"—Alright. Basically, it’s Vira and Olaf. We just have to beat them both into the ground at once."
As Roselia stood, her prosthetic limbs let out a sharp metallic whine. A heavy clack echoed as her feet hit the floor, her polished chrome armor shimmering with every slight movement.
"We can worry about the complicated stuff later."
The way she spoke made her look like a predator laughing in the face of a war zone.
Well, she’s certainly right, I thought, silently agreeing.
The broad strokes were clear. The root of all this was Vira Corp and Olaf Karvel. In that case, the answer was simple. Strike. Break. Repair. I would take back Lucia and Cecily’s bodies—that was all there was to it.
There was no point in quibbling over the finer details. I wasn't a strategist; I was just a repairman. If it’s broken, you fix it. If you mess up, you clean up your own mess. That was enough for me.
"Roselia, lend me one of the big ones. And... a booster, too."
Roselia raised an eyebrow. "...Huh? I get the big gun, but a booster? Those are illegal."
When I gave her a firm nod, she pressed a hand to her forehead and let out an exasperated laugh.
"Good grief, you're a handful. I think one we seized the other day is still in the loading bay. ...You really planning to use that?"
"It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine," I said, waving a hand dismissively.
With a snort, Roselia pulled out her terminal and dialed a contact. Her combat boots clicked rhythmically against the floor as she walked toward the door.
Once the decision was made, things moved fast. The plan was set: get in, finish it, get out. Besides, once this was over, I wanted something sweet—a sugar-glazed donut and a cup of cheap coffee would do just fine.
"...Um, what about me?"
A reserved voice broke my train of thought. Cecily was watching us, her expression fraught with anxiety. Her blue hair swayed, her eyes reflecting confusion more than fear. The "other consciousness" dwelling within her was silent for the time being.
"Sorry, but I need you to come with us," I said, thumbing toward Roselia. "Just stay behind 'Big Sister,' and you'll be fine."
Her body was an android, and during the repairs, I’d swapped her internal frame for a high-durability model. I hadn't built her to break easily.
"But... to put the young lady in such peril...!" Sebastian’s voice trembled.
To the man who had served her family for years, Cecily was both a master and a daughter. It was clear that the idea of placing her in danger was almost more than he could bear.
"I can’t promise she'll be absolutely safe," Roselia interjected as she returned, her voice low and steady. Her eyes held the cold resolve of a veteran warrior. "However, my Seventh Tactical Control Division will be providing backup. Besides, we need her there if we're going to get the young lady back into her original body, right?"
I gave a quiet nod of confirmation.
Sebastian closed his eyes. After a long, heavy silence, he bowed his head deeply.
"...I leave her in your care."
His wrinkled hands were clenched tightly against his chest. I responded with a casual wave. I’d already taken the down payment; I intended to see the job through.
Roselia smirked. "Then it’s settled. Let's make an entrance, Repairman."
Thrum-thrum-thrum—
Overhead, helicopter rotors whipped the air into a frenzy. Beyond the wide-open bay door lay the city at night. Beneath a murky gray sky, countless lights twinkled like a sea of shattered glass.
Rei, Roselia, and Cecily stood at the edge of the drop. The wind howling past us was cold enough to slice skin.
"...The wind is so strong," Cecily whispered fearfully, her hair lashing across her face.
"It’s fine as long as you don't fall. As long as you don't fall, anyway," Roselia quipped. Her tone was ironic, but her eyes were dead serious.
Three more black-painted helicopters flanked us, maintaining perfect formation like a flight of dark arrows gliding through the night. Below, the massive spire of Vira Corp’s headquarters loomed—the heart of the beast and our destination.
Naturally, they weren't the type to roll out the red carpet.
The sensors of the rooftop interception system swiveled toward us. Metallic eyes reflected the light, and a moment later, several rotary turrets began to whine. But then, a hollow, spinning sound followed.
Roselia gave a casual shrug. "The police brass are pulling strings. Their automated security is currently disabled."
Political pressure was a beautiful thing. It was a waste not to use it.
We exchanged wry smiles, but we couldn't afford to be careless. A corporation of this magnitude would have layers of redundant defense systems. We had to strike during the brief window before they switched to manual control.
A lock-on warning shrieked through the cabin.
"Fire," Roselia commanded.
Missiles screamed from the helicopter’s underbelly, trailing plumes of white smoke as they streaked toward the roof. They slammed into the interception turrets, a blinding flash rending the night followed by a deafening roar.
The blast wave buffeted the helicopter, and Cecily let out a sharp yelp.
"H-Hyaaa!"
"Relax. It’s all going according to plan."
Ignoring the chaos, I unfastened my safety restraint. Below us, fires danced on the rooftop while metal fragments scattered like falling stars.
Well then, shall we?
I rolled my shoulders and took a step out into the void.
The wind battered my body. The conflicting sensations of weightlessness and terminal velocity rushed over me at once, but I felt no fear. The roof was only a few dozen meters down.
I twisted in mid-air, corrected my posture, and hit the deck feet-first. The impact shuddered through my legs, and the reinforced concrete buckled in a spiderweb of cracks.
"—And stay down."
As dust swirled around me, a squad of augmented security soldiers came flooding out of the emergency stairwell.
Wow, quite the welcome party.
They wore black bodysuits and tactical armor, wielding the latest military-grade gear. To anyone else, they were a nightmare. To me, they were just targets.
I hefted the massive, jet-black Gatling with one hand. As I thumbed the switch, the barrels began to spin with a low, predatory hum. The moment the rotation hit its peak, I pulled the trigger.
The world vanished in a strobe light of muzzle flashes.
A deluge of over a hundred rounds per second tore through the air, shredding metal and composite armor alike, painting the roof in a red mist. Half were live rounds, the other half plasma bolts. I swept the gun horizontally, the white-hot tracers illuminating the rooftop like a spotlight.
The second wave of soldiers was turned into mincemeat before they could even level their weapons.
Thanks to my Speech Bubbles, I could see the remaining reinforcements huddling behind the heavy rooftop doors, waiting for me to run out of ammo.
Sorry to disappoint, guys, but I don't have that problem. The concept of "running out" didn't apply to me.
Smirking, I activated my Repair Skill.
The entire weapon was enveloped in a faint light. Instantly, the empty magazine was restored to a fully loaded state, and the scorched, overheated barrels were mended. Infinite ammunition. Infinite durability.
It was the most brutally simple and unfair way to fight in the world.
A few minutes later, the rooftop was riddled with holes and silence. There was no longer any sign of life from the enemy.
I looked up at the sky and signaled with my fingers.
One by one, the tactical squad members rappelled down from the helicopters. Roselia was the last to land, carrying a dizzy, wide-eyed Cecily in her arms.
"Good grief... as usual, you're just ridiculous," Roselia said, her eyes deadpanning as she surveyed the carnage.
The surrounding squad members looked at me with varying degrees of horror and revulsion. Hey, don't look at me like that. I don't have "combat skills." I just have to push through with sheer volume and maintenance.
"...Now then."
According to the police data, Olaf’s ID was still pinging inside the building. The ground level was already cordoned off by a separate unit. He had nowhere to run.
"We’re going down floor by floor. A Reverse Daruma Drop," Roselia said with a shark-like grin.
"Understood," I replied. "A stairway to hell, then."
The night wind swept across the roof again, and the glowing embers of the destroyed turrets twinkled like fallen stars.