It was so vital, in fact, that if forced to choose between the suit and all the rest of his new acquisitions, he would take the suit in a heartbeat.
So, anxious to thoroughly inspect this all-important piece of equipment, he grabbed the case by its handle and tried to lift it out of the truck. But it was heavier than he’d expected and didn’t budge. He tried gripping the handle firmly in both hands, to no avail. Refusing to give up, he braced one foot on the side of the truck and pulled with all his might. The case moved, but only barely.
Seeing that Akira was struggling, Shizuka walked up beside him, seized the handle in one hand, and gave it a tug. The case that had resisted all his efforts moved as easily as if it were made of styrofoam. Shocked, Akira hurriedly let go of the handle. Shizuka lifted the case out of the truck and set it down on the floor single-handedly.
“Whoa,” Akira gasped admiringly.
Shizuka’s friendly smile grew a bit colder as she asked, “You do realize my suit did all the work there, right?”
“Huh? Oh, right. I knew that,” Akira hastily replied, reminded that she wore a thin suit of powered inner wear underneath her clothes. But why had she stressed the point? That question he couldn’t answer.
Turning back to the matter at hand, he opened the case. Inside, he found a black powered suit, neatly folded, and a range of small electronic accessories. Before he could lift the suit out to take a better look, Shizuka beat him to the punch, unfolding it and holding it up for him to see.
The fabric that formed the suit’s base layer was woven of synthetic fibers, and while it appeared rigid at first glance, it was flexible enough to fold into a compact bundle. In place of an exoskeleton, a material like long, thin sheets of stiff rubber formed a sort of harness on its surface. More of the same substance sheathed the backs of the hands and tops of the feet, which also featured what Akira supposed were ports for connecting some kind of electronic device.
Shizuka noticed him staring curiously at them and explained, “Those ports are for attaching the miniature sensors it comes with. I told you this suit has a fully integrated scanner, right? It was designed to give you both in one package.”
Akira next unpacked the accessories. The miniature sensor terminals looked like regular polyhedrons split in half, and each one housed cameras, microphones, motion and vibration sensors, and more. This caused each module by itself to suffer from low individual performance, but linking them together made up for that weakness.
“So this suit has a whole set of scanners built in?” Akira asked, staring curiously at these accessories his old suit had lacked. “I’m guessing it must have cost more than a normal one, then.”
“Of course,” Shizuka confirmed. “Higher specs and additional features always add to the price tag.”
“That figures, especially since it has to include the cost of a scanner too. I can’t believe my budget covered this and a truck.” Akira’s whole kit cost eighty million aurum—a large sum, yes, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d gotten more than his money’s worth.
“The Powered Silence has a bit of a...history,” Shizuka explained. “I found it for less than the list price.”
“What kind of history?”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s brand new, and its performance is a cut above any other suit in its price range. It’s just that a little incident tanked its popularity. So, well, I got it on clearance.”
Of course, there were incidents, and then there were incidents. So, hoping to dispel the decidedly uneasy look that had appeared on the face of such a big spender, Shizuka embarked on a more detailed explanation.
