"In peace, sons bury fathers. In war, fathers bury sons."
-Herodotus
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Life... was n— okay. It was okay.
Life could be better, but at the same time, it could be worse, Gobzo thought as he wandered the nearly empty streets, tall stacks of concrete cubes with windows on the side of them flanking the two sides.
Each refugee was given their own prison cell— their own living unit that contained a bed, a table and chair, a TV, a shower, a toilet, and a fountain. Larger family-based exist, but Gobzo's never been in one. These units were stacked on top of each other in giant stacks numbering in the dozens, with some reaching the ceiling. These stacks are then grouped into sets of two-by-two, and the space between these 'super stacks' is how normal people walk around.
Those whose body sizes are larger like Orcs or are cold-blooded like Lizardmens are given their own specialized units.
It was an extremely organized, grid-like pattern.
Gobzo was a Hobgoblin of below-average height. He had black eyes and grey hair, and his weight is on the higher end of the spectrum. He wore a simple white T-shirt and pants, the same as everyone else in this refugee camp, however, something that differentiated him from other hobgoblins was the watch that was currently strapped to his left wrist.
The sun... was gone, the moon... was gone, the stars, the clouds, the birds, the trees, and the lakes were all gone, that's not— but that's totally fine, Gobzo need— never needed those things anyways.
According to the watch on his wrist, the time was 8:23 AM, right around when breakfast was supposed to start. Feeling hungry after waking up, Gobzo had walked out of his own unit after drinking some normal— tasty tap water climbed down several flights of stairs, and trekked toward that building where they gave out some really bland— delicious— dull— absolutely okay nutrition paste.
Just thinking about the wet paste with the texture of dry salsa is causing Gobzo to want to throw up, and that's okay. At the very least, it makes his tummy rumble no longer.
As he nears the place, Gobzo could see more and more people now, all like him walking towards the same building to receive their nutrition paste. All of these people were walking just like everyone else.
Something peculiar was those Tempest Officers wearing a gasmask that always stood vigilantly as Gobzo and the others ate. The hobgoblin watched how a lizardman asked if those Officers were hungry and the most those gasmask-wearing Officers would give is a shrug.
It took around eleven minutes of constant walking, but Gobzo finally reached his nearest nutrition center.
The nutrition center was a hexagonal pillar nailed into the middle of a large clearing devoid of super stacks. It looked almost oppressive with how the nail stood out from the clearing, like a constant reminder of how they must live inside these units as the President waged his war.
That's alright, Gobzo mentally affirmed to himself. These living conditions could be better, but they could be worse. The Hobgoblin then got into one of the six lines of people going to get food.
There were two different ports on each of the hexagonal pillar's faces, one was situated around waist height and the other was situated a head taller than Gobzo. These ports were designed to serve species of different heights, and since the caloric requirement of Orcs is drastically different from those of Hobgoblins, there's a camera in between the two ports that would scan you before dispensing the appropriate amount of nutrition paste.
Gobzo was currently around forty meters away from the pillar, but since it takes on average mere seconds for the nutrition center to scan you and then dispense the nutrition paste into plastic packs the line moves rather quickly.
It took less than ten minutes before Gobzo was now first in line. The Hobgoblin stood half a meter away as the camera looked him over. Seconds later, the lower port opened up to reveal a plastic pack of white nutrition paste and another pack of complimentary flavored water to wash it all down.
Taking it, the opaque plastic pack was small enough that Gobzo could fully encase it in his hand. Both of the given packs were airtight, and the only way to eat or drink from them was by breaking open the cap of this complex plastic straw.
Seeing as how the area closest to the nutrition center was jam-packed with people sitting on the ground and consuming their paste, Gobzo opted to choose a further spot, a more lonely spot at the edge of this clearing.
Once he had sat down, the Hobgoblin held the neck of the straw before using his other hand and twisting the cap off with one swift motion.
Now, all he had to do was drink from it.
"..."
Why does he feel this incredible reluctance inside his gut? Everything felt wrong... he feels like he should be eating something better than this bland nutrition paste.
That sense of reluctance passed like dawn as the sun rises high in the morning. Gobzo sucked on the straw and drank his wet paste in several gulps, the pack deflating as it does.
It tasted like eating wet paper, and that's okay. It could always be worse, or better.
After finishing the entire pack, Gobzo next drank the complimentary flavored water. It was orange flavor this time.
The taste of the water quickly receded as it flushed down into Gobzo's stomach, satiating his newly acquired thirst after eating the white paste.
Seeing as how he's finished, Gobzo walked over to one of the many smaller open tubes that jut out from the ground and threw the emptied packs and straw caps inside.
These are built-in trash cans that lead to... somewhere.
Feeling full, Gobzo next walked back to his own unit. Hiking up the stairs to the fifth floor, Gobzo entered and lay on his bed, turning on the TV as he does.
The TV's current channel was one of the many silent films that had been produced by the budding movie industry in Tempest. Gobzo had a feeling that the film was supposed to be a comedy but he couldn't laugh.
In fact, after people had ceased protesting months ago, Gobzo found that he couldn't feel a lot of things. Every day had been the same, wake up, eat breakfast, watch TV, eat lunch, watch TV, eat dinner, watch TV, and sleep. Recently, he's also found it easy to just not talk to anyone. It was strange, as before when Metropolis had been a small goblin village Gobzo found it almost suffocating not being able to talk with anyone for more than a day.
Life was very monotonous and predictable, and that's okay, it could always be worse, or better. Life was so okay that Gobzo wondered why did he and many others protest at all. Just let the government deal with everything.
_____________________________________________
Gobta stared through the lens of the gas mask at Gobzo, one of his oldest friends, climbing the stairs and into his own unit.
Back before Metropolis took over the quiet goblin village, back when Gobta was young, he used to get picked on a lot for being the weakest of his age cohort. The picking on continued until Gobzo stepped in, defending him against the other village childrens by stating 'What are you all doing?'.
That served to give those child goblins the equivalent of a cold shower as they asked themselves what ARE they doing?
And so, from that day forward, the nameless goblin child that would come to be known as Gobta became close-knit friends with Gobzo, helping him when they were foraging for berries, and covering for him when his tendency to be overly honest back-fires.
And it was this friendship that caused Gobta to join the Officer Corps when the Sea of Broken Glass occurred. Gobzo had studied at the Omniversity in an attempt to get a better job and was injured severely when a shard of broken glass had nicked an artery.
He wasn't able to participate in Operation New Republic or Operation Jistavic Freedom, but he was able to participate in the Eastern Theater when the Empire declared war against Tempest.
To be honest, he never really killed anyone. All he did during his time at the Eastern Theater was to help with the logistics of the Talons, guarding those crates. Thus, he was unfamiliar with blood.
During the protests within the Citadel, he was one of the Officers near the front, coordinating with other Officers and fresh off-the-factory floor Riot Suppression drones to take control in case a riot does come to be.
He was incredibly conflicted when his Commanding Officer told him what was going to happen. Gobta knew that deep down drugging the citizens they were supposed to protect was wrong but at the same time, it was an order from the highest echelon of the Tempest Government.
When he was sworn in as an Officer, he had to make an oath. 'To further the Right of all sentient beings', that was what he had sworn. But at the same time, he had also sworn to protect the Jura Tempest Republic. To protect the Republic, it had to be at the cost of its people.
How paradoxical.
It was a tug-of-war between his own sense of what's right and his duty. Is the Republic first, or is it the people first? Eventually, duty won out when Gobta rationalizes that what he was doing is only temporary, and most importantly, necessary for completing the war effort. Besides, it's better for the citizens to not have to be stressed about the war.
Plus, a good soldier follows orders.
"Officer Gobta, report in for Deposit Duty. Your replacement will come in 2 minutes." A voice from the inside of his helmet spoke.
The short Hobgoblin turned to face his assigned teammate, a lizardman, and spoke, "I'm needed for Deposit Duty. My replacement will come in 2 minutes."
"Roger that." The lizardman didn't say it, but Gobta could feel it in his comrade's eyes the silent judgment.
Deposit Duty was a military euphemism for overseeing the delivery of Compound P-98 to the refugee camp's water supply and ventilation system. It was apparently a concession that Field Marshal Ririna managed to negotiate with the President, where there will be at least three Officers present when the depositing of the chemicals occurred on a twice-per-week basis.
The disdain came from when Officers were given a choice of whether or not they'd like to oversee it, and those who did accept were ostracized. Apparently, over half a dozen Officers refused before Gobta decided to accept the role.
The ostracization became more discrete after the Field Marshal was notified of its existence, but it still exists.
Gobta walked until he stood above a section of the floor taped off. After waiting a few moments, a holographic interface appeared before the hobgoblin, displaying his name, and rank, and asking what floor he would like to go to.
Gobta reached up and selected the correct floor by passing his hand through the holographic interface as if it were air. Even still, he couldn't get used to holograms. It feels so weird not being able actually physically to touch something.
The floor below his feet hummed and rose. This type of elevator uses magnets to lift large amounts of weight.
Going through a hole in the ceiling directly above where Gobta had stood, the Hobgoblin passed through several more floors before ending up in the correct place and finally taking off his gas mask.
There was a titanic boiler that took up most of the room. A self-driving drone with the shape and size of a fridge with wheels and the other two Officers appeared more like ants next to the boiler.
Marching toward the two, Gobta stomped his feet before saluting, "Sergeant Gobta, reporting for Deposit Duty!"
"At ease, Sergeant," The higher-ranked of the two Officers said. He was another Hobgoblin, ranked Captain. The most notable thing about the Captain was that he had blue hair.
"Yes sir!" Gobta dropped the salute before relaxing. Then, the Hobgoblin walked over to stand beside the Lieutenant-ranked human.
"Now that you're here we can go ahead with the Deposit Duty." Then the Captain brought his right arm next to his face, speaking into the high-tech forearm gauntlet, "This is Captain Gobuyu Identification Code: C-X99103. The time is 9:58 AM. We shall now perform Deposit Duty, over."
Then a voice came from the forearm gauntlet, "This is Colonel Ooku, your Deposit Duty has been noted. You may proceed."
The drone moved, and Gobta and the other Officers followed closely behind.
The walk was quiet, with there being no other sound besides the wheeled drone and the clicking of his and the other two's boots on the ground. The hallway connecting the boiler room that manufactures the chemicals and the depositing place was lit brightly with there not being a single speck of dust anywhere.
If there's one word that describes the inside of the Citadel, it'll be 'sterile'.
Despite being here multiple times, Gobta still feels unsettled by the hallway. Maybe because it's large enough to allow a two-lane road to pass through, or maybe it's how there should be people walking through these hallways yet there's not a single soul aside from himself and the other two.
It just feels off.
It's like a supermarket being completely empty, yet the shelves are stocked full of fruits and other products. There should be people here, yet there's none in sight.
Perhaps it's for the best that he never gets used to this place. If he was always unsettled by here, it'll constantly remind him what he was doing is only temporary and nothing permanent.
Reaching the end of the hallway, Gobta found two hatches built into the walls, both beside each other. On top of each hatch was the symbol of a water droplet and a rotating fan respectively.
The lower part of the fridge opened, revealing the opening of a metal ventilation tube compressed in on itself to save space. The opening of the tube had a metal ring with a single lever that serves as a locking mechanism to seal the tube shut.
With well-coordinated efficiency, Gobta used two hands and held onto the metal ring before pulling it out. Jaunting over to the hatch with the symbol of a rotating fan, Gobta then connected the two. Once it had been fully connected, the Hobgoblin turned the lever, sealing it airtight.
According to the information report Gobta had been given, due to the various size and biology of the refugees, a constant minimum level of these chemicals are required. Thus, these chemicals that are venting into the hatch with a rotating fan symbol on top are an aerosol form of Compound P-98.
The drone was quite loud as it began to deposit Compound P-98 through the tube. If Gobta had to describe the sound, it would sound like a vacuum.
After the vacuum sound had stopped, the other lower-ranked Officer moved to detach the tube from the hatch.
The human struggled a bit before finally removing and returning the metal ventilation tube back to its original position before Gobta touched it.
The first part was done, now for the polluting— No, Gobta internally chided himself, it's depositing the chemicals into the water.
One of the faces of the fridge-shaped drone hissed before sliding outward by a few centimeters and further sliding down toward the ground. The inside of the drone lit up to show roll after roll of long, containers that looked like they belonged in a drawer.
Inside each of the containers were trays full of crystals that reflected and refracted the light coming from the inside of the drone.
Gobta could feel the cold air radiating from the now-opened drone.
Grabbing onto a tray, the Hobgoblin slides it out just like a drawer, letting the light of the room shine on the crystal.
Compound P-98 in its natural state is a single jagged crystal no more than the size of the tip of a screw. It's completely colorless, and if it weren't for the fact that they aren't melting, Gobta could've mistaken them for ice crystals.
The hatch with a water droplet symbol on top was at a slanted angle like a roof. Without any context, any Tempest citizens would've thought them to be nothing more than a garbage chute in an apartment. The human Officer twisted open the hatch while Gobta took out a tray of crystals and carefully dumped it inside with not a single bit spilled out.
There were six trays in total, so it was relatively quick in the depositing process. The human closed the hatch after all the trays were emptied before standing at attention next to the fridge-like drone. Gobta soon followed suit.
"This is Captain Gobuyu. Deposit Duty has been completed," Gobuyu said to his gauntlet.
"Confirmed and logged. The Deposit Duty has been completed. You may return to your former posts."
After hearing that, Captain Gobuyu focused his attention on the duo, "You all are dismissed. Take the rest of the day off if you have no important duties left. Remember, Sergeant, Lieutenant, your psychological well-being is important too. If you ever need to talk to a peer or a superior, I can be a source for you guys. If you seek professional help, bill me the cost, and I'll cover it. You all earned that much."
If there's one thing that the Academy does best besides teaching strategies and proper decorum, it's creating a sense of camaraderie with your fellow Officers. Despite being of a higher rank and never really needing to dirty his hands, Gobuyu easily sympathized with the moral quandary of his fellow Officer.
Being relegated to more of an observer role made Gobuyu feel less guilty than his subordinates just like how it's much easier to order an airstrike than it is to pull the trigger while your enemy is in front of you, their eyes wide as saucers as they realize they're about to die.
And since the Academy heavily discourages using alcohol or other drugs (the irony), footing the bill for psychiatric help is the least Gobuyu could do.
""Thank you, Captain Gobuyu."" Gobta and the human Officer said before both saluted simultaneously. Gobta finished while both of their hands were still in a sharp salute, "But that is not necessary. What we're doing is required for the war effort."
Gobuyu nodded, "Right you are Sergeant Gobta..." Then he sounded less sure of himself, "Right... you... are..."
Seemingly done, Gobta and the human Officer left, Gobuyu's eyes never leaving their shrinking form before they disappeared entirely once they turned a corner.
"..."
It was the whirring of the fridge drone that brought Captain Cobuyu out of his trance. The drone loudly reassembled itself before leaving through a newly opened hole in the wall.
"Fucking Citadel. I swear this place has more holes than those fancy cheese wheels from Falmuth." Gobuyu muttered, "Why did the late Commander even design this place like this?"
_____________________________________________
Ingrassia, three months after Lura's destruction.
"Ma! Sulo, Culo!" A young man yelled out as he roughly pushed open the door as though it were an obstacle. In the man's hands was a basket filled with stacks upon stacks of baguettes and other assorted bread.
Placing the literal bread basket onto a nearby table, the man looked around his house in search of his mother and brothers.
The house he lived in wasn't too large. It was a single-storied home with two bedrooms, a kitchen, a basement for storage, a general dining room, and an outhouse about half a minute's walk right out of the back door.
The young man walked around the house and found himself completely alone. Scowling, the young man burst out the back door and came into a field filled to the brim with ripe, golden wheat that should've been harvested days ago.
The young man was a farmer who lived in a village a few dozen kilometers outside of the trade city of Aurora, which is now serving as the new capital of Ingrassia after the Hero Chronoa decided to help newly crowned King Aegio to reconquer the breakaway warlord states. It was only about last month that Ingrassia reformed.
Honestly, the past half a year had been mostly a blur with how fast things are progressing. As a peasant living and working on a farm, the young man mostly stayed ignorant of the affairs of the Nobles and other landlords. In fact, it wasn't until the next morning that the man learned during the night there was this bright purple beam splitting the dark, star-filled sky in two occurred in the direction of the Capital of Lura. And it wasn't until further that day that he learned, thanks to those giant windows in the sky, of Lura's destruction at the hands of Relentless Reborn.
As a peasant, he knew only of the tales of Relentless from stories told by his mother when he was just a tiny lad. Safe to say, he was deathly afraid.
That fear subsided when the Hero Chronoa declared through the window that the Perfect Homunculus had been slain. Then, the fear came back with fury to rival the fiercest thunderstorms when the Hero said how the creations of Relentless Reborn were poisoning the Voice of the World.
His neighbors were deathly afraid. So all of them banded together and knocked on the door of their landlord to demand to know more.
When their landlords said nothing, the crowd that the man had been a part of went to the local Church, where the Priest was preaching about the second coming of Relentless, the destructiveness of Relentless' creations, and how they must all repent and pray for God Luminous' forgiveness.
Men, women, and children, all scared out of their minds, all prayed, groveled, and bowed until their backs hurt, their knees bleeding, and their tear ducts completely dry. The young man was no different.
It took the local Lord to come by with knights in order to clear the Church and get the people back to work.
Even when people had gone back to work, the Church was always at least half full, all composed of people praying constantly.
The young man had been working in the field when his neighbor alerted him of the fact that the Pope had declared a Crusade against the heretical nation of Tempest and was calling people to join up when individual Templar Knights came to each village seeking recruits.
So zealous was the young man's faith that he started practicing with a wood stick for the day that the Templar would come to his village. He felt himself getting better and better, as he could always strike first against his brothers when they practiced.
The young man was excited to join up with the Crusaders. Never before has he ever felt so motivated, where even if his joining is meaningless in the long run, the young man could die knowing that at least he took part in what would surely become a war of legends and stories in the future, like the war against Relentless.
His life now has a greater purpose. A grander purpose.
At least, that was before when the Mind-Loss Plague had struck.
"Ma!" The young man yelled out as he spotted a figure weaving through the wheat field in the distance. Even from so far away, the young man could discern the figure wore dark clothing with a red cap on the head.
His mother.
When his mother returned from the city, everything appeared... fine. The first evidence that something was wrong was when she misplaced a spoon. Then, the next morning his mother dropped a laden used to stir the porridge that was supposed to be the brunch. By night, his mother started slurring her speech.
The next day, he and Culo brought their mother to the Priest nearby asking for what could've caused this and if there was any cure, only to discover that what was happening to his mother wasn't an isolated incident.
No, it was happening all over the entirety of Ingrassia, and perhaps even beyond.
It was declared by the local Count that a new plague was sweeping the land, a plague that causes those afflicted to literally lose their mind, their ability to memorize gone, their own memories gone, their capacity to think corrupted. It made those who were infected act like children.
One of the elders of the village said how it was similar to some elders who've lived for too long.
"Ma!" The young man yelled out as he neared the dark figure, who quickly turned to show her wrinkled face.
"Culo? Is that you?" The mother asked as she squinted her eyes.
"No ma... it's Eulo." The young man said as he felt the urge to cry.
Seeing his mother like this... being rendered into a mental invalid... from the tough women Eulo once knew, the same women who raised him and his brothers despite their father dying, to being reduced to such a state...
God is cruel.
"Eulo? Eulo... Eulo... Ah!" the mother hummed to herself as the gears inside her head turned, "Eulo! You're so big now!"
"Ma, I haven't grown in 3 years..." Eulo said as he put a hand across his mother's shoulder, "But that's not important. Have you seen Culo and Sulo anywhere?"
"Culo and Sulo? No... but they should be helping with your father's farm work shouldn't they?"
Eulo grimaced. He gave up on ever joining the Crusade once both of his brothers became afflicted with the Mind-Loss Plague. He had to simultaneously take care of both all the farm work as well as the three mentally retarded people.
Any person would begin to resent their family for being such a burden. It's only normal after all. But personally, Eulo predicts there'll be a famine of near unimaginable proportions since this plague infected everyone regardless of their pedigree, status, or wealth.
Since there's going to be a famine in the near future, and Eulo's already almost reached his breaking point, the young man simply decided to stop worrying and simply enjoy what little time he has left with his family.
Hand on her shoulder, Eulo gently guided his mother back to the house. Ten years ago, the position was switched, and his mother guided him back home when he went out one night to climb a tree he had found in a forest nearby. A sudden howling in the night caused him to scream out in fear, which only worsened when it was a moonless night.
His mother, woken up by the distant scream, came out of the house with only a single lantern and a sword. The way the fire inside the lantern lit up her mother's fearless face against the background absolute darkness was a sight difficult to forget in any child's young and impressionable mind.
Nowadays, it appeared that mind loss is only going to get worse. Already, Eulo was forced to put out fires in the furnace whenever he slept because Sulo burnt his hand once when touched it, saying how the fire looked pretty.
"..." Even when Eulo has long accepted his current reality, it still hurts him more than anything to see his family like this. Every day, he prayed to God Luminous asking for salvation, or failing that, at least an answer for this plague. Was this Mind-Loss Plague the final retribution of Relentless Reborn?
Eulo never got an answer, and he thinks he'll never get an answer to his misery. Truly, the world is a cruel place.
The holy books are wrong, God is not merciful. If God Luminous was, then he would've taken his family away instead of this... this... instead of letting them waste away, blissfully unaware of what was happening.
_____________________________________________
Thousands of kilometers away, the Citadel
"The Dementia Virus' progression is going along smoothly." Mobius reported, "Infection rate has reached a daily infection rate of 1.92%. That is, in just one day, 1.92% of the total population has been added to the 35.06% current coverage rate. I estimate that in less than a month, assuming nothing drastic occurs, we'll reach full coverage. By that point, all nations on the planet will have collapsed as each and every member of their government, all parts of their very society ceases to function."
Rimuru looked passive as he heard the report. Leaning back on the chair, his focus was more on his surroundings, which were a perfect replica of his office inside the Capitol building.
The Dementia Virus. What a horrible curse he unleashed.
Originally, one and a half months ago, Rimuru started to become worried about the growing army that was settling up outside of the Citadel. No, not because of the threat they represent, but because of how many people are going to die when he retaliated.
Truly, Scientia's monochrome fortress was a masterpiece in protection. For over three days, when the army of the Eastern Empire finally crossed the distance between No Man's Land east of the Ameld to here, they laid siege against the Citadel.
Cannon rounds, tank shots, impressive displays of magic— even Velgrynd herself taking a shot at breaking through the Citadel's defensive outer shell; nothing got through.
Hell, even when Velgrynd unleashed a ray of plasma hotter than the core of the sun— something that set fire to all the surrounding vegetation— Rimuru didn't even feel any tremors inside this place. If it weren't for Mobius reporting what happened, Rimuru wouldn't even know he was being attacked.
Conversely, because of Velgrynd's actions, what was once a lush green space that surrounded a mountain, with the Citadel built into the mountain, has now been turned into a barren basalt field more reminiscences of the caldera of an extinct volcano. The mountain named 'Storm's End' used to contain the cave that sealed Veldora was now much stouter and smaller.
Like melting wax, a solid mountain turned into liquid, spreading outward and deflating into what it is today. Its total mass has also been reduced, with those rocks being vaporized.
Seeing it completely pointless since the Citadel wasn't even scratched by that barrage, the Eastern Empire decided to set up camp nearby while making a truce with Ruberios' forces.
If one counts the foot soldiers and everyone employed to maintain the troops, the army outside of the Citadel now numbers in the tens of millions. A literal makeshift city sprung up outside of the Citadel. The second largest city in the world outside of the Eastern Empire's capital, and even then it'll soon surpass them.
Normally, such a large army would take years to amass. The logistics itself would be a nightmare, but thanks to the power of Chronoa who opened permanent portals connecting the Citadel's surroundings with other places like Lune, Ruberios' capital, logistics and transportation became extremely easy.
The enemy now has their own version of Doormakers.
Even worse, Chronoa was actively spitting on Scientia's memory by intentionally making her portals a door of oily darkness framed by purple. She was mocking Rimuru even from so far away.
In anger, he was so close to asking Mobius to speed up those Pacifier screw-ships and just have them appear right in front of this planet, turning what was once an orb of metal and lighter elements into a cloud of debris with a density equivalent to solar winds.
He didn't. Calming down by taking in several deep breaths, Rimuru told Mobius to censor all images of those portals themselves and began thinking of a way to reduce enemy numbers.
[Holmes] suggested attacking logistics through the use of bioweapons.
That could work.
The slime asked Mobius to create a plague that'll infect the food and make them unsuitable for consumption.
In response, the green-haired avatar only commented on how inefficient that was.
Seeing Rimuru's puzzled look prompted Mobius to explain why her creator has mostly abandoned biological warfare.
The AI said how biological machines are outclassed by silicon and metal-based ones in almost every conceivable metric. In terms of hardness, Subatomic Assemblers can create matter using different types of quarks that result in materials with drastically different properties, and that's not even getting into the Hyperdimensional Forge. In terms of self-repair, nanomachines are far more versatile in terms of what materials they could collect and use to produce more of themselves. In terms of survivability, machines far outweigh biological lifeforms in terms of places where they can stay for long durations.
The only metric left that machines are entirely lacking in is magic.
This was the only reason why her Creator even made the Bonesaw AI was because of magic. Magic closed the gap between biology and machinery since nothing machine could ever possess a soul.
Using this logic, Mobius proposed an alternative to a plague that'll rot the food; a biological magical superpower. Derived from the template of the 'Virasite' and the notes from one of Scientia's Hyperweapons, this new virulent plague would be a hegemonizing swarm that consumes the Universe as it goes. Specifically, they are quasi-biological horrifying deformities of animated spacetime that use earth magic to eat the binding energy of celestial bodies to replicate.
Mobius assured Rimuru that it can be programmed to consume only certain elements. It's precise enough to eat the metal armor of a person while leaving their flesh mostly unharmed.
The potential was undeniably attractive. But the only drawback was it'll take time to produce this superweapon, time that Rimuru doesn't have since the Pacifiers are nearing.
So for a faster and simpler solution, Mobius then suggested a type of magical zombie virus. She explained how zombies in his old World's films are entirely unsuited, so instead, this magical zombie virus infects and turns each host into a rapidly evolving bioweapon.
Every single zombie will be a weaker version of this 'Doomsday' character from a comic book Scientia read in her old life.
Even if Rimuru violated his morals to drug his own people into compliance, he can at least somewhat justify that under how it's for their own good. With the drugs, the slime can tell himself it'll make passing through the hard days much easier for the average citizen.
He can't do any of that for the zombie virus. In his old life, he's seen plenty of zombie films from the West. Films from classics like Dawn of the Dead to 28 Days Later, a young adult Satoru Mikami all watched during a period of particular fascination with the undead genre in the late 2000s.
He remembered the horror on the survivors' faces as they watched their families get eaten in front of them. He recalled the tears falling off the survivors' faces as they were forced to shoot their families in the head or else they'll turn.
To be honest, Satoru grew bored of the zombie genre after a while. So many tropes all played out the same making the genre stale, but that's still fiction at the end of the day. It's easy to yawn at a person dying on screen because deep down, you know that's not real. You know the actors playing them are still alive and probably spending the cash they made from the film.
This is real life, so to make those fantastical horrors into a reality...
Countless scenes of zombies from those films flashed across Rimuru's mind in an instant, forming a collage that almost seems neverending.
No, that's way too horrible for anyone to go through. Against civilians, those shouldn't be deployed.
So Rimuru asked Mobius to tone down the severity of this zombie virus, to which the AI then responded with an engineered disease that attacks the mind, causing symptoms resembling dementia to appear in the host.
It would be a highly infectious, but not prone to mutation virus that can easily cross the blood-brain barrier to attack the neurons themselves and degrade the host's mental capacity.
Rimuru almost didn't want to release it, but Mobius persuaded him with the promise of making a percentage of the population immune. Supposedly, the AI will make the virus unable to infect any human or monster that has a specific strand of a special genome. Currently, it was estimated those who possess that special immunity stands at approximately 10% of the entire global population.
He agreed to it. Having 90% of a country's people suddenly gain Alzheimer's is paralyzing in the best-case scenario. Such a scenario would make their leaders unable to support the war effort, and thus, would pull their troops back to deal with this crisis.
Evidently, he didn't fully realize how releasing such a plague caused greater pain than even the zombie plague. At least with zombies, they don't look like your family member when you kill them. You can at least kill with the pretense they're already dead. With the dementia plague, many families who couldn't support having a dead weight turned to mercy killing them.
Rimuru vividly remembers a specific case caught by Diablo.
Even as he's holed up in the Citadel, Diablo still ventures forth to attain intelligence secretly. The specific case was a report given by a local mayor to the Lord of the land telling the sentencing of a family. Originally, this was a family of nine, with six kids under the age of ten and one 12. All six of the younger kids caught the Dementia Virus and the parents, who couldn't handle the burden of having so many dead weights holding the family's financials back, killed them and buried their bodies in the farm. The parents were caught, hanged, and the older son was exiled from the village.
The report ended with a postscript offhandedly mentioning the son probably will die from exposure to the elements or wild animals before requesting more peasants to work the fields.
What a horrible plague he's unleashed.
"Already, the Crusaders from the West who've gathered outside of the Citadel have dwindled significantly. So long as Chronoa does not provide a cure for this plague, I think this holy war of theirs will end with attrition. The enemy's strategic weapons like Velgrynd are another story."
Finishing with her report, Mobius waited for Rimuru to respond. She waited patiently even as the slime's focus turned toward a thing on his desk— a hologram depicting Scientia wearing a white lab coat— and blankly stared at it.
The silence continued. Mobius' psychology programs assessed Rimuru as 'feeling dead inside', or 'hollowed out' as he's a morally upbeat person who've done so many things he saw as 'wrong'. Psychologically compromised.
Seriously, what was her Creator thinking when she let Rimuru take over as leader?
"Remind me again of our international position."
Without missing a single beat, Mobius answered, "We are a pariah on the world stage. All of our allies have left us after we mostly retreated and pulled back our forces into the Citadel. Harpy Kingdom Fulbrosia fully declared for Chronoa's side the moment when Milim went MIA. Beast Kingdom Eurazania abandoned us when we pulled back the Endbringers from the Eastern Theater and when El Dorado landed troops off its shores. The Armed Nation of Dwargon experienced a gentle coup when we took in King Gazel for treatment and you refused to let him go. The Kingdom of Blumund experienced a violent coup when we pulled out all of our forces."
Mobius then concluded with: "We have no more allies. The whole world is now against us."
Despite the bleakness of her words, the AI didn't appear too fazed about the current situation. It was as if everything can be solved by the superintelligent AI.
"Beyond that, we've also lost a majority of our population to the timeloops. Everything that is within the Citadel and up in space is all that's remaining of our assets." Mobius finally added.
Rimuru leaned back on his chair after hearing everything. His mouth felt as dry as a desert, another echo of his past life as a human. Even if it's technically out of his control, the slime still found it genuinely impressive that Tempest lost all of her allies so quickly. It's like those apocalyptic predictions told by those doomsayers where a certain country will soon lose all of its allies in the future.
A memorable one was embodied by the Cyberpunk genre. Rising in the late 80s and early 90s, that genre tended to portray Japan in the future as a corporate dystopia.
They're not supposed to be correct! They're supposed to be fun to look back on 30 years in the future and laugh at how incorrect those doomsayers' predictions were!
"..."
Rimuru sighed loudly. Feeling extremely tired, he decided to end this series of 'manipulation' once and for all.
"Mobius, why is my Ultimate Skill [Holmes] constantly saying you're trying to manipulate me?"
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AN: listening to Everywhere at the end of time while writing this chapter really helped me get into the mood. It is an *experience* that's for sure.
Man. It's been such a long time eh? When I wrote this years ago I was a different person, so I'm having a hard time finishing it as I'm in no longer the same headspace as before.