Given the raw combat power wielded by Flandre and the rest of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, they rarely felt the need to take most factions on Terra seriously.
After all, one had to remember that these individuals held a terrifying track record of completely obliterating a heavy Ursus High-speed Warship without suffering so much as a scratch.
Even if an enemy managed to analyze their specific capabilities, who could actually locate a functional vulnerability to exploit?
To be precise, any opponent knowledgeable enough to understand the nature of their powers would only feel a far deeper sense of absolute despair.
After letting out a silent, internal sigh, Scout turned his eyes back to Flandre. "So, flying... is considered a baseline Magic technique that virtually everyone from your homeland knows how to use?"
"What else would it be?" Flandre tilted her head, her expression filled with genuine confusion. "Gensokyo is a place surrounded by vast mountains and winding rivers. If you can't fly, getting all the way to the shrine is a huge hassle—you'd have to take a long, tedious detour through the valleys."
Hearing her matter-of-fact logic, Scout was left momentarily speechless.
However, he didn't press the matter further, instead shifting the topic gently. "Don't you ever worry about safety issues or complications arising when you soar through the sky like that?"
"But there haven't been any problems at all! Why would I waste time worrying about something that hasn't happened?"
The child's unbothered logic left the veteran Sarkaz completely at a loss for words.
Just then, a sharp chime rang through Scout's tactical headset. An internal dispatch had come through—a supply convoy was approaching Rhodes Island's perimeter, and the deck security team needed Scout to verify from the high watchtower whether the incoming vehicles matched the pre-filed arrival manifest.
Curiosity piqued, Flandre fluttered over, leaning over the guardrail to peer at the detailed digital dossier displayed on Scout's terminal screen.
"Doesn't the terminal already display the automated radar scans and perimeter monitoring logs?" Flandre asked, tilting her head. "Why do you still need to cross-check everything with your naked eyes?"
To her, relying on manual observation when high-tech scanners were running seemed like a massive waste of manpower.
"Not at all," Scout replied, stepping over to the mounted binoculars. "Just like your miraculous abilities, there are Casters across Terra who command Originium Arts capable of jamming, spoofing, or bending optical cameras and radar detection. In scenarios like that, the human eye serves as the ultimate physical check to cross-reference against digital radar output."
He paused, adjusting his sightline toward the distant horizon. "After all, if an enemy possesses the rare capability to evade both active radar scans and direct visual sight simultaneously, they wouldn't need to sneakily trail behind a mundane supply convoy—they would have a hundred better ways to infiltrate Rhodes Island. But if they lack that absolute stealth, the discrepancy between radar readouts and direct visual identification will immediately expose that something is wrong."
Scout looked over at her. "Rhodes Island's current operational scale remains small, so we must exercise extreme caution at every step to safeguard everyone living on board."
Naturally, there was one crucial detail Scout chose not to mention aloud: even if an unannounced visitor somehow breached the outer perimeter, gaining access to the interior decks without prior authorization was virtually impossible. Rhodes Island maintained a specialized internal screening protocol to protect its core infrastructure—which was precisely why a shape-shifting entity like a Damazti could never slip undetected into the landship's living quarters.
Flandre let out a soft sound of realization. So that was the reason. She had previously wondered why an organization equipped with such advanced, high-tech machinery would still rely on a primitive method like manual visual verification. She had assumed Rhodes Island's leadership simply lacked trust in their own machines. Now she understood it was a deliberate strategy of cross-verification.
Just as Scout explained, the Sarkaz possessed an intimate understanding of originium manipulation. It was impossible to guarantee an enemy wouldn't develop specialized Magic designed to mask signatures from technological radar.
However, radar telemetry and direct biological vision operated on entirely different physical principles. If an opponent could bypass both simultaneously, they would be functionally invisible to the world anyway—in which case, trailing behind a slow-moving transport convoy would be completely redundant. But so long as their camouflage fell short of perfection, the discrepancy would inevitably trigger an alarm on one system or the other.
The margin of error between human judgment and mechanical detection sat right there; as long as the sentries guarding the high watchtower remained vigilant and loyal, the perimeter remained absolute.
What's more...
Flandre peered closer into the watchtower station. Scout wasn't working in isolation; two dedicated observers were actively scanning the horizon while a third operator logged the telemetry. The recording operator would only log an entry after both sentries had verbally confirmed the visual description once. Once recorded, the two observers double-checked the written entry against their optical lenses to guarantee absolute accuracy before forwarding the data.
While the process appeared somewhat slow and methodical, Flandre calculated that the visual horizon from the high watchtower spanned at least four to five kilometers out onto the open plains. Even with a thorough verification process, by the time the sentries finished logging the manifest, the approaching vehicles would have traversed less than half that distance—unless, of course, the convoy could fly.
If a threat was identified, Rhodes Island would still enjoy a comfortable tactical window to deploy defensive barriers or initiate counter-measures.
Flandre hovered quietly by the glass, watching Scout and his team carry out the entire procedure with practiced efficiency.
"Is it like this every single time visitors arrive?" she asked once the sentries finished logging the data and transmitted the clearance signal down to the entry bay.
"Oh! You're still here?" Scout turned around in surprise, finding Flandre resting her arms against the outer railing, peering in with wide, curious eyes.
"Yup! I thought your security process was pretty interesting, so I decided to stick around and watch."
After answering, Flandre repeated her question.
"That's right," Scout confirmed. "Every single party approaching Rhodes Island undergoes the exact same cross-verification protocol."
"But what if they aren't coming in vehicles? What if they walk here on foot?" Flandre pressed further.
"For those arriving on foot, we deploy specialized field operators to establish contact, perform preliminary medical scans, and inspect their belongings outside the hull. And even for those arriving via vehicle transports, every passenger inside must undergo mandatory security screening before stepping onto the main deck."
"Huh? But we didn't go through any of that when we arrived?" Flandre blinked, her eyes filled with childish confusion.
"No, you certainly did!" Scout chuckled softly. "It's just that, to prevent guests from feeling as though their personal privacy is being aggressively invaded, we utilize discreet, passive screening methods. You simply weren't aware it was happening."
Rather than claiming Rhodes Island had extended blind trust to Flandre's party, Scout chose to answer with complete, professional honesty.
"So that's how it works! That's actually really impressive!"
Sure enough, far from feeling offended or angry, Flandre's eyes sparkled with genuine admiration as she voiced her praise.
After offering her compliment, Flandre raised another thought. "What if several completely different groups of people arrive at the exact same time? Would your watchtower team be able to handle that kind of heavy workload?"
Scout stroked his chin thoughtfully before responding. "Rhodes Island's current scale isn't massive, so we haven't encountered a massive bottleneck scenario like that yet. However, we do maintain a standardized contingency plan for high-volume arrivals: staggered entry."
He gestured toward the communications console. "We would broadcast across all open public frequencies, directing the arriving transports to form an orderly queue and enter one by one. Naturally, if a group is carrying an Infected patient in critical, life-threatening condition, we grant them priority clearance to bypass the line."
Scout paused, his tone turning stern. "However, if our medical team discovers that a party fabricated a medical emergency simply to jump the queue, that entire organization is permanently blacklisted. The next time they approach Rhodes Island, not only will they face far more rigorous security inspections, but their right to priority entry will be revoked forever."
As Scout explained the tactical contingency, Flandre nodded along attentively.
"Then what happens if a group that had its priority revoked actually brings a patient who really is in critical condition later on?" Flandre asked, her question cutting straight to the core of the policy.
Scout nodded approvingly, deeply impressed by the child's sharp, analytical line of questioning.
"Rhodes Island's contingency protocols can never be absolute perfection," Scout answered calmly. "At the end of the day, every faction must bear the full consequences of their own actions. Furthermore, the standard wait time in our entry queue rarely exceeds an hour."
He looked out over the barren wilderness. "If a patient's condition is so severe that a one-hour delay results in immediate death, the statistical probability of saving them even if they reached our emergency bay instantly is less than ten percent..."