In a small room at the library, I talked with Clara while watching her work.
I’d said I wanted to ask her various things, and she’d declined — she had work. Like Clara, books-first. Today she was on a library contract.
I’d gotten the library’s permission and was on the contract too, helping her.
She was on standby in the small room when a library staffer came in with several books.
“Clara, could you handle these? One at a time. About a week each.”
“Yes.”
The plump middle-aged woman handed Clara three books. Clara took her seat and used her Skill on them.
”…What are you doing?”
Clara had said her [Reading] Skill was not particularly rare.
A fine Skill — hold a hand over a book, understand its contents.
But she could forget; she said she preferred reading a book the normal way.
“Reading and understanding the books. Like this—”
She read with her right hand and activated a Skill with her left.
”— [Copy].”
A near-identical book appeared.
I watched, surprised, as Clara copied all three. She marked the copies.
”…That isn’t nothing?”
When I praised the Skill, an excited voice from the Jewel — the Third.
“This girl is incredible! She says it’s nothing, but it’s plenty incredible!”
…Yes, she gives better advice than the ancestors. Incredible — granted.
Clara carried the six books out and came right back.
She sat and started reading.
“This is the request I’m on. They don’t lend out, but they sell forgeries — books that vanish after a set time. Ah — [Copy] is time-limited. And it only works on books. As is, lasts about a week.”
Limited or not, the Skill is impressive.
(So they don’t lend, but you can take a time-limited book out… should have asked about the library system in detail.)
I regretted not asking — taking a book out must cost money too.
Since I came to the library often anyway, I let it go.
But Clara’s Skill — actually impressive.
“More than enough… is that a Skill application?”
I asked. Clara nodded.
“All of my Skill is book-related. Unified that way. Some sort of restriction, surely — Skills aren’t fully understood.”
She kept reading while explaining. I cleaned the small room and asked:
“There’s something I was wondering — can I ask?”
Without lifting her eyes:
“I have an idea. Whether Aria-san and the others can learn specialist skills. Right? Plainly: matching a specialist’s level is a matter of years.”
That’d be a lot of time. What should I be doing in the meantime?
Mountain of questions.
But Clara said:
“That said — limited to Aramsus alone, non-specialists can produce some results.”
“Non-specialists?”
I asked. She explained plainly.
“Because the dungeon and the surrounding adventurer hunting grounds — most of the information is disclosed. And the monsters in the dungeon are fixed. Some variation, but nothing you couldn’t deal with.”
Hearing that, voices from the Jewel.
The Second.
“Welp — taught him. Isn’t this girl considerate? Her looks and personality leave a completely different impression.”
The Fourth agreed:
“To live through this work, communication is required. — All the more for someone solo but support-specialized. No question she’s the passionate about her interests type.”
So these guys had stayed silent knowing all this?
I asked Clara.
“So — limited to Aramsus, then…”
“Two to three months and you have form. Adventurers who pick a home base and earn there often build a pattern for earning. Region-specialized. Doesn’t reach a specialist, but they produce results.”
But Clara warned me.
Only the form is set. Not actual specialist skill.
With experience, Aria and the others would get there. But against true specialists, efficiency and effect would differ.
(So for now — specialize to Aramsus’s dungeon to clear it quickly. Looking at the ancestors, they knew from the start?)
Why they’d stayed silent — easy to figure.
My current approach wasn’t admirable.
(I’d thought just ask — I see. They wanted me to think it through myself.)
Ashamed at leaning on Clara, I thanked her.
“Got it. Thank you, Clara. Direction’s set.”
Clara had finished reading. I —
(Reads fast…)
While I was thinking it —
“It’s fine. You seem to have noticed… — and, Lyle-san.”
“Yes?”
“You seem impatient — but in everything, preparation matters. Forget that and nothing succeeds well. That’s all from me.”
She picked up the next book.
I went to Damian’s lab with Poyo-Poyo and consulted him.
”…A non-human-shaped Golem? Movable, in conclusion. The handling’s a touch different.”
“I see.”
In a tidier-than-before lab, Damian was thinking over what looked like blueprints.
In the room, Poyo-Poyo and one automaton were facing off, eyes flickering red rapidly at each other.
Scary to watch.
“Also — that’s all you came to ask? Anything changed with the automaton? Anything new noticed? Both of us are basically treating them as maids, so reports overlap… have you tried combat?”
What’s he saying.
The Seventh said:
“Lyle — didn’t Poyo-Poyo say something about being useful? Maybe combat too. After all, she’s an ancient automaton.”
The Seventh in the Jewel: thirties, grave-looking.
That dignified Seventh calling her Poyo-Poyo — picturing it, I almost burst.
Surprisingly, Poyo-Poyo was sticking.
“C-can she? She’d break, surely.”
“Why are you laughing? When I had her carry heavy things, she had real strength. So I wondered…”
Damian looked at the staring-down automatons. Other automatons spoke, watching Damian.
“No. 2, Master is calling. Cease the pointless quarrel.”
“Don’t bother with that pitiful junk-unit — answer Master’s request.”
I —
“Wait — that was a quarrel?”
Damian:
“Apparently. They exchange high-speed data through eye contact, it seems… why would the ancients give them that feature. Mysterious.”
Poyo-Poyo was visibly trembling, and the No. 2 automaton wore a victorious smile.
These things are scary.
She turned a clean smile to Damian.
“What is it, Master?”
But that smile had no value for Damian. He didn’t flinch as he asked:
“Can you all do combat? To what level can you fight?”
No. 2:
“Combat is possible, but as we are not combat units, there are limits. We have rarely been outside, so monster data is sparse, but in the area around Aramsus we judge we can fight even unarmed.”
I spoke up.
“Eh? Fight monsters bare-handed?”
Reacting, Poyo-Poyo:
“This is why mass-produced units are no good. I — Poyo-Poyo, the special model — am a superior being capable of combat! If I willed it, mass-produced units like these would be scrap—”
“Stop. Pitiful.”
I stopped her. Damian:
“I’d like to see it, but cleaning the lab if they break would be a pain.”
For Damian, automatons were like housekeepers. Well — they’re maid-type, so not wrong.
For being talked about that way, all three automatons smirked.
“We’ll mold him into a body that cannot live without us.”
“Yes — anxious without us nearby.”
“Phase one cleared. Moving to phase two.”
Damian wasn’t bothered.
Poyo-Poyo took pitiful as a shock.
”…And I am chicken-bastard’s exclusive. I serve him better than anyone.”
My take —
“Automatons are scary.”
Damian, to me:
“Lyle, would you take this automaton outside and try combat? I’ll pay. If she gets used to it, take her into the dungeon. If it’s impossible I’ll drop it.”
I looked at Poyo-Poyo.
She had a hopeful look — not the junk-maid sulking moments ago.
(She’s a pain.)
“Well — for a trial run.”
The others were busy, so I was set to act alone for a while.
I’d consult Novem, but taking Poyo-Poyo out wasn’t a bad idea.
Hearing that, Poyo-Poyo:
“Fufufu, at last — even on the battlefield, I serve chicken-bastard. Leave it to me. Outside or not, full-course meals — I shall prepare them!”
Strangely fired up. I said:
“Eh? Easy-to-eat sandwiches would be better.”
A disappointed Poyo-Poyo:
“I see… please take it that I’m at least that motivated… ah, also, I have a consultation, pervert-professor.”
She called Damian pervert-professor. The three automatons glared at her with red-flickering eyes.
But Damian didn’t mind.
“What is it.”
“The metal chicken-bastard brought in — still in storage?”
“Yes. Hard to work, but it’s there.”
Hearing that, Poyo-Poyo turned to me.
“Chicken-bastard, let me use that metal! I shall put it to more effective use than chicken-bastard!”
I’d been at a loss what to do with it — but said like that, it irritated me.
Still, no point arguing with her.
“Do what you like.”
“I will!”
In this way, I’d come to learn an unexpected use for Poyo-Poyo.
Outside Aramsus, I went wide-eyed at the sight.
Poyo-Poyo, who hadn’t been carrying a weapon, pulled — from under her skirt — a hammer larger than her own height.
And, with strength impossible to imagine from those slim arms, she swung the hammer sideways into the monster.
The monster was blown away in a state I’d rather not describe — but more pressing was where she’d produced that hammer from —
And the problem was: I’d seen that material before.
“Y-you—”
“Well? Surprised at my strength, chicken-bastard? Leave escort duty to me from now on. Then all day, by chicken-bastard’s side, I shall attend to… oh, drool.”
“You… how did you process it?”
I looked at the hammer and realized: that was the armor from the B40 boss — the loot.
Damian had said it was hard to work. To process it in this short a time — astonishing technique.
”…Eh? That’s what you’re surprised at? No interest in what’s under my skirt? Are you a boy at all? More surprise at my strength, praise, anything? What does it do to the me who simulated multiple patterns of being surprised and praised?”
I looked at the gory remains of the monster and smiled.
“An automaton imagining things? — More importantly, hold back or we can’t recover materials. Think, please. — But that processing skill is impressive. Can you shape it into anything?”
Poyo-Poyo, expressionless, confirmed:
“Well — for that mobile-weapon-scrap level… a lot didn’t match my data, but the materials seem similar.”
Hand on chin, I thought.
(If so — doable… and I can count on Poyo-Poyo’s strength too. I’d thought I needed to add someone — does this solve part of it?)
I’d worked out a plan of my own following Clara’s advice.
To execute it, Poyo-Poyo’s strength — or technique — was needed.
I grabbed both shoulders of the expressionless Poyo-Poyo, hammer sinking into the ground from sheer weight.
“Incredible, Poyo-Poyo! You weren’t just a pitiful automaton! I’m revising my opinion of you!”
Slowly turning red, Poyo-Poyo looked aside and, in a small voice —
“I-it isn’t as if I tried hard for you, you know. …A line I’d wanted to use — at last, the moment came.”
The Third:
“What is this girl saying?”
The Sixth:
“Don’t think too hard about it. Some incomprehensible thing.”
The Fifth, cool:
“Automatons are no good. Yeah, here it should be cute animals for healing, right? Lyle, for the peace of mind of all involved, get a cute animal—”
After the kirin story, the Fifth had stayed broken.
He’d return to normal if left alone, so I let it go.
In any case, Poyo-Poyo being motivated was a good thing.
I’d keep praising her and execute the plan.
“I don’t quite get it, but you’re amazing.”
Poyo-Poyo turned red to the ears and trembled.
“What a wonderful day. — Chicken-bastard noticing my value. — But not being praised as a maid leaves me dissatisfied.”
Pleased but unsatisfied, Poyo-Poyo came with me back to the manor.
Before that —
“Now — to recover the stones… pretty bad.”
The ground was stained red all around — a grim scene.
(A hammer like that — useless in the dungeon. Porter duty for her.)
I steeled myself and got to recovery.