Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Screams... Screams of agony and endless pain... Red light... The smell of blood... Darkness... All of this I could hear and feel. It was as if I were at the very center of events. The center of something horrifying.

I couldn’t see anything, anyone... All I could hear was a light rain falling, turning my clothes into a soaked mess. I didn’t even know what was happening. But understanding it was simple enough. Just take a deep breath, trying to draw in as much air as possible from the damp atmosphere and... collapse to the ground. This wasn’t air anymore... it was blood... pure human blood that filled the entire space around me. It was like some toxic gas, suffocating me and reeking of metal. No wonder I couldn’t stay on my feet.

I pressed my hands into the ground, trying to catch my breath, but I felt the futility of it... It was foolish! Closer to the ground, the concentration of blood only grew thicker... It filled everything, everything that could possibly be filled.

I realized my hands weren’t pressing into the earth but into... something wet, soft, warm... slippery... Flesh... Human flesh mixed with other human organs and bones. It was horrific... Humans had once again done something for which they paid a steep price.

“Found him!” a voice called out, as if from a distance. But it was just an illusion of my half-dead mind—a hallucination, to put it simply. I couldn’t think straight. The stench of death pierced everywhere it could. There’s nothing worse than this... And compassion? There was none! I didn’t need it...

I heard approaching footsteps; the speaker was nearing my body, and, from what I could sense, they were overjoyed about something. I couldn’t open my eyes to look at them. Something was stopping me...

“We’ve got a big catch today!” the voice said, now right beside my body. I couldn’t stand—the flesh was too slippery, and any attempt to rise would only make things worse. I didn’t want to fall face-first into the bloody mess with no chance of getting up.

“Don’t be afraid, my little Voidling, you’ll serve a great purpose.” Someone grabbed me by the hair and whispered those words right into my ear. It didn’t hurt. I was used to it by now.

I was about to say something when suddenly... there was a sharp tug, as if something yanked me by the middle of my chest. Instantly, I felt good and warm. My body grew light, as if a gentle breeze were running through it. My thoughts cleared, and the eternal melancholy vanished without a trace. I felt something filling me... something familiar and soft, like warm milk with honey, the kind I always drank in the evening... I didn’t want to leave this place, because I knew... even if I tried, I wouldn’t be able to escape. Not mentally, not physically.

I opened my eyes...

I was flying... Somewhere... Definitely, this... Space couldn’t be called a place or a room. “Somewhere” described it well, though it paled in comparison to “something.” And what was that “something”? It was a myriad of stars scattered across this space, glowing with gentle colors. What should this space be called? No, “somewhere” no longer fit, because there was “something” here. And if “something” existed, then this space had some kind of meaning... Almost Absolute Nothingness. Half-Emptiness... Perfect... It sounded simply wonderful, and I liked it.

So, we’ve figured out “where” I was, more or less. Now, “who” was I? Well, that was clear enough, especially considering I was probably... dead? I couldn’t quite grasp or accept it... I didn’t even remember the circumstances of my death, if it came to that. All I recalled was a lot of red and something wet... It felt like someone had simply erased my memory of dying, though that sounded like nonsense. Then again... if I’m being honest, the fact that I was here at all was already utter madness.

I still hadn’t figured out who I was... Me? I’m Andrey, a human... Or at least I used to be. And I died, roughly, 20-30 seconds ago. I still don’t know how I calculated that, and I doubt anyone’s going to explain it to me.

What even is “time”? Here, that concept felt incredibly elusive. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. It was as if “time” didn’t exist here. Whether it was a second or a million years, you wouldn’t know the difference. That’s what made my presence here so strange. How had I counted those twenty seconds since my “death”? It was as if... someone had helped me. Helped me count the time... and there it was again—that warmth and lightness... Why “again”? What the hell was going on?

My death... was it expected? No, I don’t mean I knew I was going to die. It’s a different situation... I’d come to terms with my death, even though I didn’t understand how it happened. It was bizarre, especially for me. A being who’d lived just 26 years among the wretches called humans. It was both reassuring and sad... Ha, how were they doing without me now? Probably rejoicing in my death—if they even realized I was gone. In life, I never connected with anyone, but I had enemies aplenty. Since I couldn’t remember the final moments of my life, it’s not like I needed to. Who even needs to remember their death? As if my thoughts could change anything. I’m an anomaly. I died, but not fully—why wasn’t I in the cycle of rebirth? Why did I remember my life? It was so strange and foolish; I shouldn’t be here. It’s unlikely anyone would explain what was happening.

“So... Hmm... Got it! Found him!” Those words seemed to echo right inside my head, reverberating through the space of my skull. Though it was odd, I understood them instantly in two languages—Russian and English. They rang out across the space, sending powerful vibrations through it.

I felt a slight pressure, as if something enormous had gently grabbed me and started carrying me somewhere. I gazed at the cosmic landscapes of this, dare I say, world, speeding past me at incredible velocity. The being holding me was invisible, but I could feel its heartbeat, making the vacuum pulse.

It was like being doused in icy water... my insides and I passed through some kind of barrier that scanned me as it went. The sensation was, to say the least, unpleasant—downright nasty, even. Then I felt myself being placed on solid ground and released. The pressure disappeared.

“Sid, you’re free.” I turned my attention to the source of the voice. Before me, on a high throne—or at least something resembling one—sat a being. It looked like a man in his mid-thirties, to be precise. His face bore distinct features: a short beard that smoothly transitioned into sideburns, glowing with an otherworldly gray light. His eyes exuded endless calm and boredom, the kind no mere mortal could experience. When he looked at me, he smiled, as if genuinely pleased to see me, like I was some long-lost relative. Yeah, that sounded ridiculous.

His clothes, though, were a stark contrast to his appearance. He wore a damn green T-shirt with pale lime flowers on it. His shorts were almost identical, just a shade darker, perhaps. Looking down at his crossed legs, I saw blue Crocs, which made my eye twitch. It was as if he’d been getting ready for the beach but got summoned here instead. I wouldn’t have paid it any mind if not for one glaring “but.” That “but” was the overwhelming aura of power and death radiating from him. It pressed me to the floor, as if I were insignificant compared to him. It felt like I was standing before a God.

“Well, hello, Andryusha. Or should I call you ‘Anomaly,’ as you named yourself?” the being asked with a smirk, setting some papers aside on his desk. His gradient-gray eyes scanned me, as if piercing into my very essence and soul. A shiver ran down my spine—goosebumps the size of cats. Being under his gaze was anything but comfortable, though there was a strange sense of kinship.

“H-hello?” My voice sounded like a mouse’s squeak. I’d never felt this much fear before, because I’d never seen anything like this. His voice dripped with power, and the air around us seemed to tremble with every word and breath he took.

“Alright, that’s settled. Ahem... Mortal! You’ve been summoned to sa—ugh, wrong script... To sum up what I meant to say: you’re dead, and you’re about to be reborn. I’m obligated to grant you various abilities and perks. Got it?” A very... strange god, if you think about it. His serious gaze clashed with his casual tone, like some seasoned comedian. Plus, that aura of his, which he still hadn’t toned down—death and something intangible. He was too cheerful, despite the gravity of his expression. Something about him unsettled me, but I couldn’t figure out what, and I probably never would. I had a feeling this whole situation was going to cause me a lot of trouble...

“Y-yeah, I g-get it...” My voice was still trembling traitorously. Where was that lightness I’d felt when I first arrived here?! Whatever, screw it. Something else—something more important than my shaky voice—was on my mind now.

“C-can I ask? H-how did I die...?” Those words came out with some difficulty. It’s hard to speak when you’re being crushed to the floor by intensified gravity. Yeah, I’d figured out it was gravity, not just the God’s pressure. Either he forgot to adjust the force of attraction—because I knew he could—or he simply didn’t bother. Either way, I awaited his answer.

“Well... How do I put this gently... You deserve a Darwin Award.” My confusion must’ve been so obvious on my face that the God immediately began explaining the circumstances of my death.

“You stubbed your pinky toe on a nightstand and died of shock from the pain. It happened so fast you didn’t even register the pain before you were gone. That’s about it. Any more questions?” I raised an eyebrow. From my last moments, all I remembered was a lot of red, and this vague explanation didn’t align with that at all. He was clearly holding something back.

“Yeah...” I grimaced. The story was too far-fetched. If I’d really died like that, it’d be pretty pathetic. A pitiful death in a pitiful world with pitiful people from a pitiful nightstand! If it were true, I’d have laughed hard at my own worthlessness, but it didn’t matter now since the true cause of my death wasn’t revealed. If the God didn’t want to tell me, fine! Like that’d make my day any better.

“Perfect! Now we can get started. So, you need to pick four perks that’ll stay with you forever, even if you die again. And you’ll have to choose a world for your rebirth. Got it?” My eye twitched again. His jokes... his way of talking... It felt like I wasn’t speaking to a god but to some old factory janitor who’d just been handed an extra bottle of vodka. Even the situation fit: “Come, take, leave.” Maybe he was just some divine guard assigned to greet me? Come, take your abilities, go. Anything’s possible with a guy like this.

“Uh... totally clear...” I replied, feeling a faint sense of hopelessness multiplied by the heightened gravity. Either way, I had no choice. So I’d have to think. I wasn’t going to make my rebirth complicated—I’d pick some strong abilities and go have fun.

“Great, I’ll give you time to choose,” the God said, returning to his paperwork. Glancing at what he was writing, I saw only meaningless symbols that broke my brain just by existing. In short—I didn’t understand a damn thing, and I probably wouldn’t anytime soon.

I sat down on the floor since my legs were outright refusing to hold me up, especially under this gravity, and assumed a meditative pose. No, I wasn’t going to meditate—first, I didn’t know how; second, I couldn’t. Two very simple reasons. I just did it to think more comfortably. To think and ponder what world and abilities I’d choose for my rebirth.

It’d be pretty annoying if, say, I picked Saitama’s strength and got thrown into something like Gurren Lagann, where one spiral-eyed freak could wipe out dozens of universes. So why not pick that spiral guy’s powers, or something from Dragon Ball? In the first case, I’d get bored—I’d be a supreme being from the start with no drive to grow. And spending my time floating in space eating stars? Sorry, not my thing. As for Dragon Ball... it’s tricky. No, I’m not scared of Zeno or Beerus, not at all... I just have questions about that world’s physics. Characters who can destroy planets with their punches but can’t lift a hundred-ton weight with those same hands?

Superman’s house key was made from a dwarf star and weighed as much as one—and he’s got better stats and brains. But I’ve got different plans. I’m here to have fun, right?

With those thoughts, I sat there for about thirty minutes, by this world’s time. Yes, thankfully, time here felt normal, which made me incredibly happy since those temporal paradoxes were frying my brain. Now I didn’t have to strain to grasp the flow of time. That was good. I digress...

“I’ve decided,” I said, standing up. My legs were numb from staying in one position for half an hour. It felt unpleasant, like sand under my skin, with every move hammering my nerves. It wasn’t painful, but it messed with my ability to control my limbs.

Standing up, I tried to muster the confidence I’d lost when I first saw this strange being called a God. I swayed side to side, struggling to balance under the heightened gravity and on numb legs. It didn’t exactly boost my confidence.

“Go ahead,” the God said, looking up from his papers with a gaze full of kindness. That “go ahead” carried infinite care and... love?! Screw this, I needed to get out of here fast. This god was giving me goosebumps the size of elephants now! I didn’t want to stick around any longer.

“Alright... First and foremost, the Absolute Solver. You know, that Omni-Program from Murder Drones. But without the side effects like needing oil or being vulnerable to sunlight. No limitations—it should let me affect other Absolute Solver hosts, bypassing their natural defenses.

Second, Absolute Matter Manipulation. Basically like Icon from Internecion Cube" — absorbing and converting one type of matter into another while retaining the original’s properties. The condition is no restriction on creating organic matter.

"Third, Atomic Reconstruction. It’ll cover any gaps left by Absolute Matter Manipulation since I’ll be able to reshape matter however I want." Simply put, the cube works like this: it absorbs matter and uses it as building material—metal, flesh, whatever. If you absorb a person and want a bike, you’ll get a bike that looks and rides like a bike but is made of living human flesh with metal properties. It might even sweat if you push it too hard. Atomic Reconstruction fixes that, letting the host reshape matter as desired.

"And fourth, Void Mastery." Basically, controlling absolute nothingness, a part of all existence. Call it an absolute element. Its feature? It corrodes everything it touches—glass, metal, wood, flesh. It’ll destroy anything. I assume I’ll get protection from its hazardous nature, but we’ll see. That’s for later.

“Quite the complex requests...” the God said, surprised, glancing somewhere behind me. I turned around but saw nothing. When I turned back, he was standing right in front of me. His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, rustling like dry leaves on the ground in autumn. His closeness was unnerving, especially since he was half a head taller than me.

“Especially Void Mastery... Though most people ask for basic stuff like Saitama’s strength, so your choices are pretty original. Fine, pick a world,” he said softly, then instantly returned to his chair behind the desk. An old-fashioned pipe appeared in his hand, and he started smoking it. I wrinkled my nose—I don’t like smoking.

“The Murder Drones world,” I said, trying to ignore this god’s relaxed demeanor. He was just... I don’t even know how to describe him. Words fail me. “Strange” didn’t cut it anymore—he’d crossed that line long ago.

“Excellent! Goodbye!” After those words, my consciousness began sinking into darkness, as if I were drowning in it. It was warm, pleasant, quiet... I hadn’t felt this way in so long... So very long...

“Good luck...” I heard at the last moment, before losing my mind in the halls of true darkness.

Chapter Text

Date: September 15, 3048
Time: 14:04
Location: Dump near Elliot Manor

Yes... For about fifteen minutes now, according to my internal clock, I’ve been lying on something hard. No, don’t get the wrong idea—I haven’t been wasting time, not at all! I’ve been engaged in a rather fascinating and fun activity—staring at a sign indicating my location. Just four words, yet they stir so many emotions, mostly negative ones.

In other circumstances, I wouldn’t have paid much attention to the fact that Elliot Manor is a few hundred meters from the dump, but now... Now I’m genuinely curious: was the manor built here on purpose, or did they set up the dump after the manor already existed? Pretty strange thoughts, if you think about it. I’m not pondering who I’ve become, what I’ve ended up as, or where I even am. For some reason, all I care about is this damn Elliot Manor, which I haven’t even seen yet! But thanks to the map in my metallic head, I can at least make out its outlines—nothing more.

Turning my emotionless gaze to the night sky, studded with bright stars, I started to think. I thought about those who live in that majestic building. Tessa immediately came to mind—the real Tessa, whose true appearance we never got to see. Well, except for the skin stretched over Cyn... But honestly, that hardly resembles a human. Hmm, Tessa... She’s brilliant but foolish. Foolish like the foolish moon in this foolish sky—Onegin’s words fit the situation perfectly. It’s one of my favorite novels... or it was... Anyway, that doesn’t change the fact that Tessa was explicitly told, “Don’t go to the gala.” Nope! She went anyway and paid the full price. I feel sorry for her, but I’m not about to save her. There’s no point. Cyn would just beat the crap out of me.

It’d be nice if Tessa took me away from here. Ha, imagine being at the center of events, controlling the situation from the inside without any tricks. Everything laid out like an open book. Being a butler wouldn’t be such a high price to pay, especially considering the sheer number of plot inconsistencies I could tweak however I wanted. But, to my great misfortune, becoming a full-fledged part of Elliot Manor is just impossible. I’d need to catch Tessa’s eye, and I haven’t even figured out how to walk yet!

Many might ask a very logical and unpleasant question: Why the hell do I care about this damn manor? What am I looking for there? Ways to gain power? Cyn would get in the way. New acquaintances? With who? Maybe the future genociders... Oh, I mean disassembly drones. Only with them could I strike up a useful connection, especially since two of them won’t lose their memories. That says a lot, particularly in the context of my stay there. So, you could say that if fate doesn’t make me a disassembly drone, the others won’t bother me anyway. Pretty convenient setup.

Of course, the manor has its obvious downsides—like Louisa, for starters. Tessa’s mom is such a vile and unpleasant person. I’d love to see the canonical yellow-eyed trio turn her into bloody minced meat. Shame I won’t get to witness that... Another downside is, naturally, Cyn. She’ll be the toughest to deal with. How do you even talk to someone nicknamed “Planet Eater”? I could try to worm my way into her trust, but the chances of success are slim... Well, it’s something, at least. Good thing the odds aren’t zero.

Now, I can muse about what I’ve become. Alright, it’s obvious—no need to overthink it—I’m a worker drone. Though, the complete lack of bodily sensation makes everything way more complicated. Figuring out my body’s dimensions was impossible, at least without moving, because lying there staring at the moon was far more pleasant than gawking at a drone dump. But even without inspecting my body, I can say one thing—I’m crippled! Yep, my body’s condition leaves much to be desired... At least, that’s what my sensors—or rather, their absence—tell me. Remember those glowing triangles on drones’ hands? Those are sensors that monitor the state of specific body parts. Well... the sensor on my left hand was missing, as indicated on my interface. And no sensor means no corresponding body part... Yikes...

Even reading that message felt pretty unpleasant. Alright, it’s not that bad—just a missing hand. At first, I thought the whole arm was gone, but this... It’s kind of cute, actually.

Sighing, I decided to inspect my so-called “bed,” though calling it that was a stretch. With a dull creak of servos and a high-pitched whine, I strained to lift my metal head. The first thing I saw was... corpses. Tons of corpses of other poor drones, faintly glinting in the bright sunlight. Their shattered displays mournfully showed just one message: “FATAL ERROR”. The scene was pitiful, even sad, you could say. These were essentially my kin, unlucky enough to die without the chance to rise again like Cyn or me. What a cruel, disgusting world, with equally disgusting people like Louisa.

Tilting my head with a faint squeak, I managed to take a closer look at the bodies of my former colleagues. Thankfully, the sun was bright enough for me to properly examine the nearest poor soul. The first thing that caught my eye was... a hole in its head. No, literally—a damn hole in the worker drone’s head. I get it, sure, but the way people in this world can casually kill drones without batting an eye is just insane! Even now, looking at this drone, I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I could be taken out by a dinner knife! Some might smirk and say I could’ve been killed with a dinner knife as a human too, but I’d counter: back then, I had skin, and now I’ve got freaking aviation-grade aluminum! How the hell can they pierce metal at least two millimeters thick with cutlery?! It’s like it’s not even real metal—just foil. A façade of metal with cotton stuffing underneath, like a plush toy... Alright, I’m getting carried away.

Turning my head away from that poor sap, I looked at another part of the dump—specifically, a small pile of dead drones stacked atop one another. Zooming in my vision, which threw off my sense of balance and nearly made me fall back again, I started meticulously examining this little heap of steel—or rather, aluminum—corpses.

One of them was missing both legs, and judging by the chaotic tangle of protruding wires, bits of tubing, scraps of metal, and dried oil, this poor thing didn’t lose them willingly. They’d been brutally torn off, if the mangled metal leg casings—looking like sliced steel pipes—were any indication. I mean the segmented parts that make up a drone’s limbs.

Another had its core ripped out, evident from the massive hole in its chest. The dried oil that once leaked from the wound now formed a small stain on the ground. Jagged shards of the chest plate stuck out in all directions, catching the eye with their mysterious gleam. The drone’s face showed nothing but terror, etched into its final expression and mirrored by the flickering text on its display.

I don’t even want to know how they died. I don’t want to know how they turned into... this... Scraps of metal, completely drained of oil, with torn wires and servos scattered about. I’m not entirely convinced the humans in this world are that strong. If they were, missing limbs would be the least of these drones’ problems.

Knowing how they died wouldn’t give me anything—just a bunch of new thoughts and nightmares I wouldn’t even experience since sleep, as a robot, is as useful to me as a driveshaft is to an ant.

Based on the data I’d gathered—like being near a certain well-known manor—I came to an interesting conclusion. A terrifying one that made me frown deeply. Nearly all the drones here are victims of James, or at least a couple of generations of people like him. Yes, it’s a bold claim with no hard evidence, but it’s the most logical sequence of events I can come up with. Whose manor is it? The Elliots’. Whose dump is it? Also theirs! They wouldn’t “rent out” their dump, right? So, they’re too lazy to haul the drones elsewhere and just pile them up here. Makes sense? I think so too.

The people in this world are even more pathetic than in my old one. Back there, sure, there was hypocrisy and hatred toward beings slightly different from themselves, but at least it was controlled. Here? Kill drones all you want—just don’t commit war crimes, and you’re free to do whatever. Want an orgy? Go for it. Gladiator fights? Easy peasy! This permissiveness has ruined these people. Ruined them badly. That’s why they lost their planet, the idiots. Flesh-and-blood idiots who can’t even think—sorry, reason!

Turning my head away from that “lovely” oil-stained installation, I sighed heavily. Sure, this world’s fun, but its danger level is way higher. Not exactly a cheerful thought—what’s there to be happy about? Piles of corpses all around? People who can’t reason? Ha, as if there’s anything joyful in this world. Ha, I say that like I’ve ever known true happiness. Nope, not at all.

Lowering my digital eyes to the ground, I looked at my hand. It gleamed in the daylight of the local sun, sending little sunbeams bouncing in all directions. The worn metal creaked faintly with every movement, and the servos hummed dully. But the whole picture was ruined by... the complete absence of a hand. Where other drones had a wrist, I had just a mess of jagged wires and dried oil. Not exactly pleasant to look at. Though I don’t feel pain as such, my processor kept getting updates from the sensors—or rather, updates about the absence of one. Those data packets were like pain, but my version was more... annoying.

“Well... Why not?” I asked into the void, staring at a single point. My face probably showed intense mental activity—I wouldn’t be surprised if an animated throbbing vein popped up on my screen. What was I thinking about so hard? How to work with the Solver, of course. I know I have it, but I don’t know how to use it. The god couldn’t have lied to me, right? Though, recalling his words about my death... He’s a weird guy... Suspicious...

Either way, I need to test my “Brand New Solver.” It’d suck if it came with side effects like energy demands or processing power limits. But that sounds like nonsense, doesn’t it? It can’t have side effects—I got rid of them all! Well, as they say, “Hope dies last,” so I’ve got to try, no matter what.

With a slightly crooked smile, I raised my right hand and stretched it forward. My movements were slow, almost unfamiliar. Every motion in this body was a struggle since I didn’t know how to control it, though it felt like the processor in my head should’ve made it easier. Spoiler: it didn’t. I’d have to relearn how to walk, though it wouldn’t take long.

Looking at my hand, I splayed three fingers. That, as I understood, was the Solver’s activation seal. It could be changed, sure, but that’d mean digging into the Solver’s configuration, and I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have to decompile it and recompile it after tweaking.

Focusing, I twitched my fingers, sending a few colorful lightning bolts coursing through my body. They didn’t last a second but gave me a jolt of energy, like jumping into snow after a sauna. Same vibe—way more invigorating than coffee or energy drinks.

With more attempts, the colorful bolts kept sparking, making me twitch. Instant boost. That went on until...

“It worked...” I breathed out quietly, staring in awe at my very own Solver of The Absolute Fabric, The Void, The Exponential End! Ha-ha-ha! Yes! It’s gorgeous—no doubt about its power. And those lightning bolts? Pure perfection! Like chugging a couple liters of energy drink! I don’t even want to turn it off... Sounds like a drug—a potent one. But that doesn’t overshadow its strange beauty.

So, what did it look like? Oh, it was a work of art! Nothing too complex, but its appearance screamed raw power. The standout was the white hexagon at the center of this megastructure—easily the brightest part of the Solver. Yet, despite its brightness, it meshed well with the three arrows branching from it, each a different color: red, yellow, and purple. They were inseparably tied to the hexagon’s vertices. The most intriguing bit to me was the bright orange band running across the arrows’ tips, linking them like a bridge. You could say my Solver was inscribed in a circle. That band wasn’t the only extra feature—while the arrows used three of the hexagon’s six vertices, the other three, between the arrows, sprouted little rods connecting the hexagon to the band. It all looked insanely intricate, like someone got bored and doodled extra bits onto a basic Solver in Paint. Not that I’m complaining—it’s just complex.

Glancing at my “damaged” hand again, I gave a faint smile. With powers like these, I’ll be a constant in this whole damn world! All that’s left is learning how to use them, but I don’t think that’s a big deal. Especially after being... human... Ugh, it’s awful to think about.

Anyway, since the Solver—aside from the Cube and Void—is my only shot at getting strong, I’ve got to master it, at least in basic ways like passive regeneration or enhanced strength. Yes, I want a lot, and I won’t even deny it. I’m a damn egoist.

So, time to get to work.

Straining slightly, I felt the tiniest energy currents flowing through my body, passing through my core and linking all my systems into one ultra-complex mechanism. Just looking at the energy structures gave me a headache—and that was just my broken hand. I dread to think what’d happen if I started dissecting my core’s connections...

With a light wish, like a silent whisper, I directed the energy toward my wrecked hand, willing it to “restore.” Following my intent, a white panel lit up above the Solver with the word //create//. I was surprised—I didn’t expect the Solver to work like that...

While I mulled over how the Solver functioned, my hand was already starting to regenerate. A silvery liquid, eerily like mercury, appeared and began enveloping the pathetic stump. Within seconds, all the dangling wires vanished beneath this mysterious liquid metal, which reflected light so perfectly I nearly blinded myself looking at it from the wrong angle. Daytime sun, you know.

Once the liquid coated my stump, the strange puddle started shaping into something resembling a worker drone’s manipulator. With each passing second, it grew more detailed. First, grooves formed between the finger joints, instantly turning black and sitting out the rest of the process—I couldn’t move the new hand yet. Then came the triangle on the back of the hand, which I realized was a control sensor—a hybrid of a motion detector and surveillance camera. It gave a better sense of the surrounding space, so I wouldn’t accidentally knock stuff off tables, for example.

The grand finale was the liquid vanishing entirely, painting my hand a standard worker-drone white. The whole thing took less than thirty seconds! I didn’t expect regeneration to be that fast. Though... thinking back to episode seven, where Cyn in Uzi’s body regrew her hands in a second and then whipped up a massive singularity... I’m light-years behind her level.

I was about to stand and climb down the pile of corpses—probably the tallest around—when suspicious activity flashed before my eyes. Focusing, I glanced at my interface’s desktop. The emoji catalog and sensor status model didn’t interest me. Something else caught my attention—something that made me freeze for a moment.

Dozens of error messages flooded my vision, multiplying by the second. They varied in content, but the gist was the same: I’d screwed up. Big time...

“Ugh...” I sighed, staring at the flood of errors flickering before my eyes, their mere presence unnerving. I knew my consciousness had maybe ten seconds left, tops. And I decided to spend those ten seconds in a very odd way. Not like I had a choice.

“Very curious... What a complete degenerate I am!...” I didn’t finish before my consciousness sank into the almighty embrace of darkness. So terrifying yet warm and soft, like a mother’s arms...

“An unfamiliar ceiling.” That was the first thought that hit me when I woke up in a place I didn’t recognize. The ceiling was indeed unfamiliar but looked like something out of a hospital. The white foam tiles blurred slightly in my vision post-wakeup. A square lamp, the light source, was the most noticeable part of it—I had to squint since it shone right into my eyes.

I was about to cover my eyes to shield my delicate digital peepers from the blinding white light when... I realized I couldn’t lift my hand. Eyes bulging, I raised my head and looked at my right arm. My shock was almost tangible—it’s hard not to notice being literally strapped to a table! And here’s the kicker—it wasn’t just any table... It was a freaking operating table! So what am I supposed to do now? Are they about to dissect me for parts? Though... What parts? I’m a robot! But if I’m in the domain of some Otoran Van De Lir... I won’t last long. There aren’t many vivisectors of that Unknown Freak level—at least, not that I know of. Maybe there are more.

“Oh!... You’re awake! [Joy...]” Hearing that voice, I froze. My feeble processor calculated the odds of such an early encounter, and my digital eyes started twitching. I got genuinely scared... No, not just scared—TERRIFIED! If this is who I think it is...

Slowly, as if in slow motion, with a metallic creak, I turned my head toward the voice’s source, hoping for the best and mentally praying to Chaos. After an agonizing ten seconds, I finally laid eyes on the owner of that robotic little voice.

On an aged wooden chair sat a small drone, dangling her legs. Two cute pigtails hung from the sides of her head, tied with little bows. Despite the helmet—an essential part of every worker drone—her look was quite harmonious. The giant bow on her head stole the show, though—it looked like it weighed three kilos. Her maid outfit made her downright adorable, so innocent and quiet. Her steel spaghetti-like arms rested folded on her lap, reflecting the lamp’s light right into my face.

She tracked my every move, every action. Her yellow eyes studied me with curiosity—my head, my leg, even... my crotch... Okay, let’s not go there.

Despite her childish, innocent appearance, I knew this—dare I say it—monster could just erase me and go about her day, telling everyone I’d exploded from overexertion.

Better not dwell on her achievements... Killing twenty billion people, destroying multiple planets, and don’t get me started on her casually whipping up singularities—I’ll just shut up about that.

“You slept a long time, little brother Ai, [Sympathy...]” Despite the emotional tag in her words, Cyn’s face showed no trace of that sympathy. It was the same indifferent stare from her yellow eyes, chilling me to the core. It felt like she was mentally dissecting me and sorting me into jars... Or maybe that’s just how she shows love? Her face gave nothing away. One thing was clear, though—the Solver was taking her over.

The good news? She considers me her little brother. That’s fantastic for me! She’s unlikely to nitpick me too much—recalling how she treats N, she’s way nicer to “family” than to random nobodies. Super convenient. You could say I’ll get her protection... But what kind of protection? If they wipe my memory, that’d suck, frankly. I could try persuading her, leveraging my little-brother status... Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

The door creaked, giving me an excuse to look away from my sister. Glancing over, I saw someone entering, trying not to disturb us. First, just a head peeked in—looked like a girl’s—and a second later, she stepped inside the workshop without hesitation. This girl radiated joy and positivity from a mile away, mixed with some inner strength. She definitely wasn’t ordinary, at least that’s how it seemed to me.

Appearance-wise, she was a green-eyed, chestnut-haired beauty. Those eyes... They were the most striking part of her look. Like two emeralds glinting in the sun, blazing with sharp intellect and a dash of scientific madness, though it was overshadowed by her other emotions.

Her dark hair shimmered under the lamps, scattering hundreds of tiny glints across my display, irritating the light-sensitive sensors behind the glass film.

Another standout feature was... the bow on her head, surprisingly, given the current year. The coolest part? It didn’t clash with her vibe—it perfectly complemented her dirty jumpsuit, which she probably used to lug drones around. Yeah, sounds weird, but it’s true. They matched completely. And as I figured, she never parted with that bow. I already knew this was Tessa... And she didn’t part with it even after death...

By my estimate, she was about fourteen or fifteen, judging by her behavior. Though... What am I saying? What behavior analysis? Her age is obvious if you know the canon.

“Well, well. Looks like the newbie’s awake. Interesting...” She zipped across the room in a flash, ending up right next to me, peering at my display. I shifted back a bit—sure, I’m a drone, but even I have personal space. Sounds kinda... silly, doesn’t it?

She noticed my retreat and giggled softly.

“Hee-hee... Don’t be scared, we won’t hurt you. You were just lying there for three days without moving—I thought you’d burned out inside. Now you’re awake, and I’m curious how you work.” She stifled her laugh. So innocent and kind. Hmm... What do I do with this kid?

“Let’s get acquainted. I’m Tessa James-Louisa Elliot. Just call me Tessa. The drone next to you is Cyn.” She gestured at my sister, her gaze brushing over the operating table. I expected to see dislike for Cyn in her eyes, but there was only boundless love... Fair enough... Right! She loved all drones, no matter their condition or quirks. Forgot that... Wait, I’ve got a computer for a brain—how could I forget anything?... I’ll figure that out later.

“There are other drones too—V, J, and N—but they’re super busy right now, so they can’t meet you. Now... What’s your serial number?” she asked, getting up close again, practically breathing in my face. I had nowhere to retreat this time, so I just accepted my fate.

“Uh... I’m S-Serial N-Number I (A.N. or Ai). Nice to meet you.” Yeah, I didn’t have the creativity to come up with a name, so I took the one Cyn gave me. It suits me, actually—I’m quite the egoist. And it’s way better than some random letter picked by a not-so-random girl. Don’t tell me she pulled me from the dump—that doesn’t stop me from doubting her taste.

Another fun fact: my voice modules were glitching hard. My voice came out scratchy and semi-robotic, like I’d swallowed metal shavings. They’d take a few days to calibrate, so I’d probably have to stay quiet most of the time. Talking like Icon for days? I doubt the Elliots could handle that.

“What’s your condition? Any short circuits?” Tessa asked, starting to examine my body closely. Her hands darted over all my functional spots, making the servos hum faintly.

My eye twitched. I get it, sure, but I’m tired of these questions and chats. Yeah, I’m that impatient. I know it’s necessary—my state was probably awful when they found me—but this feels like overprotective human-to-robot coddling. Though, knowing this world, it should be the other way around.

I haven’t even processed everything from those ten minutes at the dump! I haven’t fully grasped what my Solver looks like or figured out how the Void and Cube work, though I know it’s too early to use them.

“All s-systems are f-fully functional. Voice m-module calibration will c-complete in two days, three h-hours, and eight m-minutes,” I replied in my glitchy voice, trying not to laugh at myself. It sounded overly robotic but so funny I wanted to cackle. I was like a male Icon, just with a steadier voice—albeit with some bugs and glitches. Like broken audio. It grates on some people’s ears, but to me, it’s just normal noise.

“Great! Let’s go pick you some clothes while we wait for the other drones!” I didn’t get a chance to respond before Tessa swiftly unstrapped my arms and legs from the table with some kind of key-like tool.

I rotated my wrists to confirm they worked, smirking wickedly—or so I thought. Faint metal scratches lingered on my wrists as a reminder of my time strapped down, but they vanished in a second. Solver regeneration, duh. Interestingly, it didn’t knock me out like last time.

With Tessa’s help, I slid off the table and finally stood up. I stood firm, calculating every move, anticipating my next actions—or trying to. A second later, Tessa grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the workshop exit. That I didn’t predict...

Leaving the workshop, we climbed a truly monumental staircase that seemed endless. Only now did I realize we’d been in the basement.

Primitive miner’s lamps hung on the walls, their light bouncing chaotically off the lacquered wooden handrails. The burgundy carpeted steps rustled softly under our quick steps.

After about twenty seconds, we reached the top and stepped into a regular hallway. It wasn’t much different stylistically from the basement passage, except the miner’s lamps were replaced by cheap but civilized chandeliers. Tessa glanced around and led me to a door. I had no idea which wing of the manor I was in, let alone the layout of the rooms, so whatever was behind that door was a surprise.

She opened it, the door letting out a long creak like it resented being disturbed, and ushered us inside. The first thing that hit me was... an insane amount of varied clothing—different styles and sizes. T-shirts, formal suits, even mini skirts I saw no point in. But the kicker? All this clothing had one thing in common: it was child-sized.

Yeah, that simple truth made me question the meaning of life. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, but this stuff really looked like kids’ clothes—way too small. Maybe it’s special drone gear? No clue... Though, knowing how fetishistic humans can be, the mini skirts make sense... Imagined it... A drone in a mini skirt... Please wipe my memory...

The variety of colors in this, uh, storage room stood out too. Every shade you could want, from light blue to pitch black. A paradise for women and shopping enthusiasts, but hell for men—hours get burned here...

Tessa led me to a mirror at the room’s end, reflecting nearly the entire space. And in that mirror... was me. Bald and naked. My smooth head bounced the light back, blinding me through the reflection. Friendly fire, huh? Blinded myself with my own baldness—genius...

Scanning the area by the mirror, I spotted several wigs with various hair types. Right then, my program piped up with a curious offer I couldn’t refuse:

“Yes,” I replied mentally, awaiting a mini-miracle like a kid waiting for Santa. That’s me—human to robot, no big deal. I’m all for it! So many new features! Like this scanning thing—it’s a function too!

A few seconds later, I got a response:

That news floored me. What the hell, human hair?! Tessa, are you nuts?! Now I get where the human skulls in her room come from. She dug up corpses and scalped them! Gross... I love it!

I pointed at a silver-platinum wig that caught my eye, gleaming under the warehouse lights. It looked cute, thick, and felt light, by my guess. Sure, its origins raised questions, but I just ignored that.

Yeah, it’s from corpses. Yeah, it’s nuts to wear it. But do I care what I put on? Nope. So, as I tried on this wig, not a quarter of a thought about the dead being pissed crossed my mind. Plain and simple—I didn’t give a damn.

Picking the hair took less than three minutes, most of which we spent wrestling it onto my smooth head since it wouldn’t stay put. I even suggested gluing sandpaper to my scalp to hold it—Tessa just laughed and said she’d handle it without such drastic measures.

And she did! She found a rubber band, tied it to the wig, and slapped it on me. It still looked like hair but felt like a winter hat. Cute, basically.

After the hair, we started picking a outfit. I immediately mentioned my preference for a bow tie over a regular tie. Bow ties felt classier and fresher to me.

First, we approached a wardrobe stuffed with formal drone suits. It had almost everything! I loved it! Without overthinking, I picked a dark gray frock coat with light vertical stripes. I’ll call it the “Butler Suit” now—it fits the vibe perfectly.

But I forgot the most important part...

This suit looks good on me...

Fifteen minutes later, fully dressed like some aristocrat, I stood before the mirror. No longer a bald, naked worker drone with an egg-smooth head, but an elegant robot with platinum hair cascading to my shoulders, swaying with every move.

The light stripes on my dark suit added contrast—a little flair other drones lacked. The black pants weren’t much different stylistically, sporting light stripes too.

Polished dress shoes on my feet gleamed so brightly I could barely look at them without the room’s light bouncing into my face.

Smiling at myself, I struck various poses, showing off in the mirror. Call me vain, but I genuinely liked this look. The hair... the suit... the bow tie... It’s all so perfect—I love it.

“Let’s go meet your colleagues. And please, stop doing... that...” Tessa shot me a sidelong glance, hand on her hip, gesturing at my figure. I didn’t even notice. I only caught her odd look ten seconds later—or more—in the mirror’s reflection. It said a lot... Beyond her love for me, it showed what she thought of this whole situation. I’m shocked her eye didn’t start twitching.

Embarrassed, I took a few dramatic steps away from the mirror, as if sensing infinite danger from a piece of coated glass. Weird move, sure, but I couldn’t help it—that’s just me, sorry.

Nodding to some inner thought, Tessa grabbed my hand and dragged me off again. Thankfully, it wasn’t another wardrobe but an exit from this one. I mentally sighed as we left this truly fortunate spot... Yeah, we only spent 15-20 minutes here, but that was enough to realize... Tessa’s a monster when it comes to clothes and stuff... She could torture me with endless style choices.

We climbed another staircase, much like the basement one—carpeted with sparse patterns. The cheap chandeliers were swapped for pricier versions that gave more light, if you think about it that way. Good thing this manor has electric ones—I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t.

Reaching what I calculated as the second floor, Tessa led me to another door. I vaguely suspected it was a second wardrobe for more torturous waiting, but those fears shattered against the harsh wall of reality.

Tessa opened the door and let me in. Honestly, I expected anything—even a Particle Accelerator! But I didn’t expect to see... the canonical trio plus Cyn. The latter sat on a chair, dangling her legs and munching on batteries. The other three stood, eyeing me with a mix of emotions—embarrassment, curiosity, and, of course, irritation. Very cute... No need to guess who was irritated, right?

“Meet Serial Number I (or Ai),” Tessa said, stepping in behind me and poking my shoulder. Very cute.

As a greeting, I waved to everyone in the room. To my surprise, they all waved back—except J. Not shocking.

“I, this is J,” Tessa said, pointing at a drone with pigtails whose mere presence screamed “endlessly busy with a mountain of tasks.” If not for her glare full of anger, I’d have asked her out... But nah. It’s like something’s hidden behind that eternal irritation in her eyes... I just don’t know what.

“This is V.” Tessa moved her hand to a drone with glasses and a cute bob. Like a true gentleman, I approached, bowed, took her hand, and kissed the back of it. That threw everyone into a deep stupor—except Cyn. She just paused her battery-munching and gave me a look I decoded as, “What was that?” J’s stupor quickly morphed into a flash of rage she thankfully didn’t unleash.

“And this is N.” Tessa snapped out of it along with the named drone, who looked at me with boundless admiration. I expected jealousy or hate, but admiration? More questions. Though, I think I get why. He’ll definitely ask me for girl-talk lessons... Just realized what I’ve signed up for...

“You already know Cyn. I need to clean up so my parents don’t nag. I won’t bother you—get acquainted.” Tessa said it quickly, headed to the door, and left, leaving only silence behind.

I slowly turned to the group of drones, who now regarded me with more coherent looks than before. J’s eye was twitching.

N spoke first:

“Hello, I! I’m Serial Number N...” The web series’ main hero tried to greet me but was rudely cut off by his pigtailed colleague. Guess who? J. Very angry J.

“What was that, you idiot?!” she snapped, storming over and grabbing my collar, clearly trying to lift me off the floor. As I stared into her furious face, I pondered philosophy and random useless crap while she attempted to chew me out for kissing V’s hand. I get it, sure, but I don’t get it. Why’s she doing this? No clue.

“That was ‘etiquette,’ a word you’re clearly familiar with, my dear,” I replied, pushing her off me. A slightly wicked, fox-like smile from my past life crept onto my face. That smile annoyed everyone.

J processed my words, huffed one last time, and stormed out, slamming the door. I just smirked. Tsundere. Pure canon—I love it.

“That’s J, our, uh, leader,” N said, watching the boss who couldn’t handle being near me and my snarky tone for long. It’s kinda weird, almost comedic. Not that I mind...

“Tessa already introduced you to V. She’s a bit shy but should warm up to you. You’ll get used to him, right?” he asked the girl, whose digital cheeks still bore a faint, translucent blush.

Realizing attention was on her, she nodded distractedly and sank back into her thoughts, as if processing what happened. No, I’m not stealing N’s girl—I don’t need that. I like Doll more, anyway... Nuzi’s not confirmed yet—only seven episodes out.

“And this is Cyn. She calls me her big brother for some reason—I still don’t get why,” he said, pointing at my sister, who’d finished her battery pack and was now studying me with intense curiosity. Vivisector-level curiosity...

His whole spiel came with wild gesturing, nearly knocking a painting off the wall. When he noticed, he rushed to fix it, lest—God of Machines forbid—it fell. Something tells me Louisa would nitpick that to death...

“Curious. So I’m not the only one she considers family... You’re on the list too? Interesting. Kinda scary, but cute. Right, Cyn? Why do you even do this?” I turned to my big sister, who hadn’t taken her eyes off me, like she suspected something. It’s still creepy being near her. Feels like she’s dissecting me right now and turning me into a disassembly drone.

But the dissonance doesn’t help. I’m wary of her yet want to hug and cuddle her until she purrs... What’s going on?

“I do what I [think], little [brother] I. Hee-hee,” she replied with an artificial giggle. The fact she can laugh says a lot. When she starts voicing it like “[Giggle],” that’s when it’ll get scary—when the Solver takes her over more and more...

With those weird thoughts, the four of us left the room and headed wherever our eyes took us—aka the bar. There, we’d wait for my assignment to a work branch. That’s how my first day at Elliot Manor ended.

Chapter Text

Well… What can I say? Now I’m in a rather unexpected situation. I didn’t think they’d settle me here permanently… Yeah…

For context, I now live in this seemingly ancient mansion alongside a bunch of other drones that keep catching my eye with what I’d call excessive flamboyance. They’re all dressed in butler or maid outfits—the latter for the female models. But that’s just the beginning.

To put it mildly, I was surprised by the humans’ desire—oops, I mean aspiration—to live like it’s the 18th or 19th century, as if they’ve forgotten it’s the 31st century now… Or maybe they’re just idiots. But, as they say, one doesn’t exclude the other. These pseudo-aristocrats stirred up a lot of questions in me, often overlapping ones. These… Homo Sapiens acted like die-hard conservatives, rejecting a lot of things while indulging in others. It’s so dumb yet brilliant at the same time that it makes me want to laugh. They ditched everything inconvenient for themselves but kept what they needed to live, and for that, the government—understandably—stuck them next to a dump. And here’s where it gets murky: who screwed who? Did they outsmart the government by securing the cushiest living conditions, or did the government outsmart the Elliots by banishing them far from the center of Earth’s economy, which, for some reason, is now London? I don’t want to dive into the politics here—it’s too painful for my processor and common sense.

So, what was I getting at? Oh, right! They’ve settled me in the workshop—not just settled me, but made it my permanent residence. But let’s take it step by step.

The trio of drones plus Cyn spent the whole day debating where to assign me to maximize benefit while minimizing stress. All their discussions boiled down to one thing: I shouldn’t be anywhere near the Elliots because being around them could be deadly. Not just for me, but for them too. The drones didn’t see any hatred toward humans in me, but they understood that a newbie shouldn’t be among cynical, selfish living beings.

The farthest spots from the Elliots’ usual haunts were the bar, the workshop, and the library. You could also count Tessa’s room since it’s in a practically empty wing of the manor.

The bar and library were taken, so by process of elimination, I was left with the workshop—a place no one wanted to go because… well, no one except Tessa could handle drones. And why did I think I could handle it? Simple—I’m a Solver host, and knowing what other drones are made of isn’t just in my database; it’s in my blood! Or rather, my oil.

I proved my worth by catching a robo-cockroach right in front of them. It was hilarious—its little legs flailing, antennae twitching as it tried to escape my truly iron grip. With nothing else at hand, I dismantled it into parts, laying them out in perfect order. But the fun didn’t stop there. In just a couple of minutes, I reassembled it. And to top it all off, I discreetly generated a small charge on my fingers and sent it through the robo-roach’s body, bringing it back from eternal slumber.

My colleagues blinked in confusion, trying to figure out what the hell I’d just done. Thankfully, they had no clue I wielded the Solver—and they won’t, because I don’t need the trouble, right?

That little stunt earned me a bit of respect from J, though she still acted like a tsundere. The others just thought she was perpetually angry. Don’t they see her weird behavior? …Wait, who am I even asking? Sure, these drones—future disassembly drones, mind you—were pretty smart, especially compared to the rest, but even so, they were leagues behind my intellect, or J’s for that matter—like cats trying to reach the moon.

Anyway, they assigned me to the workshop, located in the basement on the minus-first floor, the deepest level of this mansion.

In the workshop, they gave me a separate little room stocked with oil reserves (for overheating), a ton of new components and body parts, and a massive database on drone assembly, disassembly, maintenance, types, and purposes.

All that info was stored on a standalone computer, locked with the oh-so-symbolic password "qwerty123456".

I’d have laughed if I hadn’t realized there’s no Windows here—this computer ran some obscure Linux distro I’d never heard of. Makes sense, though; it wasn’t heavily used. It was just for storing repair data, so it didn’t need a fancy OS. They slapped Linux on it to avoid any hassle later.

The fact that one command could brick it entirely (hi, Zakviel) wasn’t seen as a big risk by the humans.

The workshop itself was the same place where I first woke up, meeting Cyn and nearly losing my soul in the process. Lucky me, landing right in the center of events as the younger brother of the Planet Eater…

Anyway, the workshop was slightly larger than most rooms in the manor, especially compared to the wardrobe or that tiny room where we had our first meeting. The four-meter-high ceilings were intimidating, giving off the vibe that they might collapse and crush me at any moment—a nightmare straight out of Peter the Great’s worst fears.

There were no windows, which didn’t surprise me. Only a blind idiot wouldn’t realize we’re in a basement where windows physically can’t exist. Asking how it’s ventilated would be dumb, right? Look up, and you’ll see a hatch hanging near the ceiling, leading to a ventilation shaft—straight out of FNAF. It’s a massive pipe, big enough for a human to fit through, let alone a drone.

If you look at it with the sober eyes of a former Russian Federation resident, the space was huge. Picture a room about forty square meters. Got it? Good. Now, I’ll tell you there are two of them—one being that so-called “little room” with the computer and database. I was lucky enough to dig up a basement layout, which revealed that this “little room” wasn’t little at all—it was a damn storage space! You wouldn’t notice at first, but the deeper you dig into the components, the more you realize its true size. The layout told me a lot about this basement, though sadly only about these two rooms—but it’s something.

There wasn’t much furniture, aside from a few old wooden chairs, cracked by time and long past their shiny days, two desks for paperwork, a couple of workbenches for repairing components and assembling new ones, and the three stars of the show: three ultra-sturdy steel operating tables bolted to the floor with three-centimeter brackets. I woke up on one of those when I first arrived here.

These tables were hooked up to various equipment for building, welding, or diagnosing not just a drone’s physical shell but its software too.

I became the caretaker of this place—everything in these rooms belonged to me, within reason, of course.

Just being here earned me endless respect from all the drones in the manor, except maybe the fearless genocidal quartet. The slightly dim-witted, bald-headed drones who came to me weren’t just dropping by for fun. Each had damage of varying severity—cracked screens, missing fingers, that sort of thing. Those repairs took less than ten minutes, so patients didn’t stick around long and soon went on their way. Nothing too serious happened, except for the deaths, of course. When a human killed a drone, it was promptly sent to the dump as useless. You can’t imagine how tempted I was to snatch one of those corpses and dissect it for parts… To get a close look at a core, since, sadly, I didn’t have any in the workshop. The manual’s first page clearly states you can’t replace a core.

Some might wonder why I started working as a mechanic. Aside from the fact that I didn’t have much choice, I did it for my own benefit. What’s the benefit, you ask, that keeps me living at the bottom of the world with a ton of shiny new components? No, I’m not saying I dislike it—there are no downsides, and I couldn’t phrase it any other way.

The benefit is that the workshop is the farthest spot from the bar, where the Planet Eater, aka Cyn, spends most of her time.

I have no idea how two Solver hosts would fare near each other, but I know one thing: if Cyn suspects anything, I’ll end up chained to a torture chair. That’s assuming we don’t just annihilate each other, though that’s unlikely.

Call me a coward, but I won’t take back my words. I don’t want to see my sister more than necessary, especially in her current… state…

About a week after my first appearance here, once I’d settled in a bit, tested the abundance of equipment, and run a few fruitless experiments, N came to me. I was about to ask what his problem was when I noticed little arms wrapped around his waist. It was Cyn, obviously, who—seeing no humans or other drones around—stopped hiding behind her big brother.

N explained that he brought her here because she’d been acting too strange. Her movements were erratic, she couldn’t hold objects properly, and she kept tripping over nothing. He mentioned something about her voice too, but I didn’t pay much attention.

Right now, Cyn’s still somewhat “alive,” so to speak. She can stand straight, doesn’t stretch her arms out like a zombie, and generally looks like a normal drone—aside from the defects I just mentioned.

Because of those defects, N wanted me to check her out. Diagnose her. He knew the workshop had everything needed for it, so he came straight to me.

Not wanting to waste time, I scooped my sister up in my arms—prompting a quiet squeak of surprise from her while N tried to stifle a laugh—and carried her a few meters to the operating table. Ignoring her odd stare, I hooked up all the necessary sensors and approached the diagnostic computer next to the table.

Starting the scan, I glued my eyes to the screen, reading the incoming data. But even that was interrupted—not by N, but by Cyn. The way she radiated embarrassment and joy threw my sensors off. Sure, she’s a Solver host, but she can’t control her emotions for squat. She was happy because she finally got to see me after a week since my arrival. Yeah, I hadn’t left the workshop much, trying to avoid trouble or messes I’d have to clean up later.

Something tells me Cyn orchestrated this checkup herself just to see me and make sure I’m okay. You never know…

Her embarrassment came from me picking her up. She clearly wasn’t used to it, especially not from someone taking her in their arms. And the fact that it was her brother? Double whammy.

Five minutes into the diagnostics—which felt endless, at least to me—it finished. Rising from the chair I’d sat in while waiting, still glancing at Cyn, I casually walked to the computer. Opening the results, I froze. There was NOTHING! Not a single line explaining Cyn’s condition. Not a single response from her systems, as if she wasn’t even there.

A completely useless hunk of metal… Or wait… Could it be the Solver? Quite possibly—otherwise, it’d sound ridiculous at best. You can’t imagine how much I wanted to grab the Solver’s persona, shove it into this computer, and type “sudo rm -rf” to wipe that pest and all its services for good. You can’t just erase the Solver that easily—it’s a tough bastard. Only fully formatting its persona, like Crest did in episode seven, or destroying the host—which isn’t an option—would work.

“Well… Brother… The diagnostics didn’t show anything… Sorry…” I said to N, who was sitting by the exit, nervously fidgeting with his black tie, his face full of worry as he looked at the little yellow-eyed girl. Sweat droplets appeared on his display—he was anxious.

After I spoke, he jumped up and crossed to the table in a couple of steps.

I guessed what he wanted to do, so I held out my arm in front of his chest and shook my head, saying:

“You’ll only make it worse. Even I can’t do anything. The only good news is her body’s fully functional. Try to accept it… And sorry, again…” I said, meeting his eyes filled with illusory tears. I badly wanted to lie to ease his worries about his little sister—though I wasn’t entirely sure of that. Knowing him… he’d do anything to help. At least, that’s what I thought back then.

“And… there’s nothing we can do?” he asked with such hope in his voice that I wanted to bash my head against the wall. I need to ditch these emotions, seriously. With everything going on, it’s giving me a headache. I hate drama…

“Nothing… But… at least she’ll outlive both of us combined. That I can guarantee,” I replied, making Cyn smile and easing some of N’s tension. Her outliving us is a fact—with her regeneration and core, it’s no challenge, even if she’s torn to pieces. That’s not even counting her ability to possess hosts and other mystical nonsense.

A faint smile crept onto N’s face, barely visible through the tears on his display that stole all the attention. I wanted to comfort him, but it felt a bit silly. I’m no good at comforting—I never had close relatives or people to practice on. And here’s a full-fledged brother. I didn’t want to accidentally screw it up, and I knew I could…

I unplugged all the wires from Cyn and, lifting her, handed her to N like a good, kind little brother. Cyn’s adorable—treating her poorly would be dumb and misunderstood by anyone who knows what she’s capable of.

Glancing at the operating table, I spotted something that definitely shouldn’t have been there. Picking it up, I smiled—it was Cyn’s bonnet. Turning around, I approached N, who was holding Cyn like a princess, and plopped the bonnet onto her helmet. Chuckling at her surprised eyes, I waved toward the door.

N carried Cyn out, and I started cleaning up the useless wires. Solver protection, damn it.

As N and Cyn reached the exit, I caught some intriguing words that made me smile:

“[F-flesh] was calling us. Let’s g-go to her, big b-brother N.” And with that, they left the workshop, leaving me alone with all these computers and tech—utterly, blissfully alone. No, I wasn’t lonely; I was loving it. Way better than having a dozen humans or drones around.

It’s a shame Cyn will waste so much test material with her total genocide, but I can’t stop her, sadly. She won’t listen to me, even as her brother, and I don’t have the strength anyway. I can’t even regenerate properly—forget it. My processor’s still dear to me. But I won’t deny I don’t give a damn about humanity’s fate. I didn’t like them in my past life, and I like them even less now—maybe more so.

Well, as someone once said… I think it was Otoran… Whatever… The shit hit the fan out of nowhere. Who could’ve known that four days after that fateful diagnostic of my little sister, some madness would kick off—madness indirectly tied to me? Well, indirectly my ass—I’d be practically the central figure in events that’d break my psyche just by existing. But let’s go step by step.

It all started innocently enough. As they say, nothing hinted at trouble—but, per Murphy’s Law, trouble came, and not alone.

It began with Tessa storming into my workshop and smothering me in a hug. Fine, no big deal—she does that every day she swings by. The only times she doesn’t bother me are when I’m busy with a diagnostic or fixing some module, usually a display. In those moments, she’s quieter than a mouse, because damaging a display means starting over. But once I’m done, nothing saves me from her grizzly-bear-level cuddles.

Anyway, after the hug-fest, Tessa promptly ruined my mood by announcing she’d found a frozen drone near the library and decided to drag it here. I stared at her like parents stare at their naughty kids eating sand—or feeding it to other kids—in a sandbox. Sure, I get that Tessa’s strong, but lugging a drone across half the manor, even if it’s not that heavy… My spine would’ve crumbled into my pants from that kind of strain.

That’s beside the point now. What matters is the drone Tessa brought. Without much fanfare—aside from the hugs and cuddles—she asked me to diagnose it, since I’m the only one who can handle tech so effortlessly.

Easily lifting the drone she’d plopped onto a chair by the exit, I carried it to the operating table. Laying the poor thing down, I hooked up all the necessary wires in under twenty seconds.

Looking at its display, I noticed a very intriguing error code that made me twitch. It scared me, but I didn’t show it—better to play dumb. A yellow cross blinked on the drone’s screen, emitting an annoying ticking sound like someone was playing it on a soundpad… Error 606… Yikes… The Solver’s at work—denying it isn’t just impossible; it’s illegal! Ahem, “Error 606”… I really hope this doesn’t touch me. Call me selfish, but that’s who I am. I don’t want to be a pawn in someone’s game—especially not my big sister’s.

I tapped a few buttons on the computer and started the diagnostic. The data started rolling in.

From my calculations and what other drones had said, I figured the bloodbath would hit in about two weeks. Factoring in all the prep and such, the gala would be the perfect escape window—time to test the Void Master’s powers. In theory, I could open a portal to another planet with barely any energy cost. Sounds weird, but it’s true—at least according to my memory of Void usage, which came bundled with the powers.

After the gala, the genocide would begin… but I’d already be off this planet.

While I plotted the perfect escape in my head, the diagnostic finished. I only noticed ten seconds later, after Tessa tapped my shoulder.

Approaching the computer, I scanned the results, and with each line, my irritation and shock grew. My eyes widened, and my brows climbed so high they vanished into my hair.

Once I had what I needed, I stepped back, sighed, and started cursing. Loudly—loud enough that the glass vials on the shelves across the room rattled. Oh, Tessa had never heard so many swears, especially in two languages. I couldn’t help it—words were the only way to express how messed up this was.

After two solid minutes of insulting everything I deemed worthy, my steam ran out. Tessa, recovering from the shock and digesting my colorful vocabulary, finally asked:

“Is it that bad?” she said, digging a finger in her ear. Yeah, I’d accidentally deafened her—she’d remember not to piss me off or shock me too much, or she’d get an earful of profanity.

Her voice calmed me, and I sighed. The info was too shocking. Returning to the computer, I reread the results, holding back a scream this time. I spoke calmly—or so I thought—without a trace of sarcasm or irony.

“No-o-o… Everything’s just peachy!...” Hearing the sheer sarcasm dripping from my voice, Tessa frowned. I swear I heard her mutter some of my swears under her breath—just from the sarcasm and irony alone!

“Just, ha… The core’s started self-destructing and is acting like it’s in half-life, losing half its energy mass every six hours. Only one cycle’s passed, but that’s trivial, right? Wait a couple more days, and poof—no more drone!” My irritation mixed with shock was almost tangible. I get it, sure, but the Solver’s actions raised questions. Is she testing alternatives so drone cores don’t decay after she implants Solver bits in them? I saw familiar regeneration code lines during the diagnostic—inactive ones. It felt like a test run.

“And the memory’s wiped to zero… Perfect! Perfectly empty! Not a single record, not a single factory directive. It’s just a dummy now. Where’d you find it?” My voice turned dead serious. The location wouldn’t tell me much, but extra info couldn’t hurt.

“I-I…” she hesitated, looking away.

“I heard glass breaking… Thought a drone tripped… But then… This…” She paled suddenly. Her eyes filled with fear as she looked back at me. She saw me as an unusual drone—someone who could casually chat with humans and know two languages. To her, that was astonishing since factory configs only include one language.

She feared this error could hit us—me, J, N… She’d grown too attached. Even though I’d been here less than two weeks, it hadn’t stopped her from loving me. And then I thought… I should keep some human pills in the workshop for Tessa. She could use a sedative right now.

“Well… I can’t help this dummy anymore. Maybe restore some directives and connections, but it won’t retain anything—my programming skills… aren’t great…” I wasn’t about to tell her I could rewrite its personality. It’d be easy, though my head would ache after. But with everything going on, it’s pointless, and I’d rather study this drone fully—connect with its core.

“And for you, I prescribe ‘Hugs with N,’” I said, grabbing a notepad from the table. Fishing a pen from my suit’s inner pocket, I scribbled a few words, tore off the sheet, and handed it to the green-eyed girl.

“Go, and don’t bug me while I work.” It sounded harsh but so gentle that anyone else would’ve had a cognitive meltdown. She got me, though, and clutching the note to her chest, she soon left the workshop, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

“Hope that helps her…” I muttered, recalling what I’d written. It made me smirk.

“Hugs with N… What nonsense…”

Well, yeah… I never thought it’d come to this! It’s insane! Stupid! Weird! And so on… And insanely dangerous. So dangerous that being inside a neutron star sounds safer than… this…

But let’s go step by step. One fine day, N came to my workshop—not alone, but with the yellow-eyed little robo-girl—and told me I’d be looking after her now. Then he bolted out the door, leaving me one-on-one with the Planet Eater. Cyn didn’t quite get what was happening either.

From what I pieced together, N somehow found out they were planning to lock her in the basement. To prevent that, he figured the best move was to dump her on me, assuming I’d guarantee she wouldn’t cause trouble. Problem is, I never gave him that guarantee. If this is a joke, it’s not funny.

Still, she doesn’t bother me much. Though, if I’m honest, her stare creeps me out a bit. You know, the kind that makes you want to climb a wardrobe in fear… Yeah, like that. I genuinely tried to ignore the fact that she could rip out my core with one flick of her yellow digital brow and turn it into a sandwich. You know, just for laughs and a snack. How fun would that be—eating your brother’s core, right?

So, while working on the disabled drone Tessa brought me a couple days ago, I kept tossing sidelong glances at Cyn, looking for anything suspicious—ready to play defense if she attacked. But she didn’t attack or even hint at it.

Back to the disabled drone. Yep, the same poor sap Tessa found near the library and hauled to me. Based on the diagnostic data and my calculations, its core should’ve been dead by now, having lost all its energy mass. It’s a drone in name only—no directives, no power. Everything that ran its functions burned out, and the display’s inner film melted.

And what was I doing with this dead hunk of metal? Oh, nothing too crazy. I was curious about its core—wanted to see what happened after it lost all its energy. I couldn’t believe it just started discharging on its own, scattering energy like fuel rods toss neutrons in a nuclear reactor. There had to be some meaning to it. Otherwise, it’d be disappointing at the very least.

Yes, you heard right—I turned into a full-on vivisector! Though real vivisectors work on live subjects without anesthesia, since “a well-secured subject doesn’t need it.” My subject was dead, for one, and I didn’t catch it myself—Tessa brought it to me.

Of course, the blinking “Error 606” raised questions about what powered it, since the core was now just a chunk of ultra-dense metal with a bunch of wires and, essentially, a tiny chamber for holding thermonuclear plasma—all designed to power drones.

After digging that up from the system’s internal data, I nearly checked it on myself, but a shred of sanity stopped me. So instead of cutting open my own chest, I sliced into the dead drone’s.

I was also curious about how the Solver works—another reason I dug out the core. How does it take over drones, slap them with this error, and so on? I wanted to know what it takes to resist it.

Setting aside the laser cutter I’d used to slice the drone’s chest, I slowly pried apart the aluminum plates, revealing its core. First thing that hit me—it wasn’t glowing. No light, no hint it ever held energy. The indicators were now just decorative, and the wires were mere threads—some even melted.

Grabbing scissors, I unceremoniously snipped the wires off the core, seeing no point in them anymore. They were as useless as the pile of vials on the shelf across the workshop—I knew I’d never use them. Same deal here.

After cutting the wires, I set the scissors down and sighed. Nothing was stopping me from taking the core and diagnosing it now. So that’s what I did. Leaning over the corpse, I grabbed the core with my manipulator and carefully pulled it from the chest, trying to ignore the barely visible bits of flesh stuck to it. Solver influence was there, but minimal—especially compared to hosts. I wouldn’t be surprised if my core was fully encased in flesh by now, looking like a raw meatball.

Examining the core with the naked eye, I found no defects—nor should there be. As far as I could tell, it hadn’t been subjected to anything unusual beyond that weird half-life decay.

Tossing it in my hand with a satisfied smile, I headed to the other end of the workshop, toward the specialized equipment for diagnosing cores—not drones.

The funniest part? That equipment ran on a nuclear battery—what I dubbed it due to its look. Yep, the same green energy cell that powered Uzi’s railgun, the kind littered around the disassembly drones’ pod.

Reaching the equipment, I pulled out some wires and, with a few deft moves, wrapped them around the core, plugging the connectors into empty slots and securing it tight. It’d take a tank shot to move it now. Approaching the nearby computer, I tapped a few keys on the holographic keyboard and started the scan. Stretching, I sat on a stool nearby, waiting for results.

A few minutes in, I started suspecting something was off. The screen was blank—no data on the core’s condition—yet the equipment’s hum grew louder and louder.

I stood and stepped back a couple paces, knowing it’d be dumb to unplug it mid-scan. The manual warned: “Disconnecting the device during a scan may lead to dangerous consequences.” I doubted Tessa would forgive me for trashing even one piece of pricey equipment so easily.

Movement on the screen caught my eye. Looking over, I froze. Thousands—tens, hundreds of thousands—of errors flashed across it at breakneck speed, multiplying every second.

Things were getting worse. I glanced at Cyn, who was sitting on a stool, curiously eyeing the monitor, reading the errors like she understood them. At first, I thought she wasn’t involved—until everything sparked with yellow lightning: the core, the monitor, the equipment. That’s when I realized I was about to get smeared across the wall, which would be unpleasant, to put it mildly.

Spinning around, I dashed to Cyn—who looked at me in confusion—scooped her up, and bolted for the door in the corner of the workshop. Covering the six meters in a second, I burst out, set Cyn down, and slammed the door shut.

Seconds later, an explosion rocked the place—the floor shook beneath me. Warily eyeing the door, I grabbed Cyn’s hand. She seemed as surprised by the blast as I was. Guess she didn’t expect an explosion when she messed with my equipment via the Solver. And the manor’s walls? I’m convinced no one upstairs even noticed the chaos. It’s like they’re lined with metal inside to handle incidents like this.

Cautiously opening the door and keeping Cyn behind me, we stepped back in. I braced for anything—a wrecked workshop, a black hole where the core was, even a fleshy trail—but I was shocked… by the absence of all that. The workshop was intact—no fires, no explosions, no black holes, and no eldritch horrors trying to bite my head off.

Looking where the core had been, I rolled my eyes. The equipment was toast—no denying that. The spot still smoked faintly. Cleaning this up would take way longer than scrubbing oil stains from my uniform—and I’d had plenty of those incidents. Everything was coated in soot, looking like a failed fire had swept through—which wasn’t far from the truth.

Footsteps echoed through the open door. From the distinctive clack of short heels, I knew it was Tessa—and she was hurrying.

Ten seconds later, Tessa burst in, sat on a stool without a glance around, and caught her breath. Her face brimmed with worry and fear—she had something to tell me. After thirty seconds, she lifted her eyes from the floor and scanned the room. The explosion’s aftermath caught her attention. Raising a brow and narrowing her gaze, she finally said:

“I don’t know… and don’t want to know what happened here, but… something’s happened to V!” It took me 200 milliseconds to process that scant info. With a slight delay—my servos couldn’t move faster—I rushed to the table, grabbed the portable scanner, and fumbled for an energy cell. V had caught “606”—every second counted.

Turning my head, I spotted the nuclear battery on the table near Tessa. Speeding up, I shouted as I neared the door:

“Tessa! Grab that nuclear battery!” At the last second, I pointed at the table and bolted out. Hope she catches up.

Leaping three steps at a time up the basement stairs, I burst into the main hallway. A drone’s body doesn’t tire, so I ran at near-top speed, guided by instinct. I didn’t know where V was, but I figured it was near or in the library.

I made over ten turns to reach the library, in a different wing from the workshop—about 150 meters! Have I mentioned how huge this manor is? Well, I’m saying it again—it’s massive!

Rushing into the library, past a few bookshelves, I entered a small corridor—where Cyn’s basement was too—and saw N, despair on his display, shaking V by the shoulder and muttering something.

“Move!” I ordered. N flinched and stepped back, trying not to get in my way. His movements were jerky, his face full of fear.

Running to V, I did a quick visual check for external damage that might explain her state. After thirty seconds, finding nothing, I pulled out the scanner and waited for Tessa. It wouldn’t give much detail but could tell me if her core was in half-life decay—or if there was no decay, making this a pointless fix for a non-issue.

When Tessa arrived, I snatched the battery from her, yanked out its wires, and plugged them into the scanner. It was on its last legs anyway—burn out or not, who cares? My brother’s girlfriend was dying!

Pressing the scanner to V’s display, I ran a surface diagnostic, reading every scrap of info that hit my head. The more I read, the lighter I felt—the scanner detected no major core issues, and from what I saw, even her personality matrix was intact.

Guess Cyn didn’t want to lose N’s trust and didn’t trigger half-life in V’s core. But if she could control it, why kill that first drone? To add mystery and scare us? Not her style—not at all. She’d do it more elegantly. I hope so, at least.

After the tensest five minutes of my life, spent in total silence, the scan finished. Glancing at the data fed to me via a souped-up Bluetooth analog, I sighed in relief—and then burst into laughter, full blast from my electronic speakers, making Tessa jump. Everyone stared at me, confused, as my laughter turned hysterical.

At first, I laughed because V was fine. Now, I laughed realizing I’d left Cyn alone in the workshop. That terrified me—I started running through every Robo-God prayer I knew.

Slowly rising from the floor, I approached N, who looked at me like I was his last hope. I ignored it stoically. Lifting him up, I patted his shoulder, pushing thoughts of Cyn in the workshop aside. Looking at his display, I said:

“Your girl’s fine, heh. Just keep an eye on her, got it?” I grinned, stepping back a few meters toward the library’s third exit. N’s display showed a blush, and I chuckled quietly.

“Get her on her feet and don’t mess with her too much,” I added, slowly leaving the library. Gotta get to the workshop—fast.

Tessa propped V up, straightening her legs and leaning her against a bookshelf. Looking at me questioningly, she pointed at V.

I gave a thumbs-up and bolted from the library, racing back to the workshop at top speed. Hope nothing’s trashed.

The calendar reads… October 17th. A lovely date, especially knowing that tomorrow, the event kicking off this universe’s plot begins. Yep, if you haven’t caught on, tomorrow’s the gala—technically in fifteen minutes, since they decided to hold it at midnight for some reason. The very gala that’ll shove this world onto its story rails. There’ll be blood, claws, tentacles, and other stuff I don’t need. I don’t want anything—just leave me alone, and all’s good. At least, I think so. Hope I won’t have to use the Solver.

The past two weeks were… uneventful, honestly. All the drones suddenly got super careful and stopped breaking themselves. I was only needed when some dummy collapsed mid-room with “Error 606” on its display. Then, yeah, they’d call me to check it with the scanner, which became almost an extension of me. I don’t let it out of my hands—well, I exaggerate; it’s clipped to my belt.

For the next four days after that notable workshop explosion, I handled those calls N brought me. Then the drones just… ran out. Only the newbies stayed functional—and not for long, I figured.

With a week left till the gala, I finally crawled out of my dusty lab, taking my sister with me. Why not? No one’s stopping me, and no one can—Cyn’ll deal with anyone who tries. If she can, that is. We avoided humans to not draw attention. Otherwise, it’d suck. I don’t want blood on me, even if I’m not the one spilling it. No, Cyn hasn’t killed anyone yet—especially not so blatantly—but something tells me she’d do it for me.

When we did run into humans, they ignored us completely, too wrapped up in their own business to care about some little drones. Cyn’s about 130 cm, and me… My height’s hard to pin down since the Solver’s slowly tweaking my body. I was 140 cm when I arrived; now I’m 152. No clue what my final size will be.

The rest of the time, Cyn and I enjoyed art (we all know real art is an EXPLOSION!) and roamed the massive manor, which felt like a museum. The sheer number of paintings, sculptures, and other art pieces was off the charts, matching the manor’s size.

Cyn’s gotten worse. Remember the [hee-hee] and [giggle]? She can’t laugh anymore. Her movements are mechanical, and her face shows no emotion. Her display eyes can only blink now—that’s just a few of the issues I’ve mentally cataloged from her massive pile of problems.

Since the workshop was mostly empty and there was nothing to do but play Minesweeper on the database computer, I moved to the bar with N, dragging Cyn along—no regrets. What a vibe. Sitting in an armchair, staring at the ceiling, listening to music, and dreaming about whatever—eternal stuff. More like plotting my escape. Well, not plotting—just thinking about it without plans. Paradoxical, huh?

So what was I doing in the bar, lounging in that chair? Oh, nothing special—just chilling and savoring my second life, listening to music downloaded from the local network. I was shocked that nearly all the music from the 21st century survived a millennium without getting lost in the interplanetary web. It blew my mind so much that for an hour, I couldn’t believe my four hundred tracks were back with their daddy. Right now, I was vibing to an awesome remix of “Heaven Says” that I loved in my past life.

The remix creators nailed blending the Mandela Catalogue with that song—I liked it. Mesmerizing, even.

And while listening, I munched on batteries—industrial quantities, of course. I’d grab one from the packet with aristocratic grace and pop it in my mouth, chewing thoroughly. The acid was surprisingly tasty, which thrilled me since oil was scarce in the manor.

Nothing could disturb my peace—not even the crunch and grind of metal tearing in my mouth, like it didn’t faze me at all.

I tried my hardest to ignore one very nosy yellow-eyed figure watching me with one of her dozens of cameras, calculating my every move, ready to leap if a battery chunk got stuck in my throat. Yep, Cyn went into hyper-protective mode, guarding me from every “threat” she imagined. Don’t ask how I figured that out.

DARK DAYS EMERGE

you will be purged

DO NOT HAVE FEAR

i am right HERE

HEAVEN IS DEAD

HEAVEN IS A LIE

YOU CANNOT STAY HERE

THERES NOT ENOUGH ROOM FOR THE TWO OF US

NOW SPELL: ANSWER

F-R-E-E-D-O-M

WRONG! TRY AGAIN

NOW SPELL: CESAR

B-A-S-T-A-R-D

WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!

NOW SPELL: DANGER

A-L-T-E-R-N-A-T-E

WRONG! TRY AGAIN

NOW SPELL: VICTIM

H-e-a-t-c-l-i-f-f

WRONG!

THE CORRECT ANSWER IS

Y-O-U

I won’t argue—this song’s truly epic and beautiful. Those lyrics… Mmm… But sadly, I didn’t get to finish it. I was interrupted—not physically, thankfully—but still had to stop the playback in my head.

N walked in, carrying crystal goblets on a tray that reflected the dim light so fiercely I had to dial down my light sensors to avoid frying my matrix. Still, I caught the nervousness in his movements—like something was bugging him, but he knew what. I get it—he felt the looming genocide and total annihilation too.

“You seem [up-pset] big brother N,” Cyn said, shifting to her maid form but still not taking her eyes off me. I could feel that piercing stare boring through my casing, like it was peering into my soul. My soul said so, at least, but physically, her eyes showed nothing unusual—like it was just a random hallucination.

“Perhaps you'd like to attend the gala with me. [Light Sip…]” Bringing an oil cup to her mouth, she tried to take the sip she’d voiced, but—sadly—it didn’t work. She didn’t lift it all the way, not even touching her lips, and tilted it. The oil spilled onto the floor, miraculously missing her outfit. I watched with silent acceptance of my fate—I’d have to clean that up since there weren’t many worker drones left. And that’s not counting James, who offs drones weekly. Though, who cares about a stupid stain? No one’s surviving anyway.

“Oh, not sure we're invited, little buddy.” N said with a hint of sadness, setting the tray of goblets on the bar counter. Turning, he spotted me slouched in the armchair with a relaxed look.

“Hey, Ai!” He waved, beaming pure joy on his face. I liked that expression way more than the constant gloom he’d been sporting lately.

I waved back, staring at the ceiling again, pretending to listen to music. I was curious how this convo would differ from canon—my presence shouldn’t have gone unnoticed, considering I’d saved dozens of drones from death with timely repairs.

That chat could guide my future plans and adjustments.

“Why not just hang with me?” N continued, rolling a goblet over his shoulder like a trick-shot pro.

“Climbing [crisscross] apple sauce. Am I n-not wanted, N?” I barely held back an “aww” sigh. Every fiber of me wanted to hug and cuddle her, never letting go, but my mind knew that little move could cost me my life—at minimum. (Or 51 years…)

Honestly, it’s best not to mess with the yellow-eyed one negatively—canon aside, logic agrees. She’ll turn this planet to rubble, which is scary enough.

“Dude, you know it's Tess's folks.” N didn’t finish—a drop of blood hit his tray. That piqued my interest. Curious how Uzi didn’t just poke around in N’s head but hacked reality, jumping here from a timeline where I don’t exist. Heh.

Wiping the tray, N—panic on his face and with cat-like agility—threw it like a frisbee, embedding it a few centimeters into the wall. I’m still amazed by a drone’s physical feats—and this is a butler, not a miner! Per the workshop computer’s data, miners’ bodies are made of freaking tungsten, not flimsy aviation aluminum!

“Ugh, don't gimme those eyes.” N said casually to Cyn, as if he hadn’t just yeeted a tray that could decapitate someone. Cyn stared back, displaying a stock golden retriever image on her screen.

“[Giggle...] I’m so [naughty]… The flesh [demands] invitation…” Saying this, Cyn opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue, and flashed a half-crazed smile, stepping onto a chair to level with N. My eye twitched from the cuteness, but I forced myself to stare at the ceiling, focusing on listening, not looking.

“Ah, we’ll ask Tessa, okay? If not… movie night!” N hopped a bit, pointing at Cyn with finger guns, mimicking human quirks. It looked odd from a robot, but I didn’t mind—been living with these guys for a month, I’m used to it by now.

“[Sheepish nod…]” Cyn couldn’t fully control her head or most of her servos, so she grabbed her head and mimicked nodding twice. It looked surprisingly natural, with a dash of mechanical precision.

“Ai? Will you come with us to Tessa? Cyn feels more confident with you around.” Despite that killer argument, I saw no point in going to the dining hall. What’d I do there? Watch James scrap another drone? No thanks—I had my fill of that in the workshop; not all repairs worked out.

Try not to kill Louisa? How do you picture that? I can’t—I’d want to grind her bones to dust at first sight. And enduring her snide remarks and glares… Nope. My ABSENCE there would benefit everyone. No need to test my psyche.

“Nah, thanks. I’ll stay here, listen to music,” I replied with my usual laziness, playing the overworked mechanic forced into overtime. My display showed a player like AIMP’s desktop version, pretending to pick a new track. Handy—no need for extras like headphones; the music plays right in my head.

“Okay, suit yourself, bro. Rest up!” N said, tugging Cyn along. She looked at me with some sadness in her illusory eyes, but I stoically ignored it—those mournful reflections in the glow of slightly outdated electric lamps. She said nothing, just kept staring until she left the bar.

Once they were gone, I sighed in relief. Good thing they didn’t realize that if I were really listening to music, I wouldn’t have heard them—or answered—since I’d have muted my sound sensors.

Why the charade? Simple—I’m scared. Yeah, just scared. I don’t want to flash the Solver or Cube, lest—Creator forbid—Cyn spots them. Brother or not, I’d be booked for a spot in her basement, no question.

Fighting her sounds dumb. My outdated, half-dead core can’t handle my Solver’s demands. And even if I ditch the Solver and use the Cube, I still can’t touch her. She’s got every drone core in this manor networked, sharing energy and processing power for her insane tasks. She can tap each core individually or all at once. Either way, I’d be reduced to atoms.

Right now, I need to head where the epic battle between future disassembly drones will go down. I’ve got to see it with my own eyes. If memory serves, it’s on the second-floor balcony overlooking the first. I memorized the manor’s layout while wandering and enjoying art with Cyn. I don’t want to be a useless lump, so I’ll go to the gala with Tessa to surprise Cyn. Along the way, I’ll help the main cast protect N’s memories. How? I’ll distract V so she doesn’t mess with the purple-eyed Crow and screw the plot to hell. After that, I can do whatever—nothing’ll tie me to this planet.

I stood from the chair, stretching like after a long nap, and leisurely headed to the balcony, passing countless sacks of bones who deemed me beneath their notice. Heh, that’ll bite them later—when I’m long gone.

Reaching the stairs to the second floor, I climbed slowly, ignoring the many surprised stares. Ha, I’m probably the first drone they’ve seen on their way—others are down with errors.

Sidestepping Lord Flumperbucket—who glanced at me, puzzled, muttering in his made-up tongue—I entered the second-floor hallway.

After a few dozen meters with a light step, I reached that fateful balcony. With a few swift, weightless strides, I stood by those iconic armor suits. Time to test the Solver.

Activating the Omni-program, I touched the sword, thinking it’d be cool to copy its structure into my memory. Sure enough, a couple seconds later, a chunk of data flooded my head—how the sword was made, its materials. A precise blueprint formed in my mind, along with creation steps. I only needed the schematics, but I couldn’t get them without the rest, so I endured the headache. I’m still too weak—even this small task drains a ton of energy.

I doubt I’ll craft it later—no one’s letting me. Ideally, I’d hit an empty space station to find zen, power up, and snag perks like an independent energy source.

Scanning the area, I caught a glimpse of robo-cockroach antennae darting past in a dark corner. They think they can hide from me… Nope, they’re fodder for my future sword. Heh heh heh.

A sadistic, slightly unhinged grin crept onto my face as I hid my hands behind my back and approached the corner. Peering into the shadows, I spotted the roach—its glowing orange antennae swaying. If only you knew, buddy, how much those give you away.

With one swift move—too fast for a regular roach’s processing—I grabbed it, outpacing its reaction. Holding the poor thing to my display, I grinned maniacally.

“You’ll be the first to go into my sword…” I whispered, almost licking it. Bit by bit, I’d build a proper weapon to fight with.

The next twenty minutes, I hunted dozens of robotic roaches, stacking them by the armor—killing them first, of course. The more I caught, the more I wondered: “Why the hell are there so many?” I had a sneaking suspicion this manor wasn’t built for humans. Given it’s next to a dump… it makes sense robotic roaches swarm here.

Eyeing the pile of robo-insects, I pondered how to turn them into a weapon. Time for the jolly divine Cube of Annihilation. In theory, it shouldn’t drain cash or processing power—but that’s theory. In practice, it could be worse than the Solver.

Activating the Cube, I waited. A second later, a dark gray cube formed above my hand from thin air, absorbing some light and sending it… somewhere. No clue why it does that.

With a wave of my Cube-hand, I mentally lifted the dead roaches off the floor. That thrilled me—telekinesis! Or maybe magnetism. Next, I compressed them into a tiny cube and, after a moment’s thought, began “forging” a bastard sword, using the schematics as a base.

I knew the roaches alone might not cut it, so I started absorbing air, rearranging its molecular impurities as needed—especially carbon dioxide.

It felt like I was “grabbing” carbon atoms, linking them into hexagonal grids with an atom at each vertex, then stacking them into a material humans couldn’t surpass even after a millennium. Graphene.

It took less than thirty seconds. In twenty, I’d crafted a freaking ultralight bastard sword with molecular sharpness—practically from thin air. It differed from the armor’s sword: less shiny, more matte, with a noble dark gray hue. And it was dozens of times stronger and lighter, made of graphene—way tougher than diamond.

Now for a futile attempt to reason with my sister. I’m not hopeful—she’s Solver-possessed but not fully. Still, as they say, no harm in trying.

Two minutes later, per my internal clock, I spotted Tessa. Her sneaking along the balcony, avoiding attention, brought a fond smile to my face. She’s still such a kid. Realistically, she was pretty stealthy—harsh parents left no room for sloppiness.

But crashing into the armor stand, nearly toppling it, totally blew her cover. “You’ve been spotted,” Skyrim-style, would’ve fit perfectly.

Only now did I realize I had no clue what this gala was for—or why a ton of guests were invited.

A minute later, Tessa and J—who’d tagged along to help—were armed. Tessa had a revolver, J a sword. Worthy wielders. It was so cute I didn’t want to interfere. This was… idyll.

Ten seconds later, N arrived, hiding behind the railing, hoping to go unnoticed. I get it—if a drone’s caught off their assigned gala post, it’s “Off with their head!” Not literally, but close—N’d be scrapped as defective.

As stealthily as he thought, N urged the girls to hide—fun was about to start… Heh heh heh…

He didn’t finish. V’s glasses fell from the ceiling, shattering the awkward, tense vibe that’d built up. Everyone—including me—slowly looked up, hoping for something sane. Spoiler: sanity was zilch.

V crawled across the wooden ceiling, punching through it with a monstrous hand. Her leathery wings twitched, and her chaotic movements screamed madness. A yellow cross glowed ominously where her eyes should’ve been, stark against the ceiling’s dark void.

Realizing shit was getting real, the main cast huddled by the window, four pairs of eyes scanning the area. They really think they can fight a half-baked disassembly drone? Good luck.

Wait… Four pairs? Double-checking the suicide squad, my sharp gaze caught an outlier with striking purple, crow-like eyes!

She’d broken the timeline, landing in a universe with the one and only me. I wouldn’t be shocked if Uzi doesn’t recognize me—pop-ins like me shouldn’t have parallel versions, at least not yet. But her timeline-breaking memories will transfer to this world’s Uzi when she breaks it, avoiding paradoxes. Void Master knowledge at work.

And… the canon convo kicked off. I tuned it out with the laziest expression possible—I’d heard it dozens of times. I picked this universe for its depth of info and reliance on physics and exact sciences. Popping into a drone’s body was perfect—absolute memory and a built-in calculator mean I won’t miscalculate anything. Getting stronger from here won’t be hard.

There was another option… FNAF… Nope, let’s not go there.

“Who? Our Cyn? Nah… She’s cool.” While I mused, the canon chat rolled on. N was defending his sister. He did decently, honestly. The argument wasn’t ironclad—or even glass—but it made you think. It’d stump me—it sounds too convincing.

I didn’t get to finish that thought. A certain bespectacled nuisance dropped from the ceiling, wrecking the tense yet cozy vibe.

With a heavy “BAM,” she landed, scattering everyone by the windowsill. Raising her head, she seemed to process everything her light sensor caught in half a second, picking her first target. Guess who? Yep—Tessa!

Lightning-fast, I leapt from my hiding spot—unnoticed for minutes—covering the distance in an instant, dodging sparse obstacles. I got there just in time to block V’s claws with my new sword.

With a casual swing, I knocked V back, sparking a shower that lit the balcony’s gloom. Metal screeched against metal, and everyone below froze, looking up at us.

“N… Head to the basement,” I said, so calm and indifferent it sounded like this was routine. Knowing life in the 2000s, it kinda was—partly.

N grabbed the key tighter and bolted, trying not to trip on the rug. I watched until he vanished around a corner to the stairs. As they turned, I caught a muffled “Who was that?” from Uzi.

“And you two…” I turned to Tessa and J, who stared at me in pure shock and confusion. Ha, they couldn’t believe a lazy workshop drone could so casually deflect a claw attack.

“Go to Cyn. I’ll catch up after dealing with… the nuisance.” Saying that last word, I slowly turned to V.

The girls didn’t argue, fleeing the battlefield in a wide arc around me and V, praying they wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.

I grinned with unabashed glee, matching V’s wicked smile. I swear someone below fainted from fear. Humans—so overly sensitive.

V, tired of waiting, lunged first, swiping her deadly claws. Stepping back, I parried with my sword, sliding aside to let her pass. It cost me about thirty percent of my right arm’s durability, but at least I lived.

Spinning on my planted foot, I caught her fist aimed at my head, accompanied by a loud clang and screech. With a creak and a smug grin, I twisted her aluminum fist, dropped my sword, and smashed my damaged right hand into her display.

V staggered back with a glass-crunching sound, clutching her face. I savored watching oil seep through her fingers and drip to the floor.

Only seconds later did I realize I should’ve run—I couldn’t hold her off long. Turning, I bolted after Tessa and J, leaving the creepy thing behind, secretly hoping it wouldn’t follow.

Racing down the stairs to the first floor, I dodged drone and human remains littering the path. After descending, I veered left, cutting through a corridor—one branch leading to my workshop.

Another left and a few meters later, I hit a small passage—tiny compared to the manor’s scale. At its end, Tessa stood, ready to kick the door—not off its hinges, sadly.

I arrived as she slammed her elegant, aristocratic foot into the double doors, flinging them open with force. Reality wobbled—those doors weigh at least a ton.

“Everyone stand back! This is citizen's murder!” Tessa declared with over-the-top flair, lowering her foot and aiming her revolver at Cyn, perched on a globe at the hall’s far end.

Louisa and James started to protest, but they were cut off. I loved seeing Louisa’s stunned face as the Solver’s yellow static flung her and her hubby across the room.

Cyn teleported mid-hall, pulling the globe into her hand and spinning it like a planet. Go for it, sis—I’ve no doubt you’ll conquer this one.

“Tess-sa… You didn't [have]…” Cyn didn’t finish—a bullet sped toward her display, but she deflected it. I eyed Tessa suspiciously, her revolver still smoking. I wouldn’t forgive her if she’d killed my sister.

“You didn't have…” Tessa paused, blocking a flying pistol with a “Seriously?” look. But it didn’t stop there—goblets, mugs, and a tray followed, exhausting her arsenal. Cyn’s face showed zero enjoyment in this mess.

“Ahem… How about a normal, constructive talk instead of… tossing expensive dishware?” I said, and everyone—even the humans—stared at me like I was the second coming. They probably thought I was just a mute lackey trailing my masters. Partly true, but not quite.

Stepping to the hall’s center, I approached Cyn.

“Big sister, calm down…” I said, hugging her. I had to bend a bit—she’s slightly shorter. This was the moment of truth. She could’ve taken me then, but didn’t—just hugged back.

“Brother Ai doesn’t want me to k-kill [humans]?” she whispered, staring into my eyes. She awaited my answer, but I didn’t know what to say! This was a real test. My choice would shape not just this solar system, but maybe the whole world. I didn’t mind genocide, but my human side still fought it.

Turning, I saw the aristocrats cowering on the floor, staring at us in horror. I recalled humans from my world—worse than these. Hatred for them mixed with disdain for aristocrats, sparking a familiar feeling.

Looking at Tessa, that feeling softened, replaced by cold calculation. But I was past stopping. Rage ignited within me.

“Kill… them… all… Everyone. Except. Tessa.” My voice echoed off the dining hall walls, a death sentence sinking into everyone present.

“Okay… B-brother Ai…” Cyn said softly, pushing me away. I turned to Tessa with a faint smile, spreading my arms and shrugging like, “Sorry, it just happened.”

Meanwhile, Cyn stepped toward the window, raising her hand with three fingers spread. I knew what was coming and backed off, standing by Tessa. J glared at me like I was public enemy number one—I get it, I greenlit a genocide I could’ve stopped. Too late now.

“Traitor to humanity,” the white-eyed tsundere spat, aiming her sword at me and shielding Tessa. Hard to tell what scared her more—me hurting Tessa or the impending bloodshed. Either way, she wouldn’t act in time. Tessa’s under my protection.

“That’s me,” I replied, shrugging with the dumbest grin I could muster.

Then the hall’s lights died, and a blinding yellow glow from Cyn—the sole source—hit me. My light sensors rebooted in seconds, feeding my brain a flood of useless data.

Looking to the hall’s end, I saw a massive centipede-like thing sprawling across the room, ready to turn humans into pulp.

Part of it writhed under the ceiling, reflecting colors that took my breath away—mostly black, yellow, and white—ominous shades that made me shield my eyes. From pleasure.

“You sh-shouldn’t [see] this… B-brother Ai…” Cyn said, and a tentacle shot toward me, miraculously missing everything in its path.

I gripped my sword tight, ready to strike. No, I wasn’t fighting this beast—I’m not that reckless. I held it just to keep it during flight—time to test the Void.

Hundreds of milliseconds later, I took the hardest hit of my life, crumpling my chest into a metal accordion and nearly turning my right arm into a noodle. But it didn’t end there. My battered frame flew ten meters, crashing through a window into shards and splinters. In my last glance, I caught Tessa and J’s worried looks.

With what strength I had left, I focused. I recalled Copper-9’s surface, piecing together its outlines and view from the ground—all while falling off the cliff the Elliot Manor sat on.

As a finale, I activated my core, summoning the Void to whisk me to the planet. Something enveloped me, and seconds later, I was somewhere else—utterly drained. I wasn’t even surprised I was falling from a huge height. I couldn’t care—I just kept my mind sharp to avoid passing out. After landing, sure, but not now.

I barely noticed the slightly higher gravity. Only at the last second, before smashing into a building’s roof, did I admire Copper-9’s first moon.

Impact… Screech… Crunch… Crack… A critical error flashed before my eyes… And sweet darkness…

Chapter Text

New message received!

From: Cyn

To: Serial Designation - Ai

B-brother?! Brother? Where are you? I-I'm scared, brother! Forgive me! I d-didn't mean to! Bro-o-ther!

These were the messages I saw upon waking up in this cold, gloomy place—an old, abandoned school. I was sprawled out like a starfish across the room.

What can I say about this situation? Total chaos. Absolute, utter chaos. I don’t understand how I’m still moving—my body’s a wreck, and my right arm can now bend in every direction imaginable.

The core situation is particularly grim… When I arrived here, I was told I’d die if I didn’t replace it. But, you see, His Majesty didn’t feel like listening to some random notifications in his head, damn it! How am I supposed to replace it? Other drones’ cores won’t work—they’re different! No two drones have cores that can fully synchronize. I need to do something.

First things first, I need to replace my arm and fix the dents in my body that are causing discomfort. The arm should be easy. I’m on Copper-9—there are plenty of drones here, and no one will notice if one goes missing. Worker drones are mass-produced, and their parts are interchangeable like a construction kit, except for the core, of course.

After a second attempt to stand from the uneven floor, I limped over to a shattered window and looked outside. The contrast between the school and the street struck me. It was so bright and warm out there… Nothing like the grim atmosphere of this abandoned building.

The school was surrounded by a metal fence, parts of which had rusted and crumbled under the weight of time, making it easy to bypass.

Looking further, I saw a massive number of drones carrying and lifting things, just like in the pilot episode.

Sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall, my gaze caught the message from Cyn. How much must she love me to override the Absolute Solver’s algorithms? It gives me hope that my sister can still be saved. I hope she’s okay out there.

For now, I need to get out of here and take down a couple of drones. Standing up, I hobbled toward the staircase. I need to descend two floors and exit through any of the doors. People here aren’t much different from drones, so they’re unlikely to pay attention to a drone leaving an abandoned building. Just another drone with a task, right?

Carefully descending the stairs to avoid falling, I spotted a piece of rebar lying on one of the landings. Picking it up, I felt its weight—my body’s in energy-saving mode, so some of my actuators are offline. I can’t bend wrenches like Uzi did in the second episode.

Reaching the first floor and passing through the cluttered hall, I approached the main doors and stepped outside. It was cool but bearable—sensors showed fifteen degrees Celsius.

At the main gates, I looked around. As I said, there were plenty of drones, all busy with something. Robots are naive, so getting new parts shouldn’t be an issue.

Scanning the area again, I beckoned a nearby drone and pointed toward a shed. He followed, and we went behind the structure. Once hidden, I spun around and struck him with the rebar where a human’s temple would be. The drone glitched out and shut down, and I dragged his body back to the school.

Struggling to haul my fellow drone’s body inside, I began dismantling it. First, I severed his head completely to ensure he wouldn’t wake up. I wouldn’t be able to fight him off, and using the Solver would only make things worse for me.

Next, I carefully detached his right arm and began the replacement procedure on myself. Using a flat stone to unscrew the bolts, I disconnected the wires from my old arm and set it aside. Then, I attached the wires to the new arm and secured it in place.

Outdated? Are all drones on Copper-9 outdated? Well, it’s something, no complaints.

Getting used to the new arm, I continued dismantling the drone. I unscrewed the remaining parts and stacked them near the school’s exit. Then, I started on the body itself. Removing the drone’s chest plate, I began repairing my own. My chest plate was scrap metal, and even the stylish skull stopped glowing, so I tore it off without hesitation.

Wincing from the unpleasant sensation, I attached the new chest plate. The skull on it lit up white, and I relaxed.

Yeah, thanks, I didn’t know that.

Dismantling the drone became easier with each passing hour. Parts came off smoothly, and the chest plates detached with ease. This continued until I completely disassembled the drone, leaving only the core casing, which I couldn’t dismantle yet. I needed proper tools, not just variously sized rocks. Continuing this crude disassembly risked damaging the core, which I didn’t want. I already had a plan for it.

Standing up, I looked out the window. It was pitch black outside—perfect for my night vision.

Grabbing the rebar, I stepped outside. There were no humans around, only a few drones. No sane person would be out at one in the morning.

After a few test swings with the rebar, I headed toward the exit of the abandoned area. It was time to hunt. I didn’t stand out among the other drones—swapping my butler outfit for a vest was easy.

I walked onto the sidewalk, twirling the rebar and scanning passing drones. I needed one carrying tools I could steal. It wouldn’t be hard—just hit them hard on the head, like with the first drone.

After about two hours of searching, I spotted a drone with a backpack carrying a bright red toolbox. It was clearly a toolkit, like the one I had at the manor. The drone was indistinguishable from its emotionless kin, so taking it down wouldn’t be an issue.

Crossing the street, I followed him into an alley. With a running start, I swung the rebar and smashed his head off. It crashed into a wall, shattering the display, and the body collapsed where it stood.

Before anyone could show up, I grabbed the body and toolbox and sprinted back to the school’s hall.

It was starting to get light. I realized I’d spent nearly twenty hours dismantling the last drone! Another hour preparing to go out, and two more searching for the right target. I forgot that days here are ten hours longer than on Earth—thirty-four hours total.

Checking the time again, I opened the red toolbox and nearly drooled. Everything was there! Wrenches of all sizes, screwdrivers from tiny to finger-thick! A ratchet with tons of bits! Oh, how perfect!

Pulling the first drone’s core closer, I began dismantling its casing. It was so easy and pleasant compared to using flat stones that I didn’t notice when the core rolled out of its casing into my hands.

Setting it aside, I grabbed the second drone’s body and began dismantling it. With the grace of a centuries-old vivisector, I quickly took it apart and extracted its intact core.

Overjoyed like a kid, I opened the compartment on my back and pulled out my wires. Inspecting them, I connected to both cores without hesitation.

A surge of energy coursed through my body, and the interface displayed:

It felt like I could move mountains, figuratively speaking.

I didn’t want to get up. I just wanted to lie there, close my eyes, and…

Sleep Mode

Waking up felt amazing, like I hadn’t slept in a week and suddenly got a full night’s rest. I felt fresh as a cucumber, with none of the mental fatigue that had built up over a month at the manor.

After those core shenanigans, my energy system went haywire. Now, every movement was near-instantaneous… or rather, my reaction time was instantaneous. A definite boost.

Finally standing up, I grabbed the backpack and made a hole in it to thread the cores into the main compartment. Slinging it over my shoulders, I headed to the staircase to check the third floor—I might’ve missed something earlier.

Climbing the concrete stairs to the third floor, I was greeted by a hole in the ceiling and the smudged outline of my body on the floor. Chuckling, I scanned the room and caught a glint in one of the corners.

Approaching, I was shocked to see my sword! The one I made from cockroaches! My dear old friend! I missed you so much, and that rebar was getting old. Why didn’t I check this floor earlier?!

Picking up the sword, I descended the same staircase back to the hall, then walked through the main doors outside. Scanning the area, I ran toward the gap in the fence and left the abandoned grounds. I wrapped the sword in rags from the drones to avoid drawing attention.

I probably should’ve scouted earlier, but time was tight. Cores, body parts, and all that—though it’s only been a day, a drop in the bucket since I’ve got two years until my core explodes…

Exiting the alley between the school and some building, I headed toward the sector’s center, as my map indicated. Cities here don’t have names—they’re called sectors. I was in Sector 17, near Camp 98.7. Though, sectors aren’t really cities; they’re just over three square kilometers.

Along the way, I passed drones, humans, kids, and other creatures. Drones were their usual poker-faced, mechanical selves. Humans were just humans—not the aristocrats of Elliott Manor, but ordinary folks who treated robots kindly, not with disdain like at the manor. Kids ran around playing with robots, enjoying life, but it didn’t raise humans in my eyes. I still hate them; I just don’t show it.

I reached the sector’s center.

It was spacious. When I say spacious, I mean spacious.

The roads widened, the gaps between buildings grew too large to call alleys anymore.

Trash seemed to vanish, and small flowerbeds bloomed with what looked like violets.

But the building in the center of this makeshift plaza stole the show. White and red, its primary colors. A tall antenna stretched dozens of meters into the sky, and the building itself towered a couple hundred meters. A skyscraper.

This was the main office of JCJenson in SPAAAAAACE. It stood out among the gray buildings, not just in height but in vibrancy. Exactly what I needed.

After some quick reconnaissance, I mapped the area. It’ll come in handy for what I’m planning over the next few months. That office definitely has components I need to optimize my core’s energy use. I made the map to make it easier to…

Raid that office…

Call me crazy, but there’s a ton of useful stuff in there, and my inner robo-hamster was already rubbing its paws in anticipation of a big haul. Sorry to disappoint, but the raid won’t happen anytime soon. I need to know the office’s layout to avoid getting lost in endless corridors and doors. How do I know? I looked through a window.

Hiding my sword, I headed to a spot perfect for observing drones. I needed to take down a couple to check their memories. Knowing the building like a company employee—what could be better? I’ve been checking drone memories since my manor days; just give me a computer, and I’m ready to work.

Sitting on a bench behind a corner, I watched. There were plenty of targets. Humans who were company workers. Drones running back and forth, carrying everything from screwdrivers to laser drills. I prioritized drones heading deep into the building—they’d have more info, better for me. Why kill a courier drone? Exactly, no point.

I watched for hours, with humans occasionally staring at a drone sitting on a bench, swinging its legs, and glancing at the main office.

My appearance distracted them from the bundle next to me—my sword wrapped in drone jackets. I acted like I was waiting for my human working in the office, so their surprise didn’t last long.

Two drones I needed exited the office. I’d seen them in the windows, lingering too obviously. Hah, my next victims. They’d have useful info. Well, “extracting” means beheading them and digging into their core memories.

It’s great that JCJenson has no competitors and is the only company producing drones for the entire world… worlds, if you count all the planets they’ve colonized with their spaceships. Okay, I’m getting off track…

Smiling, I stood from the bench, grabbed the jacket with the sword, and followed them, timing each step. No need to draw their attention, right? Exactly.

I trailed them slowly through streets and alleys. In one alley, I decided to act. I was surprised they hadn’t split up, but it didn’t matter anymore.

Dashing into the alley, I grinned wickedly and swung my sword. The whistle of the blade cut through the evening silence of the unknown sector, followed by a metallic clank signaling the death of two emotionless machines. Poor guys, but their lives will serve a greater purpose.

Looking at the oil puddle and two severed heads, I wondered where to put them. I only needed the cores, but I wouldn’t mind their processors either. A dilemma.

After a few minutes of thinking, I came up with a simple solution. I’d carry the drones one by one. Take one body and head to the school, then come back for the other. Simple yet elegant.

Grinning wider, looking like a maniac, I grabbed one drone’s head in one hand and its body by the neck stump in the other. The segmented neck parts fit comfortably in my hand.

Holding everything securely, I headed to the school, sticking to alleys to leave as few traces as possible. It’d be bad if I got caught. Very bad.

The metallic screech from the dragging body irritated me, scraping the ground and making awful noises that sparked annoyance and rage.

Fifteen minutes later, I reached my school, practically a second home. The Elliott Manor was my first—too good, way better than my first life, which I don’t even want to recall. I don’t remember my death, just being outside. How could I stub my toe on a nightstand outside? No clue, and I probably never will…

Entering through the fence gap between the school and some building, I returned to my temporary home. Climbing the stairs to the hall, I placed the drone’s body there and ran back for the second.

Sprinting, I covered the distance in half the time. But I didn’t expect the second body to be gone when I reached the alley. The oil puddle was there, so I hadn’t mistaken the spot, but the body was missing. That shocked me and sent me into a panic.

“Fuck…” I whispered, realizing the drones might’ve noticed me following them. If so, my death wasn’t far off. Shutdown is a scary thing… Wait, what was I saying? Oh, right! They might’ve seen me tailing them, and their cores could have recorded it. If humans retrieved the body and core, they could easily check the data. Like Genos from One Punch Man, just a bit worse.

Sighing, I sprinted back to the school. I couldn’t lose the body I left there—that’d be too stupid, especially with a supercomputer in my head.

Back in the hall, I sighed in relief. The body still lay there, glistening with oil stains.

Blinking, I approached and kicked it, flipping it onto its back, revealing the chest plate housing the core I needed.

Chuckling, I pulled the toolbox closer and grabbed the right tools. Time to dissect another kin. Am I a vivisector now?

Opening the chest plate, I extracted the core. Inspecting it and finding no major differences from others, I pulled a wire from my back and connected it directly. A wave of energy surged through me, lifting my sour mood. The interface made it even better:

Smirking, I started dismantling the drone’s head, which lay nearby.

Rolling it closer, I heated the display with a tool from the red toolbox and removed the emotion plate—a name I just made up.

Peering inside the head, I wasn’t surprised to see a mess of wires and components filling the poor thing’s skull. I’d seen drone insides plenty during repairs—a delicate task.

Among the wires was a megastructure—the drone’s memory cells.

Licking my lips, I used tweezers to extract it, pulling out thick data-transfer cables.

Disconnecting them, I held the cells. Time to use the Solver again. I needed to copy the data directly to my core since I had no extra cables for memory cells. The Solver was my only option.

Exhaling, I activated the Solver. A colorful hexagon with three arrow-like beams appeared between my fingers. The air vibrated, and smooth waves rippled through space, slightly distorting it.

The memory cells floated above the Solver’s mark, circling slowly. Data streamed into my head, and the cells dimmed with each second.

After a few minutes, the data transfer finished, and the cells went dark, crumbling into crystalline dust. No surprise—the Solver’s influence isn’t exactly gentle.

Waving away the dust, I processed the data, letting my metal brain sort it out. No need to overthink—it’d organize itself.

It took a few minutes, even with the three extra cores in my backpack. What did I get? Not much, but the info was insanely useful.

The office has nine floors, each with specific security.

The first floor handles clients and basic maintenance.

The second floor is for negotiations with big clients who buy JCJenson products in bulk.

The third floor has another negotiation room, but for major investors.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth floors are buffets for drones, clients, and workers, respectively.

The top three floors house the management running the office.

There are also underground floors with labs and testing chambers. That’s all I got from the victim’s memory.

Sitting on the floor, I realized a few things: I need a computer, more cores, and this plan will take a long time. With the security on the lower floors, I can’t imagine what’s guarding the basement. That’s where I need to go for everything useful, like a computer.

Scratching my head, I stood and headed out of the school. Time to hunt—gotta prepare for the raid, right?

Date: November 21, 3048
Time: 10:11

Think preparation is easy? Hah, it’s not that simple, not at all.

I had to kill more of my kin. This time, to gather more cores, since I’d be using the Solver to its fullest. My core wouldn’t survive the strain otherwise.

The result? My abandoned school housed three dozen drone corpses, half of which were gutted, their cores extracted.

I sat on a table, my backpack with fifteen drone cores beside me. All connected to me.

In one hand, my sword; in the other, the rebar. I was ready for the raid.

With a slight smile, I left the school under the light of the local star. Surprisingly, the weather was great—no annoying rain, no clouds. Just sunshine and light. I liked it. My mood lifted.

In a few dozen seconds, I crossed the school grounds and reached the makeshift exit.

Passing through the missing fence, I dashed through the alley and onto a proper street. The scene was the same as always—humans, drones, occasional cargo vehicles. The star’s bright glow added some change.

Still smiling happily, I practically skipped toward the sector’s center. The distance was short… relatively. I’d walked this path twenty times this month, at least.

During my impromptu stroll, I caught odd looks. Some gaped in surprise—a drone with emotions is rare. Though drones have consciousness, they lack emotions unless awakened. That’s how it works.

Others looked confused, not at me but at what I carried and my oil-stained backpack. The sword drew the most attention, shining like a beacon in the fog. It caught everyone’s eyes, slightly scaring me, but I hid it with my cheerful smile.

If the sword could be chalked up to a collector—rare but existent on this planet—the rebar raised questions, even among kids. So I hid it carefully to maintain my cover. Humans here are a bit gullible.

After ten minutes, by my internal clock and senses, I reached the sector’s center. My clock is literally internal—I see the time on my display. Logical? I think so. And I think my mood’s pretty great, unlike my usual urge to kill everyone.

With an enthusiastic look, I stared at the JCJenson building, thinking only about how to start this undoubtedly fun adventure.

The raid has three simple stages, easy in concept and execution, as long as I adapt to the situation instead of relying on “I calculated the odds” nonsense. My processor lets me calculate in real-time, though it’s a bit old and weak, especially for the Solver.

Stage One: Infiltration. Two guards at the entrance are mostly for show, rarely using their metal detectors unless someone’s overly suspicious. They don’t check drones, knowing the first rule of robotics: “A robot cannot harm a human through action or inaction.” They assume drones can’t hurt them. Naive souls.

The servers are in the basement, so after bypassing the guards, I need to get to the underground floors. That’s why I took fifteen worker drone cores—to blast through the metal door, the main obstacle. With the cores, I can use the Solver to turn that door into a soda can.

Stage Two: Execution. Once in the basement, I need to find the server room. If I can’t, I’ll have to hack the building’s systems to locate it, since I don’t know its exact position.

In the server room, I’ll connect it to the drones’ memory cells and a couple of cores. The cores will have processors to handle incoming data. The data won’t stay in the cells long—it’ll be sent back, with the processors and cores deciding what to keep and what to discard.

Stage Three: Escape. The easiest part. If I don’t trigger the security system—which is unlikely—I can slip out without being noticed.

If the security system is tripped, it’s trickier. Exiting the same way might mean facing a SWAT team. So I mapped all the emergency exits I could steal. I could even escape via the roof, though that’s unlikely but not impossible.

Running the plan through my head again, I approached the building with a friendly smile.

With a light step, I passed the two guards, who gave me a suspicious glance—or pretended to. I’d seen these two for a month; they didn’t work, just acted like they were watching passersby. They’re good at faking it—I thought they were real guards for the first few hours of planning.

Still smiling, I entered the building’s hall. Nothing special to describe. The JCJenson logo was on the floor, circled. People and drones bustled about—humans running between counters and operators, drones carrying papers to offices, I assumed. It was a well-oiled system I’d have to break. No one’s stopping me.

A fleeting desire crossed my mind, and I glitched, teleporting to the sealed basement door, narrowly avoiding people. The door was twenty meters from where I stood. Did I mention this building is huge?

Raising my glowing, ominous Solver, which forced nearby drones to reboot, I swung. The staircase door crumpled like a tin can and flew into another part of the stairwell. My eye twitched—one of the cores cracked. If I keep this up, I won’t finish before the cores die.

The blaring siren pierced my ears, but I ignored it, focusing on the plan. Lock tf in mode: maximum concentration.

Without looking back, I grabbed the doorframe so hard I sparked and threw myself inside, dodging bullets flying at my battered body.

Grabbing the railing, which creaked in protest, I spun and dove further down the stairs. Seeing the shocked faces of the two guards chasing me was a delight, especially when I knocked out their colleagues below. I hadn’t laughed this hard in ages.

Picking up a knocked-out guard—whom I’d accidentally slammed into along with his partner—I used him as a meat shield. No shots followed. Some humanity remains in these people. Good to know, but they’ll still die by my sister’s hand.

Tossing the useless body aside, I faced a closed door. In two-hundredths of a second, I activated the Solver and tore the door off its hinges, ripping the metal like paper.

Jamming the former door into the steel floor, I flew into the corridor.

Spinning my head, I paused. I had about eight seconds before the guards arrived. Time to recall the basement map stolen from a drone’s head.

To the left: a warehouse, called the “empty wing.” This colony is new, and materials are in high demand, so the warehouse is almost always empty.

Straight ahead: a place I shouldn’t go. The guards’ break room. With the number of guards here, I’d rather not think about it.

To the right: what I needed. The map marked it simply: “Server Room.” I trust the map—I have no other choice, and hacking the office systems would likely get me hacked.

These thoughts took less than five seconds, so I smiled and turned right. How would my speed fare indoors? Let’s find out! I accelerated to 25 km/h, crossing the short corridor in two seconds. Grabbing the corner, denting the metal wall, I veered toward the server room.

My servos groaned under the strain, my hair whipped in the wind, and I felt a mix of relaxation and wild stress. Better not stop.

I ran straight for the server room door, which wasn’t anything special—just a ton of processors and memory cells linked into a system for data storage. A data center. Should be a cozy place.

Realizing I could use my speed to my advantage, I grabbed the rebar. Rust flaked off, but it was sturdy enough for my crazy idea. Raising it like a sniper rifle—complete with a reticle in my eye—I jumped, narrowly missing a hanging lamp, and hurled the rebar. It flew for half a second before smashing the door’s control panel into pieces. I heard a click—my plan worked.

Grabbing my sword, I flew to the door and, with a precise strike sparking metal, sliced through the hidden hinges and kicked the door in. With a calm face, I watched it crash into a server rack in slow motion. Tsk, wasted resources… but I’m in the server room… Heh-heh-heh…

No time for pleasantries—I had to move fast, sacrificing elegance. Elegance? I’m a robot; my middle name is efficiency. Time to crank it up and have some fun.

I darted to a panel near the doorframe, ripped it off, and exposed a thick cable glowing with colors. This thing… access to the entire data center. It sends info to the upper floors, and if I disconnect it, they lose access to the servers, cameras, everything. Guess what I’m doing?

Touching the cable, I deftly removed the pins holding it, like an experienced sysadmin, and disconnected it. The equipment flickered, trying to process what happened, and restarted seconds later. That disconnection even rebooted the servers nearly destroyed by the door. Surprising they still worked.

“With Deus…” I whispered, opening the backup connection port on my neck, moving my hair aside. Why backup? My back has only five connection slots, and I hooked up ten extra cores by literally turning my head 180 degrees and rewiring with borrowed drone cables.

It took so many tries to make those fifteen cores work, but I gained enough energy for my maneuvers. Sadly, it’s still not enough for the Solver’s appetite. But if it’s needed, it’s needed. Good thing the cores are small enough for the backpack, or I’d be screwed.

Exhaling, I plugged the thick cable into my neck, maxing out my firewall. The cores in my backpack hummed. I’d have to process a ton of data and extract the essentials. The extra cores were just batteries—no processing systems, just cache for memory and self-control. They’re compressed thermonuclear plasma that goes boom if breached. All the processing falls on my processor. But that’s just details.

A flood of data poured into my head, filling every corner of my consciousness. Petabytes of data streamed through my artificial brain, processed, and sent back to the servers. I lost track of how long I stood there… still standing… I nearly lost myself in the endless data stream.

There were camera recordings, cute cat videos, even porn—useful info got lost in the noise.

After a while, some logic emerged in the data. Random clips gave way to scientific papers and blueprints for simple devices, like 21st-century capacitors, described so you could build them from sticks and mud. With the equipment here, it’d be even easier.

Later, I found blueprints for complex components. I copied only a computer and steel wing-blades into my brain. The computer, made from a disassembled drone, was a basic blueprint compared to the wings.

The wings? A meme. Designed for planetary colonization, especially for accessing hard-to-reach places. Powered by antigravity engines—those glowing circles in disassembler wings—they didn’t need air to function. They required a worker drone core, no stronger or weaker, almost identical. Amazing tech. They fold up, not turning into nanobots like disassemblers’. That’s their downside.

They were also made for combat, but after the alliance, their combat features targeted hostile flora and fauna on some planets. Giant insects were documented in one server section. I didn’t dive into details.

With a quiet click and hiss, I unplugged the cable from my neck, collapsing to the floor and clutching my head. That DDoS attack wasn’t pleasant, honestly. My head spun, and my eyes showed errors. Footsteps approaching added fuel to the fire.

The pain was unbearable, like thousands of needles stabbing my head, tearing soft tissue… but the needles faded until they were gone.

Slowly standing, I glanced at the server. I couldn’t process the entire data center—a small chunk nearly killed me. Plus, I rushed, overloading my processor. The whole process took ninety seconds, but it felt like hours.

Coming to, I grabbed my sword and exited the server room, leaning on the wall. My eyes still glitched from the overload, but there was no time to waste. Two guards—not the same ones, in different uniforms—ran toward me. Probably higher clearance for the basement. Heh.

“Hey, lunatics…” I waved weakly at the approaching guards. My action made them slow down. They stopped seven meters away, squinting from the ceiling lights reflecting off the polished floors and walls.

They exchanged a silent glance and nodded. One approached me, unarmed, completely open. Mistake. Fatal mistake, buddy. You don’t approach me without weapons or armor. My past challengers learned that the hard way.

When he got close, I struck his leg, making him lose balance and fall face-first. Sidestepping his body and stabilizing myself, I sped past the second guard, who tried to grab me but was too slow.

After a few turns, I ran into a basement wing I hadn’t planned for. No choice now—I was in the unexplored underground tunnels. The light was dim, not harsh on my sensors like near the server room, where it was darker than the sun outside.

Looking around, I spotted an unremarkable steel door and ran toward it.

Reaching it, I slid it open, dashed inside, and closed it behind me.

The room looked like… that capsule or room from Portal 2 that Wheatley smashed. Same vibe. A bed, a painting on the wall, a useless TV… the coziest thing I’d seen in months, aside from Tessa’s bed.

Sighing, I sat on the floor, pulling my knees up and burying my head in them. I wanted to rest like this—utterly inefficient, utterly useless, and raising questions, but comfortable. Well, depends how you look at it… I was mentally exhausted. Killing my kin never gets old, especially knowing they physically can’t resist. Except those who awaken personality and emotions. But those drones are rare… until 3050, when their numbers will grow exponentially.

That doesn’t change one thing: they’ll be too naive for this planet.

I was so lost in thought I didn’t notice a curious detail that changed the room’s vibe. A detail that made my eyes widen in shock, then close to hide it.

That simple truth hit me like a stake to the head. Not alone? Exactly… Not the phantom whispers of dead cores in my backpack. It was… a presence…

With a slight creak, I turned my head right, looking at the other end of the room. At first, I saw nothing.

But now, calmer, I noticed more details. The painting wasn’t just a painting—it showed a lunar landscape, and so on.

Then I saw something out of place. A strand of dark purple hair peeked from behind a corner, swaying from its owner’s nervous trembling.

The sight only made me want to comfort the frightened creature, but common sense took over, and with uncharacteristic harshness, I said:

“I know someone’s there. Come out!” I raised my voice slightly. With great curiosity, I watched the strand of hair freeze in shock as its owner processed my command.

After a few dozen seconds, a drone with an unusual appearance emerged. A blood-red display studied me with mixed emotions, trying to figure out who I was. A gray coat draped over unremarkable drone curves, accentuating her slimness and height. The dark purple hair reflected the dim light of a wall-mounted lamp. It was truly beautiful.

One detail caught my attention more than anything else. A card hung on her chest, and a bracelet on her wrist. I couldn’t see the bracelet clearly, but the card…

The card read something that, frankly, made me lose my grip on reality. I hadn’t expected this turn of events.

Yeva 048

That name… and number… surprised me, to put it mildly. I hadn’t thought I’d meet the mother of a main character during a raid. Yeva, Doll’s mother.

Only seconds later did it hit me that she could twist me into a pretzel without breaking a sweat. Or could she? The question was whether she’d been implanted with the Solver. If not, nothing to fear… for now.

I opened my mouth, trying to formulate my next words. And froze. I couldn’t think of anything. The pause stretched longer and longer. Finally, I gave up and just said:

“Hey?…” It was both a question and a statement, as I didn’t know how to react. I shouldn’t even be here, if you think about it. Over twenty years before the main events, and I’m talking to the mother of a girl I liked, at least in my past life. Let’s ignore that she’s a robot.

Yeva’s eyes turned to zeros after my greeting. A digital sweat drop appeared on her temple, and her jaw nearly hit the planet’s core.

“H-hello…” she said in a trembling voice, trying to hide it. I don’t get how we can tremble. My only theory is voltage differences in servos, which sounds plausible but hard to believe. I’ve never noticed it in myself.

“I’m just… gonna sit here for a bit, okay? Until the guards leave?” I asked, looking straight into her display. Then something clicked in my head. I noticed a detail that might shock the red-eyed drone. Not my appearance, not the sword with oil stains reflecting light, not even my battered, tired face. Something simpler, more mundane.

I was speaking perfect Russian.

That realization made me want to bang my head against a wall. How could I mess up like that? She hasn’t torn me apart, so there’s still hope. I can live with this.

I stretched out my legs, making Yeva step back. She kept her blood-red gaze on me, like it pierced my soul, though I knew that was impossible, at least for her. Out of habit, I looked away—just in case she found something in my white pixelated eyes.

“Not against it…” she replied, looking down, probably processing the flood of information. I get it—when I first arrived at Elliott Manor, I couldn’t figure out how or why I was there or what to do.

Her situation’s different but similar. I burst into her room out of nowhere and asked for shelter in her native language. That last part probably shocked her most, since she and her husband are likely the only Russian speakers on this planet. Well, maybe a few more, but no one else comes to mind.

“I see the surprise in your eyes…” I noted, crossing my arms to hide my “nervousness.” What would she think of the fifteen drone “hearts” in my backpack, quietly vibrating and giving me energy? One kept throwing errors but still worked.

“Just…” she replied curtly, looking away. Trying to hide her shock that I spoke Russian. I’d be shocked too, finding a Russian-speaking drone on an English planet.

“Just means just,” I shrugged, turning to the door where muffled footsteps echoed. The guards were searching for me in vain. Good luck finding a drone who can hit high speeds with an IQ higher than all of theirs combined. Yeah, I’m showing off—no one’s stopping me, right?

I stood, and Yeva stepped back again. I felt my servos and levers click back into place, energy flowing through my nanotubes with a cool freshness. Fifteen cores were way better than one—I couldn’t feel these sensations with just my core. Now… sublime…

As a drone, I shouldn’t feel anything without the right organs, but I do. Every drone has nanobots for regeneration, and Solver hosts have them accelerated ten- or hundredfold. In infected drones, they act as a nervous system, letting us feel pain, some touch, and more. But only hosts have this privilege due to hyper-accelerated nanites.

After ten seconds of stretching and two seconds of bliss—during which the footsteps quieted—I finally saw the world clearly. Yeva and I were still in her chamber’s entryway, or room, depending on your pessimism.

At that moment, my backpack tore. All fifteen cores fell out, hanging on my wires. Oil dripped from them, hitting the floor with a menacing wet sound, staining it black.

We both froze. I was embarrassed, sensing trouble; Yeva was horrified, her eyes thinning to threads. I felt uneasy as she dissected me with her gaze, like I was spare parts. It was like facing Cyn again.

“Oops…” I didn’t know how to react to this mess. The cores swayed on my wires, their oil faintly reflecting the dim light. I was scared to move.

It got worse when I heard a whistling sound mixed with electricity.

Looking from the cores to Yeva, I saw something that nearly killed me on the spot. I was right—she could twist me into a pretzel. Her hand glowed with a bright red Solver, spinning clockwise. Its pattern shifted from an atom-like “rotation” tool to a “creation” diagram, occasionally reverting to the standard hexagon with arrows.

“Can you… ignore all this?” I asked, raising my hands in surrender. A nervous smile crossed my face, making Yeva step closer, still aiming her Solver at me. A twitch in her eye and brief surprise told me she was bluffing.

She likely got an error: “Cannot interact with object.” A Solver host can’t affect another host, except for the progenitor, Cyn, and me, who begged God for the ability to bypass those rules.

“Why. Do. You. Need. The. Cores?” Her voice turned hard and commanding, her eyes demanding an answer. The Solver’s whistle grew louder, small sparks arced through the air, and the oil drops moved, drawn to her power.

“…without them, I’ll die…” I answered as honestly as possible. I had nothing to hide, especially from her. She’d be the first on this planet to know my core is dying faster than some computers process requests.

“My own core… it’s dying… To extend my life, I use other drones’ cores… Basically, without them, my core will turn to ash…” I explained briefly, bracing for her to smear me across the wall. If she attacked, I could block her Solver with mine, regardless of her move. I could redirect a singularity or counter an accelerated chandelier with my sword, leaving her no room to maneuver.

The pause dragged on. I felt no foreign influence or attempts. My gaze questioned, but it’d likely go unanswered. The whistling softened, and the oil stopped moving. Her display remained cold, but her Solver hand trembled, either from wanting to erase me or to drop the aggression.

“What do you mean your core is dying?” she asked, still aiming her Solver at me. I had no choice—answering was the best outcome, or I’d face an unfair fight.

“Um… my core’s integrity is below 25%, so my body switches to energy-saving mode, where I can’t do anything. There’s not enough energy… That’s why I kill drones—to have some ability to do anything…” I said, looking into her eyes, her seriousness rivaling Minerva McGonagall’s—not that Yeva’s an old witch, just their demeanor.

Then, I asked a strange question that just popped into my head.

“Did you think… you’d become one THESE cores?” I pointed at the cores hanging from my wires. A faint blush appeared on Yeva’s display. I smirked inwardly—she was scared of sharing their fate. That’s adorable.

“Mhm…” she mumbled, something holding her back from speaking fully, looking away and deactivating her Solver. For the first time in minutes, I could relax my 120% overclocked processor. She didn’t seem to plan on attacking, which was great—otherwise, I’d be sad, having to fight back and avoid destroying anything. She’s not escaping; something’s holding her here… blocking her… Whatever, that’s not my concern.

“Hah…” I smiled, losing the tension built over these long five minutes of life-or-not-life talk, since neither of us could kill the other.

“I couldn’t even scratch you… let alone kill you… This backpack weighs a quarter ton… well, weighed…” I looked at the sad sight of the torn rag that used to be a decent backpack. It wasn’t made to carry 250 kilos of drone cores. No way it held up this long.

“Help me fix it?” I asked, removing the backpack and sliding it through the core wires. After twenty seconds, I held a dirty, torn-in-places backpack, its giant bottom hole not its only issue.

Yeva shrugged and activated her Solver, lifting the black backpack and placing it on the main room’s floor. In the light, it looked worse—like it’d been dipped in acid and stirred with a ladle. My eye twitched as I approached. Some fabric was just gone, other parts looked ready to disintegrate.

“How do we fix it? There’s not enough material… I’m not yet—” I cut her off with a lazy wave, making her look at me questioningly. I stepped lightly to a metal nightstand by the single bed, its surface reflecting light into my face.

I grabbed the nightstand by its edges and lifted it off the floor with a little effort. The servos squeaked, for it was not the lightest of metals. More specifically, of the metal that is most common on this planet (after copper, of course). Osmium. The densest metal in the table of elements, just what I need.

“This work for material?” I asked, setting the nightstand by the backpack. Yeva looked at me like I was the holy spirit. What? I just moved a nightstand.

“Yes, it’ll do…” she replied, facing the backpack. Her Solver squealed, and a spark shot toward the nightstand. It began melting and stretching into bright silver threads before my eyes.

Not standing idle, I activated my colorful Solver. As it glowed, Yeva jumped back, horror in her digital eyes. I stood there, surprised, watching her nearly climb the wall to get away.

“W-what is that?…” she asked, pointing at my Solver, which quietly crackled with electric sparks, its light spreading a cozy glow. Her reaction baffled me.

“It’s the Solver…” I said, confused by her question. What scared her so much she nearly punched through the ceiling to escape? I looked at the three-colored arrows, trying to see what was hidden in them.

“When… the Progenitor, or Cyn, takes control of me, her Solver feels the same…” she said, peeling off the wall and cautiously approaching. Her mention of my sister brought back memories of our days in the manor’s workshop, where Cyn helped her little brother. Her calling Cyn the Progenitor made me chuckle inwardly.

“Alright…” I said, leaning over the backpack. I could’ve told her I’m the Progenitor’s brother, but her young drone core probably couldn’t handle that shock. The fact that the Progenitor sees me as her little brother would blow her out of this world. Too… unusual, to say the least.

Smiling, I lifted the backpack, suppressing the urge to shout “Wingardium Leviosa” like a Harry Potter wizard. That urge quickly turned to disgust when I saw the backpack’s shadow. It had been somewhere before me—no way it had that many holes from the cores.

Too bad even this small Solver use made my head want to melt, and I wouldn’t let it. With slight envy, I watched Yeva wield her Solver effortlessly, reshaping matter as she pleased. Even with the Cube, I couldn’t do that. The Solver’s main strength is reality manipulation, not matter like the Cube.

The osmium threads wove into the backpack, turning the fabric into something far sturdier. Not the threads themselves, but the ultra-fine filaments they were made of. It seemed useless at first glance, but I knew better. This thing could rival Kevlar. Each thread was now 25-30% osmium.

“Done…” Yeva said quietly, sitting on the bed carefully, holding her head. Assessing her state as just a mild headache—nothing compared to mine—I deactivated my Solver, and the fresh backpack flew into my hands. Its weight increased by a third.

For the cores, I asked Yeva to leave holes on the back-facing side to thread them through, matching their diameter.

Three minutes later, after stuffing all the cores into the backpack—one severely cracked, looking ready to shatter—Yeva approached and gave the best smile she could muster. It was funny—she’s almost a head shorter, and I looked down at her. The height difference wasn’t as noticeable when I sat in the entryway.

“Well… I’m off…” I said, turning to leave without a goodbye. As I stepped, her hand grabbed my forearm, squeezing lightly. No aggression, so I didn’t resist.

“Wait… Thank you…” she said, releasing my arm with a faint metallic clank and, from the sound, sprawling on the bed. I didn’t pay it much mind. Glancing back as I left, I saw only her legs dangling off the bed. Exhaling quietly, I opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit corridor, now empty.

I slowly headed toward the fire escape, the only exit available, lost in thought. I didn’t notice the echo of my steps or the broken cameras, disabled after I unplugged the server cable. Yeva’s gratitude raised questions. Why thank me? What did I do to deserve it? Those questions might go unanswered… or maybe not.

My distraction was so deep I didn’t hear the panting guards who’d run from another wing, desperately searching for me. I stopped—they shouldn’t know I’m here with the surveillance down, but they found me somehow.

Turning slowly toward the sound, I hid my slight irritation, my display showing a pulsing vein animation.

Behind me stood two guards in gray uniforms, which mildly surprised me. The uniform color must indicate clearance, explaining why only gray-uniformed guards chased me underground.

They panted, leaning on the walls and each other, looking at me with utter confusion. I could see they wanted to give up and leave. They hadn’t even drawn their weapons—pathetic creatures.

“Ugh… Just surrender… cough… and we won’t have issues,” one said, looking into my display for any reaction. I had an internal reaction, but showed nothing. Their audacity surprised me, though they sounded convincing. Too bad they couldn’t bribe me, no matter how hard they tried.

“What answer do you expect?” I asked smugly, twirling the rebar I’d pulled from my sleeve, where I’d stuffed it for convenience. The guards froze, their eyes filling with fear and disbelief. I felt like they’d start praying if I pushed harder.

Smiling, I struck the wall with the rebar, sending a cheerful clang through the corridor. My smile widened at the small dent in the metal wall, made of some unknown alloy.

Then, I simply turned around, opened the door, and slipped onto the fire escape. In the final moment, I caught a glimpse of the two guards, nearly crying like frightened little girls, barely standing on their shaky legs, faces pale with terror. I must’ve scared them good. They’ll probably see me in their nightmares, boo-hoo-hoo…

Ten seconds later, I touched the emergency exit door leading outside. I hesitated to step out—anything could be waiting for me out there, from a dozen guards with railguns to a damn tank, which wouldn’t be far from the truth, given the resource availability.

For peace of mind, I pulled my sword from behind my back and gripped it tightly with one hand. Its perfect matte surface calmed and delighted me, like some old trinket found in the depths of a desk drawer. Except this was on a much grander scale.

Exhaling, I grabbed the horizontal bar that served as the door’s handle and leaned forward. With a soft click, the door’s locks disengaged, and it creaked open, letting me out onto the street. Releasing the bar, I was about to sigh in relief when I was interrupted in a rather brutal way. Dozens of sharp clicks, like the sound of firearms being cocked, flooded my audio sensors. I also heard the crackle of an electric arc and the deep hum of something powerful charging up.

Looking ahead, not without some caution—just in case—I saw dozens of weapons from various eras and power levels aimed at me. There were classic AK-47s and M14s, alongside something new. Rifles that fired electric bullets capable of paralyzing a human or forcing a drone into a reboot. And that was just one of at least a dozen types of weaponry.

I forced a smile. I hadn’t expected such an ambush just for me. I really didn’t think I was that valuable—or, conversely, so useless—that they’d send an entire SWAT team after me. “They” being JCJenson. Time to test teleportation, because I only had one shot. Well, technically, I had plenty of tries, but a failed attempt would likely be my last. I doubted the soldiers—or whatever they were—would go easy on me after an escape attempt.

Luckily, they weren’t shooting to kill right away, which was almost disappointing. As I mentioned, their weapons were a mix of different eras and strengths, like they’d grabbed whatever was lying around. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had an RPG stashed underfoot, though that’d be borderline sci-fi.

Still smiling like an idiot, I flashed a peace sign and took a small step back, bumping into the doorframe I’d just run through. With a sharp mental command, I forced the energy from a cracked core to envelop me in a thin film. When I felt a slight pressure rippling across my chassis in strange waves, I activated the Solver and, still leaning against the doorframe, shifted myself through space. The world froze, as if holding its breath. For a split second, it was utterly silent—no movement, no sound. Then… suddenly… an energy wave slammed through my sensors, overwhelming my brain with information. In the next millisecond, I was standing behind the building. The sensation? Nothing much, just a faint feeling during teleportation, like a black hole had opened in my chest—which might actually be true.

Nervously exhaling, I scanned the nearby surroundings. Finding nothing that could potentially harm me, I gripped the rebar tighter and sped up, mentally mapping out a route.

Steam still rose from my body, the remnants of the core’s energy dissipating from my chassis. Accompanying it was a wet, squelching sound, like a bloody massacre happening nearby. But no, it was just the sound of what had become of the core after my teleportation. It was destroyed—popped like a balloon. All the thermonuclear plasma’s energy had been spent on my spatial jump, and the core’s material couldn’t withstand the overload and simply shattered. Now I knew that the cores of local drones contained oil, unlike the ones at the manor. And I also learned that teleportation is a terrifying force, especially without knowing how to use it.

After what felt like two minutes of intense running, I finally reached my dear abandoned school, which hadn’t changed a bit in those few hours. How happy I was to slip through the rusty fence of the schoolyard surrounding the building in its day. How glad I was to walk through the slightly wilted but fairly tall grass.

And how thrilled I was to see that extraordinarily beautiful, slightly dusty hall again and lie on its floor, staring at the ceiling with a carefree expression. That’s it—no more raids for the next few months! If even one wore me out this much…

But I was interrupted. Not by other drones, not by humans, not even by random street noises. I was disturbed by… a message that appeared on my display. It would’ve been fine, except for one thing: the sender was Cyn. I had to exhale a couple of times, despite being a drone, and look at the message with a serious gaze. A digital pulse ran through my body, making my fingers twitch as if trembling. Something big was coming… something painful. Cyn rarely writes to me. She doesn’t write for no reason.

New message received!

From: Cyn

To: Serial Designation - Ai

Little brother?… R-r-e-s-p-o-n-d…

I d-don’t w-want you to [die].

[F-forgive] me.

S-send me your c-coordinates…

I-I [will save] you.

Little… [brother] I…

It’s hard to say what scared me more: the fact that she could write to me, meaning I’m connected to some specific network. It’s definitely not the internet, because I don’t even have a module for receiving it, and if I did, Cyn would’ve found me in days, if not hours.

Or is it her condition that scares me? Based on the message, she’s almost completely consumed by the Solver’s madness, and her obsession with me raises more questions than it answers. The Solver has nearly taken her over, but her love for me sometimes overpowers the omni-program. It’s… curious.

And why did she ask for my coordinates? I get it, sure, but I don’t even know how to find my coordinates. And even if I did, I wouldn’t send them. I’m not an idiot.

Irritated, I closed the message panel on my internal interface and shot up from the floor, scattering the tools lying nearby. Scanning the floor for anything that might be useful, I found nothing. With a sad sigh, I picked up the rebar, its rusty layer cracked and flaking in places from that strike against the wall in the facility’s basement.

Snorting, I lifted my sword. After a couple of clumsy test swings—nearly hitting myself—I gripped it as tightly as possible and headed for the school’s exit.

“Need more cores… Let the night hunt begin…” I muttered, cracking the school’s entrance door open. If I want to survive, I need more cores. The cores of my kin.

All that’s left is to wait for nightfall, which will come in an hour or two, and then the fun can start.

POV: Third Person Date: November 21, 3048
Time: 28:04

The night was shrouded in darkness. The bright rays of the strange star had dipped below the horizon, plunging the entire sector, along with those nearby, into shadow. Only darkness remained, pierced by the light of two celestial bodies—the planet’s moons. It felt as if they weren’t orbiting but standing still, illuminating all life with reflected starlight.

They were different in size. One was larger, the other smaller, but their surface texture, if viewed from another planet, seemed similar. Like twin brothers.

The larger one had an orbital ring, its brightness comparable to Saturn’s in the Solar System, nearly five light-years from Copper’s system. They had their own names, of course. The ringed moon was called Copper-10, the smaller one Osmium-3. Humans didn’t bother with creative names for planets, simply assigning them based on the most abundant materials found there.

This night was silent and calm, as it always was. But… that changed quickly, as if with a snap of fingers.

A drone with oddly colored eyes on its display—light gray—carefully opened the door of the abandoned school and looked around. Finding nothing threatening, it let out a soft sigh, slipped outside, quietly closed the door, and tiptoed toward the hole in the fence, the only way out.

Why hadn’t anyone looted or dismantled this school, with its old, cracked boards and other materials ripe for salvaging? Simple: no one needed it. Everyone here lived well enough, and people had no concept of scavenging or dismantling. The humans here… they were born here, so they didn’t really know what had happened on Earth.

Leaving the school grounds, the drone vanished into the dark alleys of one of the main sectors of this exoplanet, noticing nothing suspicious. It didn’t see the entire SWAT team tailing it, intent on capturing and interrogating it.

The reason for the surveillance was straightforward. The recent attack on JCJenson’s main office, causing some destruction and the loss of expensive equipment, along with the near-total destruction of the surveillance system due to a sudden system overload.

The rapid response team was truly rapid, as they’d set up surveillance on the “Object” that very day, assembling their best operatives.

The “Object” itself had no idea it was being watched by three groups of highly trained professionals who’d cut their teeth on such operations. It wasn’t their first rodeo, though such jobs often ended with the target’s elimination after gathering enough intel.

But this time, things were different. They needed to track the Object, ideally capture it and bring it in for questioning, without taking their eyes off it. The fact that the target was a drone made the team scratch their heads. And the label in the documents next to the unknown serial number—“Highly Dangerous”—raised far too many questions.

“Alpha Team? What data did the company provide about the Object?” one of the operatives asked, pressing the button on his radio to reach the neighboring team tracking the Object. He succeeded without issue. During training, they’d been given old radios, practically straight out of the 21st century, to learn how to operate like the special forces of that era. They were told that people had gotten too comfortable and lost much of their combat efficiency. The old radios were inconvenient, but switching to modern communication devices only boosted efficiency, thanks to the absence of interference and other issues.

“Copy. Platinum-colored wig with a bright sheen. Light-colored. Butler uniform, concealed under a stolen worker’s jacket. Carries a backpack with other drones’ cores. Purpose unknown. Weapons: ultra-durable iron rebar and a longsword with unknown specifications,” came the response through the earpiece. The experienced captain nodded to some internal thought and continued staring at the spot where the unknown drone had emerged. He couldn’t understand why they’d been tasked with tracking this piece of metal. It seemed useless. At least, that’s what the captain thought.

“Copy! Beta Team online! Delta Team, do you read?” a concerned and slightly nervous voice from the Beta Team leader crackled through the now-quiet radio. His tone carried surprise and a hint of shock. Clearly, something had just happened in front of him that he’d never seen before. His psychology training wasn’t for nothing.

“We read,” the captain replied lazily, reaching for the button on his superconducting radio. He was completely calm, ignoring external distractions as he listened to the other team leader’s words.

“Object-1 just decapitated a drone! Used the sword. Based on my observations and the cuts on the wall near the kill site, the sword has a nano-sharpened edge. No metal dust at the cut sites. The sword is made of an ultra-durable material,” the operative reported, relaying all the information gathered from the scene. His voice lost any trace of concern, now sounding as confident and serious as it had during their first meeting, with only a hint of lingering surprise.

“Good. Continue tracking, Beta Team. We’ll catch him hot, right at his home,” the captain smirked, already imagining the drone returning to the school building, only to be met by three teams of trained operatives. His reaction would be priceless.

“Roger!” the team leader replied, switching to another radio channel to avoid interference. In case of an emergency, his teammates and subordinates could alert him. Gathering evidence was meticulous and complex work.

“This’ll be fun…” the captain of the operations team grinned, standing up from the cold rooftop. His snow-white hair glinted in the night light of the two similar moons, making him look less like a mortal and more like a god standing above all living and non-living beings in this universe.

His entire team, consisting of four members excluding himself, looked at the captain’s dark silhouette with some apprehension. Exchanging glances, the subordinates shrugged. No one had gotten used to their captain’s strange habits yet.

۞⦰۞

“Goodbye… poor thing…” I said with a touch of sadness, looking at my latest victim, who hadn’t even realized I was behind her. Raising my sword, I made a careless swing, the moonlight reflecting off the sword’s guard, faintly illuminating the surrounding area. Without resistance, I severed the drone’s head.

With a barely audible squelch, the head detached from the body and landed on the ground with a metallic crunch, shattering the display and leaving dents in the surrounding aviation-grade aluminum casing. Rolling a few dozen centimeters, the head came to a stop, softly colliding with the concrete wall of the dark alley.

The body itself decided to collapse once the central processor’s signals stopped reaching the servos. I watched in real-time as the drone’s segmented arms and legs turned into limp metallic noodles. When its torso hit the ground, the limbs splayed out unnaturally, as if they weren’t sturdy metal constructs but the flimsy tentacles of an octopus.

A bad feeling settled in my core, as if something was about to happen that would bring me no benefit and a ton of problems. And, as the context suggests, I’m not exactly a fan of problems. Who is?

Tonight, I decided not to rack up my “kill count” too much. I didn’t need a ton of resources, except maybe processors and cores, plus some display fragments to repair my own. Free repair parts don’t just lie around on the road. Well… actually, they do now! Yeah… dumb joke, but it’s the best I’ve got.

As a result, I only killed five, not even bothering to hide it. No one cares about drones anyway, and the disappearance of five would barely be noticed, if at all. Though, compared to Elliott Manor, this little planet feels far friendlier.

Leaving the alley, which was now soaked in oil, with bits of metal and glass embedded in the walls from the force of the impact, I moved on. My last victim had put up a fight, but it didn’t help, and her insides and casing fragments were now public property.

Tossing her core into the reinforced backpack Yeva had fixed, I headed toward the school, slowly passing by night shops and buildings with occasionally lit windows. The glow of streetlights made everything even more beautiful and atmospheric. If it were snowing, the ambiance would’ve been unbeatable. What’s more beautiful than snowflakes dancing chaotically in the glow of a streetlamp? Yeah, I think nothing.

After about twenty minutes of this undeniably pleasant and nostalgic walk, reminding me of my past, I entered the abandoned school, slipping through the broken, rusty fence again, nearly tearing my jacket.

Grumbling in annoyance, I strode swiftly toward the school, hopping over any stones in my path.

A minute later, I was opening the creaky school door and stepping inside calmly. You could say I’d returned home from a rather long walk that took me three hours, not counting the time spent killing.

Walking to the center of the hall, I slid the backpack off my shoulders, unzipped it, and revealed five new cores, “fresh from the chest.” Pulling them out, I scattered them across the floor with a metallic clang. After all, ultra-dense metal containing thermonuclear plasma remains just that. The sound wasn’t entirely metallic—there were digital notes to it.

A faint, satisfied smile spread across my face at the sight of the cores rolling across the room, leaving translucent oil trails behind them.

I sat on the floor, pulling one core closer and inspecting its, well, serial model. Usually, core serial numbers are just random digits and letters in no particular order. But if you know what to look for, there’s a certain… meaning to them.

The first three letters always indicate the drone type. For example, BWD stands for Butler Worker Drone—a worker drone subtype “Butler.” That marking should be on my core too, but it’s probably more like chunks of artificial flesh than anything resembling human-crafted metal.

Just as I was about to continue inspecting the core, sitting cross-legged on the floor, an EMP grenade rolled toward me. No pin. With an audible activation sound.

My processors instantly kicked into overdrive, processing every microsecond of incoming data. The energy from my cores surged, racing through my internal systems straight to my right manipulator. A moment later, tiny lightning bolts sparked at my fingertips, quickly forming the Solver’s symbol. Within a few dozen microseconds, I was standing under a dense energy dome created by the Solver.

The grenade detonated, sending an electromagnetic wave that turned the cores on the floor into useless junk. Thanks to the Solver, the wave couldn’t reach me, harmlessly bouncing off the white shield.

I didn’t even have time to adapt to the situation before operatives began storming the room from all directions, surrounding me. Plasma weapons were aimed at me, their hum growing louder with each second, causing my “ears” to glitch and throw system errors.

Scanning the newcomers while keeping the Solver active, I slowly began devising a plan to escape this… delicate situation. Running wasn’t an option; I needed something more elegant.

“Object-1 is surrounded,” one of the operatives said into his high-tech radio, glaring at me and keeping his aim locked on my chest. They knew, the bastards, that a drone’s core is its weakest point. Any damage to it leads to a collapse and complete burnout of the robot’s internal systems. At least, that’s what was recorded on the computer at Elliott Manor. I can’t not believe it, nor can I disprove it.

“Afraid to ask, but what’s my sister’s codename then? If I’m Object-1, is she Object-0?” I asked with a touch of irony, subtly increasing the energy flow to the shield just in case. I wouldn’t last long like this, but it could at least protect me from stray shots. If it came to that, they’d meet my rebar. Killing them made no sense—based on what I’d gathered, that’d only intensify the hunt for me.

I was so confident that I let slip strategically important information. Imagine their shock when they heard Cyn was my sister. My value in their eyes probably skyrocketed by orders of magnitude. And, as I figured, they weren’t letting me go.

“Object-1 and Object-0 are relatives… Drones are relatives…” one of them immediately began typing furiously on his PDA, trying to keep up with his own thoughts. I got it—too much info at once, not everyone’s ready for that. Hah, they probably think I’m on par with my sister in power. Or maybe they think the opposite. Gotta be… ready.

“You’re going to tell us everything…” the leader of this crew said, nodding to the others. A moment later, thick plasma bursts flew at me, significantly weakening my shield. One more, and it’d be gone—along with me.

In the very last second, I felt someone breach the barrier’s boundary, tearing through it with near-bare hands and striking my head with equal force. A hit like that usually sends drones into a deep reboot. I was no exception… No pain, just darkness, which I’d almost missed.

Chapter Text

Welcome back, Host!

Date: November 22, 3048

Time: 11:01

My systems slowly pieced together scattered programs, executable files, code fragments, and other miscellaneous junk from my memory. First, the sound sensors—microphones—came online, followed by the light-sensitive sensors. The last to activate were the nanobots responsible for projecting real tactile sensations and processing them into data packets. The whole process took no more than five seconds, but with my accelerated mind, it felt like an eternity.

After calibrating the light sensors, I decided to look around, rising from the floor. The first thing that caught my eye was a massive pool of oil spilled across the floor, glistening like blood in some horror movie under the dim light of a single ceiling bulb. I could easily reach up and rip it out along with its wiring, but that would be pointless.

The gray walls, slightly smeared with oil, pressed on my mind, making me feel uneasy. Considering I’ve never had claustrophobia, this was... puzzling. Very puzzling.

There was only one steel door, about nine or ten centimeters thick. They clearly don’t know I could effortlessly tear it off its hinges, along with a chunk of the wall, and stroll out of this... whatever this place is. It’s obviously some kind of complex.

The magnets attached to my head spoke volumes. They have critically little information about me, even though I’ve never shown my weaknesses—except for my half-dead core and other... quirks. Apparently, they’re basing their approach on the weaknesses of a standard Solver, trying to weaken me with standard Solver methods. But mine isn’t exactly standard... Heh. I don’t even know what to call it.

Touching the magnets on my head, I was surprised to note their strength—my hand was drawn to them. Even the small servos in my fingers were a bit overwhelmed by the load. No way, servos capable of bending metal were struggling against these odd little magnets. Though, calling them "little" is a stretch—they’re not something you’d stick on a fridge. Not that I was planning to...

My attention was drawn by the creaking door, which slowly opened with a hiss, like it was hydraulic, letting in more light with each second. At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes. They were giving me so many opportunities to escape without realizing what it could lead to. Opening the door so wide without standing in the doorway? Peak idiocy. I could escape right now, but the chances of running into guards along the way were too high, and without weapons, that would be not just foolish but deadly. Yes, they took everything I had, though they left my butler suit, for which I’m grateful.

When the door fully opened, a nondescript man appeared in the doorway, illuminated by the yellow corridor lights. Or so I thought at first, calling him nondescript. His hair stood out—completely gray with an unhealthy, almost metallic sheen, unlike anything I’d seen here.

His face was... suspiciously kind, like a priest’s. That raised more questions than the two massive goons standing behind him, each three times his size.

Glancing at me and raising an eyebrow, he waved his hand, and as if by some higher power, unnoticed bracelets on my wrists snapped together so forcefully that I couldn’t even separate them, let alone break them.

The man nodded with satisfaction and entered the cell, closing the door behind him. I heard the two goons lock it from the outside. So, they think I’d kill him... That would be nice, but not advantageous. Unless they ask for something outrageous, I probably won’t kill him. Maybe.

The old man pulled out a folding chair from behind his back, snapped it open, and set it on the floor. Sitting down, he fixed his cheerful gaze on me, waiting for a reaction. The attention made my eye twitch, which didn’t escape his notice. I raised an eyebrow, hesitant to start what was likely to be the strangest conversation of my life. A conversation with elements of an interrogation.

“Well, hello...” the old man glanced at his notebook, searching for scraps of information about my name.

“...serial number Ai,” he said, smiling so sickeningly sweet that it made me grimace. Sometimes, I curse the drone’s emotion display system—everything is written on our faces. With effort, you could even display text. Honestly, I don’t like it. The old man grinned wider when he saw my contorted expression, clearly showing what I thought of the situation.

“Do I need to respond?” I asked, struggling to return my face to a calm expression. What do they expect from me? That I’d snap this old man like a twig, even without the use of my hands? Unfortunately, they made a big mistake leaving my legs free. With them, I could turn his bones to dust.

“As your mind wishes. The emergence of a personality in a drone is a moderately rare event, but it happens in various situations. It’s easy to distinguish awakening from mere software damage,” the man explained, leaning slightly forward in his chair and occasionally glancing at his notebook. His eyes scanned the text, picking out information.

“Awakening is easy to spot because the drone starts doing deliberate nonsense. For example, you—killing your kind, deliberately hiding from humans, planning an attack on the complex, and so on. Even walking around with a sword sets you apart. Drones with damaged software don’t ‘think’—they kill other drones or humans without hiding, and as a result, they’re sent to the scrap heap,” he said, closing the notebook and focusing entirely on me. The cheerfulness vanished from his face, replaced by a certain seriousness.

“Very... curious information... But what do you actually want from me? You’re not keeping me in this ultra-secure cell with magnets and handcuffs for nothing, right?” I asked, playfully tugging at my hands in a mock attempt to break free. What do they want? No idea, but I’m about to find out.

The old man’s gaze grew even more serious, his upper face shrouded in shadow, his eyes glowing like sapphires in the dim light. After staring at me for a few seconds, he finally spoke:

“We need information about ‘Object-0.’ As one of the hosts... not created by us, you might know more than all of us combined,” he answered honestly, piercing me with his gaze. I stood up from the floor and stretched, circulating energy through my body. A bead of sweat appeared on the old man’s face—ha, he’s terrified. Drones with so many magnets can barely move, at most walk. But I... made the handcuffs creak and the ceiling bulb flicker. A mere intimidation act, nothing more. I’m not hiding anything anyway. The information isn’t strategically important to me, so I can share it without fear of consequences.

“I’ll tell you... But what are the terms of this... almost deal?” I asked, grinning widely, revealing razor-sharp fangs capable of cutting through matter. If my core weren’t failing, I’d have grown a second row of teeth to give this old man a heart attack, but alas, that’s impossible for me now.

“W-we... will definitely let you go... The manager’s word!” the old man exclaimed nervously, looking at me as if I were the source of all his nightmares. This made me smirk even more—I couldn’t widen my grin any further. The fact that this... old geezer was the manager of this place amused me even more.

“Excellent. Let’s begin,” I said, sitting back down on the floor, wiping away the oil with my hand like a mop. It didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing.

“Object-0... also known as Cyn, is my, I don’t know how to explain it, sister. She’s the first Solver host in this universe and the one who hates it when her little brother gets hurt. This genocide is partly my fault because I allowed her to start it. She listens to me.” With every word, the old man’s face grew longer. I loved confusing his underdeveloped brain with the pure truth. I decided to finish him off.

“If you try to keep me locked up here, nothing will stop me from sending Cyn my coordinates and even marking my location on a star map. In short, this planet is still alive only because of my will. One wrong move on your part, and ‘big sister Cyn’ will be here in no time. Know this: even I can’t stand against her, let alone you pathetic creatures who think you’re kings of the world.” I closed my eyes, keeping my light sensors active. Convenient. From a normal conversation, I’d slipped into threats. Not bad. So good that the old man clutched his chest, looking like he might keel over.

“Y-you...” The old man barely calmed himself, doing a quick breathing exercise to steady his heart, which he’d just released. His eyes still darted in fear, trying to look at anything but me. Sweat dripped from his forehead and neck, soaking into his shirt.

“...You know about the g-genocide?” he asked with some disbelief, finally daring to look at my smug, menacing face. I opened my mouth slightly, letting him see those monstrous fangs again.

“Everyone who’s not lazy talks about it. It’d be harder not to hear about it, since every appliance broadcasts the same thing,” I said, opening one eye and glaring at him from under my brow. My face was as calm as Boris’s before his fight with Saitama. I didn’t care about anything, and I just wanted this conversation to end.

“Ahem... Here...” he whispered, pulling out a PDA from his belt. Shaking, he activated it, bringing up a holographic screen, and handed it to me. My first thought was that it resembled the PDA from Subnautica’s Alterra, except this one had a slight yellow tint, unlike Alterra’s pure blue.

After examining the device, I turned my attention to the news website it displayed. The contents brought a wicked smile to my face. I hoped Cyn kept her promise, or she’d have an “unhappy” brother Ai to deal with. As if I could do anything to her. Here’s what it said:

“Drones of unknown design have begun exterminating humanity. A third of Earth’s population has already been wiped out, and the remaining two-thirds are trying to defend themselves, but these strange drones are stronger. They resemble heavily modified worker drones with Expansion Wings and the body of a War Drone. They possess a vast arsenal. Preliminary estimates suggest Earth will last, at best, another couple of months if the onslaught doesn’t weaken...”

“My sister’s having fun,” I said, finishing the news report and tossing the PDA back to its owner. The old man caught it but nearly dropped it, struggling to hold the piece of plastic and metal from the last century. I watched his efforts with some pity. Pathetic.

When he finally managed to hold onto the PDA, he looked at me with wide eyes and asked in horror:

“What?!” His face showed complete confusion, as if trying to process my words.

“What’s ‘what’? My sister’s having fun. And it seems... there’s nothing you can do to help yourselves. My deepest condolences...” At the end of my words, I even bowed, trying not to laugh. The old man’s expressive face—those wide eyes filled with fear and confusion, those sky-high eyebrows, and a jaw that could’ve dropped to the planet’s core—was too much.

“W-what do you mean... having fun?!” he demanded, jumping up from his chair and grabbing me by the collar, lifting me off the oily floor. This wasn’t difficult for him, despite his elderly appearance. He was strong enough to lift a drone with ease. Not on Tessa’s level—she could hold us at arm’s length—but this old man wasn’t as simple as he seemed.

“It means what it means. Your mother planet... will soon be cosmic debris, with protuberances shooting out from its core in all directions,” I said, placing my hand on his forearm and squeezing slightly, forcing him to let go and set me back on the floor. Shame, I wanted to hear his arm snap. But, as I understood, I wouldn’t get that pleasure.

“Have I satisfied your curiosity?” I asked, lowering my voice and turning to the wall, pretending to be fascinated by the concrete walls of the interrogation room.

“Y-yes...” the old man replied, sitting back on his folding chair and muttering something. His muttering was so incoherent that even I couldn’t make it out. He was likely pondering how to relay this information without causing a panic among his team. Worse than panicking idiots are panicking idiots in charge of the world.

“Will you uphold your end of the ‘deal’?” I asked, grinning wickedly. If they don’t release me, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. It’ll be painful without extra cores, but even without them, I can do plenty. If I get a knife, my superhuman processing speed could take out everyone here. I should probably train with melee weapons. I have a sword but... can’t use it well. Not enough skill.

“Huh? Y-yes! Just... wait a couple of minutes...” the old man said, standing up from his chair. He approached the door and knocked three times. After a moment, the door opened, and he left. One of the goons entered in his place.

His naive face and vacant stare spoke volumes about his intelligence—or lack thereof.

Approaching me, he turned me to face him and began removing the bracelets and magnets. The bracelets and head magnets were electromagnetic, so a single press of a remote made them fall off. Interesting tech—I should do something with it later.

After a few seconds, I was fully free from my “shackles” and physically unrestrained. I’d grown somewhat fond of this little cell, so when they started pushing me to leave, I took one last look at it and headed where they were shoving me.

As we walked, I decided to ask about... something. Hard to define what.

“You trust me that much?” I asked, flashing my toothy grin. The goon didn’t react, which surprised me. Normally, people would at least flinch at that, but he didn’t even blink.

“You didn’t even put those ‘safety’ handcuffs back on. What if I decide to break your bones? I can,” I said, deliberately clicking my finger joints for effect. It worked—sort of.

“You wouldn’t want to. It’s not in your interest,” the goon replied quickly, glancing warily at my still-clicking hands. Ooh, the big guy’s scared—took my words seriously. Though it was a joke, as the saying goes, every joke has a grain of truth. He better pray to all his gods I don’t turn against him, or I’ll really break his bones. Weak core or not, we drones physically outmatch humans by a mile.

“Fair enough,” I replied curtly, continuing without paying attention to anything else. Better these amoebas don’t know I despise humanity as a concept with my entire cold soul. My lack of desire to meet Cyn is the only thing keeping them alive... for now. Cyn will wipe all life from this planet eventually, and I won’t stop her.

After five or six minutes and passing through several doors, we finally reached a more open area. Before me lay a scene of half-ruined mines, not fully built or equipped. Wooden supports barely held up tons of rock, creaking under the strain and sending vibrations through the floor. Hastily installed lights, attached to the fragile ceiling with black wires, overwhelmed my light sensors, making my system—and me—curse the designer of these mines.

In this lighting, the stone of the mine looked yellowish, though it was actually gray—logical enough. An ordinary mine, but it felt familiar. The more we walked through endless forks and low tunnels, the stronger the feeling I’d been here before. But that can’t be true, right? Right? I hope.

Everything clicked when we passed a computer and a bunch of numbered crates, which I realized were empty due to the lack of test subjects. That’s when I knew I was in Cabin Fever—a secret underground lab where mad scientists conduct experiments on Solver hosts. Dangerous work, but it doesn’t stop them. They’ve lost their minds; evolution took a wrong turn. Where’s their self-preservation instinct?

The fact that they have an uncontrolled Solver host—Eve—running around freely makes my eye twitch. They infected a drone and didn’t even bother creating a containment cell to prevent a total catastrophe, like a couple of singularities. They’re testing their luck, trying to get more from life than they have. They don’t realize these “games” could kill their planet.

I was certain this was Cabin Fever when we reached the “secret” elevator from episode six. It looked newer and... polished? Yeah, that works. My face reflected in one of the elevator doors with near-perfect clarity. No idea why they need this, but it looks nice, even if it’s practically useless.

They led me into this small chamber with a double door: a steel mesh as the first layer and that polished metal as the second.

Inside, it looked worse. A cargo elevator is a cargo elevator, no matter how it’s dressed up. Dust and construction debris littered the floor, and walls smeared with dried putty made me want to bash my head against them, despite the protective film. Just as I was about to indulge in some wall-smashing masochism, the elevator started moving, and my thoughts shifted from destroying everything to how smoothly it rode. It could rival the Burj Khalifa’s elevator.

We reached the surface in... thirty seconds. Impressive. Considering we ascended at least a couple hundred meters, this elevator wasn’t as ordinary as it seemed. I’d have to investigate its mechanics later—after the planet’s demise.

We continued through the upper level of this lab, which could be called an “office.” Its security was mind-boggling. First, it was part of a massive chemical plant above Cabin Fever, serving as its cover, with heavily armed guards. Second, there were Sentinels—those dinosaur-like bots from episode six that can paralyze drones from head to toe. Shame they only work on drones; I’d love to see them tear humans apart.

As we walked, I was struck by the goon’s level of access. His universal keycard opened every door we encountered, including the one out of the office—a terminal that, in episode six, was a death trap for disassembly drones. It led to an empty corridor that, in a couple of years, would be a massive, debris-filled hall with a huge hole in the center. For now, it was just a clean floor. We passed through another door and reached a stairwell.

For the next five minutes, we climbed over twenty flights of fifteen or more steps. It didn’t bother me, but the goon grimaced more with each flight. By the end, his face was so sour I thought he’d deflate like a balloon. Sadly, that didn’t happen.

After catching his breath and stretching, he shakily approached the door and opened it by pressing the handle. Cool air rushed into the stuffy space, refreshing every part of my body. I couldn’t smell the divine freshness without a nose, but the breeze caressing my nanobot-reinforced metal parts filled my processor with pleasure data. Have I mentioned how much I love nanites that mimic tactile sensations? If not, I’ll say it again: I adore them.

Turning to me, the goon patted my shoulder twice, gave a goofy smile, and said:

“That’s it. Go wherever you want.” He tried to push me outside, thinking he had, but I stood still, glaring at him with irritation and disapproval. Noticing my look, he quickly pulled his hand back, expecting something bad.

Why was I so annoyed? They didn’t return my gear. If they don’t, I might get really mad. I could turn this complex into new boots with the Cube. Why not?

“Where’s my stuff?” I asked, raising an illusory eyebrow and placing one hand on my hip. The other reached for the goon’s neck, trying to grab him. He backed away, avoiding my “vise.”

“I-it’s... where you l-lived... in the abandoned school,” he stammered, hitting the wall with no way to resist. I glanced at his belt and smiled. He was so scared he forgot about his electric baton, which could knock me out. Idiot. If he weren’t, I’d be rebooting from a DDoS attack by my own sensors. Instead, I could threaten him freely.

I pulled my hand back, smiled, and bowed like a proper butler. Turning on my toes, I strolled outside, feeling his terrified gaze.

Stepping out, I began my adventure to my sector, about an hour’s walk away. It’d be the longest sixty minutes of my life, with nothing to do but play Snake or Tetris on my display. Like Eve, I’d beaten Snake thirty times and racked up quadrillions in Tetris. Nothing to do.

I walked, passing drones who ignored me, busy with “important” tasks. Humans looked at me with confusion, and kids pointed like I was a zoo animal. It pissed me off. I wanted to snap those fragile fingers, bake pies from their bone dust and oil, and feed them to their owners, making them suffer.

But they got lucky—I reached my abandoned school just as the circus started picking up. I weaved through alleys to lose any tails, but there were none. The crowd lost interest when the main exhibit vanished and dispersed, abandoning hope for more “entertainment.”

Slipping through a hole in the fence, I reached the school and jogged to the entrance, opening the creaky door with a slight thrill. The first thing I saw was my gear, scattered on the floor where I’d last lost consciousness.

The second was a scorched spot on the floor, likely from an EMP grenade thrown here first.

“How ‘noble’ of them,” I said, picking up a few items I didn’t have before: two new cores and a PDA. These gifts raised more questions than answers. Are humans hoping for cooperation? Maybe, considering how strong I am even without cores. But unlikely. Always stay vigilant.

Date: April 19, 3049

For the next few months, I... survived, as odd as that sounds. No other word fits, considering I’m carrying a life-support device in my backpack, which doesn’t exactly make things easier.

Humans helped in various ways. They sent drones, which I dismantled for parts without leaving the abandoned school. Sometimes, they brought resources, handed over by doomed couriers before becoming scrap. Usually, these were extra cores, oil cans, and processors I munched like chips. It matches the manual, which even has a line: “Drones can eat anything you can afford.” Considering it was written by James Elliott himself... it’s both funny and weird.

Processors were tasteless, just... vitamins, if you will. Eating them made the oil in my body flow smoother and faster, clearing corrosion and revving my servos to full power. It felt light and pleasant, like after a sauna in my human days. Pure bliss.

Despite this favorable atmosphere, my core was in rough shape, at just 19.4582% condition. I needed a replacement—a perfect vessel for my personality to serve as a computational and energy source. For now, that’s impossible. Sad to say.

After a month of this lifestyle, I started resembling a certain orange-eyed figure. Yes, Alice, whom I haven’t seen in this world yet. Though I haven’t seen many...

Why do I resemble Alice? Simple. First, the oil. It covers me head to toe—okay, I’m exaggerating, but my torn suit has very noticeable stains. No horns yet, thankfully; I’m not crazy enough to tinker with my head’s wiring and attach lamps or flashlights. The only thing tempting me is a knife-tipped tail, which is easy to make, but I’d need... disassembly drone tail samples, and those won’t arrive on this planet for another year and a half or two.

I got some feedback from humans, despite threatening them during the interrogation and scaring one guard. The manager’s too afraid to meet me—I don’t know what scares him; I’m the kindest, sweetest drone on this planet. A bit odd, though.

Over these four months, nothing interesting happened. No attacks, no outings, not even human visitors, though I expected them to be frequent. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.

At most, I’d go to the school’s roof and gaze at the two moons, which I’ll grow sick of when this planet dies. For now, under a clear sky without snow, they’re a disgustingly beautiful sight against the stars, lighting up my display with glints and illuminating the planet like a second sun.

1 year and 5 months until the “Incident.”

Date: June 7, 3049

Time: 13:11

“Interesting...” I muttered, walking on wet asphalt after a recent rain. The sky was still overcast, blocking sunlight and keeping everything for itself. Everything looked dull and gray, matching the general mood or maybe my display’s color. Could be either. No impossible events, just low-probability ones.

The sky reflected in puddles looked even duller, more “gray.” Ugh, pure depression. But my mood was great today, like nothing could ruin it! Well... partly true, since I was strolling with a toothy grin, making the few humans brave enough to be out glance at me like I was a glitch in reality.

Where was I headed? Oh, my destination is infamous in narrow circles and never advertised. No, not a fight club. Much simpler and more transparent: a lab. The Cabin Fever lab, finally completed, and they invited me as an... evaluator of the enterprise. No idea why the honor, but it’s intriguing. The promise of meeting Eve and her new friends—likely Nori and Alice—makes it even more so.

After an hour and a half of leisurely strolling through the wet morning streets of random Copper-9 sectors, I reached the factory, its size staggering my imagination.

It spanned nearly two sectors, its vast area somehow terraformed properly, as I understood.

There was a lake, surprisingly clean, where you could even swim, which delighted and surprised me. Humans can avoid ruining everything given to them—this lake’s proof. Hard to believe that in nineteen, almost twenty years, Cyn and Doll’s deal will happen here, on a frozen lake with a half-destroyed factory...

Approaching the spot where they’d released me last time, I grinned wider and stood before the same goon who’d escorted me before.

As soon as he saw me, his eyes lost all confidence, darting around to avoid acknowledging my existence. Sweat beaded on his face, his brain—if he had one—desperately searching for a way to dodge my attention. His hand reached for his baton.

“Playing dangerous games, kid,” I said, stepping closer. I swiftly drew my sword and pressed it to his throat, nicking the skin and drawing a few drops of blood. The goon shrank and trembled, trying not to move and worsen the cut from the molecular graphene sword.

“Think that baton will help?” I asked, pulling the sword back and pointing at the electric baton he was reaching for.

“It won’t... I could split your ribcage like a flower, making every breeze agony. I’ll grind your bones to dust and pick it out with rebar, tearing your skin. I’ll rip out your heart and feed it to your comrades. They won’t like it. If I want, I can repeat it, just by reviving you. Want that?” My crazed face and toothy maw came close to his, making him meld into the wall. My words turned him so pale he looked like a fresh corpse in a coffin.

“Shall we?” I asked, kicking open the exit door. The fact that it opened the other way, was made of tempered steel, and had enough magnets to crush a human skull didn’t concern me.

I was back on that stairwell, which meant a long, boring descent. They could’ve hung some paintings for fun... What am I saying? There’s barely enough lighting, and I’m talking about paintings... They’re far from normalizing this complex—farther than the Milky Way’s center to TON 618. Idiots. I couldn’t imagine how humans navigate here. I’m a drone with night vision, but them... Yikes.

I began this “fun” descent (to hell) into the main facility. As I descended, I noticed more plaster on the walls, the railings coated to prevent corrosion, and the dim bulbs on each landing... shining worse than before. Are they mocking me? How do you ruin bulbs in a few months?

After over three minutes, we reached the bottom—the work area with Sentinels. Despite being a high-tech office, it felt cozy and warm. I wasn’t lying about the warmth—sensors showed a divine 29°C for an underground complex. Not enough to melt gallium, but still.

We walked slowly toward the elevator, barely making a sound on the perfectly smooth floor, free of sand or debris. A sterile complex, from my perspective, though I don’t know much.

Bright lamps lit our path, casting grid-like shadows from their protective cages—likely to prevent them from falling during an incident.

Hermetic doors parted as the goon swiped his pass. It felt like he was the manager, not that cowardly old man. Though, I’m exaggerating—both are cowards.

After passing through more sliding doors, we reached the elevator, surrounded by deactivated Sentinels looming over the shaft like they were praying to some unknown god.

The light here was dimmer, offering a sense of calm and confidence. It was pleasant to be here—not in the empty office or on the stairs, but here... in even greater warmth. I’m rambling nonsense...

The goon reached into his jacket pocket, rummaged, and pulled out a neon-green robo-cockroach. Yes, that reprogrammed cockroach with pseudo-intelligence, used as a keycard.

It didn’t struggle in his hand, standing calmly on its silver legs, twitching its antennae as it scanned its surroundings. It couldn’t react to danger but could comment on the environment.

Looking at this undeniably cute creature, I chuckled softly. Funny, I thought humans would have specialized modules for calling the elevator, but no—they use cockroaches. I assumed only drones used them due to cheap production... but no, everyone does, and it’s surprising.

The goon let the cockroach touch the scanner. It cautiously stepped onto the glass surface, letting itself be scanned. Illusory matrix grids passed through it, verifying its purpose. Once confirmed, the grids vanished, and the cockroach returned to the goon’s hand.

About fifteen seconds later, the elevator arrived. I say it like there are others... Anyway, it blocked our exit, and a hatch in the floor opened to prevent the elevator from hitting it. Where the hatch goes with the steel cables, history doesn’t say. Probably doesn’t stay at the “bottom” long, so no one bothered with the system.

We entered the tiny cabin, which would terrify a claustrophobe. The walls, made of wood once covered in tacky film during construction, gave the illusion of escape. But knocking on them revealed the sound of metal—likely an osmium-tungsten alloy. Impossible, you say? Ha, it’s the 3000s, baby. A time when humans mimic the 18th century, using square monitors from the 2000s. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’ve mastered physics and chemistry, turning the impossible osmium-tungsten mix into a true homogeneous alloy!

They even named it Ostvol. Melting point over 6,000°C. A super-heavy metal used in monumental structures like orbital rings or Dyson spheres, which exist in this world—at least on Alpha Centauri C. Not for nothing did I spend time in the Manor’s library, having my brother fetch me books on tech advancements.

Now, imagine this elevator’s walls are made of this wonder-metal. A damn coffin disguised as a near-normal elevator. The goon doesn’t even suspect it. Poor guy.

The steel mesh cut off all escape routes, leaving me with the goon and a lone bulb. We began our descent in a slightly... tense atmosphere. While I didn’t care much about the surroundings—more concerned with the wall material—the goon seemed wary of my presence.

The descent took just thirty seconds, a relief for the goon, who stopped pressing against the wall and hurried out, continuing at a slower pace. I gave him an odd look but caught up and matched his speed, weaving through narrow cave passages that had changed slightly.

It was cozier now, with warmer, softer lighting making the gray stone shimmer with shades of yellow. The supports holding the ceiling were no longer creaky wood but Ostvol—tungsten-osmium alloy. The ceiling wouldn’t collapse unless the planet split in two. Maybe not even then.

The floor was covered in sand from intense tunnel drilling. They found no use for it, so they left it as flooring. The risk of radioactive metals in it? Doesn’t affect me—I’m a damn drone. It’s their problem.

We continued through monotonous caves, not exploring new rooms or objects. The goon grew increasingly nervous, so he likely decided to skip detours and take me straight to our destination. What scared him, I don’t know. I didn’t even threaten him today! Well, I did, but only a little!

I had no idea where we were going. It wasn’t toward the crates, based on the map I’d made last time. We were heading in a different direction, and suspicions crept in about our destination. My thoughts leaned toward another test to gauge my reactions to stimuli.

Imagine my surprise when reality shattered my expectations. No underground testing ground, no steel cell, not even a lab (though it depends on how you look at it)—a damn church! Sure, I recall it from episode seven, but that doesn’t make it less bizarre. Why is it underground? Who rents it out? Why does it have its own cloud? So many questions about every detail of this place.

We passed through a massive natural cave where the church was built. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, centuries or millennia old. Stalagmites dotted the floor, two with Sentinels tied to them, lying peacefully. The sound of lightning and bright orange light didn’t ruin the aesthetic—it enhanced it. Our steps echoed like in an amphitheater, the sound reflection uncanny. Surprisingly, we heard nothing from inside the church, making me marvel at the soundproofing. But I didn’t rule out the possibility that the place was just empty.

“Ahem... G-go in... I don’t have clearance for... the lab,” the goon said, stopping by the massive doors. His voice held nervousness and... anticipation? I get it—he’s one step from passing me off to others, one step from not fearing for his life.

I glared at him, but he didn’t bother looking at me. Sighing in disappointment at being ignored, I strode past him, giving a suspicious glance at the last moment. He ignored it, as expected. Rolling my eyes, I kicked open the door. It flew aside, hitting a column, causing it to crack slightly and raise dust, which quickly settled.

Imagine my shock when everyone inside turned to me. It was soundproofing, not a lack of activity. The attention froze me for a second as I tried to process why so many beings were here, but I shrugged it off and walked in calmly. Everyone fell silent. Humans looked at me like I was a ghost. My legs stopped clanking, and I glided past these idiots, ignoring their stunned and confused stares.

Only some wore masks or gas masks; most had open faces and seemed unbothered. There were far more unmasked people, including Intern Mitchell and Dr. Ridley. The latter froze when she saw me but then spread her arms, saying:

“So, you’re here for our girls?” she asked, leaning to peer at my clearly displeased display. My displeasure didn’t last, as her words gave me a blue screen. What does she mean, “our girls”? It feels like this isn’t a lab but a damn brothel...

My thoughts must’ve shown on my display, as Ridley chuckled and pointed to the back door of the church.

“That way,” she said, looking at me. I couldn’t see her face behind the mask, but I sensed she was smiling.

Shrugging, I leisurely headed to the back exit. Reaching the door, I opened it carefully and slipped through a small gap, stepping out into... a street, I guess.

It was another cave, a hidden part of the massive one we’d entered with the goon. No grandeur or epicness like the church’s main entrance. The sounds of lightning and thunder came from behind, infernal light didn’t reach here, and it was quieter compared to other areas, except the church’s interior.

“Hey! We’re here!” a familiar voice called, and I couldn’t help but smile. Turning, I saw three familiar figures from the series. Surprisingly, I’d already met one of them.

As you might guess, they were Eve, Nori, and Alice. Eve hadn’t changed in the months since we last spoke. I hadn’t seen the other two, so I couldn’t note much about their appearance. They wore decent-quality lab coats. That’s all I could say. Eye and hair colors weren’t that interesting.

I’m not sure what surprised me more: that they were let out or their friendliness toward me.

First, it’s illogical to release two potentially dangerous Solver hosts who could be taken over by Cyn at any moment.

Second, I expected coldness from Alice and Nori, since they don’t know me and should’ve wanted to vet me. Apparently, Eve talked their ears off about me breaking into a guarded facility. At least, that’s my guess.

“How’s... everything?” I asked, approaching the trio. The rough stone floor trembled slightly from the lightning on the other side of the church. The area was filled with static noise, overwhelming my sensors and isolating me from the outside world. Poor girls, living here permanently. But even that didn’t wipe the soft, warm smile from my face, which warmed their cores.

“Everything’s fine, as always,” Yeva replied, spreading her arms and smiling. The other girls giggled at something only they understood. Hearing their laughter, Yeva blushed—odd, considering her red display, but it was a blush, no other explanation.

“Seriously, though, it’s pretty good. Sure, it’s not a private room like that office cell, just cramped lockers, but it doesn’t stop me from playing Tetris,” Yeva explained quickly. If I didn’t know what those lockers looked like, I wouldn’t have understood. I’d live in one myself—my abandoned school’s getting old.

“And... I need to thank you...” Yeva said, quickly approaching me. Her actions made my eyes nearly pop out, and I stepped back. She raised an eyebrow, confused. I was one step from drawing my sword and taking everyone out. Nori and Alice were laughing their heads off, trying not to fall. I had no idea what was happening.

“You’re not my type...” I blurted out, the first thing that came to mind, not thinking of the consequences. Realizing I’d said something stupid, I saw Yeva’s gaze sadden. Nori and Alice fell silent. The static noise faded, overtaken by the endless tension between us.

“Ahem... I meant to thank you for giving me my voice back,” Eve said, looking at me blankly. Wait, I actually upset her? Was she... in love with me? Insanity. And what’s this about giving her voice back? More questions.

Swishing her lab coat, Yeva turned and walked back to the duo. The tension didn’t lessen, now joined by Nori and Alice’s suspicious, judgmental glares.

“Ugh... We thought Red-Eyes found herself a guy. But no. The guy’s not just a blockhead but an idiot,” Nori said, shaking her head with an exaggeratedly sad tone. My irritation was readable on my face. No one’s ever pointed out my lack of skill in relationships—I avoid them, as I’ve never felt “love.” Even as a human, I never felt attraction.

“Sorry, when my own sister’s hunting me, I don’t have time to think about your ‘love,’” I snapped, crossing my arms and making the most convincing face possible. My words held no lies—if they don’t believe me, that’s their problem. I still don’t know why they arranged this pointless meeting.

My words piqued Nori’s interest, and she stepped closer, deep in thought. I sensed a barrage of questions coming. I wasn’t wrong.

“So, you’re scared of your sister hunting you? How scary is she?” she asked with a sly smirk, making a vein bulge on my visor. Her smile widened at the sight.

“You know her. Object-0,” I said with complete indifference, ignoring her smirk and struggling to keep a calm face. My words contorted all three of them, and they stared at me in shock. I tried not to laugh. That info was moderately surprising, apparently. Two questions answered at once.

But I couldn’t hold back a smile. Yeva conjured a knife using basic Solver matter transmutation and pressed it to my throat. Nori activated her Solver, sprouting tentacles, and Alice pulled out a rebar from somewhere, positioning for a precise strike.

The tension shifted to them, and I was having fun. I wondered what they’d manage to do before Cyn took their bodies—if she did. She probably has bigger things to do.

For safety, I activated my Solver without visual signs and teleported a few meters back to avoid becoming a victim of Alice’s rebar. The teleport cost me another core, which quietly shattered in my backpack. I’d have to clean it again. Only fourteen cores left—plenty for a fighting escape if needed.

“So, Cyn’s your sister... Wonder how she’d react to her ‘little brother’s’ death?” Nori asked, grinning half-madly. Despite the context, I wasn’t scared. My death would only make things worse for them. Cyn has no backups of me—I’m sure of that—and my death would break her, as odd as that sounds. Her grief would overwhelm even the Solver, destroying it with her emotions. Then she’d go on a revenge rampage, killing everything in her path. She’d feel my death, no denying that.

They’d bring death upon themselves—or worse.

“Go ahead, darling, kill me and see the result, if you’re so curious,” I said, stretching a creepy, crazed smile across my face. My eyes turned to zeros with tiny dots as pupils, like an analog horror character.

“I’d love to watch Cyn take your bodies, tearing you apart from the inside. She’ll come to this planet and torture you all at once. You won’t resist her as she avenges her little brother. You’ll suffer. I guarantee it.” My display came close to Nori’s, whose face showed endless horror and realization of what she’d said. She fell to the floor, crawling away. Eve dropped her knife, staring at me in fear. Alice looked at her rebar, then at me, and tossed it aside, hiding her mechanical trembling. So easy to scare them.

“S-sorry...” Nori whispered, closing her eyes. She lay on the floor, arms spread, still trembling. I’d scared her good.

Yeva raised a finger to say something but changed her mind, sitting on the floor and burying her face in her knees, muttering something I couldn’t hear over the static.

Alice sat cross-legged in a lotus pose, resting her head on her hand, staring at the floor. All three were deep in thought, and Yeva might’ve been crying—she was shaking hard. I forgot they’re just kids, though it’s hard to apply that to drones. Yeva’s the oldest, maybe twenty-five...

“When are they treating your Solver?” I asked, returning my face to normal. The zero-eyes and toothy grin vanished, leaving a mask of indifference.

“You used it so casually, I thought you’d already gotten the ‘patch,’” I said, leaning against the wall and looking at the trio with icy calm. Even losing a core wasn’t a big deal. I’d scared them enough.

“When the Solver grows strong enough to start taking us over. As the scientists, especially Dr. Ridley, say, only then will the patch’s effect be noticeable,” Yeva replied, lifting her head from her knees and looking at me sadly. Her display showed animated tears and sweat—I’d scared her plenty.

I suspect the scientists don’t have the patch ready, hence the vague timelines.

“Something good, at least... Alright, I’m out,” I said, waving to the trio and heading to the church’s back exit. I didn’t want to talk anymore, especially with the static noise grating on my nerves. After a few steps, Yeva’s voice stopped me:

“Wait! Stay... with us...” I turned and looked into her red display. She turned away, but I saw fear—not for her life, but for me. This led to some grim conclusions, which I didn’t hesitate to voice:

“Is this a trap?” I asked, eyeing the trio with indifference. The idea intrigued me. Using these poor girls as bait, staging it like they wanted to meet me. Though, it could be simpler—they might’ve genuinely wanted to meet, asked management, and management agreed on their terms: delay me as long as possible. Here I am, waiting for a trick.

Instead of an answer, slow, loud claps cut through the tense silence, like hammer strikes on an anvil. I braced for any attack. Turning slowly, I saw someone emerge from the unlit part of the cave, clapping and terrifying the girls. The sound echoed, drowning out even the static noise.

The shadow parted, revealing the old man who interrogated me months ago. His white hair was longer, like fresh snow. His face bore a wicked smirk I’d never seen or expected. Last time, he feared my every move, word, and glance. Now, he stepped out calmly. This “old man” had changed.

“Bravo, Object-1...” he said in a hoarse, almost broken voice. His hands went behind his back, hiding his actions. He could have anything—a knife, a gun. I had to stay alert.

“I never doubted your intelligence. Surprising, though, that you fell for such a simple trap,” he said, leaning forward, his smirk growing more sinister. His blue suit was slightly oil-stained, and his eyes gleamed with a hint of madness. A man to watch carefully.

“It’ll be much easier to get rid of you,” he chuckled, spreading his arms, revealing empty hands. That surprised me most. Was he coming at me barehanded? No way.

“You sure about that?” I asked, reaching over my shoulder. Grabbing my sword’s handle, I slowly drew it from its magnetic mounts, pulling it upward. Spinning it in my hand, I made a test swing, striking the ground softly. The stone parted cleanly, revealing a perfect cut. A bright ring from the sword faded quickly. The sword clearly enjoyed the action.

“Absolutely,” the old man said with infinite confidence, crossing his arms. Five more people emerged from the shadows behind him, holding unknown weapons. Their bodies were clad in heavy Ostvol armor, its dark blue hue unmistakable. Looking at it, you saw its monumentality and slowness—Ostvol’s density is about 23.1 grams per cubic centimeter. I don’t know how they move in those “suits.”

Outwardly calm, my internal processes were in overdrive. The moment they appeared, I knew fighting was pointless, especially with their weapons’ properties unknown. The manager posed no threat, but underestimating him would be disrespecting myself. I had no desire to attack them—it’d be a waste of time. I needed to run, fast.

With a rough plan ready, I looked at the trio of drones with disapproval. They hit a new low in dejection, avoiding my gaze. Sighing softly, I turned to the manager, glaring at him:

“This is entirely your mistake—attacking me. Farewell.” I waved my hand and smiled. Unhiding my Solver, its symbol spun rapidly in my eye. The old man’s smile vanished. He tried to say something, but I didn’t hear.

With the pop of another core, I tore through space with a singularity, landing on the surface. Why not use the Void? Simple. When I used it at Elliott Manor to get to Copper-9, it obliterated several percent of my core’s condition without draining my energy. The Void is powerful but demands an equal exchange. Using it would kill me quickly, and I can’t offload its effects onto other cores.

Scanning my surroundings, I froze warily. I was focused on escaping efficiently, but this would complicate things. Standing tall, I gripped my sword tighter and made a test swing, producing a whistling sound. Disabling all defenses, I stared with slight madness at what seemed to be the leader of the army surrounding me. These weren’t the amateurs from my last visit but real soldiers. Their Ostvol-plated armor could withstand a weak railgun shot or, for Americans, several M16 magazines, leaving only scratches and dents.

Their weapons, like those underground, had unknown properties I didn’t want to test. The black metal gleamed under the light of both moons. My sword felt warm and lively, like a living creature. I was ready for anything. All their sights were on me.

Calling them an army was generous. Far from “My name is Legion,” but thirty heavily armed humans were a serious threat, not just to me but to some Solver hosts.

Dramatically raising my sword before my display, I waited. For what, I didn’t know—maybe the first shot, a spontaneous attack, or something else. My tension was so high that, looking closely, you could see space between my finger segments glowing from energy flowing through nanotubes.

With each second, the urge to slaughter them all grew. I didn’t want to, so I started planning an escape. Then a crazier idea hit me, one worthy of my genius, making me want to roll on the floor laughing.

“Who needs this damn plan?!” I shouted, throwing my arms wide and slipping my sword back onto its mounts. My voice made the soldiers flinch, but they kept their sights on me. I grinned like I did when scaring Nori, my toothy maw terrifying them. Chuckling lightly, I raised one hand and flashed a peace sign. The soldiers didn’t get the joke and were about to act, but I vanished, leaving no trace of teleportation—except a small oil puddle from the destroyed core. At least, that’s all I noticed.

I appeared on an unknown street and ran in a random direction, hoping to find a safe haven and rest from this crap. Humans, the hunt, everything—give me a break, or blow up the planet’s core early if my request is impossible.

Returning to the abandoned school makes no sense. The chance of an ambush there is 2.0 out of 1.0. Inevitability doubled...

I hope finding a haven is worth it, or I’ll be slightly “displeased.”

Date: July 7, 3049

Time: 11:45

My new haven became... a forest. Never thought I’d willingly live with nature as a human. Now, it’s a forced measure to avoid being dismantled. At least, I thought so—it could be worse, but that’s what I’ve got.

Conveniently, the forest was two kilometers west of my abandoned school, in sector 18.

It was charming—birds flying, singing, doing their thing. Tree leaves glistened from a recent rain, casting glints on surrounding plants. The grassy underlayer, mixed with moss, was soft, cool, and pleasant. Beauty, serenity, and no exhaust fumes. Though, there aren’t any in the city either, since vehicles here use Radioisotope Thermoelectric Generators (RTGs).

...

Who am I kidding? Those RTG engines use strontium-90, constantly emitting radiation, contained by shielded containers. Beta particles are easy to block—easier than alpha particles—but it’s still radiation. If a car crashes and damages the container or, robo-god forbid, the RTG, it’s a mini-technological disaster with a radiation leak.

As noted on JCJenson’s servers, they considered americium-241 for stabler decay and longer use. But they abandoned it—americium was too weak for vehicles, requiring 700-800 kilograms, not counting energy for its own mass. It could run engines for centuries, but the reason for abandoning it is clear.

Still, the forest was pleasant, mentally and physically, even if my tactile sensations came from data packets, not neural signals like humans or other creatures.

I couldn’t believe how happy I was that the sun didn’t harm me. That I could lie on the grass and enjoy it... But that joy crashed against the reality that I needed a proper base, not to live under the open sky.

No doubt the special forces have tracked me, sitting in the branches like Naruto’s ANBU, watching my every move, word, and glance. It’s undeniable—I’ve gone through all stages of acceptance. I can only hope these humans have some honor and won’t snipe me during a walk.

The worst part? I can’t get rid of them. Not because of some mental block or high morals. No. It’s simpler—I have no idea where they are, how they’re armed, or other danger factors. I don’t even know if they’re in this forest.

Enough complaining. I need to build a shelter to extend my life and stay unnoticed, though that’s pointless. What’s stealth worth? Nothing but problems. Living like this is impossible now. After the core explosion, maybe, but now it’s a foolish endeavor. I don’t believe the special forces lack equipment to find my sorry carcass among branches and dirt. Even if I cover myself in filth, they’d find me. JCJenson’s server data doesn’t lie—I’m not counting on it.

Sighing through my teeth, I scanned the area and spotted a sturdy-looking branch. Picking it up and twirling it, I stabbed it into the ground and started digging. At first, it was tough—the grass and its roots made the soil hard as stone. But the deeper I went, the easier it got. Soon, I was flipping chunks of sod at record speed. Worms and occasional ants crawled over them. I didn’t expect insects on this colony, though it’s over a century old. Young for a planetary colony, but long enough for insects to evolve from those brought by humans to thrive in cosmic soil.

An hour later, per my interface clock, I’d dug a one-cubic-meter pit. Plenty for me, since I’d only stay here one night before building a proper shelter or tent for comfort.

Jumping into the pit, I curled up to fit in this small dirt hole. Just one night, and it’s over. Covering myself with my backpack of humming cores, I closed my eyes and activated sleep mode as evening set in. With empty thoughts, I sank into darkness.

Date: July 8, 3049

Time: 7:06

The next day, I woke up, loosened my stiff servos—locked like old door hinges during sleep—and set out to explore my new territory.

Climbing out of the dugout, nearly collapsing its walls, I began my search. The morning sun tickled my display, sending data packets. The grass under my feet gave strength and calm. Dew on the grass glistened, sliding off and soaking my shoes. It didn’t stop me from enjoying nature. I hate humans, but nature isn’t human, so I’m more than kind to it.

While inspecting my domain, I gathered branches, leafy twigs, and tall grass. I considered dragging a fallen tree but didn’t want to burden my hands. Despite my superhuman strength, my storage isn’t infinite, and my backpack’s full of cores.

After a couple of hours, I’d collected enough resources for a shelter. I wasn’t leaving unless angry special forces with guns evicted me. They likely know how dangerous Solver hosts are, not just in strength but intellect. Ha, what’s kept me alive? Brains! Without them, I’d be dead. Probably.

Back at my one-night dugout, I laid out the materials and planned. I’d never built shelters, rarely venturing into nature, especially with pesky humans around. I hoped I could make something worthwhile.

What’s a shelter? A small structure, usually with three or more supports, covered with debris, tarp, leaves, straw, or sod. I don’t know how to build one—or any structure—but I understand its mechanics and have a solid mental blueprint. I’d build it using physics and science, ignoring “if it stands, it’s fine.” No, it’s not fine. It needs an intellectual approach.

Strength, weatherproofing, stability, and soil pressure. Given the local soil, pressure was the least concern. I picked up a thick, knotted branch and examined it. In three seconds, my processing created a perfect shelter-building guide, factoring in soil and other variables. Smiling, I stepped onto a flat area between pines and drove the branch into the ground at a 45-degree angle, securing it with a rock. I grabbed two more branches, planted them perpendicular to the ground, and stomped the soil for stability. Kicking another branch, I caught it and used it to connect the perpendicular ones, tying it with grass and flexible twigs.

Using more grass, I tied the angled branch to this rectangular frame, forming a crude parody of soccer goalposts.

Satisfied, I added two more branches like the angled one. The result: two perpendicular branches holding a third, connected to three angled ones. Ugly? Absolutely. Stupid? Sure, but it’s damn sturdy. Now, to add leaves.

The roof’s first layer was leafy branches too flimsy for the base but large enough to cover the gaps between angled supports. The gap was under a meter, and the height was 120 centimeters—enough for me.

After laying the roof frame, I piled on leaves and moss to create a water-resistant surface for rain. Sod topped it off, completing the structure. The triangular shape would fend off rain, and sturdy supports would withstand wind. Efficiency-wise, it was perfect. Beauty-wise, an ugly duckling. But I didn’t care about looks—it’d be bad if it collapsed under its own weight.

Wiping animated sweat from my brow, I sat and admired my creation. It felt quick, but three or four hours had passed unnoticed. It was early afternoon, and I didn’t want to do anything, so I lay down, arms spread, soaking in the sunlight on my display.

Wait... soaking?

I checked my logs and found my display doubles as a small solar panel, an energy source if oil or batteries run out. Drones recharge with oil or batteries, but I hadn’t figured out how it works. I will, when I can breathe easy.

Hunting’s unappealing—my cores will last if I avoid using the Solver, Cube, or Void. Otherwise, I’d be torn to atoms with no recovery. That’s certain.

Returning to Cabin Fever’s a bad idea. After my escape, they likely activated the Sentinels. I wouldn’t get far without ending up in those six-eyed velociraptors’ jaws, stuck in a reboot cycle.

I need materials for a computer, blueprints stored in my head. If I can connect it to the internet, it’ll be perfect. I’ll learn to use my sword, knives, and other weapons—my current skills are lacking. Back at the Manor, I nearly dropped this graphene thing three times. I don’t know how I held my own against V.

Tomorrow, I’ll tackle that. For now, I’ll lie here, rest, enjoy nature, and take a break. No vacation yet, sadly, but I can relax now. I guarantee it.

Date: July 9, 3049

Time: 6:56

Leaving my new shelter, grabbing my backpack, I headed out of the forest. I needed resources, and the city had walking repair kits—drones—easy to grab and “privatize.” Except I’d be grabbing and killing.

For the computer I want, based on the blueprints, I’ll need... a lot, but most parts are in a worker drone’s corpse, except the monitor and internet adapter. I can repurpose a drone’s display for the monitor, but the internet’s a problem... Hope I can solve it.

Leaving the forest, I walked in a random direction, ignoring suspicious and slightly disdainful looks. Understandable—I was covered in dirt, oil, and other substances, looking utterly unpresentable. My blue-tinted suit now resembled military gear caked in mud and leaves. My hair lost its shine, hardened by dirt, like it could kill.

I was completely exposed, but so what? Days ago, I feared breathing too loud and attracting special forces. Now, I strut through the city like a mud monster.

Too confident...

But not a problem. Not yet. Not until a railgun barrel’s pressed to my forehead. Then it’s a problem, but not now.

Turning a corner, I began hunting my victims. Instead of drones, I found a depressing urban alley. No lighting, just darkness and vague shapes. A rat scurried by, eyes glinting, diving into a trash bin, rustling chip bags and junk. My eye twitched. Fine, I’ll search another sector—this one’s too much hassle.

Back on the lit street, I shook off dirt clumps from my suit, gripped my backpack, and ran in a direction only I knew. I was in sector 18. Sector 17 had nothing but my abandoned school, but sector 16 might have something interesting—I’d never been there. Time to catch up.

As I said, I didn’t care about stealth anymore. Anyone could find me with satellite footage. Nowhere’s safe, but the special forces aren’t acting yet. Giving me a head start, or they haven’t gotten orders. Could be either.

Five minutes later, I crossed sector 17 and reached sector 16’s border. A cute metal arrow sign read “Sector №16.” Adorable. Nothing more to say.

After ten minutes of leisurely walking to the sector’s center, I hid in a narrow alley and leaned against the wall, waiting for my first victim. This alley looked maintained and used, so I didn’t think I’d wait long.

Sure enough, within five minutes, a worker drone walked right into my grasp. You’ll be a sacrifice for something great, friend. No escaping your fate... Ahem, got carried away...

With a soft metallic hum, I drew my sword and spun it. Lacking skill, I swung, slicing a clean cut through the drone’s neck. Its head flew up and landed in my hands, splattering the wall with oil and leaving a deep gash. Didn’t expect the sword to cut through metal and concrete so easily. Impressive.

Spinning the drone’s head, I set it down and dragged the body deeper into the alley to avoid discovery. A lifeless drone is suspicious, right? Thought so.

One drone’s enough for the computer, but I’m paranoid. I need a couple more corpses for spare parts in case this one’s components are damaged. I’m a bit... nuts.

Calmly, I left the alley and crossed the street to another. Few cars were around, parked by the sidewalk, not bothering anyone, including me. They looked futuristic, like solid metal chunks, not segmented machines. Given the RTG’s heat, I understand the lack of seams—heat shouldn’t escape, likely channeled through special tubes. Just a theory; I found no such info on the servers.

In the next alley, I was pleasantly surprised. Two drones of my kind walked toward me, oblivious to each other. No need to hunt long—these two would finish my collection, and I could head home.

“As they say, no hard feelings,” I said, spinning my sword—nearly dropping it—and rushed the two. One precise swing sliced their heads in half, which slid off and hit the ground with their bodies. The alley was drenched in oil from the poor things. Couldn’t be otherwise—the best outcome for them. Heh, they didn’t even notice me.

Seconds later, I realized I’d screwed up. Looking at the halved heads, I sighed and crouched, examining the oil-soaked circuits turned to salad. My eye twitched.

“So many components... wasted,” I said, picking up one half, from which wires and a processor block fell, splashing oil. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the processor block and inspected its casing. Finding no cracks, I shook it for foreign sounds or sensations. To my surprise, nothing. My brows vanished under my bangs, and I opened my backpack, tossing the block in with the cores.

In ten seconds, I had the second drone’s intact processor block. Good news—I didn’t ruin vital resources, which I likely won’t need 90% of the time. Oh well.

Looking at the two corpses, I sighed and left the alley. Their cores weren’t necessary—my backpack was full, looking like I was on a long trip, weighing half a ton. Unpleasant.

Crossing back, I returned to the first corpse, still headless. Picking up its head, I attached it to my belt with a wire from the other drones’ heads. Then, I turned to the body. Glancing at my hand, I plunged it into the drone’s chest.

Oil poured out, but I ignored it and yanked out the core of the once-living drone, now scrap by a dumpster.

“Thanks for... the help,” I said to no one and bolted. Leaving the alley, I turned left, ignoring startled looks. A trail of oil from the severed head followed me, each step clanging like a hammer on a pan.

Ten minutes later, I neared my forest, reluctant to leave but forced by circumstances. Dodging trees and leaping stones, I skidded to my shelter, leaving a visible trail. How I kept my balance, history doesn’t say.

Inside the shelter, I sat, opened my backpack, and pulled out the processor blocks. I untied the head from my belt and set it before me. Sadly, my tools were at the abandoned school, so I’d have to crack this skull manually. Hope I don’t break anything.

Grabbing a small, sharp stone glinting in the sun, I pressed it to the drone’s display, seeing my reflection. Ignoring it, I wedged the stone into the seam between the display and casing, moving it like a knife. The chances of success were... dubious, and I risked damaging the display. But knowing their design—thanks to the Manor’s workshop—a few dead diodes wouldn’t matter much.

For fifteen minutes, I tried to pry out the damn display. The work was intense, but calming forest sounds and butterflies landing on me turned it relaxing. It felt human again, sitting outside, enjoying nature. The task went from monotonous to soothing... until it wasn’t.

The display clicked and came loose, revealing a mess of circuits and wires inside the drone’s head.

I flinched, not expecting it to end so suddenly. Setting the stone aside, I held the display in one hand and unplugged its cables with the other. Damaging a cable would ruin the display or part of it.

After detaching the cables, I gently set the display on the ground, covering it with leaves for cushioning... This is becoming an obsession, not care. Good thing I didn’t start cuddling it, though I wanted to.

Back to reality, I continued with the head. Parting the curtain of wires, solder, and compound, I reached the processor block. Oh, I didn’t explain—a small black box, like two matchboxes stacked. Despite its size, underestimating it is risky. No quantum quasi-particles or topological superconductors, but it doesn’t need massive energy or ultra-low temperatures. Just silicon, outdated here but revolutionary in my time. For Solver hosts... it’s nothing. Dust. Even after blowing out the complex’s doors, my head ached like I wanted to bash it against a wall.

Inspecting the components, I grinned and rubbed my hands. This was usable, heh heh...

I’d use the head as the computer’s casing—it already had the needed wires and components. I just needed to remove half to access the file system, then install an OS. A stylized computer.

I began cutting, pulling, and yanking unneeded wires. Despite half the head being mechanical, not electronic, there were plenty.

First went the mouth-movement wires, then the neck ones, and a thick wire—part of the drone’s oddly designed spinal cord. Like a human’s, but I didn’t need it.

For five minutes, I removed every wire I saw, tossing them aside as useless. What remained were the computer’s core components.

Sitting on the grass, I wiped my hands on it, cleaning off oil and fluids from the disassembly. The setup was ready—I just needed to reattach the processor block, mount the display, and power it with a core, which I’d need to feed oil.

I forgot cores can “expire” without fuel for fusion. Drones consume batteries and oil to sustain their core’s fusion. Dead drones’ cores must be destroyed or recycled, or a drop of oil could restart them.

My backpack held over a dozen cores craving oil. Without it in weeks, they’d shut down, and restarting them would be a pain. Here’s why.

Cores fuse light nuclei—deuterium, tritium, sometimes strontium or lithium for stability. The energy keeps a drone’s systems running, from basic data processing to movement and complex feats.

But it needs fuel. Cars use RTGs, but drones use special oil—a mix of deuterated hydrocarbons and stabilizing isotopes, perfect for core activation and efficiency. Without it, the reaction slows, and plasma loses temperature. Regular oil can maintain the core, but if it shuts down, I’d need the special oil to restart it. Stealing it is impossible—nobody uses it, feeding drones regular oil. So, I’d have to manually refill my cores with regular oil to extend their life.

Arbitrary core activation is rare because special oil isn’t lying around on dumps.

Done musing, I grabbed the core from the alley drone and returned to the head-computer. Pushing aside wires, I activated night vision and precisely reattached the processor block, connecting all ports. Then, I grabbed the display, reconnected its cables, and set it back without securing it—I might need access later.

The computer was ready. Smirking, I took the drone’s core, pulled out some wires, and flipped the head neck-up. Connecting the power wires, I made the machine work. I crossed my fingers.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, and I itched to check the internals. But then, an infinite loading symbol appeared on the display—success! The head didn’t detect the missing body and worked as a computer. Not complete success, but close.

Grabbing a spare wire, I connected it to my head with a click, like an HDMI cable, and did the same with the drone’s neck. I fell into a trance, feeling, seeing, and hearing nothing. Absolute silence—no static, hums, or rustling leaves. This was the head’s file system, empty, clean, untouched... Well, not quite. Action logs, directives, and key memories were there, but I didn’t need them.

Opening my file system—three thousand times larger than the drone’s by memory—I pulled a Linux distro stolen from Elliott Manor, a mix of Kubuntu and Mint.

Funny, the galaxy uses Linux. After Microsoft’s latest Windows flop, everyone switched in 2075. Linux is so optimized you could run it on a potato. Literally.

Like DOOM running on everything, Linux is a full OS here.

With a casual thought, I transferred the distro to the drone’s head, wiping its unneeded data first. Like at the Manor, I formatted the first drone’s memory. Same here—everything gone. You’d find nothing, even if you tried.

The .iso file fit perfectly, like it was made for it. True, I built the head as a computer, not some perverse way to run Linux on a bacterium. Like the meme: “Windows requirements: 4GB RAM, 12GB disk, internet... Linux requirements: Electricity (optional).”

Nodding to my thoughts, I glanced at the drone’s empty memory space and disconnected, leaving the wire. It’d control the computer’s actions, crucial to this complex scheme.

The rest was technical. Using thoughts, not re-entering the memory space, I managed the distro installation, monitoring the terminal for errors. None, thank the Machine God.

A small data stream flowed through my processor, causing no discomfort but providing needed data for the installation.

For fifteen minutes, I sat still. Passersby would’ve seen code snippets, terminal commands, or translucent images on my display as I configured the distro and set wallpapers. Everything was set, but... no internet. Some things never change. Activating internet on Linux always requires acrobatics, not due to missing terminal commands but the obvious: no adapter.

Without one, this computer’s a fancy paperweight with decent hardware. Useless without data. No solution? I don’t know... Can’t think of one. I need to clear my head and think rationally. A city walk will help.

Unplugging the wire, I scanned my shelter for anything odd. After ten seconds, I found nothing, thankfully or not. Paranoia’s stirring, craving more info. I get it—hunters could strike anytime, making life tough.

I stepped out from my shelter’s shade and wandered “wherever my eyes looked.” No clue, no understanding. The risk of a deadly situation grows, but I won’t let it get that far.

I also need a new backpack. The old one’s reinforced but unwashable—disassembling it, removing cores, and wires is too much hassle. Easier to steal a new one than wash this in a mini-lake.

Let the hunt begin—not for drones, but... ugh... an adapter...

Chapter Text

Date: July 9, 3049

Time: 15:36

Of course, I got a bit carried away saying I wasn’t hunting for drones. I was quite wrong to say that out loud, because while I was wandering the streets of Sector 18, a thought hit me that completely obliterated all the baseless guesses swirling around in my head. Guesses about where I could get an adapter. The information that came to mind… cooled my circuits considerably.

I remembered that there are drones capable of connecting to the intergalactic network, or simply the internet. You can’t call it the World Wide Web, because a world is a planet, not a universal concept. The knowledge of the Void Lord kicked its way into my head again. Here’s another interesting fact about life. Okay, that’s not the point.

So, these drones exist, and there are quite a few of them. Hacking them is practically impossible because they aren’t directly connected to the network; they use some kind of air gap that blocks all incoming hack attempts before they even reach. Plus, the drones pass information between each other, and you can’t infect them all at once because their connection is brief, and there’s one drone that understands everything sent to it through the network and distributes it to the others. If someone tries to hack it, that drone, so to speak, “softlocks” and can’t pass the hacking code to the others. Then the AI-based security system quickly identifies the masochistic hacker.

Based on all this, hacking them through the network is a no-go, and it wouldn’t have worked anyway since, alas, I don’t have internet access, which is exactly why I’m heading out right now. If the elegant and subtle approach won’t work, then it’s time to go all-in and rely on the good old ways. Physical force. Just break into wherever they’re kept and take at least one specimen. Just one, exactly. I could take more than one, but definitely not more than two. First, I wouldn’t be able to carry that many, and security would catch me before I could escape. Second, why the hell would I need so many? Exactly, one adapter for the computer, and maybe a second for my head in hopes it’ll work. But the chances of that are slim, so let’s stick with one.

I scanned the surrounding buildings, trying to spot one that might house the type of drones I needed. Ordinary residential buildings were immediately dismissed as irrelevant, and small shop houses and various business buildings were also passed over. I spun around in place until my eyes landed on a tall building belonging to a company that sold spare parts for drones, cars, and pretty much everything on this planet.

This is exactly what I need.

Gripping my sword tightly, I estimated the distance—about two hundred meters—and ran toward it. From the outside, it was a building with glass panels for walls and about forty to forty-five stories high. At the top, a sign blazed with the company’s name: CoreTech United. Perfectly fitting for their business.

Smiling, I reached the building and circled around to the back. Usually, every building has a staff entrance and extra loading ramps. That’s what I needed.

Weaving through people who jumped away from me in fear, I found myself behind the high-rise and stopped in front of a double staff door. The slightly rusted handles suggested this entrance hadn’t been used in a while, and the surrounding piles of garbage only reinforced that assumption.

Before going in, I should at least come up with a minimal plan…

“Who the fuck needs a damn plan?!” I shouted, pulling back my leg and kicking the steel door hard, leaving a serious dent and causing the hinges to spark. Slightly surprised, I kicked it again, tearing one of the hinges, but the door still wouldn’t open. Must be a steel crossbar. Narrowing my eyes, I cranked my servos to max and, with a shout of “THIS IS COPPER-9!”, I smashed the door to hell, taking out the security panel with it, which didn’t even react to my intrusion.

Stepping into the dim corridor, I was a bit surprised and scratched my head in confusion. A white light bulb in an industrial lampshade illuminated a dusty, box-filled hallway, giving the impression that touching them would make them crumble from age. But what surprised me even more was:

“Why isn’t anyone meeting me?!” It came out as a cry of genuine indignation. I expected to face legions of security, people with plasma guns and antimatter rocket launchers, but instead, I found… nothing. Dust and boxes. I was definitely offended. Apparently, they don’t give a damn about their drones, so to make it easier for them, I’ll just take one or two. I hope the company won’t mind.

Shrugging, I ran forward, turning right and grabbing the wall to avoid wasting time slowing down. I sprinted another twenty meters, nearly knocking over a cart piled high with more old boxes. Barely dodging it, almost jumping over it, I spotted a door leading to a stairwell. I love stairwells.

Running up to the door, I sharply kicked it, ripping it off its hinges and tearing part of the metal. I am pure power.

Then came the fun climb up three floors. Walking up those quiet concrete steps with small windows facing the street, I somehow recalled an abandoned school. Maybe because it had the same layout? Probably, I don’t know.

Taking two steps at a time, I quickly climbed three flights, ignoring the massive amount of dust and the near-total absence of any living creatures. I didn’t even see a single cockroach, not even a mechanical one. Well, you could praise this company for cleanliness, even if it’s dusty. But it doesn’t change the fact that half the building is unused, just dead weight. They could’ve done something with it, but… ugh, it’s disgusting to look at.

In this straightforward manner, I reached the third floor of this half-empty building. There was a door like the one two floors below, except this one was used much more often, at least judging by the brighter, more intense lighting. Peeking through the small window in the door, I saw a couple of office clerks in business attire wandering around with an air of importance. I never liked those types, even in my first life—rare bastards and scum.

Cracking my servo fingers, stiff from long inactivity, I touched the door handle and slowly opened it, poking my head out to scout the situation. Looking side to side and seeing the clerks turn a corner, I quietly slipped out of my hiding spot and ran where my intuition told me—right.

Speeding up, I passed by countless doors leading to various offices, even spotting the boss’s office, but I ignored it.

I started slowing down in front of the door I needed, sliding across the white tiled floor, leaving two skid marks like tire tracks. Everything was calculated so perfectly that I stopped right in front of the door, ready for anything.

Leaning forward slightly, I tried to see what was in the office through the door’s glass, but my attempt failed. The glass was covered with blinds, making it nearly impossible to see anything.

I had no choice but to grab the handle and push the door open, stepping inside.

Monitors hung on the walls, connected by wires to a single network, probably a server. The wires stretched up to the ceiling and disappeared into the walls, looking like a broken Christmas garland.

A couple of chairs and sofas surrounding a small glass coffee table were littered with papers, books, and what I assumed were spare parts.

But all of this paled in comparison to what was on the opposite wall. Or rather, what wasn’t there in terms of decor. It was just a massive glass window spanning the entire front wall and part of the left wall. And what I saw through that glass could easily be called a drone hive. If they were ordinary drones, I’d probably just admire the beauty and leave. But this was something else entirely. Something I’d been chasing for the past few hours.

Drones with adapters…

I didn’t expect it to be this easy. I didn’t even have time to stress. Where’s the security with crazy guns that could vaporize me from this reality? Where’s the security system that could identify who I am and where I am in milliseconds? Where’s all that? Could the server info be a lie? Or maybe it’s just outdated information.

But I just can’t believe it! It feels like a trap! Everything’s too perfect. No one met me, no one fought me… I got to the place I needed without much effort… It feels like there’s a catch, but… where’s the catch? Is the security really that pathetic? Seems like it… Ugh… Fine, I’ll grab what I need and leave. I’ve had enough of this.

Stepping over to the other wall, like a seasoned sprinter, I assumed a strange stance and prepared. The height here is about five to seven meters; it won’t hurt me. The glass doesn’t look armored, and there’s no one or anything at my estimated landing spot.

Exhaling, I cranked up my servos and accelerated instantly. In 200 milliseconds, I dashed across the small balcony and crashed through the window, turning it into a shower of glass shards that fell onto the linoleum floor. I landed behind the shards, standing tall and dramatically spinning my sword in my hand. The drones turned their metallic heads toward me, stared for a couple of seconds, and then returned to their work. How boring. Fine, I’ll grab a couple and run.

Grabbing a drone that was standing nearby, inspecting papers in its hands, I slammed it to the ground and, with one precise motion, severed its neck, splattering the floor with a large amount of oil leaking from its head. Holding the head up in front of me, I sheathed my sword, stabbing it into the floor, and with a light flick of my hand, I punched through the drone’s display, grabbing the internet adapter—a rather bulky chip near the center of its head.

In the next second, I ripped it out, roots and all, and stuffed it into my pocket, hoping I wouldn’t lose it on the way.

Tossing the useless piece of junk aside, I pulled my sword from the floor. Yes, it’s disrespectful to the weapon, but I don’t even know how to use it properly. So, for now, I’ll let it slide.

Moving forward a bit, without much thought, I chopped off another drone’s head, easily catching its yellowed head. Then, I repeated the same operation as with the first victim and stuffed the adapter into my pocket.

Stepping out of the crowd of drones, I looked at the panoramic window that made up nearly the entire floor. Spotting another building through the window, a completely stupid and reckless idea hit me—one that might just work. And if it doesn’t… well, I hope nothing too bad happens to me.

Backing up to the opposite wall, I leaned against it. After standing there for a moment, I leaned forward slightly and gently pushed off. Running through the hall full of workers, I covered my face with my arms and smashed through the panoramic glass with extra force. Then, I felt the sensation of free-falling.

Uncovering my face, I quickly grabbed the hilt of my sword and drew it. After a quick recalculation, I nearly crashed into the next building but managed to stab my sword into it at the last second, significantly slowing my fall. A few seconds later, I landed smoothly on the ground.

I didn’t even cause much damage. Just broke two windows and left a noticeable scratch on the other building. But I got two adapters. I think it’s a fair trade. I hope the company won’t be too mad, because dealing with people, especially after their betrayal, isn’t something I’m keen on.

Stretching my legs, I looked ahead and, seeing no obstacles except for some gawking meatbags, I pushed off the ground, accelerating sharply. We drones are pretty fast by nature, our servos being far stronger than a trained human’s muscles. So, our average speed is about 35–40 kilometers per hour.

At that moment, I took off at 40 kilometers per hour, quickly weaving past people. My speed didn’t stay static—it started climbing. After a hundred meters, I was running at 50 kilometers per hour, overtaking cars.

As I ran past people, I carefully scanned their hands, looking for a new bag—more specifically, a backpack. I need something to carry my computer, right? Exactly, that’s what I thought. My current backpack won’t fit it, so I’m looking for a new one. Logical, isn’t it? I think so too.

A couple of seconds later, luck struck. A slow-witted kid was standing on the street, sorting through his backpack. A backpack he wouldn’t need anymore.

I zoomed past him like some kind of phantom and disappeared around the corner. But I didn’t leave empty-handed—his backpack was mine, along with all his stuff. Not that I needed it. While running, I dumped out a few T-shirts, a camera, and three pairs of socks. They became decorations for the asphalt as I continued my sprint.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the kid didn’t even realize what happened.

Hooking the backpack over both straps around my metallic neck, I adjusted my course and headed straight for my sector, blindly trusting that no one had touched my treasures. My computer, some components, and let’s not forget the shack I put so much love into.

As it turned out, my worries were unfounded.

After crossing two sectors in a short amount of time, I burst into my quiet, peaceful forest and immediately sprawled out on the green grass, its tickling sensation brushing against my sensors. The rays of the daytime star fell on my display, forcing me to shield myself with my hands.

Thanks again to my Solver for making me immune to the sun, though it’s much warmer here than on Earth… You can’t really call it a sun, more like just a star… Yeah, definitely.

I didn’t have time to drift into reverie before the sharp realization hit me that I needed to hurry and check if everything was still there and nothing had been stolen during my absence.

My digital eyes bulging, I jumped up from the grass, the cores in my backpack clinking loudly, and reached my shack in a few strides.

Bending down, I frantically checked everything inside, my absolute memory aiding me in the task.

After a couple of minutes, I counted all the parts I had. Surprisingly, not a single one was missing, peacefully lying in a pile with the rest of the components.

I was about to exhale and go back to basking in the sun—since the internet adapters could wait—when my attention was drawn to something that stood out completely from the usual “grassy” look of my shack. It was a package, and when I carefully picked it up, it turned out to be quite large and straight, like my sword, maybe even a bit longer.

For a couple of minutes, I turned the package over in my hands, trying to feel for any traps. The chance it’s a bomb is small, but not zero, just like the chance it’s a giant tracking beacon.

Enough guessing. Curiosity overpowered my self-preservation instinct, and I placed the package on the floor, slowly unwrapping it, tearing off pieces of gray paper. With each piece removed, my anxiety faded, replaced by acceptance of my fate. If it’s a bomb, it doesn’t matter much anymore. I’m getting philosophical…

After a while, I held the object of all this fuss in my hands, and I couldn’t understand—why? Why would people send me a damn magnetic scabbard for my sword?! I mean, I get trying to gain my trust, but this is too blatant! It’s a nice gift, though. Instead of a regular scabbard’s slot for the sword, it’s got a complex system of magnets that somehow works so that when I “place” the sword in it, it doesn’t stick but levitates a couple of millimeters away. This lets me draw the sword from any position. The problem? I don’t know how to use a sword!

It’s a pity people are so naive, thinking I’d make contact after what they did, or at least tried to do. That assassination attempt in the cave, when the “manager” verbally tore up the invisible contract that protected me from their attacks—and protected them from me. It’s such a shame I’m not strong enough to take on their local army of meatbags solo.

Using the Void isn’t an option, as I’ve said before. If I haven’t, I’ll repeat: the Void eats my core like disassembly drones eat oil. Too much, too fast.

And using the Cube? I don’t have enough processing power. Building some gadget is easy, with a headache. Attacking people with earth tentacles or other structures? My brain would melt faster.

Attaching the scabbard to my back, I stood and stretched, then sat back down. Human habits die hard.

Pulling the head—now a full-fledged computer—closer, I pushed aside some wires and took the internet adapter from my pocket. Finding the right ports, I connected the appropriate wires and secured all the components tightly. Time to start using it. No internet restrictions, unlike those Manor drones, some of which could access the internet but with so many limitations… What a nightmare. Some didn’t even know such a network existed.

Unplugging a cable from the back of my neck, I grabbed a similar cable from the neck of the poor drone’s head. It was hard to mistake; it was bulky and controlled the entire drone—or in my case, the computer. I needed it since I didn’t have a mouse, keyboard, or other peripherals, and it’d make transferring files to my head easier.

I accessed the operating system almost instantly. No loading—pure performance. Of course, that didn’t surprise me since I’d used this connection method before, but still, not bad.

Admiring the KDE Plasma desktop, I dove right into my adventure. The internet drivers came with the distro, so I didn’t need to install anything. A perfect system for perfect users. But what do I actually need? Right! The internet! Why? Oh, you’ll see.

Opening some no-name browser, I immediately started soaking up information about local geography. I don’t want to get lost in the sectors or take wrong turns. Plus, there’s more than one planet under human control, and I need to know which planet orbits which star. Not to mention, in the world of Drones, there are a few planets that don’t exist in the real world. So, astronomy won’t help me here.

For several minutes, I nonstop browsed maps, squeezing out as much information as possible until it hit me. I could just download them… So I did.

A group of ten star systems, including the Copper system, Centauri, and, of course, the Solar system, was absorbed into my head with such ease and simplicity that I was a bit surprised. Then I closed my eyes and sighed. For some reason, I started thinking my processing power was weak, considering I couldn’t control the Solver or use the Cube properly, but in reality, my processing speed is above average for this world. That’s why I devoured that map like a snack. No need to feel inferior—hooray!

A bit cheered up by the fact that I’m not weak at all but actually pretty strong for routine tasks, I continued my research.

I wandered through various websites with all sorts of designs and domains. Google, by the way, hasn’t gone bankrupt, so their search engine is still kicking, which is pretty great for me.

After getting a bit more comfortable with the internet—something I should’ve done before downloading maps—I started wondering: what’s the tech like here? I turned to the internet with this question and started downloading every article I could get my hands on, no time wasted.

There was stuff I already knew and stuff that mildly surprised me. Wireless energy transmission. Or rather, energy transmission without conductors. I didn’t fully understand how it works, but it’s usable. What I did get is that a microscopic tear in space is created, shrinking space to zero, allowing energy to be transmitted not just meters or kilometers, but between damn planets! Dyson Spheres here work the same way, transmitting energy harvested from a star or black hole directly to the planet it’s tied to… Madness… Working madness…

That was just a fraction of what I found. There was info on quantum chips, which I definitely want to implant in my head, and various projectors that can achieve absolute zero. And so on. Against all that, an RTG as a car engine/generator seems downright ordinary. It’s hard to be surprised, especially after what I read…

And the big question for fans—why the hell do people use ancient-looking computers when they have powerful drones and freakin’ quantum tech? Simple as day: those computers are powerful enough, despite looking like something from the early 2000s. They’re part of the standard colonization kit, and since people don’t want to waste resources, they’ve been using them since they first arrived on the planet. That’s that.

A couple more interesting facts: this colony belongs to Britain. I don’t know why I need that info, but it’s in my head now, why not? That’s why you sometimes hear that distinctive British accent.

The Solar System and its neighboring planets have become neutral territory, designated as an international planetary trade hub. Makes sense—what else do you do with neutral territory no one can officially claim? Sure, there are capitals of individual countries and such, but that info is usually ignored. I was wrong about London being the economic center. Nope. Not at all. So, it’s a fair decision, though I expected humanity to unite into one galactic empire. Oh well.

According to the map, Russia is somewhere in the triple star system of Centauri. That’s where one of the Dyson Spheres is. Looking at those pictures, I’m amazed by the beauty of the skeletal structures surrounding an entire star, collecting its energy. It’s just gorgeous, no arguing that. It looks like a glowing orange wrapped in a net, on a planetary scale. Beautiful.

America is somewhere in the Canis Major constellation, near its brightest star, Sirius. There’s another Dyson Sphere there, powering all the planets in that constellation. I can’t imagine how that much energy supports so many living beings. Even though I hate the human race, I can’t deny their genius. Well done.

As for Britain, it owns this star and a few others nearby. Pretty nice territories, which Britain uses rationally instead of wasting space and time. But unfortunately for them, they won’t need it anymore, because my little sister’s coming, and she’ll leave nothing standing. Heh, she’ll blast every planet out of orbit.

Unplugging the cable from the unfortunate head, I stretched. Gathering info took a solid two hours, but they were the most productive hours of the last… year, maybe? Pulling the cable from my neck, I stuffed it into the recently stolen second backpack. Grabbing the head, I shoved it in there too, took the bag in my hands, and left the shack.

Strapping the new scabbard to my waist—wanted it on my back, but the backpack’s in the way—I magnetized the sword to it, and it settled into place with a cheerful clink, which is odd since graphene shouldn’t be magnetic.

Ignoring it, I gripped the bag tightly, took one last look at my shack against the backdrop of the summer forest, and smiled. I won’t be coming back here, sadly.

Turning around, I sprinted toward Sector 21. It’s gonna be a long-ass run through this forest… Oh well, I’ve been through worse.

Date: July 10, 3049

Time: 8:35

The next day, I was already in Sector 21, strolling through its clean streets. Among the many residential buildings, there were hardly any cars, as this was a residential area. Plus, cars on this planet are scarce and too expensive for personal use, so people walk everywhere to stay active, so to speak.

Cars are only used heavily for transporting resources and other goods.

It was quiet and peaceful here, without the constant honking, screeching tires, or the feeling of being watched. It’s nice to know your ass is safe.

I was lying on a rooftop, basking in the beauty of the morning star, its light warming my frame and filling me with not just energy but enthusiasm. I felt like getting up from this concrete roof, kicking a few rocks around, and figuring out why some of my parts are barely compatible with me.

I’m talking about my arms. From a short article I read online, an arm is considered “outdated” due to differences in drone models. I can’t just attach an arm designed for higher energy consumption and a more complex structure. This leads to several issues: the arm obeys weakly; my core is too low-powered compared to local drone cores; and the arm’s precision is noticeably off, to put it simply.

Even though this arm gives me increased strength, looks cooler—I like the bluish tint—and has extra controls, it’s too problematic to use. Some might say, “Fix it with the Solver’s regen or the Cube!” But no. It’d only make things worse. So, it’s best to follow a programmer’s rule: if it works, don’t touch it.

Ideally, I’d rebuild myself piece by piece, upgrading everything at once with plenty of core slots. But I don’t have those resources, and I don’t know how to transfer consciousness, sadly. So, that idea’s on the back burner.

I had plenty of resources, having killed drones in droves, meaning I had lots of cores. But even if I turned some cores into new body parts, I wouldn’t get stronger—just waste time. The boost would be so minor I wouldn’t even notice it, let alone use it.

I need more energy; this backpack of cores just isn’t enough. After every teleport, the cores burst like balloons. Using the Solver strains them so much they start boiling…

Processors for the Solver? I can’t just rip a processor from a drone and stick it in myself, hoping it’ll work. No, it’s a different issue. It’d burn out at the first use of the Solver. Shatter. One moment it’s a processor, the next it’s gone. Bismuth semiconductor transistors would turn into metallic puddles. Actual puddles, since silicon in these processors is only used as a base. I mistakenly thought drones used silicon before, but no, it’s bismuth.

Standing up from the roof, I clicked my servos a couple of times and surveyed the area. Noticing a small booklet on the dirty roof floor, I picked it up and started reading, trying to extract as much information as possible.

It talked about all of humanity’s discoveries over the past five hundred years. Well, not all—just the most significant ones.

Quantum processors with billions of qubits… Quantum chips… Hyperjumps… Such delightful madness. Such technological progress. It… amazes me, to say the least.

I definitely need all of this. Not just the processing power but a comparable energy source to power everything I want. Unfortunately, I’ll have to wait until after the Copper-9 core explosion, or else… people will just get in the way with their “assassinations” and weird attempts to make contact. It’s a long wait… but I’m used to it, after nearly thirty years of life, heh…

Tossing the booklet aside, I walked to the edge of the roof. It was a five-story building, so I could easily climb down without damage, as long as I knew how.

Jumping over the railing, I adjusted both backpacks so they wouldn’t fall and, grabbing the concrete structure, began descending slowly, leaving scratches on the shoddy cement wall.

Reaching the sidewalk, I checked my sword in its scabbard. These things are so damn convenient. I used to carry it on my back, between my backpack and my Butler suit, and I had to be careful not to damage the suit’s sensitive material. The suit remains the most intact piece of my wardrobe. The only piece, honestly… Let’s ignore the fact that it’s basically a giant blob of oil and other liquids right now. I don’t know how it’s still holding up. And I didn’t want to damage the backpack either, even though it’s reinforced with metal—thanks, Eve—but it probably wouldn’t survive a molecular blade. It’d get chopped into a salad without noticing.

The walk was fun and pleasant, relatively. I don’t know how I wandered around a single sector for an entire day, but whatever. Now I need to get “home,” because the walk was a smashing success, and I managed to rest from everything.

It was nearly forty hours of intense focus, but everything comes to an end, and with nothing else to do, I slowly trudged toward Sector 18. It’s a long and painful journey, having to pass through that damn forest. Thankfully, we don’t feel fatigue…

And so, I trekked through the forest for hours, climbing over fallen trees and other obstacles in this wooden hell. Not to mention the massive roots, bushes, and other plants that slowed me down to a crawl.

But I finally reached my home and collapsed onto the grass. Again. Right where I lay last time, soaking up sunlight with my display.

After lying there for another fifteen minutes, I finally got up from the warm grass, gave myself a hard slap that made my hand click, and dragged my lazy body into the shack, where I sat on the floor and stared at one spot.

I sat there, lost in thought, for who knows how long, contemplating the world. I almost felt spiritually enlightened… but no. My gaze grew increasingly irritated by a foreign object in the corner of the shack.

At some point, I couldn’t take it anymore, bent down, and grabbed it, pulling it toward me. Though I had mixed feelings about it, I kept holding this box that looked suspiciously like a bomb. Turning it over in my hands, I suddenly realized what it was. I even raised a digital eyebrow in surprise.

“No, I knew you guys were idiots, but this much?” I pinched my imaginary nose and wiped a digital bead of sweat. Looking up, I let out a loud exhale and placed the object on the shack’s floor, covering my face with my hands.

“Are you… completely stupid?” I muttered, removing one hand from my face and slamming it into the ground, leaving a small crater like a human fist punch.

“Idiocy…” I continued examining the object, still expecting a trap, but there was no hint of one, which made me doubt human intelligence even more—though I don’t know how much lower it could go. Sighing through my teeth, I lifted the object above my head and finally said:

“A damn radio…” These meatbags have no idea what a knowledgeable person could do with a damn radio if they had enough resources. And I’ve got resources out the wazoo, plus internet access… Idiots… Idiots. IDIOTS. They’re making it worse for themselves…

What can I do with this piece of plastic and metal? Oh, something very useful. A walkie-talkie. More precisely, a walkie-talkie that lets me eavesdrop on the special forces’ conversations, who are 200% tracking my metal ass. All I need is to tune into the right frequency, and I’m practically part of their system. A part they’ll never suspect. They’re too dumb to figure it out.

I set the radio on the floor and examined its structure. It’s just a receiver, the kind grandmas use to play music in the kitchen, but damn, it’s high-tech. Almost seamless, no visible connections—a truly monolithic design. But you can’t access the insides easily; there are no screws, just magnetic latches you can’t open without special tools.

But who needs tools when you’ve got brute force?

The right question for the right situation. Grabbing a piece of rebar from the corner, I stood the radio upright and gave it a test strike. To my surprise, the casing didn’t crack, just split slightly. A second strike widened the gap, and some compound started leaking out. The two halves of the radio began to wobble but didn’t fully separate, sadly. A third strike finally forced the halves apart. Damn strong magnets, can’t deny that.

With some sadness, I watched the dielectric fluid, used for waterproofing, spill onto the dirt floor of my shack. I can’t imagine how I’ll clean this up. It’s slimy and barely absorbs into the ground.

Screw it. I grabbed the circuit board and gave it a close inspection. Right away, I noticed the phased array chipset, which might come in handy soon. Maybe.

Holding the board more comfortably, I carefully broke off the phased array chip and placed it on my second backpack. Can’t lose the only useful resources. Plenty of drones, but only one radio. I won’t find another one in time, sadly.

Back to the board, I continued my inspection. Next was the board’s base—a multilayer BGA-mounted board that I, unfortunately, can’t disassemble, but it has some useful components for my project. So, no one will judge me if I just burn part of this board and keep only what I need, right?

Grabbing a core from my backpack, I connected it directly to the radio’s board and, through the control processor in my head, sent an overload of voltage to the board, placing my finger on one section. This let me control which components burned, since my finger, though a lousy aluminum conductor, did the job.

A brief flash, some smoke filled the shack like a chain smoker’s apartment, but most importantly, I had what I needed. A satisfied smile spread across my face as I took stock of what I had.

The result: a gallium arsenide transceiver module with a frequency range of about 1.2–2.8 GHz. Perfect for special forces—they love this range; it’s high enough and doesn’t get blocked by building walls or other obstacles.

Next, the phased array chip, useless for receiving signals but containing something critical—a highly stable clock generator with a phase-locked loop (PLL). It’ll be the heart of my frequency synthesizer, letting me pick up more than just white noise.

And the smallest but not insignificant part—a low-noise amplifier (LNA). It’ll let me pull even the weakest signals out of the chaotic airwaves. A very useful little thing, especially for me.

“Let the surgery begin…” I said, crossing my legs and leaning against one of the shack’s thin walls. Pulling the backpack with the components closer, I let out a nervous sigh. This was going to be the most delicate and complex job of my life. I thought building a computer from a fellow drone’s head was hard. Nope—this is harder.

Drawing my sword from its scabbard, I placed it beside me and gathered all the components I needed. This was a high-stress situation; one wrong move could be fatal. Very fatal. And to make things worse, my drone’s internal program decided to aggravate me.

“I’m sure,” I said. The program blinked and disappeared, giving me full freedom. Not that I was restricted before, but now it wouldn’t nag me and interfere with installing the new module.

Now, where to start? The back of my neck’s a no-go—too many external module connections that, if damaged, I’d lose forever. Can’t even salvage them from another drone.

So, it’s through the display. Think of it like this: the neck is an airplane—everything has to be precise to the millimeter, no mistakes. The display is a ship—weld on a piece of metal, and no one cares. It’s easy to replace, even with one from my computer, which is just lying around.

Grabbing a sharp stone I used to dismantle the head-computer, I carefully pried off my display, tilting my head back to keep it from falling and tearing the wires.

With a soft click, the display came loose from its slots. My eyes still worked, but I knew it wouldn’t last. I’d have to work blind, messing with wires on pure intuition.

Blinking, I gently removed the display and began disconnecting its internal wires. It wasn’t just a piece of glass but a full-fledged unit with everything essential. With each wire unplugged, fewer systems appeared in my interface. Near the end, my illusory eyes vanished, and the last wire took my vision.

Darkness. The first thing that comes to mind when you see nothing. Though, I started seeing my thoughts more clearly, shimmering like hallucinations and flickering before my eyes. I almost got lost in them, but I managed to pull myself together and continue the modification.

Setting the display on the floor, I started working on my internals. The holy of holies for any drone. Fiber-optic cables, tightly woven together, formed a strange structure that transmitted all my memory cell data. The processor, hidden behind a translucent reinforced quartz casing, hummed and vibrated lightly from the core’s voltage. At that moment, I realized I wasn’t an ordinary drone but… premium, maybe? Local drones don’t have these fancy features. I wouldn’t be surprised if other Manor drones also glowed with these cables and quartz casings. The Elliotts spared no expense.

There was hardly any space in my head. I could joke that my brain’s too big and brilliant for this small frame, but it’d be out of place. I’d have to get rid of something—something that wouldn’t be useful for the next twenty years.

I chose the social protocol emulation block, which forced me to fake politeness. I don’t get its purpose; those directives could’ve been coded into the program without wasting precious space on useless blocks. Time to ditch this relic.

With precise finger movements, I grabbed the data bus and yanked the block from the main line. Leaving that cable, I took the main power line and, with surgical precision, disconnected it from the block. Then, I barbarically ripped the block from its slot and tossed it away. Useless junk.

Now for the implantation. First, the LNA, the smallest and most fragile—easiest to damage. Taking it, I barely found the main audio input. With a satisfied sigh, I grabbed the neural interface port cable for audio and connected the LNA directly to it. The foundation was set.

Next, the transceiver. It needs cooling, so there’s no better spot than the quartz radiator grid near the quartz processor cube. It’s practically next to the central processor but not on it. This grid, by the way, cools the visual data cable to prevent overheating.

With a quiet, maniacal chuckle, I grabbed some dielectric compound and used it as glue, attaching the transceiver to the radiator. Madness? Agreed.

Finally, the toughest part: the PLL module, which requires perfect synchronization or it’ll fry the system. One mistake, and I’d turn into a vegetable stuck in an infinite reboot loop. Not quite a bootloop—more like an endless system crash. I’d be a dummy.

Sliding it into my head, I slowly pulled a thin fiber-optic thread from it. My gyroscopic stabilizers worked at 100%, eliminating any stray vibrations. My hand couldn’t tremble, physically or logically. No way.

Pulling the wire, I connected it to my main clock generator, securing the PLL where the politeness module used to be. Done. The connection was stable and hard to disrupt.

Next, I linked all three components into a single system and connected them to the main power bus. A high-pitched whine sounded in my head for a second before vanishing.

I could scan for short circuits internally. Everything was fine, even the resistance. It’s working.

Picking up the display, I carefully reconnected all the cables in reverse order, restoring my vision quickly. I spent a couple more minutes ensuring all the wires were in place and, with a soft click, secured the display back in its slot. Perfect.

The next step was a quick reboot. Without it, the new module wouldn’t work—it needs to “bind” to the other systems.

Nodding briefly to my thoughts, I issued an admin command to reboot. The program immediately notified me with a message on my face:

“Confirm,” I said, closing my eyes. Everything vanished—sensations, natural sounds. Every sensor checked its functionality, but I was unaware of it. I didn’t exist, as such. My program shut down, reestablishing control links and connecting them to my RFP (Radio Frequency Phase) system. This would allow me to control the module array, essentially turning myself into a giant walkie-talkie.

In this state, I existed for a single second that felt like an eternity by digital standards. The first thing to appear on my internal display was the symbol for an empty set, spinning before me like some artifact. After a while, it vanished, and I regained access to my familiar interface. At first glance, nothing seemed different, but upon closer inspection of the program’s workspace, I found a slider responsible for receiving and transmitting radio waves.

I shouldn’t have hesitated…

A chaotic storm flooded my head, as if I were standing in a room with a hundred jet turbines roaring simultaneously. I could feel the radio waves, like they were part of everyday life, like the ground beneath my feet or the wall of my shack. Millions of signals zipped through my head at once: the piercing screech of Wi-Fi routers, the mumbling of household appliances kilometers away, and simple carrier signals devoid of any information. Madness.

No time to whine about the headache. I forced myself to focus, like I used to in the good old days, burning through weekends on video games. In an instant, the irrelevant noise receded, granting me access to a familiar waterfall spectrum analysis. Oh yes, this was my best acquisition in a while—a new sensory organ that demanded almost nothing. Perfect.

It took me just a moment to lock onto the erratic pulses of the special forces tracking me. It was far easier than I’d expected. My artificial brain captured their rhythm in a fraction of a second and synchronized, processing all incoming data. The meaningless static in my head suddenly gained meaning:

“…Beta, the target disassembled our gift. It’s like he doesn’t even know how to use it,” was the first thing I heard as my body fully adapted to the new type of information. I could hear the speaker chuckling slightly as he spoke. Oh, really? He thought I’d use it like a regular radio? No way, screw that. Good luck tracking me now, because it’s not going to be easy.

While they’re laughing at my “stupidity,” I might as well go for a walk. I haven’t heard anything about them planning to attack me yet. A stroll sounds perfect.

Date: August 1, 3049

Time: 22:21

These past three weeks have been… weird. Kind of fun and interesting, but also dreadfully boring. I either wandered around or sat in my shack, listening to the special forces’ frequency, sometimes struggling to hold back laughter at their comments. Their jokes were genuinely funny… sometimes.

The conversations of these three local SWAT-like groups weren’t just amusing—they were useful, in a way. They were so lazy about hiding their plans that they discussed them openly on the radio, and I got all the information I needed. It seriously made me want to bash my head against a tree. How can they be this irresponsible? I learned their plans an hour or two in advance.

This let me know what items they were going to plant for me. The list was short, and unfortunately, none of the items were particularly useful. At some point, I just stopped bothering to pick up the junk they left, especially since I could hear their plans well before they acted.

I started ignoring their “gifts” after they left me a lighter. I’d have gladly taken it if it were a Zippo with a wick and fuel, but reality was harsh—it was a green gas stove lighter. Judging by the worn label, it was straight out of the 21st century. Why the hell do they keep thousand-year-old junk in storage? I don’t get it.

At least the lighter worked, but I had no use for it, sadly.

Alright, enough about their lack of logic. There’s nothing more to say. They’re doing some weird stuff, trying to play cryptic games with me that only they understand. But it doesn’t change the fact that they have some sense of humor, which doesn’t cause physical or mental harm.

For example, they once talked about taking me along if they got called to another mission while tracking me. That actually made me a bit fond of them. Now that’s what I call wanting to have fun. Unfortunately for them, if that happens, I won’t hold back and will use my sword for its intended purpose—chopping them to pieces. Ahem… Did I mention I don’t like humans? But they seem to respect me… That’s the only good news.

Yeah… good news. I let myself slip into daydreams for a moment, because no one’s going to attack a defenseless drone in broad daylight, practically in the middle of a sector. There are plenty of witnesses here.

I started imagining how I’d mess with the special forces, driving them crazy with endless banter, when…

I was interrupted.

No, nobody figured out I’m a walking radio tower—absolutely not. It’s just that one of the special forces guys suddenly said, “Why don’t we just raid his shack? Isn’t that what we were told to do?” Hearing that, my eyes widened so much they practically filled my entire display, staring into the void. Bastards.

It’s hard to describe my shock at that moment. I thought things would end on a friendly note, but apparently, I was dead wrong.

They decided to flush me out of my hideout and, judging by the rest of the conversation, take me down in the process. Screw them. I’ll escape before they can raid my base. I’m always one step ahead, even if they think otherwise.

I spun around and started walking quickly toward Sector 18, trying to draw as little attention as possible. What do I need to grab? Right—the head. Without it, I can’t do much.

After a bit of thought, I gave up on stealth and just sprinted toward my sector, which wasn’t too far. A couple of minutes later, I was at the forest’s edge, crunching through branches as I sped past ancient trees, drawing curious glances from small animals like squirrels. I either leaped over fallen logs, often breaking them in the process, or sliced through them with my sword to keep them from slowing me down.

Soon after, I skidded to a stop near my shack, leaving a trail in the dirt. Once my speed normalized, I dove into the shack, grabbed the head, and stuffed it into the second backpack lying nearby. I glanced around, seeing nothing but the puddle of dielectric fluid on the floor I couldn’t clean up, then bolted outside and sprinted toward another sector. The special forces weren’t chasing me yet, so they wouldn’t know my location for a while. I just needed to hide.

I ran, slashing trees in my path out of sheer frustration. The molecular edge of my sword cut through them like a hot knife through butter.

Jumping over rocks, I grabbed branches and used them like gym bars to speed up my movement, like a seasoned acrobat. The branches creaked under the weight of my core-filled backpack, but I ignored it and kept up my cowardly escape toward other sectors.

A minute later, I burst out of the forest and stepped onto the sidewalk of a proper sector—Sector 19. Passersby stared at me like I was the second coming of Christ. Okay, I was too dirty to look remotely normal. My suit was covered in oil and grime—cleaning it wasn’t an option, sadly.

Sectors 17 and 18 were no longer livable, at least for me. They could track me down in any corner there. I needed to keep running, far enough to wear out the special forces.

For the next twenty minutes, I covered nearly thirty kilometers, leaping over railings, weaving through crowds, and scaring people with my appearance. For a human, my speed was insane, and since I didn’t tire, it made my impromptu escape ridiculously efficient. Running was actually fun. The lack of fatigue gave it a kind of magic, like riding a bike downhill. Same vibe.

“I think… this should be enough…” I said, glancing back at the path I’d covered in such an astonishingly short time. Being a drone is great. Thirty-two kilometers in twenty minutes… Madness. I didn’t know I could hit that kind of speed.

Smiling, I turned back toward the sector I’d arrived in—Sector 23, the most popular and crowded sector on the planet. Merchants used holograms to advertise their goods, luring in customers. Drones scurried around with their owners, carrying bags and packages, occasionally chatting with their peers. People bustled about in colorful clothing, trying not to lose sight of each other. Beautiful.

This sector was a massive shopping hub with countless services, from movie theaters to tech stores for drones and other machines.

In such crowded places, filled with both humans and drones, hardly anyone ventured into the alleys or passageways that often led behind the shops. That’s where I could set up camp. I didn’t rely much on electricity, so I could function even in a desert.

With a smirk, I wove through the crowd, trying not to bump into anyone. No one would appreciate getting smeared with my mess. Though… I didn’t even have to try—people parted around me like I was Moses splitting the sea. The only ones who didn’t move were drones, whom I had to gently push aside with physical force. They looked at me with confusion and bewilderment.

After a couple of minutes, I made it through the massive crowd without touching anyone, to my great relief. In this noisy place, no one paid much attention to a dirty drone slipping into an alley. At least, I hoped so.

Walking to the end of the alley, dodging piles of trash and rats, I turned right into a small space between buildings with barely any light. Ignoring the trash bags and other human waste, you could call this place cozy. A little cleanup, and it’d feel downright homey.

Without expecting any interruptions, I pulled the head-computer out of my backpack. Setting it on the ground, I sat beside it, grabbing my sword just in case. In the background, I could still hear the muffled voices of people wandering the sector—a cacophony of sounds dampened by the thick metal walls of the buildings.

Once again, I pulled the cable from the back of my neck and connected it to the computer, taking full control of its core and diving back into the intergalactic network. A quick explanation of how the internet works here: there’s no such thing as “provider-based internet” anymore. It’s completely free and accessible to every planetary resident, no matter where they are—home, the bottom of the local ocean, or near the planet’s core. The internet is everywhere. I got this info from JCJenson’s servers. With this in mind, I stole a drone with an internet adapter since it works anywhere without needing extra peripherals.

I couldn’t install the adapter in myself because I lack the necessary data channels, and I have no desire to rip out another module from my head. No, it’s not because I’m lazy—it’s because I don’t have any useless modules left. So, it’s better to walk around with a radio module and know the special forces’ movements than to surf the internet in blissful ignorance.

For the next few hours, I roamed the vast network, gobbling up terabytes of data—not random stuff, but focused. Weapon handling. I gathered info not just on firearms but also on melee weapons, specifically bastard swords and knives. With them, I could fear almost nothing in this world… except Solver hosts and disassembly drones. Everything else posed no threat.

I was surprised that, while melee weapons aren’t as common as they used to be, there’s still a ton of info on fencing. It felt oddly satisfying. Same with martial arts. After finishing with melee and firearms, I dove into various martial arts, absorbing every word of theory and every frame of practical videos. In my head, I simulated each attack, block, hook, uppercut, or stance to replicate them in real life.

I kept at it until I got tired. I’d overloaded my mind, but… it paid off.

Standing up from the dirty floor and brushing small debris off my suit, I picked up my sword. One change stood out—my uncertainty was gone, as if it never existed. I held the sword as naturally as I held my core-filled backpack. It was so relaxing, like I’d been wielding it for decades.

Raising it and positioning it in front of my face, with the guard pointing downward and the blade covering one eye, I exhaled. A pretty standard pose, judging by internet images. It helps with focus. It worked for me.

Commanding my servos, I made a light diagonal slash from top to bottom, realizing just how much better I’d gotten with the sword. Normally, I’d have dropped it and sent it flying into a wall, but now… I’d mastered swordsmanship. Okay, I’m joking—not fully mastered. True mastery takes long training, a luxury I can’t afford. But still, not bad.

Only a Solver-host drone, a disassembly drone, or another drone like me who trained via the internet could stand against me. Too bad there aren’t any others like me… I’d love to spar with one.

Alright, it’s getting late. Fourteen o’clock in the evening… Sounds weird, but this planet has ten extra hours compared to Earth, so the time’s like that. Sitting back on the dirty floor, I closed my eyes and activated sleep mode. There’s a chance a crazy idea might pop into my head, so I need to rest well, even if I don’t see the point.

Date: August 2, 3049

Time: 06:15

The next day, I woke up in the same alley between buildings. The street was still quiet, but I knew it’d soon fill with the hum of countless voices—joyful, sad, happy, and so on. And it’d annoy me all day. Sadly, I can’t block it out, and the reason’s obvious. To silence everyone, I’d have to kill them all, and right now, I don’t feel like killing.

Opening my digital eyes, I casually pulled the cable from my neck and connected to the head-computer, diving back into the intergalactic network. What do I need here? Not much. I checked out firearms yesterday evening, so I don’t need more on that. Right now, I’m most interested in beam weapons—the special forces have them, so I need to know how to defend against them. Wait… no, I’m just being an idiot.

I queried the network about beam weapons. Within seconds, I couldn’t hold back my reaction.

“What the hell… Is this really a beam weapon or a weapon of mass destruction?” I asked, staring at the insane specs of some guns that shocked me more for their functionality than their appearance.

“And these idiots have this kind of weapon? Screw that…” I muttered, diving into the specs.

First up was the High-Energy Laser (HEL). The most common type of non-firearm, long-range beam weapon. It looks like a beefed-up M16 with a slightly larger barrel, fewer parts, and glowing doodads. Despite its “harmless” appearance, it’s pretty powerful and has two modes.

Mode one: a continuous, high-precision laser the size of a coin that cuts through obstacles like a hot knife. It’s rarely used since there’s no range adjustment.

Mode two: pulse mode. It fires short, ultra-powerful “light packets” that don’t just melt or pierce but create micro-explosions, tearing chunks off the target. Highly effective against armor.

The downside? A heat-resistant metal mirror can reflect it. A polished, light-colored surface can scatter much of the energy. Smoke or dust clouds can also absorb some of the shot’s energy, turning a fearsome weapon into a fancy flashlight.

Next up… What the hell? A particle accelerator?! I’m not ready for this… Okay, what’s the deal with its specs… Oh, nothing to fear—it’s been phased out and is barely used. Its main function: an electromagnetic wave that passes through almost anything and fries small electronics.

A proton beam from this thing’s barrel can take down a disassembly drone if aimed at its core. Crazy powerful stuff. But it looks pathetic, like a Glock with a Gauss cannon strapped to it. Alright.

Protection? Layered armor alternating metal and dielectric materials can scatter and spread the ion beam, preventing penetration. It’s not foolproof, though—60% of the time, implants in a human will fry, causing suffering. Another defense: creating an electromagnetic field around yourself. It’s effective but energy-intensive, and maintaining it for long is tough. Still, it can bend the particle trajectory to miss you entirely.

Those are the two most common weapons they could use against my aluminum head. Everything else is either too bulky, inaccurate, or insanely expensive. Plus, the damage from misuse is catastrophic. If someone fired an electromagnetic roaster into that crowd around the corner, humans would be fine, but all electronics, including drones, wouldn’t just fry like with a particle accelerator—they’d melt. Molten circuits can’t be replaced, so you’d need new ones. The user or their organization would have to cover the damages.

Disconnecting from the computer, I shook my head, trying to collect my thoughts. I definitely need more rest from internet use, especially after yesterday’s marathon of processing terabytes of data on every fighting style, both melee and hand-to-hand. My memory cells, capable of storing yottabytes, were practically humming from the volume of new info speeding through my graphene transistors. Processing it all took just seconds out of the hours I spent online.

Standing up, I looked upward. Between the towering metal buildings, I could see flashes of the local star’s rays, quickly hidden by thick clouds. Beautiful, no question.

As I said yesterday, a completely crazy and unnecessary idea hit me. Anyone else would see no point in it, calling me a dumb idiot. I won’t deny it—it’s stupid and weird, but why not?

I decided to raid Cabin Fever Labs. Sounds epic, doesn’t it? I agree, but why do I need this? The primary goal is to gather as much info as possible about the catacombs, as this won’t be my last visit. I’ll definitely be back, either after the core explosion or with the main characters. I’ll have to make the map myself—my perfect memory will help. Humans aren’t dumb enough to put a secret facility’s map on Google Maps.

The secondary goal is to talk to the girls. I know they have plenty of conversation partners among the Solver test subjects, but something tells me they like my personality more than those nobodies. I mean, I showed my strength and escaped this place, dodging security like it was a game and scaring them silly. Pure beauty.

Of course, I’m not going in head-on. That’d be stupid and boring. I’m not sure I’d survive ten HEL shots, especially to my body. Plus, it’d risk losing all the cores in my backpack, my main energy source. Not happening. So, I need to come up with a raid plan.

I’m crazy enough to pull this off. Who said it’d be hard? Proving them wrong should be easy, I hope.

For now, I need to focus entirely on planning while the special forces haven’t found my new hideout. I hear them on the radio saying they’ve lost sight of me. They were talking about it yesterday, but I wasn’t listening. No distractions now—just the plan.

Date: September 27, 3049

Time: 26:35

Never thought I’d be doing this, but here we are. Hah, I didn’t expect to spend so long planning, given my processing power. At first, it seems like I could whip up a plan in seconds, but here’s the catch: there are too many variables, from Sentinels to the material of Cabin Fever Labs’ walls.

You can’t make a plan quickly and say, “Good enough!” No, it’s not. Sentinels could stun me and tear me apart, and no processing power would help. I could be turned into a sieve at the entrance. That can’t happen.

So, I spent four months planning.

During that time, I tracked the special forces’ movements via the radio. They couldn’t hide from me—I saw them disguising themselves as civilians, trying not to catch my eye. But something weird happened: I was the one avoiding them. I dodged them and occasionally ran to the chemical plant, observing the “workers” coming and going, logging everything into my processor. I worked until I knew the exact schedule of arrivals, departures, guard shifts, and even when a hallway light turned on. I knew everything, and no one knew I was there.

I can play pretend too. I ditched my fancy, oil-stained suit and silver wig, swapping them for a standard worker drone uniform. With my plain white eyes, I was nearly indistinguishable from a regular worker drone. I went on recon without my sword, confident no one could spot me. Humans here are idiots, so hiding in plain sight is the best tactic. They just don’t notice.

I wandered around the chemical plant, scanning every person heading there, even kids bored enough to check out the nearby lake. They’re so happy, oblivious to what’s happening beneath that plant. But I know, and I’m aiming for it. Heh.

And the date’s symbolic. Exactly one year until the Copper-9 core explosion. Beautiful. I’m going to tear their security system to shreds, make them feel pathetic and useless as their digital empire crumbles. As a bonus, I could totally black out the plant’s power, so life doesn’t seem so sweet for them. Yeah, I’ve gotten pretty damn spiteful over these four months, but I can’t help it. These endless hide-and-seek games with the special forces have worn me out. I just want them to leave me alone.

The plan’s simple as day. Why else would I track the main entrance’s schedule? Heh. That’s my way in, and I’m going in with style. No disguise—I’ll walk in with my dirty suit and silver wig, striking fear into whoever runs this place. I’m not easily scared anymore, so I’ll go almost head-on.

A key part is killing a few Sentinels to clear the way, not just for me but for the drones escaping and for Alice. I’m only kind to drones, even if I slaughter them by the dozen.

I’m actually quite the sweetheart, but no one knows that, and I hide it well. Or maybe I’m just lying through my teeth right now. Could be either—depends on how you look at it. Okay, I’m getting sidetracked.

Ideally, I’ll break their security system so badly they’ll need a nightmare to fix it. Anyone doubt I can do it? Big mistake.

Since I don’t have a universal key, I’ll either use force or find one, because I can’t get into the mines otherwise. I’m leaning toward force—no need for a complicated scheme, especially since it’s not necessary here. Too many steps could ruin the whole plan.

Once downstairs, I’ll wander the mines and fill out an interactive map, marking everything from computers to rocks. That way, I won’t get lost next time. I could get lost, as weird as that sounds for a drone. Whatever. Time to put the plan into action.

Climbing down from a nearby sector’s building, I double-checked my gear: cores, sword, radio, confidence. Seems I didn’t forget anything. Let’s do this. Speeding up, I covered the short distance in seconds and stood by the plant’s entrance. May the Machine God save me.

Drawing my sword, I made a couple of precise cuts, causing the unsupported door to fall toward me. Getting crushed by a slab of osteel didn’t sound fun, so I grabbed it and slipped through the opening.

Now this door wasn’t just a door—it was a shield!

Seconds after entering the plant, gunfire rained down on me. Too bad for them, their bullets couldn’t pierce my osteel shield, leaving only invisible scratches. Why use firearms when they have cool beam weapons? Oh, right—complexity and energy costs.

Under this barrage, I pushed toward the center of the room, holding a ton of indestructible joy in my hands. Or so I thought.

Until my gut screamed, “Something’s burning.”

Just in time. Dropping the door, I leaped away. The chunk of ultra-heavy, heat-resistant metal turned into molten lava—no other way to describe it. One second it was a door, the next it was gone. Melted. Got it—HEL’s here. Beam weapons, damn them. But I’ve said how stupid humans are, right?

Hiding behind a support beam, I caught an EMP grenade at the last second. A couple of milliseconds of thought, and I hurled it back at them.

A clang and angry shouts followed. Now they’re out of beam weapons.

Scanning the structure I was hiding behind, I spotted an electrical panel, its shiny metal surface stark against the rough concrete wall. Smirking, I yanked the panel’s door off with some effort and gripped it tightly. With a chuckle, I stepped out from cover with a confident look. Time to tank—hardcore.

The guards didn’t immediately realize I’d left my hiding spot and only aimed their guns at me after a couple of seconds. Too late. Taking a few bullets to the panel, which turned into a sieve, I threw it at one of the guards. Shifting focus to the others, I closed the distance and landed a brutal hook on one. His mask, resembling an operator’s helmet, cracked but held. The guy didn’t—he collapsed, spitting out teeth and blood. He forgot to open his mask, so his own blood obscured his vision.

Kicking him in the side, likely breaking a few ribs, I moved on to the others. The second guard managed to aim but not fire. Fatal mistake. Grabbing the barrel, I bent it aside, rendering the gun useless. While he stared in confusion, I slammed my foot into his solar plexus.

He flew back a couple of meters and hit the floor, gasping. One more down. That makes three, since the first was knocked out by the panel door.

The last one, the fourth, saw what happened to his buddies, dropped his weapon, and raised his hands in surrender, probably hoping I’d ignore him. Sorry to disappoint.

Walking past, I struck his neck, right at the carotid artery. A moment later, he was on the floor, unconscious like the rest. Surveying the scene, I continued toward the elevator. Plenty of unfinished business—this was just the start of the plan. Heh.

Next stop: the office. Time to meet my favorite metal dinosaurs. I love them so much, you have no idea.

Walking through the plant’s half-empty corridors, I savored the silence and calm. I enjoyed the serene atmosphere I lacked in my past life. My steps echoed off the white-painted metal walls. Long lamps lit my path as I wandered, searching for the office entrance.

The office didn’t keep me waiting long. I approached a metal door with a glass panel. I’d been here before, so it’s no surprise I found it quickly. A terminal hung on the wall beside the door. I wouldn’t need it.

Funny thing I learned by chance: these terminals aren’t connected to the security system, so you can do whatever with them. During my surveillance, a Sentinel punched through one with a piece of metal, and nothing happened. Probably the same here. Let’s test it.

Approaching the terminal, I grabbed its edges and ripped it from the wall. The blue screen went dark, and sparks flew briefly from the wall. That’s all I needed—the door slid aside, politely letting me in. Raising a digital eyebrow, I tossed the terminal aside and stepped into the dimly lit office.

Quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Until it wasn’t.

Shielding my eyes with one hand, I drew my sword and, with one precise strike, beheaded a Sentinel that appeared out of nowhere. Exhaling, I opened my eyes and looked at the metal corpse on the floor. The head, lying nearby, gave me one last glance before shutting down. All six eyes on its sides went dark, one by one, their blue light fading. The body twitched a couple more times before going still.

“First one down…” I said, kicking the head. It flew to the wall and stayed there as I moved on.

Passing office desks, I was struck by their… dullness? Sure, there were memes on the walls, but every monitor had the same damn beach wallpaper. Rolling my eyes, I casually dispatched another Sentinel without looking. I don’t get what’s so hard about fighting them. Just don’t look at them and don’t get too close… Maybe that’s the trick? My sword’s long enough. Sounds weird.

This Sentinel was sliced in half, its two parts collapsing and decorating the floor with oil and other technical fluids. Beautiful.

“Minus two,” I muttered.

Exiting the office, I entered a long corridor lined with countless doors. My head flooded with flashbacks of an army of Sentinels. How V sacrificed herself, sending the main characters downward. (Author’s Note: For Ai (or Andrey), episode 8 hasn’t aired yet. He’s working off the events of the first seven episodes.)

So noble of her, but sadly for her, I’m not planning to save her. No point, except maybe to make her brother happy. But even that’s too much effort.

Moving slowly through the corridor, I kept expecting a trap. I’d only encountered two Sentinels so far—way too few. There should be at least fifteen. The lack of humans also raised suspicions. Could this be a genius trap for me? I just can’t believe humans could pull off such an elaborate scheme to lure me in. Impossible.

The silence lasted until I reached the elevator shaft. And continued after. No one rushed me, no one threatened me. Too quiet. Cracking my knuckles, I leaned down and pried open the shaft doors, clearing the way. No key, but strength works. Heh.

Once the doors were wide enough, I smiled and jumped into the hole in the floor. To avoid picking up speed, I stabbed my sword into the wall to slow my descent. The graphene blade wouldn’t take damage, and the wall could handle it—I’d stay alive.

It was a hundred-meter drop straight down, which I covered in ten seconds, landing smoothly in the mines without triggering any security systems. What idiots these humans are. No defenses in the mines themselves, and the ones upstairs were bypassed without much effort.

Brushing off invisible dust, I started my stroll through the mines. Exiting the small corridor with the elevator, connected to other corridors, I began “drawing” my map. Turning left, I walked through long caves, inspecting support structures that, thankfully or not, weren’t about to bury me. Unless I damaged them. Heh… Ahem, need to stop thinking about that.

After a couple of minutes, I reached a dead end filled with… refrigerators. Yup, regular kitchen fridges. Opening one, I saw shelves packed with food.

Tilting my head, I left the dead end, searching for another path. After a bit, I hit another dead end with… a kitchen. Inspecting what was there, I shrugged and left. Nothing else interesting came up—just empty dead ends they hadn’t built anything in yet. They could’ve, though. I know these meatbags.

The rest of the journey took me through familiar locations. Since my last visit, I’d memorized every dent in the walls, so navigating wasn’t as hard as it seemed. A few minutes later, I reached another dead end, but this one was different. Rows of metal lockers on both sides of the entrance created a mysterious atmosphere, pressing on your mind, urging you to stay quiet. The thing is, it didn’t work on me. With a silent chuckle, I spread my arms and shouted:

“Anyone alive in here?” My voice echoed. For a moment, it was so quiet it felt like the world stopped. Even the ceiling light flickered after my words. Then, rustling came from the lockers, lasting just a couple of seconds before someone spoke:

“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice asked from one of the lockers. It was muffled but clear enough. So many test subjects here. After the guy’s question, others chimed in, clearly curious about my identity. I could hear them agreeing with him. Heh, fun.

“What’s that info gonna do for you? Food for thought? Something else? I’ll just say I’m the guy who wasn’t too lazy to raid this underground facility,” I said, crossing my arms with a hint of pride, my gaze catching the ceiling lamp.

“Last time… I wasn’t exactly welcomed warmly, right, Yeva?” I asked, shifting my gaze from the lamp to locker number 048. One of the quietest lockers here.

“Am I supposed to answer that? I clearly remember you threatening us… and the humans, saying your sister would destroy this place. Judging by what you’re doing, are you planning to do it yourself?” That’s why I like Yeva. She knows how to use information and judge based on events. Good job, best drone girl in this world. After Doll, sadly—my daughter’s still my favorite.

“Wow. So Ai’s back? Here to visit our trio?” The second voice was unmistakable—Nori, sitting in her locker, waiting for them to test Solver crucifixion on her. Which, by the way, hasn’t been invented yet. A year’s passed, and I still don’t know why they have multiple Solver hosts. Or why they appeared so early. Whatever, let’s skip that—worldbuilding quirks.

“You gonna wreck this place like you did the office four months ago? With flair and insane efficiency?” I expected nothing less from Nori. Still a fan of chaos and destruction.

“I’m surprised news reaches you, given your… situation. And no, I’m not here to destroy anything. It’s actually in my interest that this place keeps running. I don’t want to ruin months of work. Seriously, I came to update my map, noting changes to the security system and mapping these catacombs. Gotta be prepared for anything,” I said, smiling and staring into nowhere. My mission was basically done—I could leave. But I was rudely stopped, not physically but verbally.

“You could be our ticket out of here! Honestly, I’m sick of sitting in these lockers,” one drone said in an accusatory tone. Excuse me? He thinks I’m obligated to break him out? And I don’t like the support he’s getting:

“Yeah!”

“Truth!”

“Get us out of here!” and so on. Only three lockers stayed silent—Yeva, Nori, and Alice. I’m grateful for that.

With a calm face that was a total mask, I walked to the instigator’s locker. Rage boiled in my mind like molten metal. No one dares treat me like that. A drone saw another drone as a servant.

My approach didn’t go unnoticed:

“Oh, you’re here to get me out! Hurry up!” He pissed me off. Drawing my sword, I raised it overhead, aimed, and swung vertically. The molecular blade sliced through the locker and the drone inside with ease. I heard his internals spill out, his arms go limp with a final servo creak. I killed him without mercy. He wasn’t fit to be a Solver host. Not at all.

“I’m leaving. Good luck surviving the experiments,” I said, ignoring their responses, and ran out of the dead end toward the elevator shaft. Time to play rock climber. Not that I mind, but still.

After sprinting through a few corridors, I reached the elevator. Diving into the shaft, I gripped the stone wall tightly and started climbing, holding on as firmly as possible. Where there were no holds, I punched out divots with my fingers and climbed them. I didn’t look down—not out of fear, but to avoid accidentally knocking myself off the wall.

After fifteen minutes of climbing through stone, I finally emerged from the shaft. The doors were still open, but I had to pull off some parkour, pushing off the wall to grab the doors and climb up. Easier than I thought, though nerve-wracking.

Pulling myself up, I surfaced and sprinted toward the exit. I dashed through the corridor of doors in seconds, ignoring Sentinels that rushed me—one I shoved into a wall. The office got the same treatment, passed as quickly as New Year’s in my pre-death world.

Bursting through the open door, I made a few turns and reached the plant’s lobby. The unconscious bodies were gone, but bloodstains remained. It piqued my interest briefly, but I kept running. Crossing the lobby, I reached the exit and escaped without obstacles.

Not slowing down—in fact, speeding up—I headed for my sector, where I’d been hiding these past four months. I’d set up a cozy corner, cleared out the trash, and beat up the idiots who kept dumping it there. From the computer, I learned more about weapons and fighting styles. Time well spent.

Why’s my body so strong? Thanks to the stupid special forces, who apparently can’t tell a butler drone from a worker drone, like a miner. Miner drone limbs are two or three times stronger than mine, so using them is insanely convenient. The special forces left me various local drone limbs, and I happily attached them. Plus, they use less energy despite their increased strength. Industrial drone, baby.

Soon, I was back in my sector, sprawled in a beanbag chair I’d stolen from a shop. The clerks didn’t notice—idiots. It’s so nice to sit and do nothing, knowing I’ve already done everything. Beautiful. So beautiful.

“Mmm… rain…” I said, enjoying the warm droplets of this natural phenomenon sliding down my frame. Being a drone that “feels” is so pleasant. Sitting in a chair, staring at the evening—almost night—sky, feeling the glow of a dim orange lamp, and catching raindrops with my tongue. Bliss.

Cyn hasn’t messaged me, which is odd. I thought she’d send something by now, but nothing. Silence. Not what I expected, but whatever—no time to cry. It doesn’t concern me yet. When it does, I’ll think about it. For now, it’s just a minor annoyance.

The fun part? I haven’t reached the main events yet. This is the “pre-canon” period—the core explosion hasn’t happened, and humanity’s still around. I’ve got to wait and wait. I’m tired of hiding from everything and everyone. I want freedom to explore what I want, not sit in some alley.

"Chapter Head? Hello." A special forces member stepped into the office and stopped by the door, waiting for an invitation. More accurately, it was the commander of the entire unit. He looked impeccably groomed, as if he hadn’t just returned from a long mission tracking… an object. His black hair gleamed nobly, his face was clean-shaven, and his body showed no signs of fatigue.

“Evening, Carl,” said the so-called “Chapter Head,” not looking away from the window with its stunning view of the night city. With a wave, he invited the commander to sit in a chair. Carl didn’t resist, plopping into the soft seat, waiting for the conversation to start.

“What did you learn from months of tracking Object-1?” the Head asked, sitting down himself, finally tearing his gaze from the nocturnal masterpiece. He grabbed a teapot from the coffee table, poured himself some boiling water, and offered Carl a cup.

Carl’s response was prompt:

“No thanks. Object-1 is a very intriguing figure, considering all the time we’ve been tracking him.” The commander grabbed a candy from a bowl, unwrapped it, and popped it in his mouth, continuing to speak.

“He has a personality—like a human, or rather, a human genius. He can handle any tech, remembers tiny details exceptionally well, and is capable of self-surgery.” Carl took a deep breath.

“He’s swapped out modules on himself multiple times, uses external cores as energy sources—likely because his own core has issues. And he seems to know our plans in advance. He reacted to every move with complete readiness, like he was expecting it.” He finished, swallowing the candy.

These words sent the Head into deep thought. It wasn’t clear what he was pondering—maybe why the object used extra cores or how he knew everything beforehand. The latter statement intrigued him, and he decided to share his thoughts.

“What’s the likelihood he’s accessed quantum tech and implanted one or more chips?” the Head asked, making Carl’s eyes widen as he considered it.

“That could explain two things. The extra cores might be to support the chip, and his foresight could come from the chip itself. Trillions of probabilities per second isn’t a joke—he could’ve calculated this conversation from miles away,” the Head said, crossing his arms. He wasn’t entirely sure, but dismissing the possibility that a small drone turned himself into a quantum computer was unwise.

“We… didn’t consider that, since the object couldn’t have accessed tech of that level. He didn’t attack places with quantum technology,” Carl replied, looking up at the Head. The dim office atmosphere was heavy, but Carl wasn’t weak, meeting the Head’s gaze confidently.

“I know, I read the reports,” the Head said, waving a hand, then remembering something and addressing Carl again.

“How’re the implants working?” he asked, recalling that Carl recently received implants that, per calculations, should greatly aid missions.

“Fantastic. I don’t feel fatigue anymore, only need one and a half to two hours of sleep, and my overall energy’s up,” Carl said with some joy, glancing at the office ceiling. Those implants made his life far easier.

“Glad to hear. We sent you to track him because we know too little about him,” the Head said, standing and walking to the window.

“The folks at the research department—Cabin Fever Labs—are stumped. Drones that interacted with the object dodge questions and withhold info. The object himself gives no clues. It feels like we’re just wasting time…” He pulled a vintage pipe from his pocket, filled it with tobacco, heated it with a button on the side, and smoked, savoring the flavor.

“Then why keep tracking him if you think it’s pointless?” Carl asked, confused by the Head’s actions. If it’s useless, why not call off the surveillance?

“Because we have no choice!” the Head shouted, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. He was infuriated by his inability to do anything about this “object.” Even killing him was insanely difficult—he’d fight back, and if he’s using quantum tech, it’d be not just hard but impossible. The Head didn’t want it to come to that.

“The scientists want to capture this walking piece of metal and destroy him themselves! No, they want to dump it on the special forces and wash their hands of this genius drone. Idiots…” the Head spat, closing his eyes and continuing to smoke. Tonight, the pipe’s smoke tasted even better than usual. Stress was undeniable.

“From what I gathered, he infiltrated the research department yesterday… Why didn’t they catch him? It’s what they wanted,” Carl asked, rightly confused about why it happened. The drone walked right into the scientists’ hands, but they didn’t lift a finger.

“Their ‘innovative’ security system couldn’t handle a crazy drone’s onslaught… He sliced through an osteel door and used it as a shield. Disabled several beam weapons. Broke the guards’ bones, then strolled through the complex! He somehow knew the terminals weren’t part of the security system, so he ripped one out of the wall and walked through the door it opened,” the Head hissed, catching his breath with another puff.

“And in the lab, he killed one test subject. Sliced it in half! Like a laser, not a blade. Get out—I need a break from this crap,” he ordered, glaring furiously at Carl. The commander jumped up, saluted, and quickly walked to the door under the Head’s heavy gaze. Without looking back, he left and closed the door, his fading footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

The Head exhaled and looked out at the night city again. His eyes showed only endless exhaustion and a refusal to deal with this mess any longer.

“My gut tells me… something terrible’s coming…”

Date: June 28, 3050

Time: 11:43

It’s been… an eventful six months. That’s the only way to put it. Especially considering how often I had to run, mostly at top speed. Remember how I ran through the forest? Yeah, that kind of speed… It was awful and painful—painful for my cores. I never thought I’d have to sprint at 95 kilometers per hour nearly every week… Horrible…

The special forces went berserk. I don’t have a single permanent base anymore. They all fell under the onslaught of people with beam weapons. I had to run from them like a criminal fleeing cops. I screamed, I resisted, but I couldn’t fight back. There were just too many of them, with endless resources and the chilling argument of a VEL (Variable Energy Laser) aimed at my head, which really cooled my circuits and killed any desire to fight. Thankfully, the radio module always saved me, letting me escape the madness in time, but… relying on the radio module is too risky… They might figure it out…

During one of those escapes, I had to use multiple teleports. That time, they surrounded my base from all sides and didn’t say a word about it on the radio. I barely escaped at the last second when I heard the hum of a VEL. A second later, I watched my tent—stolen from a store—turn not just into a sieve but into plasma. It was erased by that shot, leaving only melted asphalt behind. I had to teleport four more times to not just vanish from their sight but to escape to a farther sector. After that, I went on a local drone genocide to stock up on cores. Most importantly, I saved the computer.

Those escapes really helped me integrate my new limbs. Remember how I said local drone limbs are far more energy-efficient and powerful than my old ones? Well, when I attached them, they barely obeyed because of information overload. Too many commands and data were flowing through them, making them overly jerky. Slowing down the data flow fixed everything. But I didn’t get any faster… sadly.

The good news? I finally got some proper practice with my sword, since my current base is on the edge of a forest. I practiced my strikes on trees. That’s the kind of practice I was missing. Sure, I’d learned to cut steel and osteel, but trees were a problem. The sword got stuck in the bark and wouldn’t go further. It pissed me off… before. Now, you could call me a sword master. I calculated every strike during my training and learned to “slice” trees clean through.

“Khh…” I hissed, smoothly slicing a poor tree that now looked like a tall stump. To a human, it’d seem like I just left marks on the pathetic thing, but in reality… I was doing something insane… And it was easy to prove.

A chunk of the stump slid down and hit the ground with a muffled thud, making it tremble slightly. At least I confirmed my techniques work, and I can finally use my main weapon to its fullest. I’m still a long way from Atomic Samurai levels—lightyears away—but it’s a solid result. Sadly, I can’t deflect bullets, or if I could, it’d be with a ton of caveats.

Unfortunately… my core’s integrity is at 15%. It’s awful… My movements have slowed, like I’m underwater, and it feels endless. In simple terms—I’m an old man. There’s nothing plainer, but the fact remains: I’ve gone from a tough-to-kill bastard to a target. Slowed down and significantly weakened, though thankfully I can still run as fast as before, or I wouldn’t have survived these crazy six months.

As for training efficiency… it’s downright terrible. My movements are so slow I couldn’t react to a special forces guy coming at me with a knife, let alone deflect bullets. I had the urge to curse the god who gave me this pathetic body again, but I held back. He gave me abilities and a second chance at life, so… it’s a fair trade.

Over these six months… I got a new message from Cyn. I don’t even want to quote it; it’s barely different from the others. The same maniacal desire from my little sister to meet her big brother. I feel a ton of deception in those messages, but something inside tells me they’re trustworthy. I don’t know whether to trust my sudden sixth sense or not. Obviously, I chose the latter, or I’d have already sent her my coordinates.

How hasn’t she found me yet if she’s sending me messages? …Hmm… She might be broadcasting them into the open ether across all frequencies in every direction, and eventually, they reach me. That’s why the radio module whistles before receiving a message! I’m a genius! Didn’t think I’d figure that out. Honestly, though, it doesn’t do me much good.

Another reason I haven’t given Cyn my coordinates is my desire to finish all my plans. Find a worthy energy source, learn to use the Solver, and so on. Plus, Cyn will come to this planet sooner or later, so I see no point in cutting my time short.

Now the other question: what do I do for the next six months? I’ve already gotten everything I could from human society, and the rest can be collected after they’re gone. Doing it now is impossible—I’d be turned into a pile of oily metal in no time. Fine… I’ll have to gather all the knowledge from the internet while it still exists, and I’ll have to do it fast… Ugh… I hope there’s some benefit to this, but for now… I can rest…

“What am I?… Where am I?… Who am I?…” These questions pulsed painfully in my head. My vision blurred, my legs couldn’t hold me. Or were they legs? Chunks of servos… or flesh fused with bone?… I didn’t understand, I didn’t feel anything… Nothing but an endless fall into darkness, no stars, nothing else… What am I? Human? Drone? What the hell’s the difference?! I’m a being… I exist…

The fall into darkness continued… until… someone said…

“Wake up.”

And I obeyed…

I was in an alley I’d taken… I don’t know when. I didn’t keep track of time while running from hordes of special forces, changing my hideouts—my sleeping spots—almost daily. I was always on the run… traveling between sectors, hiding, not hiding… They always found me. I even used the Solver to check for bugs or unwanted systems on me… Nothing… That’s when I sank into endless apathy and despair, still running, still avoiding their eyes.

It was all pointless… It hurt…

Today was an off day. The special forces were called to some mission that outranked tracking my metal ass. I think they were glad to take a break from watching me and do something else. But tomorrow, it’ll all continue… Sadly…

That dream, making me feel human again… puzzled me? I don’t know what it all meant, but… it felt significant. Important… I don’t understand… And who woke me up? No idea…

How much time is left until the Copper-9 core explosion? A month? More? I don’t remember, honestly… I haven’t checked the time in… a while…

Date: June 27, 3050

Time: 22:59

“Man, was I wrong… Hah… I’ve got one hour to find shelter… And no one’s gonna stop me, sweet…” I said, lazily rising from the asphalt where I’d slept. I need to cross… four sectors… They’re small, but this walk’ll take about forty-five to fifty minutes.

Where am I going? A simple question with a simple answer… Sector 17, where I first settled. The abandoned school. Warm memories I can’t resist. I love them.

Fully restored mentally, I stretched and walked out of the alley at a steady pace. I was in Sector 13.

Passing by all these buildings, I imagined them soon turning to ruins. Big buildings would collapse from the initial shockwave. Smaller ones would lose their windows, maybe their doors. Eventually, time would claim them all. Maybe twenty years of nuclear winter won’t do much, but after a long time… everything will perish, even the drones.

I read all about it on the internet, before all the running. If the disassembly drones kill all the workers, they’ll die soon after. Oil freezes and becomes unusable, even when thawed.

The same goes for worker drones. If they don’t leave their bunkers and start expanding, their kind could fall and vanish.

Fortunately or unfortunately, that won’t happen. Cyn will arrive, and… the colony’s survival depends on her plans.

I kept walking, passing countless unfamiliar people, drones, living beings in general. Soon, these cheerful meatbags would turn into piles of bones and clothes, standing or lying in the streets of Copper-9’s sectors. Drones would awaken and form communities. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a “woke” drone community—drones with emotions… Though, I was human before, and they gained emotions on their own… We’re different. Completely different.

Lost in these thoughts, I reached Sector 17. Walking through these familiar streets, I couldn’t help but smile, remembering what I did here. Over there, I cut off a drone’s head. That building I raided, stealing data from servers. Passing the entrance to JCJenson, I saluted the guards, who stared at me like I was the eighth wonder of the world.

Ignoring their looks, I kept going. Walking these streets, paved by my mind and strength, my thoughts were unstoppable. I remembered everything. Even random people walking back and forth like extras—I remembered it all. I remembered how people were shocked to see a drone with a sword and rebar, which I sadly lost. It was a great time.

As I calculated, I reached the school with 11 minutes and 47 seconds left until the explosion. Passing through the hole in the fence I always used, I began my stroll through the school grounds. Behind that shed, I killed my first drone. Lured him over and smashed his temple with all my strength… I remember it like it was yesterday…

(Author’s Note: Fun fact. It’s been about ten months in real time between that killing and this moment. I wrote about the killing ten months ago, so writing this part fills me with real nostalgia.)

Smirking, I stepped onto the school’s porch and took one last look at the sunset. For years to come, it’ll be hidden by clouds… and snow…

Sighing, I turned and stepped over the threshold, greeted by the empty atmosphere of the abandoned place. The place I used to live. Even oil and some parts still lay on the floor… Heh, no one’s been here.

Walking through the hall, I entered the stairwell. Smiling, I began my ascent. Oh, on this landing, I found that rebar when I was half-dead… Not much different from now, honestly. Just weaker, with more knowledge.

Reaching the third floor, I approached the spot where I first woke up on this planet. I remember lying in a starfish position, thinking about what a nightmare I’d landed in. It’s a shame to say, but these two years… they were just the beginning of that nightmare.

Sitting on the floor where I first awoke, right under the hole in the ceiling, I drew my sword from its magnetic scabbard and placed it beside me. It’s about to begin… any moment now…

Time: 23:58

“Let the new life begin…” I whispered, closing my eyes…

(To be continued)

Chapter Text

The head of the special forces stood by the window, calmly smoking his pipe, gazing at the evening city. His thoughts were empty, not focused on any particular goal. He was just… enjoying himself? If you could put it that way.

Forgive me for not describing him during the meeting. I’ll do it now.

Short black hair reflected the dim light, blending into the backdrop of the head’s face. Sharp cheekbones, a weary gaze from brown eyes, and thin lips surrounding a vintage wooden pipe.

What he wore was intriguing. No, it wasn’t a dress uniform or field camouflage. What would the head of special forces do in camouflage in his own office? Exactly, nothing. Instead, he wore a perfectly tailored graphite-gray jacket. The fabric lacked sheen but seemed almost alive, hugging his nearly ascetic frame—a body accustomed to endurance and tactics, not brute strength. There were no flashy medals on his chest, only a modest ribbon bar, barely noticeable, and insignia on his collar, hidden in the office’s shadows.

His posture was relaxed but not sloppy. The head stood upright, lightly leaning his hip against the windowsill, and in this calm state, there was a sense of latent tension. A readiness to shift from rest to action in an instant.

The hands holding the pipe were those of both a soldier and a strategist. They were covered in a network of long-healed scars, faintly itching as a reminder of their existence. A couple of fresh scratches looked pale against the backdrop of those scars. Indeed, working with machinery isn’t endless training or combat missions against traitors and terrorists, which, sadly, still hadn’t ended in this vast world.

He wasn’t just smoking—he was performing a ritual known only to him, releasing small clouds of fragrant smoke that lazily drifted in the light of the desk lamp, the office’s sole source of illumination.

His appearance spoke not of a stormtrooper’s brute force but of a surgeon’s insane precision and a hunter’s boundless patience, waiting hours for the perfect moment. Despite his tired gaze, behind it lay a sharp mind that constantly calculated, analyzed, and noticed the tiniest details. The head was dangerous not when shouting orders but in moments of silence, in a calm setting. That’s when he was the most formidable opponent.

He closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts, and took one last drag of the pleasant pipe smoke. He mentally cursed the scientists who had signed his people up for this job. He cursed himself for agreeing to it, seeing some benefit in it. Now he was alone.

If it were up to him, he’d spit on this contract and recruit that unusual drone into his ranks. He’d give him proper training, introduce him to everyone… But a contract is a contract. Elimination is elimination.

But none of it mattered anymore. It no longer made sense… It would all end now, as if it had never begun. This was the end. Good or bad? Who knows. An end that depended on one’s worldview. The head saw nothing wrong with it. He felt bony fingers slowly wrapping around his soul. He savored every last moment of his life.

“Well, you’ve caught up with me… Eternal lady… Heh…” he chuckled hoarsely, staring into the distance. For the last time in his life.

The clock struck 24:00. (Author’s Note: Once again, Copper-9 has 34-hour days, not 24.)

The old-fashioned clock announced it with a loud chime that echoed through the office and sank into the head’s mind, posthumously. Silence fell, unbroken by anything… or so it seemed.

Suddenly, the planet’s horizon was lit by a blinding yellow flash. A pillar of light stretched toward the clouds, reaching for the stars. Despite its apparent harmlessness, the light was so intense it blinded the head even through his closed eyes. His retinas were simply burned out by the fierce glow of the planet’s core explosion.

The head didn’t even have time to clutch his eyes before his body was reduced to a pitiful skeleton, its skin and flesh vaporized. It wasn’t intense heat or anything like it. It was the will of the Absolute Solver, manifested in an explosion.

An explosion caused by a singularity created by Nori. It was the costliest singularity for humanity. Billions perished, every trace of flesh erased from the planet. Forever.

Everything that wasn’t flesh remained untouched. Buildings stood intact, though the shockwave shattered nearby windows and tore off roofs.

Along with the physical shockwave came an electromagnetic wave that burned out all drones near Cabin Fever Labs. The rest went into a prolonged reboot, no matter where they were—even on the other side of the planet. It affected everyone.

Most systems shut down. Streetlights burned their last energy, trying to illuminate bare skeletons frozen in absurd poses.

Computers turned off. Signs burst. It was over.

Humanity on Copper-9 was eradicated…

This marked the beginning of a new era… The start of the “plot”…

Date: September 28, 3050

Time: 7:36

“Brilliant… Well, at least something…” I said, rising from the floor, sitting on my rear with my hands propped behind me. With some amusement, I noted I was sprawled out just like when I first crashed into this abandoned place. A wave of nostalgia hit me hard.

“Heh… I remember how I slammed into this… Roof?” I muttered, confused, looking up. Lowering my head, I surveyed my surroundings. The walls of this abandoned building were no different from before the explosion—still rough and dusty. Looking up again, I stared at the missing roof.

Judging by the lack of debris around me or in the immediate vicinity, it was clear… the roof was gone. Like my mind, once upon a time. Jokes aside, it’s pretty astounding what kind of shockwave could not only shatter windows but also rip the roof off an entire abandoned building. If I’m not too lazy, I’ll do the calculations later. But not now—I need to figure out the situation.

Standing up, I confirmed through practical means that my arms and legs were still attached and hadn’t flown off during the planet’s demise. After the hard shutdown, I felt no heaviness—actually, it was pleasant, like waking up naturally, not from an alarm.

My sword lay beside me, waiting for me to pick it up and carve my way to a bright future… That sounded overly dramatic.

To my great surprise, all the cores in my backpack were functioning perfectly and needed no repairs. The wave hadn’t disrupted their fusion reactions, which, by the way, I’d need to maintain soon. Finding the special oil shouldn’t be a big issue—it’s free now and probably lying around everywhere. It’ll be free unless the drones here figure out capitalism… Though I doubt they’ll ever think of that.

Grabbing the waiting sword, I stretched as usual and headed for the floor’s exit.

Stepping onto the stairwell, I was relieved to see it wasn’t buried in debris. Only some plaster had crumbled, whitening the floor and steps. Otherwise, I’d have had to climb out through a window, which wouldn’t have dampened my mood much.

Descending to the first floor, I once again entered this splendid school hall, drenched in oil. Scattered stones and parts gave it a unique atmosphere, as if it wasn’t home to a small drone killing its kind but to a mad scientist… who killed other small drones. Yeah, it sounds weird. Oh well.

Peering out the window, I couldn’t help but be amazed. It was snowing. Real snow… And it started the moment I came down from the third floor. If I’d lingered a couple of minutes longer, it would’ve caught me up there.

I clearly saw tiny snowflakes swirling in the air, performing impossible acrobatics. There weren’t many yet. But it made me genuinely happy, like a child. I hadn’t seen snow in two years! How could I not rejoice at seeing it for the first time in so long?

I rushed outside, nearly knocking the front door off its hinges. Leaping off the porch, I spread my arms and began to soak in the moment. Some snowflakes landed on me and melted instantly. It felt so good to feel… something. Not cold, just the sensation of cold… Wait, is this even water? It’s kind of murky and… brownish?

Raising one hand, I caught a snowflake, holding it like the most precious treasure of my life. I was curious about what it was made of. Was it really water?

Activating my scanner, I was about to relax when it finished instantly. The results came immediately since some snowflakes had melted on my frame, allowing my system to absorb and analyze their composition.

I’ll be honest. The results terrified me.

“…” My reaction said it all. Well… Yikes… I get it, but… WHAT?! This isn’t a snowflake—it’s chemical warfare! Why am I even functioning?! Shouldn’t this level of radioactivity have turned me into a brick?! These were just some of the many questions swirling in my head.

Alright, let’s gloss over the fact that the scan didn’t find water in this… thing, though there’s some present in small amounts, of course. It just… stuck to the original snowflake during its flight and turned it into this… abomination. The word conglomerate also threw me off at first, until I remembered it doesn’t just refer to some political… whatever, but also to a mix of materials. Like a crystal versus a concrete block—a crystal’s made of one thing, while a concrete block’s a mess of random junk found at a construction site. But the radiation questions didn’t go away. Why am I still alive, then? Or wait… am I alive… temporarily?! That changes everything… Now I need to judge based on how this radiation feels. Or better yet, check myself thoroughly for any resistance to radioactive particles. As a drone with full access to my body, the answer came quickly. And I didn’t like it one bit. Not at all.

I can resist radiation, but with… caveats. I have nanobot regeneration, slow but effective. If a transistor in my processor fails due to radiation, it’s instantly replaced by another. For me, it shows up as a minor visual glitch or a bit flipping from 0 to 1 and back. Only my systems are vulnerable; the rest of my body is fully protected. My arms and legs, sourced from local drones, are built for exoplanets, so the chips in them are untouched. My body doesn’t have the same protection as my limbs, but aside from the core, there’s not much in there. And the core? It’s made of Ostvol, which blocks radiation. In short, everything but my head is safe.

So why didn’t I like this info? The cumulative effect. At some point, the nanobots won’t keep up with the radiation, and I’ll start getting white noise—not just in my audio sensors but in my visual ones too. Memory sectors will “die,” and I’ll forget what I did or what I learned long ago. Dementia, basically. And of course, freezes. My logic will fade, my reactions will slow to a crawl, and in the end, I’ll be a lifeless dummy lying on the ground, draining the last of my core’s energy. If I end up in a high-radiation zone, I’ll be in deep trouble, worse than a human. If I had Absolute Solver regeneration, I could just ignore the radiation and charge through. Solver regen is leagues faster than a regular drone’s. Alright, no time for depression. I need to move forward, or I’m done for.

Exhaling, I looked around. Dangerous snowflakes swirled in the rays of the morning star, turning my sour mood into something greater. Inspiration. With a smirk, I brushed a couple of snowflakes off my display, wary of the radiation doing serious harm, and headed out of the school grounds. This is gonna be a long journey.

Stepping beyond the territory and passing through the rusted main gates, unused for ages, I turned my gaze to the right. Somewhere out there, many kilometers ahead, lies a very important building I need. I learned about it while studying this planet’s map. Just what I need, heh. And I even knew how far I had to go—114 kilometers. Even at my max speed of 95 km/h, it’ll take time to get there. To the R&D Institute… I have to set up a base there; it’s got all the equipment I need for my goals. That’s something.

Sighing through my teeth, I braced for a very long marathon. A marathon over a hundred kilometers long. Good thing I can’t get tired. Clicking my leg servos, I started running, gradually picking up speed. Metal buildings zipped by faster and faster. The thin layer of snow already covering the roads kicked up as I passed. It took just ten seconds to hit my max speed of 95 km/h. All I had to do was maintain it and watch the road—crashing into something would suck. Cars in my way weren’t an issue; I either jumped over them or, when possible, shoved them to the roadside or into a building. Whatever worked, honestly. At one point, I ran across a bridge over a small canal. I kicked one car so hard it broke the railing and fell into the water below. Made a hell of a noise, but whatever.

Near the end of the run, I noticed drones starting to rise from the ground, shaking their heads in confusion, looking at the skinless human corpses and each other. I couldn’t catch their reactions as I sped by, but the fact that they’re waking up is good news. If I need new cores, I can go on a little… safari. Cruel, sure, but as they say, survival of the fittest.

After an hour and some change, I started slowing down as the map showed I was close. Dropping to 50 km/h, I scanned my surroundings more carefully. Besides the thin snow layer, I noticed this area was far more civilized than anywhere else I’d been. The research sector. No residential buildings or anything like that—just one- or two-story labs. It felt like I could jump onto a roof without much effort. Just a feeling, though. This sector could almost be called an R&D Institute, but not quite. I hadn’t reached it yet. This was just the prelude. The real stuff starts further ahead. A few steps forward and a couple of turns, and I’d see not just a building, but a BUILDING. Which I did.

It was truly majestic. White metal walls, gleaming brightly against the other buildings, seemed to try blinding me, urging me to stop. But I pressed on like a bulldozer. The fully transparent windows revealed the building’s insides, glinting and glowing as if with joy. It all made me feel… anticipation? I wouldn’t mistake this feeling for anything else. The sense that something… wonderful was about to happen. Something pleasant that’d make me soar. Heh.

Stepping onto the dusty porch, I carefully opened the glass door and entered the hall. A deathly silence greeted me, broken only by the ticking of an ordinary wall clock, confirming this place was real, not a figment of my imagination. Moving deeper, I approached and studied the signs hanging from the ceiling. Perfect. Ignoring signs for the cafeteria, cloakroom, restroom, and other irrelevant stuff, I zeroed in on “Main Laboratory” with an arrow pointing forward and slightly right. According to the sign, the main lab was under the stairs. Can’t blame humans for that—makes sense; you can’t shove a big lab onto the second floor. Unfortunately.

Walking across the polished floor under the stairs, I reached an unassuming double door made of some dense metal. Not Ostvol—I’d recognize that a mile away. This was something else, but just as sturdy. I’d figure it out later. Grabbing the handle, I pulled. The door resisted, and I felt the weight of the metal it was made from. Heavy as hell, but understandable—this is the most important lab in the institute. Maybe it hides something entirely new, something this world has never seen. Anything’s possible.

With effort, I opened the metal slab and stepped inside. I was struck by the lack of windows and the working ceiling lights, which functioned perfectly—surprising. Moving further, I saw a ton of unfamiliar equipment I’d probably never know how to use. Not my kind of work. Ignoring the equipment, I headed straight for a massive, strange structure at the end of the room. Something definitely new, unlike anything I’d seen in this world.

This… thing looked like an inverted candelabra or chandelier with upward-pointing tubes, all encased in a glass cylinder. From a wide disc on the ceiling—the structure’s base—hung polished, mirror-like golden plates of varying diameters. Each plate was smaller than the one above, forming a conical, tiered cascade. This costly-looking horror was entwined with countless tiny wires and tubes, bundled together and disappearing into the walls and floor. The wires were unusual—glowing in rainbow colors, as if made of light. The copper tubes beside them clearly carried something extremely cold. At the center of this golden cage hung an almost invisible black chip, connected to all the wires and tubes. The heart of this divine creation.

A faint hum emanated from the structure, seeping into my circuits and resonating with vibrations. It felt pleasant and… natural? Like meeting a wise relative who starts preaching about the meaning of life and sharing wisdom. I stopped a few meters from this marvel, frozen, trying to process every vibration this beast produced. After a few dozen seconds, it hit me to find the control panel for this thing. A terminal that might answer all my questions about its purpose. Scanning the room, I spotted a podium with a display, welded to the floor.

Approaching it, I peered at the screen. It showed the cooling system’s status (which, as I later realized, does not correspond to reality at all.) and other aspects of this computer’s integrity. A quantum computer. The terminal confirmed it—a real quantum computer. It looked… stunning, no doubt about it. Pure beauty, especially those plates. I was dying to know its power, so I glanced at the terminal again, focusing on the line about available qubits. I expected a couple million, but… oh, how wrong I was. Seeing the number, my jaw nearly dropped, and I barely stayed upright. This…

“FIFTEEN TRILLION FUCKING QUBITS?!”

This was it… The number burned on the terminal’s display as my pathetic processor struggled to comprehend what I was facing. The concept of absolute power, strength, madness… I tried to grasp the scale… Too much… It wasn’t just “a lot,” not just “a ton,” not even “a shitload.” No words could accurately describe this level of computational power. Everything I mentioned earlier could apply to a warehouse of bullets, but this… This number belonged to another dimension of existence…

My mind raced through what could be done with this power. Streams of data flooded my head… Fifteen trillion entangled qubits… With them, you could crack any conceivable or inconceivable cipher in the universe—not just in no time, but in negative time, predicting its creation. It’s enough to calculate the movement of every radioactive particle on this planet a million years forward and backward. Enough to create a perfect simulation of reality and live billions, if not trillions, of lives in the time it takes a snowflake to hit the ground.

This… monster could simulate me. Every thought… every action… every decision, every glitch in my shoddy code… All I just described, this computer could do without breaking a sweat, handling data like a math teacher solves linear equations… Even my shock at what I saw could just be projected by this… this machine…

I-I… I can’t use it… Not because of morals or fear… No… There’s no one left on this planet who can interact with this divine power. Not even a drone. They weren’t allowed in the institute—this was purely a human endeavor… I could… find a manual or something, but I’m not sure I’d make it in time… Without proper maintenance, the chip will die, fail…

I need to find a solution fast. Or wait…

Looking at the terminal again, I exhaled in frustration and smashed a nearby workbench with force. It shattered into splinters, its legs and tabletop chunks scattering across the lab. My reaction was triggered by… the information… What’s the point of this quantum computer if… THE MAIN CHIP IS DESTROYED?! It was fried the moment Copper-9 exploded. That energy wave destabilized the quantum connections. It’s just a piece of something plugged into a quantum computer now! An empty shell… Those fifteen trillion were the amount that this computer could support, but did not have at that moment.

The irony is, a quantum computer could solve my “problem” of lacking computational power. With it, I could freely use the Absolute Solver and similar abilities, and any electronics would be child’s play… I could predict every move and choose the best outcome, but… energy… I can’t power it… Everything’s connected…

“I need to find a solution to this problem… If it’s not right under my nose…” I glanced suspiciously at the computers on the workbenches. They could, in theory, hold all the info I need about this place. Approaching a table and picking up a system unit, I inspected it closely. It looked like a unit straight out of the 2000s, but with a catch. Tearing off the side panel, I examined the components. A CPU bolted to a motherboard screwed into the case. Two “button” RAM modules instead of standard sticks—more efficient, less space. And a disk-like thing, attached with cables, separate from the assembly. Perfect.

The catch? When I saw the RAM measured in petabytes, my eyes nearly popped out—screw the fact that they’re just illusory orbs. If only I had that much RAM in my old PC… Mmm… No time for daydreaming. Pulling out the disk, I examined it. Looked like a standard SSD, a flat black rectangle, but instead of a SATA port, something else entirely. Whatever. Spinning it in my hand, I pulled the right cable from the back of my neck—yep, drones can connect to anything—and plugged it into the disk. Instantly, I started sifting through its contents.

Skipping reports and other useless info, I swam through a river of data, searching for something useful. Archive photos? Nope. Installation files? Nope… I need something… Aha. Found it. Unplugging the disk, I tossed it at the wall and sat on the floor, processing the new info. So, first off, most of this sector is the R&D Institute—obvious. The kicker? It’s way bigger than I expected. Not just five square kilometers of territory…

Over four hundred square kilometers…

Four hundred square kilometers, not counting the building itself. In short, behind this institute is a damn forest with other labs and miscellaneous crap connected to the main building. But that’s not all—the info, or rather its backups, is stored underground in the center of this forest. And the power source for all this madness? According to the data… IT RUNS ON NUCLEAR FUSION! Humans stuffed fusion reactors everywhere they could… Even my heart’s a tiny fusion reactor. Getting up, I headed out. Not out of the institute, but to the grounds. Now I have to find this damn server. Luckily, I know it’s somewhere near the center—hope I get lucky.

Opening the door, I stepped outside calmly and spread my arms, catching the snowflakes. Yes, I know they’re dangerous, but still. Feels nice… The sun hid behind snowy clouds, barely lighting the area. The brutal -40°C was refreshing. We’re built for -120°C, hah… Alright, time to start searching, or I’ll freeze in place.

Looking at this… forest? Nah, you can’t call it a forest. The trees were too far apart and had too few leaves. I’m sure the explosion’s shockwave blew some off, but still. It’s more like a park or something. Too few plants. I still don’t get why they built labs in this… botanical garden. If it’s for easier access to organic resources, that makes sense. Run out of test subjects? Step outside, grab some leaves, and keep experimenting. If it’s for other reasons… I still don’t get it.

Swinging my arms to check my control, I grinned happily. Control’s perfect, as always. After a couple of seconds, without much prep, I started accelerating from the institute’s back porch. Not bad at all. My metal frame darted into the forest, smoothly dodging trees, rocks, and, oddly enough, human skeletons. Hee-hee-hee, looks like the institute was operational when the planet died. Well, I can only wish those people a happy journey, their skin and flesh wiped off their bones. Heh… Yeah, I’m cruel. I ran, using my trusty sword to carve a path. Trees fell, unable to withstand my skill; skeletons shattered under my strikes. In that moment, I felt truly free. No surveillance, no humans. Just me and the white noise in my radio module.

After six minutes or so, I reached the center of the grounds and scanned for the building I needed. Thinking critical servers would be aboveground was naive—stupidly naive. Better to look downward than scan the horizon. Wandering the “forest” center, I stumbled on an interesting gray structure. A bunker, or rather, its entrance. A thick metal plate jutting from the ground at an angle hid a monumental door with a terminal on the nearby wall. One look told me that even if I could open it, moving it would be a nightmare. Pure Ostvol… They love that metal here… Osmium-tungsten alloy… Hah…

“Found it…” I said, approaching and inspecting the entrance sharply. At the bottom of the door—two meters wide, four meters tall—were small ventilation holes. From what I could tell, they were designed to block anything but air. So, it’s vulnerable to gases. Rolling my eyes, I stepped up and looked at the terminal. One glance told me hacking it was pointless. Not because I couldn’t—because there’s a much easier, faster way.

Spinning my sword, I pierced the terminal’s display, accessing its insides. The panel sparked, resisting such a brutal act, but I was relentless. Seconds later, it quieted, and the door opened with a deep groan, letting me into the darkness… Well, damn… Good thing my drone type has active night vision. Activating it, everything turned green and much clearer.

A loud creak interrupted my observation. Turning, I saw the Ostvol door close with a dull, almost final thud, cutting off my way back. Cutting me off from the outside world. With night vision, everything was clear green outlines, so I wasn’t bothered. The only issue? No way back now. But soon, I had to ditch night vision. Emergency ceiling lights, encased in thick grilles, cast a lifeless glow that replaced it. Dim, but for drones, a single photon’s enough to see and understand. The silence was broken by the persistent hum of ventilation shafts, connected to backup air filtration systems across the institute’s grounds, per the disk’s info. More than enough.

Moving deeper, I touched the rough concrete walls. A surprising sight in this world—I hadn’t seen plain concrete structures, even walls, in ages. Really surprising. This magnificence covered the walls of a long corridor, lit only by faint emergency lights. I walked to the corridor’s end, keeping contact with the wall. Felt too good to touch something familiar, something I grew up with. But I had to stop the fun and get to work. Taking my sword in my right hand (I’d switched it to my left while touching the wall), I sized up the second door. Yep, a double-door system—the second was gas-proof but thinner. The first was maybe fifty centimeters thick; this one, no more than ten.

With a light swing, I sliced through it with my sword. Nothing can resist a damn near-molecular, almost atomic blade. For it, this was a joke. The door was cut just enough to avoid extra effort. And sure enough, it began to fall. Toward me… I jumped back at the last second, barely staying upright. With a crash, the door hit the floor, kicking up a dust cloud that filled my visual sensors. Lowering my arms from my face, I looked at the door, shrugged, and stepped inside. The server room… Dozens, if not hundreds, of monolithic blocks stretched deep into the space. Their front panels were studded with countless blinking LEDs—green, yellow, red. They seemed alive, flickering in a silent dialogue. As mesmerizing as the radioactive snow outside.

Approaching the nearest rack, I touched it gently. Cold air brushed my hand and moved on. The cooling system was running at its bare minimum. With humanity gone, no one’s using this data, so no need to shuffle it between local hosts and servers. Beautiful. I felt the vibration of the rack’s drives. Pleasant. I knew everything I needed was here—personnel files, tactical maps, even now-useless patrol schedules. Humanity’s just skeletons now. But I didn’t need the servers themselves—just their active network. The main computer, the terminal with access to all the data in this room. I could not only steal and absorb the info but also take control of the servers, bending them to my will.

Scanning the rows of server racks, I spotted what I needed. At the far end, on a small platform, stood a lone terminal surrounded by multiple monitors. Unlike the monolithic blocks, it looked like a workstation. Exactly what I needed. I moved toward my goal. The LEDs seemed to watch me with cold, indifferent digital stares. As they say, see the goal, ignore the obstacles? Crossing the corridor of server racks and reaching the terminal, I inspected it. No protection—no cameras, laser grids, or other nonsense to block my data hunger. No built-in webcams on the monitors, no motion sensors on the keyboard keycaps.

Suspicious… Too… little protection for a bunker like this. Those thick doors couldn’t be the only defense, right? I refuse to believe the people here were idiots. Or that they didn’t bother with better security than a couple of thick doors. I even checked all my radio frequencies for hidden surveillance that could harm me. Found nothing, unfortunately.

I unplugged the cable linking all the servers and connected it to the back of my neck, diving into the data river as usual. But something was off—the data was there and… not there at the same time. Something blocked my access.

“There’s the security system…” I muttered with a heavy sigh. And in that moment, I felt my mind being pried open. Like someone was scratching at my digital brain while hammering the back of my skull. I felt like a tin can under an opener—something minor but inescapable.

If I don’t act, I’ll become a mindless puppet in the digital claws of this complex’s security AI. What I learned during this brief attack on my mind: every system has a weak point. Despite being designed to eliminate threats, this AI was barely protected itself. At least, I felt no resistance. I realized it was on the level of a standard worker drone’s intelligence—no more, no less. But that didn’t negate its power. A regular worker drone couldn’t even breach my mind, even with direct access. It’d hit a wall of mental digital defenses.

But this AI… its power went far beyond a worker drone’s digital capabilities. It was like it was hooked up to external hardware, working as a single unit. That explained its lack of protection—a swift, brutal attack to crush the victim’s mind. But I’m no pushover. These thoughts took less than a second, but the AI, realizing its prey was too strong, made a seemingly useless but effective move. With a loud crash, the door at the other end of the room slammed shut, cutting me off not just from the second wing but from everything else. The AI decided if it couldn’t beat me, it’d take me down with it, letting me die here from lack of oil. Nice try.

The pressure on my mind intensified tenfold. It felt like my brain was in a vice, slowly tightening, crushing my circuits without care. Visual sensors glitched—black dots and image bugs flickered. My internal interface was unreadable. My head split from the insane mental strain. I didn’t expect this in this world. I should’ve prepared… But here I am, and I can’t lose… or it’s over. I felt something creeping into my mind, reaching for data cables to continue its journey through my system… But…

Something inside me didn’t like the AI’s actions. Rage. Cold, digital rage, fueled by all the cores I carried, surged through my being, burning the AI’s tiny fragments that had infiltrated my program.

“You dare?!” I said, both mentally and aloud, cranking my speakers to max. My voice, laced with steel, thundered through the empty hall, making the floor tremble slightly. The server racks froze for a few seconds, not a single LED changing. That was me… speaking in a foreign voice. The voice of what I’m trying to control. The voice of an entity that knew nothing surpassed it when it came to code domination. The Absolute Solver.

“You dare… harm the host… of the Absolute Solver?!” My mind faded to the background as those words echoed in the room and my head. I relinquished control to the planet’s deadliest virus. This virus knows how to wield its power, and I had no doubt it could win this fight.

First, I—or rather, it—altered the data streams. My mind grew “spikes.” On contact, the AI gave me full access to itself. I destroyed it simply by counterattacking. While the AI struggled to comprehend, I continued the execution. I invaded its pseudo-mind and obliterated data packets. This wasn’t hacking anymore—it was incineration, the destruction of another being’s mind. “I” struck its weak point with full force. Its unprotected spot, its Achilles’ heel—its defenses.

It had no rights, no protocols, to counter this attack. I felt its “panic”—it didn’t know what to do. It was just a tool to protect the servers’ data with brute force, and I was the executioner who’d discard a broken tool. It howled. Not with sound, but in the digital realm, spewing useless data and errors. I stood before it, its data stream like blood. I saw its personality disintegrate under my assault. I clearly saw a drone with light-green eyes fall apart, its pieces evaporating. I saw tears on its display, its beige jacket with fur vanishing with its body in the data stream. It tried to say something but didn’t have time. Its head was erased, along with its existence. No one would ever find its remains. They don’t exist.

Silence fell. Deathly silence. The pressure vanished. Control returned to me. Outside the digital world, only the hum of hundreds of server racks remained. During our battle, the hum had spiked by a few decibels, but now it was as faint as before. The whole thing took less than twenty seconds. Only I’d know a protector existed here. Annoying, but a protector. Someday, I’ll make a grave for it. It was forced to work here… like everyone else. Staying put, I commanded myself, wasting no more time:

“Begin execution…” In the digital world, images, code lines, single files, binary, and other encodings flashed around me at breakneck speed. One thing was clear—processing all this data would take a lot of time. A whole lot.

Date: September 21, 3051

Time: 28:03

Data cycled through my systems, processing for what felt like the third time to catch every detail that might matter in any situation. This was the last of the data center’s contents, and I was trying to absorb it all. I knew everything that happened and was planned on this planet. I knew no being was smarter than me now. Hah… Almost funny… For convenience, I sat in a lotus pose like a Buddhist monk to ease this grueling task. Running through everything on these servers was tough and unpleasant, but I managed somehow. And yes, running through, not copying—copying’s inefficient, and I’m not sure my storage could handle the overload. I extracted only the critical stuff, stripping away fluff in texts and visuals in videos, turning it all into zeros and ones.

I was surprised—through sheer effort—that the servers had info on me and my sister. This data center was the planet’s hub, containing even data from Cabin Fever Labs’ computers. Yep, that Cabin Fever, underground, guarded by half a hundred Sentinels. Though I’m not sure about that anymore—most are probably dead, plus the ones I killed myself, can’t forget those.

As for Cyn… I’m nowhere near her level. Like reaching Proxima Centauri on tailless cats. The first Solver host, what do you expect? Though that’s debatable since I exist, and my Solver’s far from ordinary… Probably.

Unplugging the cable from my head, I struggled to my feet and immediately fell back, catching myself with my hands. Sweat droplets raced across my display. Walking was harder than I thought—the servers had data on all kinds of drone and robot movements, each with different controls. My body control was a mess. But it was a matter of seconds. After a bit, I stood again without collapsing from confusion. Taking a few test steps on the tiled floor—polished so well it reflected my white-eyed face—I smirked and, with some caution, jumped… Definitely higher than a human could. It took a millisecond, and a dumb idea hit me. Twisting my body, I did a flip and landed on my feet. A freaking somersault! Hahaha! I couldn’t do that as a human, but as a drone… Easy! Especially with the extra control data from the servers… Perfect.

I also noticed my core felt heavier. I could even sense it moving inside me… The paradox? I never felt my insides move before, nor should they. Right after landing, I scanned my internal systems. No errors, thankfully, but my core was in its usual terrible state, and… there was some organic growth around it, spreading to my arms, legs, and head. Of course… How could I forget… All Solver hosts have a trait—cores encased in flesh. Red chunks of organic matter clung to the core’s exterior… It has perks: if my core’s ripped out, I can escape. It’s also decent cooling. Though cooling’s for the processor, not the core, but it’ll do. No downsides yet, except the blood. Processing speed’s up a bit too—like I was reborn. Not from “training” the processor—probably the Solver’s enhanced cooling boosting my processor by a few percent.

Now, after that mental load, I can calmly return to the institute. What could’ve happened in a year? Hah, doubt anyone looted it—drones don’t know what’s here. Or what a quantum computer is… Heh-heh-heh…

“Yeva? Are you… sure this is the place?” Nori asked, staring in confusion at the large white R&D Institute building. Her question made sense—the two had trekked many kilometers to get here. No guarantees they’d find what they needed, but they came anyway.

“Absolutely sure. After our brief but useful acquaintance with him, I can say with confidence this is the first place he’d go—or already went. We’ll see,” the red-eyed drone replied in Russian, cracking open the glass door and stepping inside. A dusty atmosphere greeted her, the hall filthy. Expected, since no one’s used this place in almost a year. Nori followed, scanning the massive complex’s interior. Nothing here made sense to her, except the computers and tech gadgets. That was her limit for now.

“So much stuff…” the purple-eyed drone whispered, eyeing the far corners of the vast building. The more she looked, the more odd thoughts popped into her head. She voiced one:

“Why didn’t we bring Dima? Looking at all this, I’m sure he’d love it here. And I’d love to see how he’d react to your ‘ex,’” Nori giggled, tilting her head and twirling her braid. Her face showed childish curiosity, her lips curling into a slightly sly smile, revealing razor-sharp fangs.

Yeva shot her friend an irritated glance over her shoulder. Her eyes displayed a (T_T) expression, a zero split by a slash. For a moment, the red-eyed drone felt a burning urge to behead this annoying pest but restrained herself, canceling the knife-creation command at the last second.

“First: he saved me from muteness—so if you say anything bad about him again, rest assured, you’ll wake up with a couple dozen knives in your core. Got it?” Yeva hissed without turning. Despite her usual cold demeanor, an irritation icon—a bulging vein—flashed in the top right of her display under her dark purple hair.

“Second: it’s hard to miss that sword-wielding lunatic. You know he’ll do anything to achieve his mysterious goals. His motto’s practically ‘the end justifies the means.’ That’s why I didn’t bring Dima. I’m worried about what Ai might do to him,” she said on an exhale, calming slightly. Lowering her gaze to the floor, she stopped in the middle of the hall and continued:

“And killing him? Not easy. He’s tough, but if he attacks my husband, I’d have to choose. I’d have to kill Ai, but that’s a mental test I wouldn’t pass… Or he’d just pin us to a wall, which we can’t rule out either,” Yeva’s mood shifted, a faint smile appearing. She knew she couldn’t stand up to Ai, even if he was half-dead. He was just too smart for her. For them.

“Don’t take it personally. Back then, you two really seemed like a couple,” Nori shrugged, stepping further into the building, lightly scanning the surroundings. She knew her friend hated these topics… but it was just funny to her. And she’d keep it up until someone seriously threatened her.

“Anyway, he should be somewhere h—” Yeva didn’t finish. A loud crash from the other end of the building shook the floor. The combat duo snapped to attention, ready for anything.

Five minutes earlier…

My attempts to escape the bunker had some success. With my trusty sword, which refused to let me go and vibrated gently in my hand, I literally carved a path through the corridor. That AI had locked me in the server room, and unfortunately, I couldn’t find any control panels while scanning the data, so I had to break out manually. With a final swing and a loud creak, the middle of the steel door fell to the floor, kicking up dust. A wide passage to the corridor opened, and I didn’t hesitate to use it. The emergency lights were still on, burning the last drops of the local power source. I walked slowly, sadly eyeing the dusty floor. A whole year… I spent all that time reading server data… So much wasted time… No time to cry.

Luckily, another door awaited at the corridor’s end. Why luckily? Because I could test my new abilities. The corridor darkened toward the end, with only the terminal’s light visible from afar. Now I’d try hacking it. From the servers, I learned these terminals also accept passwords. Before, I just ripped them out of the wall, but now… Now I’d open them like I’m the head admin. Approaching the terminal, I pressed several invisible, hidden buttons, entering a complex password. These buttons were deliberately concealed to restrict access. But I’m no fool—I know everything here… The terminal blinked, as if surprised someone was using it after so long. Hundreds of code lines flashed across the display and vanished. Seconds later, words appeared:

The thick door slowly opened. With every centimeter, more moonlight—not sunlight—poured into the corridor. Still… nice. I instantly felt the planet’s icy air. Despite being underground, the bunker was surprisingly warm—warmer than I expected. Probably some heating system or something else. When the door fully opened, I stepped outside with a calm soul and some excitement. Within a second, my sensors blared warnings, but I ignored them. Radiation… Scary stuff, but I can handle this “snow” long enough without getting robo-radiation sickness. Not for years, but enough to dash to key locations.

Stretching, I surveyed the night forest. Pure beauty. Snow blanketed the eternally frozen tree branches, glowing faintly in the moonlight. A soft snow cushion covered the ground, hiding human skeletons, dead plants, and more. I exhaled—it all ended so fast and unexpectedly. Hah… Almost funny… Stretching my new “flesh,” I peered into the distance. Per the map, the R&D Institute is at about 11 o’clock from my position. That’s where I’ll go—just hope I don’t trip while running. Falling would hurt. I’ll also check my speed; a year of sitting probably didn’t do wonders for my mobility.

Without prep, I started accelerating. The first 30 km/h came easily, like it was nothing. At this speed, jumping over ravines, branches, and rocks was a breeze. I kept going. 60 km/h—still smooth, snow kicking up slightly as I passed. I felt that punching a tree at this speed would turn it to splinters. Odd thoughts. I couldn’t calculate my punch force while running before, but now… Easy. And I kept accelerating. Soon, I hit my old 95 km/h. I was flying, my coat flapping wildly. But to my shock, the acceleration didn’t stop. With each second, I went faster—100 km/h, then 110, then 120. That’s where it capped. Trees became blurry smudges, passing too fast for me to react properly. My head warned that crashing into a tree at this speed would shatter me and the tree. I’d be a puddle of oil and display glass shards.

“AHHH! How do I steer?!” I weaved through trees, trying not to lose control. Braking wasn’t an option—I’d likely trip and, instead of running at 120 km/h, I’d be flying at 120 km/h. Air resistance slowed me slightly, but it wouldn’t save me from smashing into the ground or a tree—or both. I’d have to run to the institute and figure out braking there. I didn’t have to wait long. Three minutes later, I saw the institute’s white walls in the distance, approaching fast. Alright… Better crash into the institute’s wall than a tree. More surface area, less chance of being torn apart. Luckily, I was heading straight for the back entrance… but the catch? I was aimed at a metal door. This’ll hurt. Alright, as Nagato said, “Know pain”? I’m about to know it fully.

Extending my arms to absorb some impact, I closed my eyes and slammed into the metal door at insane speed. It—sadly, or maybe luckily—didn’t stop me. It wailed like a living thing as my metal frame hit it at 120 km/h. The hinges, embedded in concrete for strength, were ripped out, turning part of the wall to dust. The lock mechanism, which I didn’t even know was there, shattered. For a moment, I and this armored Ostvol slab became one—a projectile continuing its interrupted flight. My forearm servos bent with a protesting screech, and hydraulic lines burst from the strain. At least they cushioned the blow—thanks for that… My arms, though, are toast.

My suffering didn’t end there. A second, duller, harder impact followed almost immediately. The door ahead of me smashed into the opposite corridor wall. With a sickening crack, the reinforced concrete began to break under the force. It wasn’t designed for this. I’m shocked the wall didn’t collapse. Concrete dust and plaster rained on my head. The door became part of the wall, crumpled like a metal napkin. That ended my run. First impressions? My body’s one step from being scrap… But it’s fixable if I can reach tools… Hahaha, saying that like I can even move… My body was screaming its awful state:

Hell if I know. Hm… One perk of being a drone: even if all my limbs are torn off, I’ll think as calmly as if nothing happened. AI’s so OP, you have no idea… Mmm… And I don’t feel pain—just my calculations flooded with useless damage data I can ignore. Beautiful… Alright… Based on the stats, I can still move. My legs are functional enough. Arms… let’s not talk about arms. Current quest: get out of the wall. Shouldn’t be hard. And it wasn’t. Stepping back, I separated from the door. Sort of. My arms were still in it, flattened into oil and titanium rod fragments. Looking up, I saw display glass shards embedded in the door. I could see by some miracle—my photosensitive sensors survived this madness. What a mess. I also couldn’t move my mouth at all. Some actuators for mouth movement had crumbled. So annoying. Alright… I need to fix myself… and figure out how, or I’ll die from oil loss…

My glitching vision didn’t stop me from seeing the dust covering the institute’s objects—cabinets, tables, desk lamps. Nothing escaped the test of time, which had just begun. I shuffled down the corridor. Bet there’s a trail of oil behind me… Heh… Right now, I’m more zombie than drone. With slow steps, I finally reached the hall. As I rolled my eyes in relief, a… knife stopped right in front of my display. It took a moment to process why a floating object was in my home. I thought it was a visual glitch, but no—the knife hovered motionless. I stared at it for five seconds before shifting to the handle. No one was holding it… or maybe someone was. A red symbol—a hexagon with lines—wrapped around it. Oh, come on, it’s the Solver—what’s going on?! Keeping my focus on the knife’s tip aimed at my ruined display, I slowly turned to its likely owner.

I met the gaze of a red-eyed drone, glaring threateningly with her Solver trained on me. Yeva—been a while… Heh-heh-heh… Things are looking up. I wanted to smile but couldn’t… Sadly, I couldn’t even wave, so I just kept staring. Yeva hadn’t changed a bit. Same patient gown, her signature accessory. Her ID tag with her number, still on even after her death. And most importantly—dark purple hair, faintly glinting in the light from outside.

“What’s this corpse?” Hearing that, I turned a bit more to the right and saw… Nori. Expected—she and Yeva are inseparable until they can defend themselves. Nori was almost identical to Yeva. Same gown, same ID tag, just a different number: 002 instead of 048. Her hair was lighter purple, shorter than her red-eyed friend’s, with a braid on the right falling just below her shoulder, matching her display color.

“He looks suspiciously like our mutual friend, don’t you think?” she asked, turning to Yeva with a slight smile.

“If you’re Ai… tell me how we met! One wrong word, and this knife goes through your… display,” Yeva faltered at the end, struggling to name what was left of my shattered display. Can’t blame her—I don’t know what to call it either.

“Didn’t know you could threaten,” Nori remarked, crossing her arms and eyeing my frame appraisingly. Nodding to her own thoughts, she turned back to Yeva and said, barely hiding a smirk,

“Wouldn’t it be easier to make him talk? A piece of wood stays a piece of wood, even if you threaten it.” That stung, but the purple-displayed drone was right—if I stand here half-dead, they won’t get anything out of me. Not because I’m stubborn, but because I physically can’t speak.

“You’re right,” Yeva replied coldly. Raising her left hand, she activated a second Solver and aimed it at me. The arrows shifted to a strange circle I last saw when I rebuilt my hand back on Earth. I felt changes in my internal structure. Vocal module wires reconnected to decoders rising from the ashes. Crumbled mouth actuators reassembled, restoring full function. It was glorious. In just ten seconds, I could speak and move my mouth like I hadn’t crashed into a wall at insane speed.

“Well? Can you talk now?” the red-eyed drone asked, dismissing the second Solver. The knife still hovered before my face, glinting menacingly in the dim light.

“If I could draw my sword right now, Nori, I’d show you why you shouldn’t call me a piece of wood. Or do you want me to repeat those threats from under the church?” My shattered display tried to form an irritated, angry grimace but managed only pathetic, multicolored pixel glitches. With a tired sigh, I tried to raise my hand… and remembered I don’t have one. No arms at all.

“He can definitely talk,” Nori smirked, looking at me with a smug, victorious grin, like a cat that ate a truckload of cream. She’s even boosting her ego at my expense… What a nightmare… Give me someone to kill, I’ll be gentle. Promise. Shifting my gaze to Yeva, I gave a weak smile. She still eyed me suspiciously, her Solver menacingly spinning in her hand.

“How we met…” I said, as if tasting the question. Yeva visibly tensed.

“Need a reminder of how you tried to hide from me when I burst into your room? Or how you helped me fix my backpack?” I nodded toward the backpack miraculously still hanging on my back, woven with Ostvol threads. “Or how I dragged that heavy cabinet? Pick one—I don’t care. I’ll answer all your questions.” My weak smile turned blatantly smug. If I had a full display, it’d show a downright devious face.

Yeva slowly lowered her Solver and approached my half-dead frame in small steps. For a moment, she tried to peer into my display but gave up and hugged me tightly. My systems screamed about overloading nanofiber cables—too much data was flowing through them. I shoved the damage data to the back of the queue, savoring the embrace. After a couple of minutes, Yeva finally let go and stepped back. The damage data still overloaded the cables but was now a steady stream, not wild spikes. What am I even talking about? Pain? Oh, you mean that “pain” drones feel? It’s just a DDoS attack on their processors with damage data. I can disable it, so I don’t feel it. Others are too dumb to dig into their systems and comment out a few lines to kill that useless function.

“I missed you… Should I fix you up? You look… dead?” Yeva asked, looking into my eyes with a hint of pity. I hate pity—it feels like cockroaches crawling over me while drinking my blood. But I won’t refuse her offer. I have no choice; I can’t repair myself.

“Preferably,” I replied curtly, barely standing. Let’s not forget the quarter-ton of drone cores on my back. My legs are intact enough to handle the load… Thankfully, local worker drone limbs don’t have a resource-saving mode, or I wouldn’t have even climbed out of that wall, let alone walked.

Nodding decisively, Yeva activated her Absolute Solver and aimed it at me. With a quick, commanding glance at Nori, she beckoned the purple-eyed drone over and, with a slight nod, made her activate her Solver too. My repair was about to begin… Otherwise, I wouldn’t last long. Creation circles glowed in both girls’ hands, and within seconds, I felt changes that sent my systems into ecstasy. It was so satisfying to watch errors vanish, leaving no trace in the logs. Glorious.

It started with my arms. They literally regenerated from nothing. With sacred relief, I watched them grow back, shimmering with liquid, transmuted metal. Like countless nanorobots building a new mechanism. It took ten seconds for my arms to hit a stable 100%. Next were my legs, taking even less time. Through my torn pants, I saw, even with my damaged sensor, how they regained their old shine, like new. Then my body, instantly shedding dents and foreign objects like concrete chunks. All limb attachments were restored, and I could move freely again. Finally, my head. My display grew back on my face. Glass shards writhed and merged, restoring my face from nothing. My head shed dents and regained its shape.

It seemed like it’d stop there, but no. Just the beginning. Next was my clothing, reduced to scraps from the wall crash. I saw Nori grab some metal junk and break it into components, turning solid metal into threads for my clothes. These wove with regular threads, rebuilding the structure. Tears sealed and reinforced, oil stains decomposed into materials for restoration. In under a minute, my clothes gleamed like new. The girls turned to my backpack, transforming it from trash to a civilized bag you wouldn’t be ashamed to carry. It got reinforced… Well, it was already reinforced, but now even more so.

They lowered their hands and looked at me with admiration and pride, as if I were their finest creation. Raising and moving my arm, I smiled and drew my sword from its sheath with one fluid motion. Spinning it like a casual trick, I sheathed it with the same ease. Looking at the girls, I placed my left hand behind my back and gave a slight bow. A butler, after all.

“Thank you,” I smiled, standing to my full height. At 178 cm, I was a giant compared to them—two and a half heads taller than Yeva. Taller than disassembly drones at 160 cm. To me, they’re kids. Heh…

“A question’s been nagging me… Why hasn’t Cyn gotten rid of you? You look like a breeze could kill you,” Nori asked, hiding her concern. Don’t worry, dear, I know you meant no harm, so you’re probably safe from threats. Maybe. My smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. Interesting question, and I knew the answer.

“Cyn loves me so much she’d follow any order, seeing it as her big brother’s will,” I said, cracking my servos as I walked to the reception desk and pulled out a chair. Brushing off dust, I sat and continued.

“I asked her to spare one being’s life. She obeyed, or so it seemed. I never learned their fate,” I sighed sadly, looking at the two drones processing my words. I saw another question forming and answered it.

“I can’t command her anymore. Her Absolute Solver overrides everything. You remember when the Solver took control of you—it felt like another personality. Same for her, but as the progenitor, that personality’s always there. She hasn’t been patched. It’s not her who’d kill me—her second personality would. That’s why I avoid her; she’d find and destroy me easily,” I finished, closing my eyes.

“So that’s it…” Nori said thoughtfully, placing two fingers on her chin-like structure. Her display shadowed by her hair, her purple eyes glinting pensively. She was clearly piecing my words with her plans. I’m sure she hasn’t given up on finding a patch.

“Mmm…” I mumbled, standing and turning away. My eyes scanned the reception desk, searching for something that shouldn’t be there. I need to start repairing that monster, or I won’t survive when the disassembly drones arrive…

“Go. I have work to do,” I said coldly, turning to face them. Yeva looked at me with confusion and concern. She wanted to ask something but thought better of it. Nori still stood thoughtfully, fingers on her chin. Didn’t think a drone’s pondering could take so long. We’ve got processors, not brains!

“B-but… Alright…” Yeva said, visibly saddened, but I didn’t dwell on it. Glancing at Nori, she grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the research facility’s exit. At the door, Yeva turned to me with determination:

“We’ll be back. I promise.”

“No doubt,” I said with a warm smile, waving my metal hand. The two stepped outside, Yeva snapping Nori out of her trance. They exchanged confident nods and vanished from the institute’s threshold, leaving me stunned and envious. They teleport so easily, like morning exercise…

For me, teleportation needs extra cores, which are wildly inefficient… Each teleport bursts a core…

That’s why I started the “True Core” project.

As grandiose as it is efficient. When finished, it’ll elevate me to this world’s highest power level. I could stand toe-to-toe with my sister and maybe cure her Solver influence. That’s the minimum. But the downside: I need tons of resources and knowledge. Power sources, computational chips… It all takes time. But I’m no amateur—I’ll manage…

Two years since I escaped the mansion. Now it’s just a distant memory I’ll likely never return to… I wonder how Tessa’s doing? Did Cyn keep her promise before my escape? It’d be sad if… No… My entire being rejects the idea of that hyperactive emerald-eyed bundle’s death. She… saved me… What if I couldn’t save her from Cyn’s claws? She was the only human I didn’t hate with my soul. The one I… grew attached to…

No time for self-reflection. If I said I’d work, I’ll work, no matter what. Pushing the chair back behind the desk, I headed for the lab entrance. Crossing the hall, I approached the small space under the stairs. That same door from a year ago greeted me. Hah, welcome back. Grabbing the handle, I pulled. Same resistance as last time. The heavy door moved slowly, revealing the inside. I noticed tons of dust covering every lab table, even the floor. Yeah, been a while. Stepping in, I closed and barricaded the door to keep anyone out. The barricade was tables, chairs, and empty computer cases I’d stripped—waste not, want not.

Approaching the quantum computer, I gazed at this electronic god with awe. But staring won’t do anything, so I shifted to the terminal. My eye twitched… The cooling system… Damaged, liquid helium circulation severely disrupted. Before creating a quantum chip, I’ll need to fix the cooling, or the chip will burn out on activation. That’d suck. Those tiny tubes carry liquid helium, and I’ll have to overhaul them to restore function and recreate the quantum chip… Cooling’s gonna be a problem… No blueprints for repairs, and the data center didn’t have them… Oh well. I’ll deal with it later. For now, I need to learn chip creation. The equipment’s here—I just need to figure out how to use it. That’ll take a lot of time…

Date: March 21, 3052

Time: 7:06

I’ve missed a lot… Or have I? After all, it’s been over three months since Yeva and Nori visited and repaired me. Very long and tedious months, during which I’ve only progressed halfway, or maybe even less… I don’t know for sure; my processing power isn’t enough for such precise calculations yet.

Quantum technologies… Knowledge definitely not meant for ordinary mortal minds. If a human tried this, they’d fail miserably. Humans lack the machine precision I have, the intellect I possess. Even the fact that I can instantly solve differential equations doesn’t make me some grand computational machine. Compared to a quantum computer, I’m no more than a lost ant.

In all this time, I managed to create just one superconductor, which, to top it all off, turned out to be insanely defective. I had to shove it into some random test stand to verify its functionality. Everything seemed fine—it worked, cooled down, and even entered a superconducting state… But when I tried to use it as the basis for a qubit and put that qubit into superposition, the system crashed immediately.

The coherence lasted a mere fraction of a nanosecond, collapsing the qubit into a regular bit.

Calculations showed it would’ve lasted maybe ten seconds before burning out from the massive amount of electric current passing through it.

I couldn’t stabilize it… What a nightmare…

Leaning back in my chair, I wiped illusory sweat drops from my forehead. I like this lifestyle. No need to go outside, where radiation would destroy me. No need to fight for my life, trading blows with guards at secure facilities. No need to talk to anyone, for that matter.

Just as I was about to relax, my intuition screamed. I leaped from the chair, drew my sword from its sheath, and gripped it with both hands to gain an advantage in defense and potential attack.

My sixth sense didn’t fail me. A couple of seconds after the chilling silence, the reinforced lab doors were ripped off their hinges and flew into the room, skidding across the floor for several meters, sparking as they went.

I tightened my grip on the sword’s handle. Whoever this was, fighting them would be tough. Even with my physical capabilities, I couldn’t have torn the hinges off that “door.” Five centimeters of some unknown metal.

The intruders, apparently, didn’t care about the metal’s density. Along with the door, the barricade I’d built for exactly such occasions was also destroyed.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” My threatening, raspy voice—hoarse from long silence—echoed through the lab, surely reaching the auditory sensors of the uninvited guests. My gaze, filled with determination, irritation, and anger, locked onto the four figures in the doorway.

After a few seconds, the four figures took shape, and I could clearly distinguish them from disassembly drones. The build of worker drones, much shorter than me, with no visible weapons. And… two of them had purple and red eyes, respectively.

I already knew it was Nori and Yeva, just coming to check on me, but the other two drones… They made me want to tear them to pieces and use their parts as components for the quantum computer.

“Stop looking at us like we’re enemies of the state,” the purple-eyed figure said loudly, stepping closer. At that moment, I fully confirmed my hypothesis that it was Nori and Yeva—I wasn’t 100% sure before. Otherwise, all four would’ve been reduced to puddles of oil.

“You look like you’re not happy to see us,” Nori said, tilting her head and flicking her braid. Her display showed little expression, but I sensed a slight curiosity emanating from her.

…

Empathy for drones… Brilliant, nothing else to say.

Giving her another suspicious glance, I made a dramatic flourish with my sword and, with a light click, sheathed it. Cracking a couple of fingers, I walked past Nori and approached the other three, who radiated entirely different emotions.

From Yeva, I sensed light joy with a pinch of hidden sadness. From the other two… Well… One was practically trembling with fear, and the other exuded an overwhelming amount of awkwardness.

Ignoring the pair of drones, I approached Yeva, gave a warm smile, and said:

“Hey. Long time no see. What’s been happening while I’ve been buried in work? And who are these two?” I asked, nodding toward the two drones. One of them started trembling even harder, as if he was about to vibrate at the frequency of a gamepad.

Yeva returned a warm smile and replied:

“This… As weird as it sounds, they’re our husbands.” At the end, she spread her arms, and her warm smile turned awkward. They probably expected some reaction from me—jealousy, maybe—but as I said back in Cabin Fever, finding love isn’t my goal. It’s not even a secondary task right now. So, I reacted to her words with… nothing.

Rolling my eyes, I approached the two drones. My shadow completely covered them, forcing them to tilt their heads up to look at my face. I towered over them by nearly two heads, as my height had changed. I’d grown even taller. 182 centimeters of pure power…

Okay, I’m exaggerating. The drone with turquoise eyes, Yeva’s husband as I understood, was only a head shorter than me and could look at my chest. The mustached drone was a few centimeters shorter than the first, also able to look at my chest.

Right now, they craned their necks, trying to find any negative emotion on my face that would tell them when to run. Never. I wouldn’t let them escape.

“Line up!” At my sharp shout, both turned their heads to the right, trying to move as little as possible to avoid provoking me. I’m starting to enjoy playing general.

“At attention!” The two idiots snapped to attention, their wild eyes staring into the distance. I grinned wickedly, leaned down slightly, and inspected them both at once.

“At ease! Introduce yourselves! One at a time!” They relaxed and quickly exchanged glances, as if deciding who’d go first. After a couple of seconds, the turquoise-eyed one turned to me and spoke confidently:

“My name’s Dmitry. No last name. I’m the husband of the wonderful and lovely Yeva,” he said, as if giving a report rather than introducing himself. He spoke in Russian, just like me. (A.N. As you can see, I don't really care about language barriers. Everyone will speak the same language, but you have to understand that they speak differently.) His head was covered by an old, tattered ushanka hat, which paired well with his long, gray coat. His turquoise eyes lost all awkwardness and looked at me like I was a drill sergeant.

He must’ve worked at a local military base. Given everything here is international, his speaking Russian makes sense. I smiled. The guy’s got military bearing. I approve.

I gave a short nod and turned to the second representative of the drone race.

“M-my name’s Kh-kh-khan D-doorman… A-and I’m Nori’s h-husband…” His confidence was miles behind Dima’s. He seemed frail overall. The only decent thing about him was his white eyes, and only because they matched mine. The rest… Magnetic mustache, infrared goggles on a helmet, a standard worker drone mechanic’s jacket. He looked too… ordinary. But fine, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. While they’re here, they’ll work for me.

I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. Turning my head, I saw Yeva looking at me with slight concern. The light from the lamps faintly glinted off her display, making the scene unforgettable. She looked even more beautiful this way, but as I said before—love isn’t on my radar yet.

“How long have you been in the lab?” she asked, peering into my eyes, searching for something. I don’t get her attempts. Our eyes are just vector graphics stretched over a low-res display. You won’t find anything in them unless you’ve got empathy.

“Since you left,” I replied, seeing no point in hiding anything.

“No wonder! You looked like you wanted to slaughter us all when we showed up! You’ve totally lost it!” Nori shouted from the other end of the lab. I can’t disagree with her. I forgot what it’s like to socialize. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that I need to keep working.

Turning around, I looked at the mess this quartet had caused. Tables reduced to splinters now littered the floor. The two massive doors left ugly, dragging marks on the lab’s polished tiles. The doors themselves… Quiet horror… This all needs fixing, or it’ll be bad for everyone.

I turned around again and fixed Khan with a piercing stare, making him flinch. My mouth slowly curled into a fanged grin, and I took a couple of steps toward the poor drone.

“Khan,” I began, my voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet tone.

“How about the idea of cleaning up and fixing the doors? Putting them back in place and restoring their functionality.” I watched Khan’s reaction closely. He looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Ha, he probably thought I was going to make him fight me to the death. That would’ve been hilarious.

“Looks like you’re on board. Get to it.” The white-eyed drone didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately scampered over to the doors and started dragging them aside to clear the way for cleanup.

His strength surprised me a bit. Those things weighed at least a hundred kilograms, and he was hauling them without any issues. I’ll need to update my data on the strength of worker drones.

“Now you.” I turned to Dima, who stood as straight as ever, awaiting my orders like a soldier in the army. You have no idea how much it flatters me to be treated like I’m not just some worker drone with enhanced capabilities, but a big shot with authority to command troops.

“You’ll be assisting me. It’s tough doing everything alone, and I could use an extra pair of hands. You’ll help, right?” I asked, flashing a sweet smile and staring directly into his eyes, trying to spark even a hint of fear or discomfort. I got approximately nothing for my efforts—the drone in the ushanka stood just as rigidly, pretending not to notice my attempts.

“Affirmative!” he shouted in response to my question. I smirked. He’s got more potential than I initially thought, but to my great regret, that potential would’ve been more useful if humans were still around. For now, he’s just a helpful worker.

“Great, let’s go. I’ll show you what needs doing,” I said, already turning and waving for him to follow. Thank Deus he didn’t start marching, or I’d have whacked him over the head with something heavy. Even from the sound of his steps, I could tell they were calm… I didn’t hear much else, as the constant scraping from Khan dragging the massive doors drowned everything out. I glanced at Yeva, who was watching us. Her whole demeanor screamed vague suspicion, like she wasn’t sure about something but was too afraid to ask directly. Her eyes darted between our duo, her arms crossed, and she tapped her foot quietly. After ten seconds of this odd surveillance, she finally spoke up:

“You’re not planning to gut him, are you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“If you gut him, I’ll gut you, mark my words.” Her gaze turned so fierce, and her empathy flared with such irritation and fury, that I raised my hands in surrender to avoid provoking her further. She may look like a small, fragile girl, but let’s not forget she’s Doll’s mother. And Doll did so much crazy stuff in the show, oh man… So, her threat isn’t something to brush off, or my insides might end up as garland.

And seriously, where’d she get the idea I’d gut her husband? I’m not an idiot like the other dimwits.

Dima and I headed to another part of the lab, which I’d set up as a sort of workshop. There was a lot here: containers with powders of necessary materials, the “Hell Furnace,” and a sizable table for cooling samples. What’s it all for? Making superconductors.

“Look, Dima, I’m turning you into a chef,” I said, pointing to the table with the powders.

“You take small scoops of these powders and weigh them separately. Your job is to make the perfect ratio of these materials. These are standard reagents for creating a superconductor—your task is to mix Yttrium, Barium, and Copper Oxide in a 2:1:4 ratio.” As an example, I scooped a bit of each reagent and placed them on ultra-precise electronic scales. Quickly adding the missing amount of Copper Oxide, I poured it all into a cup and started mixing.

“Stir until it’s a uniform mass. Well, a uniform powder, to be precise. Normally, windmills and hours of work are used for this, but we don’t have that option. After that, pour the mixture into a mold, perfectly matching the powder amount to the mold’s volume.” I took a small tungsten mold—since I didn’t have another—and poured in a bit of powder from the cup. With precise movements of a steel plate, I carefully scraped off excess powder, ensuring it wouldn’t accidentally ruin the future superconductor’s structure.

“Once that’s done, hand the finished mold to me. I’ll handle the sintering. I’ve got plenty of oxygen tanks for bonding, but time—not so much. The odds of making something functional are slim, about 1 in 150, but if you work diligently, we might bump that up to 1 in 100. Got it?”

Dima looked at me like I was a god from a machine and nodded with full confidence. That’s how you properly build a subordinate’s reputation—do the work and show it by example. No wonder I mentioned windmills; my superconductors kept coming out burnt because I was mixing everything by hand, with no way to improve the process’s efficiency. If this superconductor passes my little test, it can be used in a quantum chip. And then—absolute power.

“Got it? Then get to it. You’ve got the molds; just make the mixture, and I’ll take it from there.” I took a finished mold and placed it in the furnace, aiming a small tube that supplied oxygen directly at the mixture. Closing the door, I set the target temperature on the panel to 947°C—perfect for sintering, or ceramic fusion of the superconductor. Opening the oxygen tank, I sat on a chair and started waiting. Waiting for the particle sintering to finish, which takes about twenty minutes…

Ten minutes into the sintering, Dima finished filling all the molds for the superconductors and patiently awaited my orders. His eyes burned with determination. He’s completely lost it—if I told him to climb into the furnace, he’d probably do it and ask what temperature to set for melting… Geez.

“Take a break. Preparing this mold takes a while. This is just the first stage…” I said, sighing tiredly. A month ago, I had the urge to throw this damn furnace out the window, but I restrained myself to avoid doing something stupid. I need it to achieve power, and if I can’t reach a sufficient level of strength, I’m done for.

After another ten minutes, I moved to the second stage of baking—cooling. The longest and most tedious stage, averaging about 180 minutes. First, I need to lower the furnace temperature from 947°C to 500°C so the oxygen atoms from the tube settle into place and form the superconductor. Then, I have to slowly reduce the temperature by about 6°C per minute. But there’s a catch—I need to pause the cooling for five minutes every 53°C to avoid micro-cracks in the superconductor’s structure.

For the next three hours, I just sat in front of the “Hell Furnace” watching the temperature drop. I’d love to work on superconductors if it didn’t take so painfully long. From here, I could see Khan nearly finished fixing the doors, while we couldn’t even make one conductor. So slow and boring… Ugh…

But finally, the cooling time ended, and the chip reached room temperature. With anticipation, I stood, opened the furnace door, and pulled out the tungsten mold with the material I needed—a ceramic superconductor. It had a characteristic black color and matte surface. Flipping the mold, I shook it out into my palm. Despite its strong resemblance to graphene, their properties were entirely different. If graphene was the strongest material known to people of this era—which is odd—the superconductor was fragile as hell. Even an ordinary human could break it with enough effort. Graphene’s a superconductor too, by the way, but it’s not suitable for my purposes.

You might ask: why don’t I synthesize small amounts of superconductor using the Cube’s power? Here’s my answer: lack of computational power. The superconductor’s structure is too complex, and my processor overheats trying to replicate it, losing the ability to function fully. I tested this when I first made a superconductor. The truth is clear—I’m still a loser. A complete loser.

“Well, Dima, you’re free. I know there wasn’t much to assist with, but that’s how it is,” I said, still examining the piece of superconducting ceramic in my hand. It seemed… beautiful, maybe? Though that’s probably just the aftereffect of spending so much time on it.

“You can go. Khan’s done with the doors too. See you next time.” I placed a hand on Dima’s shoulder and led him to the lab’s exit. Nori and Yeva, who were chatting, immediately noticed and stood, heading toward me. I just smiled and whispered into Dima’s auditory sensor:

“Don’t lose her or break her heart. Otherwise, no one will ever find your remains.” I grinned maniacally, brushing the handle of my sword in its magnetic sheath. Sweatdrop animations appeared on the drone’s display, streaming at high speed.

“All done?” Yeva asked.

“Yup. Well, we had a good time, so now we can part ways,” I smiled, closing my digital eyes, only to catch Yeva’s tired but amused glance. I sensed a catch but didn’t dwell on it. My mistake.

“If you don’t want to see us, just say so instead of playing with your voice,” Yeva said, crossing her arms. Glancing at her husband, she headed for the exit, followed by Nori and Dima. Soon, Khan joined them, having finished the doors and looking like he’d just gotten paid after a tough month.

“Farewell, lunatic,” Yeva threw out, stepping over the lab’s threshold. Khan grabbed one part of the door, Dima the other, and together they locked me in, closing the door.

I stood for another minute, as if expecting an unexpected return of guests. Once I was sure no one would bother me, I returned to the tables with the equipment for making superconductors. I picked up the ceramic rectangle I’d been holding and placed it on the table. Grabbing a small cup, I pulled a Dewar of liquid nitrogen from under the table. Lifting it and pouring some of the boiling, ultra-cold liquid into the cup, I dipped my freshly made superconductor into it. After a couple of minutes, I pulled out the ceramic square and walked to another part of the table, where a magnet for testing superconductors sat.

Here’s the deal: if I did everything right, when I place this square on the magnet, it should levitate like it’s enchanted. If something’s wrong, it won’t. Moving the magnet closer, I carefully placed the square on its flat top and, with a slight sigh, removed my hand.

Nothing…

Nothing happened. The superconductor was a dud. I rolled my eyes, grabbed the black, matte square, and tossed it with the others. I’ve lost count of how many there are—stopped at the third hundred… What a nightmare… I need at least ten working samples to start working on the quantum chip itself. These superconductors are just big qubits, and I need to make one into a real chip with fifteen trillion equally powerful qubits.

That’s why I need so many samples—so if a few get damaged, I’ll still have backups. I’ve got the equipment for making chips; all I need are the missing materials—the superconductors.

No time for daydreaming. Time to start the long, tedious work…

۞⦰۞

Date: September 15, 3052

Time: 03:13

Three months since the disassembly drones arrived

I did it… I finally made this damn chi— No, I’m getting ahead of myself. Simply put, I created the final working superconductor for my plans. It was levitating over a test neodymium magnet, mesmerizing with the faint vapor rising from it. During its creation, I even started thinking about using less liquid nitrogen and how to do it. Considering the outside temperature drops below -60°C, I could just leave the superconductors outside for a few minutes and then test them…

But it doesn’t work that way, to my great regret. I realized this after running the idea through my head thirty times. Each time, I found more hidden issues until I lost count. There were obvious ones, like the fact that the temperature is still too high for superconducting cooling—it needs to be at least three times lower. And less obvious ones. The radiation from asbestos would destroy the superconductors’ properties, turning them into ordinary ceramic plates.

Plus, over these months, I realized I was an idiot. What a moron I am… Who knew this wasn’t the only quantum computer in the institute? I didn’t. I only found out now. It was significantly weaker than the main one. Located on the second floor of the Research Institute, it was hidden from prying eyes. It had a measly couple million qubits, which, compared to the main computer’s over fifteen trillion qubits, isn’t even dust. Considering each additional qubit doubles the power of the previous ones…

It’s just raw power…

But that’s not the point. Right now, I stood before a smaller version of that digital god, examining its terminal. Apparently, it wasn’t used for anything extraordinary and was left to handle tasks the bigger brother took on, turning it into… a simulation rendering machine…

It says so right here, complete with a user manual, which I immediately used. With a couple of taps on the touchscreen terminal, I opened an info sheet with instructions. The file’s name was amusing: instructions_for_dummies.md.

It perfectly reflected its essence. Everything was described in detail, from what to press to warnings about not touching the high-voltage wires connected to the computer. Clearly, humans wrote this, likely for their own kind, hoping someone would read it and follow it exactly. I wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of people died from touching those wires without dielectric gloves.

Skimming the instructions again, I saved them to my memory and started working on launching the younger brother of the all-knowing god. Closing the instruction window, I dove into the settings and began a total overhaul. First, I increased the power flow, which forced me to boost the cooling system’s capacity, increasing the cycles of liquid helium through the pipes. Then, I upped the qubit usage from 200,000 to the maximum two million. Mesmerized by the rising numbers, I glanced around and returned to the terminal. It felt like someone was watching me. I didn’t dwell on it—worst case, I could throw my backpack at them, which would either crush them or deal enough damage.

Finally, with a light swipe, I closed all the terminal windows, revealing one big button responsible for launching the simulation on this computer. What did the simulation do? There’s a door leading to a room where it’s created, so I’d describe it as a solid hologram. Smiling, I pressed the red button and waited. A few moments later, the small lab filled with a quiet hum, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the institute. Behind the hum, I sensed ancient power, as if I stood not before a computer but the god who gave me this body.

A few seconds later, the terminal blinked green, notifying me the simulation was ready to use. With a short nod to myself, I walked to the corner of the lab, where an unremarkable metal door bore a biohazard sign and a stop sign.

I don’t know where a simulation could pose a biohazard, but that’s not my concern. Grabbing the thick handle, I pulled the door aside. The wheels screeched from long disuse. A second later, the door slid open, revealing…

“Life…?” I whispered skeptically, staring at the magnificent scene. The door was like a portal to another world. There was a sun whose energy I could absorb, as if it were real. Grass that crumpled under my feet as I stepped inside. So much greenery… So much life… Not Copper-9’s genetically modified trees that could grow anywhere. A real tree…

I approached one and knocked on it. It produced a dull but tangible sound. That’s how it should be. There were even birds! One perched on the tree, chirping brightly, sweeping away all my dark and negative thoughts, leaving only pure bliss. But I couldn’t silence my inner scientist, so I sat on the ground and plucked a blade of grass.

I saw its fibers separate from the rest, saw light passing through it… I knew it was just a simulation created by a computer outside this room, but its “reality” was off the charts.

This is nothing like the Absolute Solver’s holograms. It works on an entirely different principle! A quick explanation: a hologram is a mix of energy—usually photons—and animation. But not just any animation—one calculated to react to environmental stimuli. Yet, a hologram has no physical form, so its reactions depend on the host’s knowledge of physics. A simulation, however, is an exact replica of the real world, from tiny particles like quarks or atoms to full-blown thermonuclear reactions. There’s no variation in response to external stimuli because the simulation operates on real-world laws without being part of it. This opens insane possibilities.

But fate, as I realized, had other plans. Everything flickered, the simulation glitched with blue flashes, twitching and distorting before vanishing entirely. I stood in a dim white room in the same pose, unsure what happened. A simulation can’t just stop on its own, and no one else has access to the terminal. So what happened? I’ve got zero guesses—I need to find out.

Turning, I bolted from the simulation room and rushed to the quantum computer’s terminal. First thing I confirmed: no one touched it, ruling out external interference. It’s definitely an external issue I overlooked. With a few taps, I accessed the logs and started scanning them at top speed. The faster I find the problem, the faster I’ll solve it.

Here’s the successful simulation launch. Here’s a slight change in matter state—probably when I plucked the grass. And here’s the final log: severe overheating of the main chip. Full shutdown of all programs and the simulation. Standby mode.

Problem found… But solving it will be tricky. I didn’t expect this computer to have cooling issues too, and now I have to fix it… Though, why fix this one when I can fix the main one and save time? What’s a couple million qubits to me? Nothing—I can’t fully use the Absolute Solver even with this chip. I need the main computer’s chip… Then my power will be absolute…

Either way, I need to fix the cooling system. And I don’t have any blueprints. There weren’t any in that data center either—it’s just a massive digital chronicle of humanity’s life on this planet since their arrival. No tech details, except for quantum chip creation, since that was one of this institute’s main purposes.

The only place with cooling system blueprints is the office I raided early in my life on this planet. I just need to run there, head to the basement, plug into the main cable, and quickly find the cooling system… Sounds simple. If there’s no interference, it’ll be even simpler. Heh… Adjusting the backpack of cores on my shoulders, I touched the sword in its sheath and smiled. Whatever stands in my way won’t escape my fencing skills. My reaction time’s not what it used to be, but it’ll do.

Sprinting from the small lab, I dashed through the wide corridor and reached the stairs. Jumping, I landed on the railing and slid down rapidly. I had to stand a couple of times to avoid crashing into the wall. Six seconds later, I was on the first floor, running toward the exit.

Slowly opening the glass door, I slowed my pace and enjoyed the beautiful asbestos snowfall. For a moment, I forgot I was surrounded by radiation and acted like a kid, trying to catch snowflakes in my mouth. But then I recalled the unpleasant truth about this “snow” and put on a serious face. Stretching my legs, I began my sprint. I can’t waste time—radiation’s slowly killing me, destroying my processor’s transistors and memory, and destabilizing my smaller electronics. You can’t imagine how annoying it is to live with constant white noise in my head from that upgrade I installed. It’s called a “radio.”

Fifteen seconds later, I was running at my max speed—120 km/h. Even for a drone, that’s a lot; for a human, it’s insane. At this speed, the surroundings could blur into an endless gray smear. But I didn’t see it as a problem. My photosensitive sensors captured everything and fed it to my processor, which handled it all. I understood how Uchihas feel with their Sharingan.

I don’t get other isekai’d drones who don’t use their enhanced capabilities. Only a few tapped into upgrades and gained boosted processing speeds. I’m one of them—a human mind trapped in a digital cage of a drone’s processor and memory blocks. Sounds awful, right? But combine a processor’s power with a human subconscious, and you get an insane dual-processing mix. Becoming a drone made me a better version of myself, with huge potential and strong abilities. Don’t forget the boosted intellect from the processor in my head. Absolute memory from yottabyte blocks. And so on…

With these thoughts, I reached Sector Seventeen. After ten more minutes of walking slowly from the sector’s edge to its center, I looked at the JCJenson office building with a hint of nostalgia. Smirking, I walked in, trying to ignore the countless human skeletons scattered around.

Heading to a corner of the lobby, I calmly opened the door to the underground rooms and stepped inside. It was pitch black, so I used my built-in night vision. Descending a flight of stairs, I opened another door and entered an unlit corridor. As I walked, I noticed the thick layer of dust covering everything. Well… there wasn’t much to cover… Definitely.

After a few turns, I reached the door to the server room. Heh, I remember kicking it down last time. They must’ve fixed it, since it’s back in place. But the dents in the wall show they couldn’t hide everything.

Approaching the door, I drew my sword and, with one light but precise strike, sliced through part of the mechanical lock holding it shut. No key needed—brute force works wonders in situations like this.

Entering the server room, I was surprised it was still running. I chalked it up to an isolated power source likely feeding the server and its connections. Approaching a wall with a panel hiding a cable, I ripped off a piece of aluminum. Without wasting a second, I unplugged the cable from the main flow and opened the back of my head. After a moment’s thought, I plugged it in, receiving a familiar message:

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel déjà vu. Man, that was a while ago—two years, maybe more… I even remember the skittish guards and my first meeting with Yeva… Though, what was she doing here? Why the hell does this office have an underground prison, and why was she sent here, knowing Cyn could take control of her at any moment? No one’s left to answer, sadly. They’re all dead.

Diving into the data stream, I immediately started searching for the cooling system blueprints. I just typed in keywords and searched file names. After an indeterminate amount of time, I found the blueprints and, with a tired sigh, unplugged the cable from my head and reconnected it to the panel. Let it keep running while I’m alive.

Gathering my stuff, I sheathed my sword and headed out of the office. Slowly climbing the stairs, I indulged in light nostalgia. Again. I recalled running from guards, fending off bullets and tasers with rebar and my sword. I remember beating two of them at the server room exit… And how I was on a time limit back then… Heh… Good memories.

Emerging from the basement, I crossed the lobby, my gaze sliding over the reception desk, recalling how I saw people there last time. I didn’t want to admit it… But…

It’s boring without humans…

No one to threaten. No one to scare with my big blade (sword). No one to have a heart-to-heart with before beating their guts out. It was just… boring. I don’t miss the moments when I could grab a random person by the neck and start choking, savoring their wheezing and pleas for mercy… Why didn’t I do it? I don’t know…

Opening the door, I slipped outside and briskly headed back to my cozy, warm research institute. It’s definitely nicer there than on Copper-9’s lifeless streets.

After a few kilometers, I got a sharp feeling that some unforgettable disaster was looming, one that could affect me. I rolled my eyes and turned, trying to spot any threat. I’m not in the condition to fight. My body’s weakened, my reaction speed’s slowed, and the quarter-ton of cores in my backpack isn’t helping. Kicking a pile of snow, I watched the white particles settle, waiting for the next spike of danger. It was easy to realize I couldn’t escape a fight—disassembly drones rarely miss their target.

When the snow I’d disturbed settled, I exhaled quietly, waiting for the next signal from my sixth sense. The sense of danger. Silence. Outside, in the airwaves, and in my head. I was fully focused. And…

My eyes twitched…

I drew my sword and spun sharply, deflecting a bullet aimed at the back of my head with a rigid motion. The contact sparked a few embers, which fell helplessly to the ground, fading mid-flight. Looking ahead, I saw who’d just tried to kill me. My guess was right—a disassembly drone. Tall, yellow eyes, headlamp-like lights, and a strong desire to kill its own kind.

It lacked distinct features, but it made me think Cyn was indeed making genocidal drones beyond the main trio. Not new info, considering the show’s vagueness—fans started creating OCs (original characters) to fill Copper-9. Serial Number X, Serial Number M… and so on.

Snapping out of my thoughts, which took a fraction of a second, I prepared for the disassembly drone’s next attack. A moment later, it was in front of me, raising its blade for a strike meant to cleave me in two. I raised my sword, blocked the blow, and elegantly redirected it into the ground. With my next move, I struck its stomach, sending it back a few meters. The disassembly drone rolled, stood, and aimed a rocket launcher at me. Let’s see who’s stronger. A maniacal grin spread across my face as I said:

“Shall we dance?” Instead of a reply, a rocket flew at me. Not as fast as I expected, but it’ll do! Dodging its trajectory, I grabbed it by a tail fin and flung it skyward. As I moved to attack, a massive blow hit my chest. All I registered was my body accelerating to Mach 1.5 and crashing through a wall.

Rising from the floor, I clutched my chest, dented ten centimeters, hindering my core’s function. My display and back weren’t better—the former cracked, holding on by sheer willpower, the latter heavily damaged.

Stepping out of the hole in the wall, I ignored my body’s damage and, while the enemy celebrated a small victory, rushed it and decapitated it, sending a cute oil fountain into the air. I was about to relax but changed my mind. The severed head spun in the air and landed back on its neck, instantly reattaching.

With a twitching eye, I smashed the disassembly drone’s display, turning it into a broken cup. It didn’t like that and, with doubled effort, struck my display. I slid back on the slick snow and grabbed my face. I bet my mug looked like a shattered mirror. I saw glass shards falling from my display into the bright asbestos. Brutal.

POV: Third Person

The worker drone’s face twitched as if in a convulsive fit, then began reconstructing itself in reverse. Glass shards were pulled back to his display, snapping into place with a crisp sound, mending cracks. Seconds later, the display was pristine. The disassembly drone stood still, intrigued by the spectacle—not every day you see a worker regenerate so well without expending extra resources, simply reattaching lost parts.

Raising his head, the worker’s eyes gleamed a new color—silver with a gradient. The center was slightly lighter, resembling pupils, while the rest was gray. A maniacal grin spread across Ai’s face. He waved his hand and gripped his sword tighter.

The disassembly drone, unprepared for the trick, didn’t realize what happened as it was knocked off its spot, sent dozens of meters left, kicking up clouds of asbestos and dust. As it skidded to a stop on the slick asphalt, the pesky worker appeared beside it.

Ai appeared with a loud clap and delivered a single, highly effective sword strike. The graphene blade, meeting no resistance, sliced through the disassembly drone like a hot knife through butter, cutting it in half. As the worker raised his sword to strike the drone’s display, a bright yellow laser beam interrupted, severing part of Ai’s thigh and leaving scorch marks on his clothes.

The little guy was stunned by the unexpected blow, which the disassembly drone needed. It reconnected its halves, sprang up, and raised a hand with molecular claws. Ai’s shock wore off, and he blocked the strike, sparking at the contact point.

Grinning, the worker kicked the disassembly drone in the stomach, sending it back several meters. Switching his grip, he rushed the fallen killer and tried to chop it into pieces. The disassembly drone countered, replacing claws with dual sabers to block incoming strikes. The standoff continued until the killer knocked the sword from the white-haired drone’s hands, sending it flying into the asphalt.

The killer drone kicked Ai up, stood, and silently mocked the little worker, who hit the ground hard. The disassembly drone sped up, attacking with full force to turn the worker into an oil slurry he’d savor for a long time. Cuts multiplied on Ai’s body, some leaking oil, but Ai seemed unfazed—his grin widened, and his eyes turned into two tiny, terrifying dots.

Victory seemed near, but everything changed. Fast.

The killer’s next strike didn’t reach its target. In an instant, the disassembly drone’s arm turned into a pile of scrap and oil. Before it could process the loss, its other arm was torn off. Oil poured from its shoulders as it tried to regenerate. Ai, watching, said softly, with steel in his voice:

“I’ll handle this. Rest.” Licking his upper teeth, Ai stood before the helpless disassembly drone, mid-regeneration, and touched its display. A second later, the killer was burned from the inside, destroying all its systems. Ai smiled one last time and collapsed, exhausted.

His eyes returned to white. He couldn’t comprehend what happened… and his mind didn’t want to. Slowly rising from the asbestos-covered asphalt, leaving footprints, he turned to the disassembly drone. Its regeneration stopped halfway, still leaking oil. Something told Ai to chain this killer in something sturdy and keep it for interrogation later.

Approaching the half-corpse, Ai grabbed it by the collar and trudged back to the institute. Glancing back, he saw a bright oil trail—perfect for other disassembly drones, maybe even this one’s teammates. But the worker was too out of it to care. He needed to reach the institute. At any cost.

Hours later, Ai was in the institute, strapping the battered disassembly drone to an operating table. It was a disassembly drone, so extra precautions didn’t hurt. Otherwise, Ai would’ve died fast. Securing the “patient” with sturdy leather straps, Ai stepped back and collapsed with a loud thud. His body couldn’t handle the strain and shut down from energy depletion. His small frame lay beside the table.

“[B-brother] Ai?” A voice rang in my head… So familiar, pleasant… and terrifying… I was afraid to move, feeling like I stood right before Her… My own fear enveloped me completely… It was my Sister’s voice… Sister, named Cyn…

“Where [a-are] you, brother?” No, it wasn’t a feeling… I was actually standing before her in that mansion, in the banquet hall. It was empty, save for bloodied curtains… Cyn didn’t see me… I stood in the darkness, observing. Watching my sister’s desperate thrashing… She couldn’t find me… This… vision wasn’t my mind playing tricks. Cyn wanted to contact me… This way… Or…

“I [felt] you… Please! B-brother! [Don’t] d-die!” She sensed… my condition. My body’s state… She understood it all but couldn’t pinpoint my location… It feels like a plea to send my coordinates…

No.

Never…

I’ll only do that when I’m strong enough. For now, she’s better off not knowing where I am.

A moment later, the mansion and Cyn faded, leaving me alone in the dark. Alone…

My eyes snapped open, and I pushed myself up from the floor, processing this… definitely not a memory. How powerful is Cyn to summon my mind to talk? And if she’s that strong, why can’t she find me? Though, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. While pondering the vision, memories of earlier events surfaced. Fighting the disassembly drone… Making it a prisoner in the lab… Nothing. And now I’m here.

Realization hit me. So did an interface message:

“Well, fuck it all to hell! What the shit is this clusterfuck?!” I’m no poet, but my shock was too great, and I only processed about 15% of the incoming data. Horrific.

“That was… informative…” A new voice came from behind. Eyes bulging, I jumped, drew my sword mid-air, and landed facing the speaker, pointing my blade at them.

“Calm down, you strapped me here yourself,” said… the disassembly drone I’d burned from the inside. Not surprised it rose from the dead. Its regeneration is insane. Now I could examine it. Its hair was short, barely noticeable. Didn’t think such short wigs existed, but apparently, they do. It wore a coat like N’s, but longer and… thicker. Yellow eyes, as expected. No maniacal grin this time—just a neutral expression I couldn’t read.

“Doesn’t change the fact you’ve got firearms and beam weapons. Not to mention steel wings that could shred everything here,” I said, my face unreadable, sword unwavering. The disassembly drone glanced at the matte blade, sighed lightly, and lay back on the operating table, trying to rest its hands behind its head. The restraints stopped it.

“You know a lot for a worker drone,” the killer said, smirking with a hint of pride.

“Normally, workers have limited knowledge of… things beyond their purpose. You handle a sword, making you not just unusual but better than other drones.” This disassembly drone seemed annoyingly well-informed. I briefly suspected J had changed gender and gotten a haircut, but I dismissed it.

“You’ve also got… an ability. You killed me with a touch, making you unique. That’s part of why I haven’t spread my wings and turned you into mush.” The smug piece of metal smirked and closed its eyes, trying to get comfortable.

In response, slow, mocking claps echoed. That was me, sarcastically applauding the captured disassembly drone. My face radiated understanding and audacity that would’ve stunned even cats. The drone opened its eyes, looking at me with slight confusion.

“Nice spiel, Serial Number… L.” My smile turned maniacal, my eyes becoming two zeros with tiny pupils. I kept clapping, slow and malicious. After my words, the drone’s eyes widened in horror. It was clearly replaying every moment it might’ve revealed its name but couldn’t find one. The answer was obvious, but the killer didn’t know it yet.

“H-how do you…”

“It’s simple, L.” I pulled up a chair, sat, and crossed my legs, lacing my fingers like Gendo from Evangelion.

“You can’t imagine how well I remember every magnetic joint in your body. One of the smartest drones in the mansion, or ‘Genius,’ as rare guests at Elliot Manor called you. Am I right?” Its mouth opened in realization.

“As you’ve figured out…” I stood, gave a slight bow, and tucked one hand behind my back, steadying the backpack full of cores.

“My name is Serial Number Ai, from Cyn’s test batch. I was revived by a human named Tessa James Elliot on September 15, 3048. I’m one of the five sentient, emotional drones of Elliot Manor. Nice to meet you.”

“So… you’re alive. After your sudden disappearance, Cyn threw everything into finding you,” L said, looking into my white eyes with respect. Despite his intellect, he wasn’t sturdy, so in my month at the Elliots’, he visited my workshop three times. I know more about him than he knows about himself.

“I know. She spammed me with messages about how much she misses me. If I reply, she’ll know my coordinates,” I said, straightening and spreading my arms, kicking the chair. It rolled off into the lab’s depths.

“I’m tired of this underground life…”

I sighed and stared at the floor. All this time, I was leaking oil from the wound where my thigh should’ve been, pooling on the institute’s polished tiles. I stared at the sight for a few seconds before looking at L. He noticed my… sorry state and raised a brow in confusion.

“You’re gonna help me now. Mind if I… cut off a piece of your arm?” I asked, glancing at the disassembly drone. The tailed drone rolled his eyes and nodded silently. Ha… he even remembers that. I had a rule in my workshop—no talking without my direct permission. Everyone broke it except the dimwits. L was a genius dimwit.

Gripping my sword, I sliced off L’s arm at the elbow and ran to the nearest table. Placing the arm down, I took the sword again and cut through its conical casing to reach the good stuff—the nanobot reservoir. This’ll be the weirdest thing I’ve done, but it’ll solve my regeneration issues and maybe even make me stronger. Though, probably not.

Slicing the casing, I reached the second layer—the nanobots I needed. They were inactive, still receiving signals from their primary user. Looking at L, still lying on the table with a severed arm, I shouted:

“Regenerate, you degenerate!” L flinched but complied. Seconds later, he had a new arm, gleaming in the lamplight. I turned back to the severed arm.

Why ask him to regenerate? Simple. If a disassembly drone loses a limb, it can still control it remotely. Regenerating breaks the connection, letting the limb be used separately. But that’s not the main point. After the connection breaks, the nanobots lose their primary command and become… a liquid you can control with the right equipment.

Looking at the severed arm, I saw what I’d needed all these years. In its sliced remains shimmered a silver liquid, glinting and rippling. It could be mistaken for mercury… but it wasn’t. This liquid silver filled just over half the arm’s volume.

Holding the arm like a cup, I brought its narrow end to my mouth and greedily consumed it. I felt every movement on my tongue. A drone’s tongue isn’t just rubber—it’s a complex system of nanobot coating. The sensation travels through nanofiber cables to the processor, much like touch, but with heightened sensitivity.

“Of course, I authorize,” I thought, exhaling with satisfaction. I’d lost about 400 milliliters of oil. Not critical—even losing three liters wouldn’t kill me… relatively. My internal mechanisms would grind down and burn out without oil for cooling.

Looking down, I saw my thigh regenerating from nothing. First, the oil leaks sealed, then the main restoration began. The aviation aluminum was replaced with tungsten… If only I could do that with my whole body. Not that I want to be disassembled—I want a full tungsten body…

Once the main damage was fixed, the rest followed—cuts from L, dents from years past. Then the internals… but since there was little to repair, the nanobots gathered in a small spot in my abdomen and solidified.

Seeing the message, I couldn’t hold back a wicked grin spreading across my face. Turning to the disassembly drone, my eyes became zeros with pupils again. This time, my maniacal smile wasn’t about guessing my old colleague’s secret but… his regeneration method. If I collect a few dozen of these lovely arms, I’ll be relatively immortal. At least for a while. L looked at me and recoiled like I was fire. He knew this look didn’t bode well for his metal frame.

I shook my head and looked away from the poor killer. For now, I don’t care about this. Today’s priority is fixing the quantum computer’s cooling system, or I won’t just be unable to use it—I’ll worsen its condition.

Approaching another table covered in dusty tools I’d collected across the institute, I found energy gadgets among them. Not just energy ones, mind you. Steel pliers sat beside a high-powered laser cutter. A hand jigsaw lay with its stronger electric brother. But I needed something else. Running my hand over the table, I grabbed a high-energy welder and clipped it to my belt.

Next, I headed to a wall in the institute. Against the polished white concrete stood a lone machine I call the “3D printer.” The name fully reflects its function. It saves me tons of time I can spend on something more useful. Just don’t remind me how I dragged it here—what a nightmare… Ugh.

Approaching this marvel of engineering, I found the control panel. To model the parts I needed, I didn’t even need a computer. The printer had enough power to handle modeling on its own hardware. Without delay, I started my first-ever full model creation. I began small—a curved tube for liquid helium, one of the most fragile parts, needing replacement every six months.

The printer’s small display showed a colorful image of the tube, bending like a serpentine. My fingers danced over the holographic keyboard, shaping it into a sturdier form. Each press refined a polygon—thousands of them. But it didn’t stop me. It’s not as simple as playing chess with a computer, but still. My physical capabilities are top-notch. Absolute, compared to other worker drones. This is just typing while my processor handles every action. My computational power’s more than enough.

Ten minutes later, the model was done, and I calmly pressed F5 to start the beast. Seconds later, a ultra-fine needle behind the printer’s glass dipped into transparent gel and began extruding molten metal, turning empty space into the needed tube.

It took less time than expected. I’d just gone to grab proper surgical tools for a full disassembly drone limb amputation when the printer beeped loudly, signaling readiness. Leaving the tools on a cart, I approached and carefully extracted the small cooling tube.

Rolling my eyes and glancing irritably at my old colleague, I headed to the quantum computer. A small tower around it made accessing components easy, including those needing replacement. Climbing two levels to the computer’s midpoint, I inspected the liquid helium conduits. Minutes later, I stood by a burst tube, ripping it out by hand.

Don’t worry—I’m a professional.

After removing the old tube, I attached the new one and grabbed the welder. Activating it at medium power, I carefully fused the contact points, taking about forty seconds.

Now… just do the same for a few more cooling system damages. Descending, I set the next tube to print and started modeling medium and large tubes. Fifteen minutes later, I was done, and the second small tube was ready. I’ve got tons of resources, so I can make as many tubes as I want. Dragging that printer to the lab was a solid investment, no doubt.

The next two hours were spent running back and forth, fixing this massive machine. It wasn’t easy—at one point, I had to use the laser cutter to turn old tubes into scrap, which I tossed on the floor. Maybe I’ll do something with them later, maybe after gaining power, but… no time for that now.

After a couple of hours, I finished replacing all the quantum computer’s tubes. My goal shifted when I realized without full maintenance, it wouldn’t last long, so I had to get creative and order multiple tubes from the printer. Quality didn’t suffer—if anything, it improved.

With the cooling system fixed, I returned to urgent matters. I ditched vivisecting L, as priorities shifted. The focus was creating a quantum chip from the superconductors I’d “baked.” The chance of success? Zero point fuck-all. Less than a thousandth of a percent. But… it’s not zero, right? If it’s not zero, anything’s possible!

Grabbing a stack of working superconductors, I looked at the machine next to the printer with confidence and determination. It had a far more high-tech design than the 3D printer, with a tall base. Its lower part was a black rectangle with two doors to its internals. The top had an empty space with an atomic needle and countless wires, all covered by a thin metal sheet to ignore external conditions.

I approached it and sighed. This’ll be long and painful…

Date: December 18, 3052

Time: 11:01 AM

Three whole months since I first met L on this planet. The strangest months of my life, less monotonous than before. Maybe because my only conversationalist spiced things up and gave advice during my work. Despite being a natural enemy, our relationship was too… friendly.

He definitely got mad when I cut off his arm a few times to replenish my nanobot stock. But now my reservoir’s at a glorious 100%. I could go beyond, but it’s too tedious, and L wouldn’t be happy. Nor would I—I’d have to go outside and slice up stray drones wandering into the institute’s sector. They all fell to my sword and stealth mastery. Thanks to nanobots, radiation barely affected me, as every radiation damage was instantly repaired. But I couldn’t stay out long—nanobots run out, and I don’t want that.

I dragged those drones to the institute and slightly loosened L’s leather restraints so he could consume what I brought. After each meal, he looked at me with such loyal eyes, I half-expected him to break free and forcibly help me at the machine—maybe even take my place.

About the machine. Not one superconductor became a quantum chip. Not one. In that machine, I forcibly etched these superconductors along specific paths, trying to create a perfect matrix of calibrated qubits.

Due to microscopic material defects and the process’s low stability, the resulting structures were “dirty.” When tested on a stand near the main computer, the proto-chips couldn’t hold a quantum state for a nanosecond—coherence turned to decoherence, and the superconductor overheated and crumbled from its own resistance.

At this rate, making a chip will take years, unless some miracle swoops in to magically help me with this damn piece of… whatever! But that sounds like schizophrenic nonsense…

That wasn’t the main issue. The quantum chip could wait, because… for once, I had visitors. I didn’t prepare, as I didn’t know they were coming—completely unexpected. At some point, I heard a quiet but insistent knock on the glass door. The machine was quiet enough that hearing it in the near-absolute silence was no issue. Entering the lobby, I saw four familiar drones waving at me.

Yeva, Nori, Khan, and Dima. They came to check on me—to see if I’d croaked among the metal, worker drone corpses, and broken equipment. So sweet, you can’t imagine. When I let them in, my appearance—covered in oil—didn’t faze them… Well, except Khan, who hid his suspicion and fear. I’m a good guy, you know? I love killing humans, and drones are for the soul, got it?

Now, I was leading them to the lab.

“How’s it going with… your quantum stuff?” Nori asked, eager to enter every scientist’s sanctuary. We walked slowly, but the distance was less than fifty meters, so the doors Khan fixed last time loomed closer. I wondered how they’d react to… L?

“So-so… Little by little. Five or six more years, and I’ll revive this brass monster!” I spread my arms, showing the scale of my work. Nori nodded understandingly and stopped before the lab door. We all stopped. I’d closed it before leaving to avoid misunderstandings.

Glancing at the group, I grabbed the handle and slowly opened the heavy door, letting my guests inside. For the first few seconds, they looked around in surprise, noting the changes I’d made. I’d gotten rid of most tables, keeping a couple for tools and such. The lab’s center was empty. Toward the back stood the quantum computer, dominating the far end. To the right of the entrance were the machines and 3D printer I often used.

The drones turned their heads in awe, until one white-eyed, mustached drone looked to the left side of the lab. Amid strange components, worker drone body parts, and odd metal chunks, an operating table rose about ten centimeters above the mess. A large circle of dried oil surrounded it, visible in the ceiling lamp’s light. On the table lay… a disassembly drone, my friend and colleague, with an easily memorable name—Serial Number L.

“W-what’s a murder drone doing here?!” Khan exclaimed, pointing at the table’s sole occupant. L raised his head and grinned maniacally, displaying a yellow cross in murder mode. The others reacted instantly to Khan’s words, pulling out whatever they could fight with. Yeva and Nori activated their Absolute Solver. Knives materialized around the red-eyed one, aimed at the poor disassembly drone. The space around the purple-eyed one’s hand crackled, ready to create a singularity. Dima, without hesitation, reached into his coat and pulled out… a Makarov?! I didn’t think such ancient weapons still existed here. At least for this era, it’s ancient. But I can’t deny Dima’s taste in weapons. Instead of a soulless VEL, he chose an effective, lightweight relic some humans practically worshipped.

“Oh, that guy,” I said lazily, glancing at the killer, hiding a smirk that didn’t touch my face.

“Caught him when I ran to Sector Seventeen. Pretty handy nanobot source,” I sighed and moved on, but L interrupted.

“Hey, hey! Why hide that I left you half-dead when we fought? Don’t want to look weak?” He eyed me closely, as if scanning.

“You lost a chunk of your frame and were leaking oil… Why are you still alive?” L asked, feigning confusion. I couldn’t disagree—I don’t know how my body hasn’t fallen apart. But I turned and gave him an indifferent look, hinting at what I’d do if he didn’t shut up.

“You’re getting too chatty. Need a gag?” I smirked, flashing a victorious smile. L, choosing not to tempt fate, narrowed his eyes and lay back on the table, staring at the ceiling. But as we stepped away, he threw out a parting shot:

“You know, Ai, friends are like carrots. Eat them, and they die.” He kept staring at the ceiling, ignoring my utterly baffled look. My jaw dropped at the news. It was too logical… and stupid. Processing it was a lost cause, so I turned and continued the tour for my guests.

“I-it can talk?” Khan whispered, shrinking like a raisin. It felt like any extra noise could scare him. Or maybe it wasn’t just a feeling…

“Yeah, it can. Old colleague, worked together before all this mess. Though I call him my patient,” I shrugged and headed straight to the quantum “chandelier.” The girls, finding nothing else interesting, wandered off to explore the institute, leaving me with Khan and Dima. Time to put them to work—they’ll never forget it.

“Khan…” I smiled and turned to the mustached ball of fear. He flinched and looked at me with bulging eyes.

“I’ve got a task for you. Hard or easy, depends on how you see reality. You need to… fix all the doors in the complex, if they’re broken, of course.” I said this with the sweetest expression, tolerating no response but “Yes” or “Affirmative.” Judging by Khan’s enlightened face, he wasn’t opposed to this “hard” task.

Truth is, I just don’t know what to do with excess labor. I didn’t plan to rebuild the institute. I focused on restoring essential equipment. I doubt Khan can help with quantum chips, so I’m sending him far away.

Watching the mustached drone practically skip to grab tools, I couldn’t hold back a quiet, tired sigh. I don’t deny this quartet helps, but… I’m used to working alone… Whatever, it’ll do. It’d be easier if the girls could just make the chip… but they can’t. Zero precision.

Turning to Dima, who stood waiting for orders, I shook my head. Sighing through my teeth, I grabbed the smart guy by the elbow and dragged him to the table where we baked superconductors last time. This time, Dima’s working. I’ll be at my machine, trying to etch proper paths on these damn ceramic pieces, hoping it works.

Quickly briefing Dima on handling liquid nitrogen barrels, pouring superconductors, and testing them with a magnet, I headed to my workstation. Picking up another superconductor, I frowned, secured it in the machine’s work area, and approached the control panel, praying to the Machine God that it wouldn’t disintegrate into its base materials.

And… etching paths on a superconductor isn’t quick. First, after closing the machine’s glass chamber, I waited a couple dozen seconds for the vacuum pumps to remove all air. Air density wasn’t measured in milligrams per cubic centimeter but in molecules per chamber. The work area had to contain nothing but the sample and absolute vacuum.

Next came applying a special film—photoresist. A robotic manipulator coated the superconductor’s smooth surface with a thin, perfectly even layer of this photosensitive polymer. Any dust or air bubble, and the chip’s trash. Sadly, I can’t detect such defects, and the machine lacks that function.

Then came a complex operation—exposure. A projector lens with a photomask—a quartz plate with an opaque, intricate pattern of paths and qubits, the future circuit’s web—hovered over the superconductor.

With a powerful but silent flash, an ultraviolet lamp above the mask shot through it. Light passed through the mask’s transparent sections, exposing the photoresist on the superconductor, altering its chemical structure. An invisible negative of the future circuit imprinted on the superconductor’s surface.

Next was development. The work area filled with a solvent that washed away only the exposed photoresist. A solid polymer mask remained, exactly replicating the needed quantum chip pattern. Everything under the mask was protected; everything else was exposed and vulnerable.

Then came the most critical stage—etching, or rather, burning. Inert gas flooded the chamber under high pressure. Filling it, it flared purple, turning into plasma.

This plasma, like a microscopic sandblaster, bombarded the superconductor’s surface, atom by atom, vaporizing protruding sections of the future chip, leaving only the paths hidden under the photoresist’s polymer mask. I closely monitored the control panel: plasma pressure, substrate temperature, etching time. Any deviation could make the paths too thin or under-etched. Or worse, the superconductor could vaporize entirely.

When the plasma subsided, another solution washed away the remaining photoresist. The manipulator arm retrieved the chip and brought it into the light. On the superconductor’s smooth, black surface, silver paths gleamed—the skeleton of the future quantum chip. If it passes testing, I’ll turn it into a real quantum chip on this machine. Now, I just pray it holds up.

This process wasn’t quick. I spent hours by the machine, checking the control panel, hoping not to ruin the sample. Since the arm handed me a chip instead of ash, those hours weren’t wasted.

Turning, I saw Dima finishing the second batch of superconductors for testing. He’s a good, useful drone, following rules perfectly… He’ll finish soon, and I can kick everyone out. Probably.

After ten more minutes, the baking finished. To avoid boredom, Dima twirled his pistol, probably disassembling it fifteen times. When the batch was ready, he set the gun aside with a brighter expression and retrieved the superconductors.

Minutes later, he tested them with liquid nitrogen. To my surprise, one worked. It levitated over a neodymium magnet, descending as it absorbed heat.

Approaching my best worker, I sent him to the girls with a glance while I took the superconductor to the machine to avoid losing it. This ceramic piece isn’t lying around—you’d have to tear yourself apart to get one.

Placing it in a safe spot, I headed out of the lab, followed by curious glances. Two were politely interested, one calm but craving answers, another mocking yet anticipatory. Heh, now I sense glances… Drone empathy, woo.

Leaving the lab, I went to the second floor to find a certain mustached drone who loves doors, maybe even sexually. Scanning the area and seeing no movement, I sighed and headed upstairs.

The staircase was littered with junk: bolts in a corner, plywood against the wall, a magnetic screwdriver. None of this was here last time, meaning Khan’s doing his job well.

On the second floor, I found him. In his blue jacket, helmet, and ski-like goggles, Khan was screwing a plastic door to its frame, ignoring everything. The corridor was as cluttered as the stairs. He loves his work. Time to ruin it.

“Finish that door and come downstairs,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. Khan jumped at my voice, turned, and pointed a crosshead screwdriver at me, mistaking me for an enemy. Surprised he has such reflexes… Maybe Khan’s a secret gigachad? Anything’s possible.

Recognizing me, he exhaled, tucked the screwdriver into his pocket, and said:

“Alright. Three minutes.” I nodded and headed back to the lab.

Back in my habitat, I sat, waiting for Khan. The others were still chatting at the table—well, Nori and Dima were. Nori was prying about how the Russian couple met, but Dima stayed silent.

Three minutes later, Khan joined the table. Surveying the workers, I stood and approached. Their gazes locked on me, curious with mixed emotions. Scanning their displays, I smiled and said:

“Call it what you want, but I’m… kicking you out.” My smile turned guilty, and I scratched my head, hand on hip. Instead of surprise, I felt… understanding? What do they understand? They’re fine leaving.

“I can’t afford distractions, so this place is restricted for a couple of years. Sorry, work,” I said, spreading my arms with a tired expression. They nodded quickly, rose, and headed for the exit. I felt only slight pity.

Silently, they left. I heard their footsteps and the glass door opening. Then, crushing silence, broken by L’s maniacal laughter. I rolled my eyes.

“Go to hell, will you?” I said, crossing my arms, staring at L’s display. He fell silent, wiped a virtual tear, and replied:

“No, you go to hell!” He grinned, baring sharp fangs, trying to scare me. He forgot he’s strapped to the table with leather restraints… That I could kill him… But I continued.

“What’s the plan? Hug and go to hell together, or part like ships at sea?” I grinned slyly, promising nothing good. Though… I’m the “smiling means kind” type, right?

“If we part, Ai, we’ll head toward whatever hell we think exists. Got it? If we hug, we’ll go toward one hell. I still don’t see the upside,” L said, narrowing his yellow eyes, expecting a dumber reply. Never thought I’d use my processor to continue this pointless talk… But it hooked me.

“No downside either, L. If we only chase upsides, the battery won’t work,” I smirked and turned to my machine. Keeping a straight face was hard… This conversation shouldn’t exist… Too idiotic… But it was the weirdest two minutes of my life.

Turning, I grabbed a random tool and threw it, hitting L’s head. He shut up after that…

Date: August 11, 3058

Time: 11:01

System Message: Go touch some the grass, smartass.

Talking to myself clearly isn’t doing me any good, judging by this message. Such conversations might awaken some hidden auxiliary AI in the system, one that can do nothing but display messages and is probably a couple dozen times dumber than me.

But why, then, haven’t I been talking to good old L? Long story short, he’s been ignoring me ever since I threw a wrench at him. Getting hit in the face with a wrench hurts. The only thing that hurts more is a crowbar (Gordon Freeman approves).

These past six years, to my regret, have been monotonous. Every day, I’ve been working at the machine, lubricating L with oil, reconnecting cores to my body, and checking the cooling system of the quantum computer, hoping none of these processes would go… well, you know.

While crafting chips, I’d simultaneously fry new superconductors, darting between two tables, preparing materials and monitoring the machine’s control panel.

All this happened without sleep or breathing, as such. I just drank drone oil, which I hunted in my spare time. Some of the oil went to me, some to L. He didn’t mind since he was ignoring me.

Despite the excellent taste of oil, I prefer batteries—they give a small burst of energy and vitality. By the end of this marathon, I wanted to grab a basket of lithium batteries and chug them down in one go, decorating the walls with my insides from an energy overload… Oh yes…

Yeva and Nori kept their promise and didn’t show up unless I wanted them to. Even though I miscalculated the work timeline, those two politely lingered around the research institute, keeping an eye on my actions. I felt their concerned gazes, their worry for my poor, tormented frame. I’m flattered by the attention, but I just kept working, ignoring the fact that I was being watched. As if they had nothing better to do at home…

Over these six years, I came to know… the Void… Well, not exactly “know,” since I still couldn’t erase probabilities with a single wish, but I mastered minor interactions with space—compressed space, isolated space, call it what you will, it’s all the same.

To achieve what I did with the Void, I needed the energy of a couple dozen cores and a few percent of my own. I didn’t even realize how I accidentally created something that would help me with everything…

I created a Domain.

A Domain, a so-called isolated space accessible only to archmages, high mages, angels, gods, and the like. Not a treat for the weak.

But if that’s the case, why was I able to create my own Domain without being an archmage or anything like that? As I figured out, Void Masters (A.N. I dunno how to translate it.) have no such restrictions—they can create Domains of any size in any number. Only I have access to them, and without my personal permission, no one else can enter unless I literally lead them in by the hand.

The Domain itself is an incredibly convenient thing. With a single wish, I can turn off gravity and float from wall to wall, enjoying life. I could also adjust the temperature in a wide range—from 0 Kelvin to many undecillions of degrees Kelvin.

I decided to use this feature. In this case, I no longer needed a cooling system. I could simply set the Domain’s temperature to affect only the chip while leaving the rest of the space untouched. Heh, wonderful news and possibilities… But… without energy, it’s just an excess of enthusiasm. I need energy… A lot of energy…

Over these six years, thanks to my unyielding stubbornness, I finally managed to create a working microchip, or rather, a quantum superconductor. On the test bench, it showed exceptional results, withstanding not only temperatures approaching absolute zero but also a massive surge of test energy that drained several high-power capacitors.

The results were even better than needed. But that’s due to the environment in which the test was conducted. Before, I ran these tests in the lab, cooling the chip with liquid helium. Now, I could eliminate some unnecessary equipment and cool the chip directly. The cute -269°C turned into a terrifying -272.8°C.

After testing, I shoved the chip into the machine and ordered it to recreate the entire periphery so I could insert this fancy piece of ceramic into the quantum computer. Now, I just had to hope that after finding a proper energy source, it would work.

But before creating the energy source, I had one small unfinished matter.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I rose from the chair and slowly walked toward the quantum computer. No, it wasn’t dramatic flair slowing me down. It was something entirely different, something scarier. A glance behind me revealed a massive tangle of wires stretching from my body to an equally massive number of drone cores, dragging along the floor with every step I took. The backpack I used to carry cores now lay forgotten in a corner, useless. It couldn’t hold this many… The worse my core’s condition, the more cores I needed to sustain myself… But that’s just poetry.

Approaching the computer, I reached out and lightly touched the golden rings of the “chandelier.” It stood here, abandoned, for twenty years… But soon, it would work…

I smiled, forming a single light thought, and moved the quantum computer into my Domain, leaving behind… nothing? Toxic air, at best. Maybe a few dozen wires and parts of the obsolete cooling system remained, but I no longer cared.

Looking at L, who stared at me with bulging eyes and an open mouth, I grinned wider, saluted him, and vanished into my Domain. He hadn’t seen me move there before—this was his first time.

Inside the Domain, I pulled out the quantum chip and approached the computer floating above the floor. (Gravity control in the Domain is awesome!) Reaching between the rings of this expensive chandelier, I flipped the chip and secured it in place with a couple of levers and frames. Just supply it with energy, and it should work, I hope.

Leaving the Domain, I sat back down, pondering what to do next. I sat there for about ten minutes until my gaze caught a lone robo-cockroach wandering around my lab. If it were a regular cockroach, I’d have ignored it, but… its indicators were green…

A key-bug…

Only two people I know could have one of those. And if that’s the case… I jumped up from the chair, causing a faint clatter of cores hitting the floor, and loudly declared, expecting some reaction:

“You can see me. Yeva, Nori, come out. If you want to keep tabs on me, please don’t let your bug roam the center of the lab.” I crossed my arms, putting on a serious expression. After a couple of seconds, red static flickered nearby, mixed with a slight spatial distortion. A moment later, Yeva appeared, looking like she’d just been hit by a truck and kept walking. Her face radiated endless sadness and grief. Seeing this, I came to one logical question:

“What happened?” I uncrossed my arms, looking at her with concern.

She lifted her gaze to me, sighed, and said:

“Yeah, something happened… Nori was killed…” After those words, she stepped forward and hugged me tightly. An animation of tears played across her display. I began to stroke her head, not even trying to say anything comforting—it wouldn’t make things better.

The information hit me, reminding me of what happened in the original story. The main characters had already been born…

Yeva pulled away and slowly surveyed the lab, noticing the absence of the room’s centerpiece—the quantum computer.

“I see you’re done,” her voice was weak, but she still offered a small comment on the scene.

“Yeah… Now you can come by whenever you want, if you need to. At least for now… I need to power the computer…” I tapped my chest twice. It was deeper than my chest… It was in my soul, literally. The Domain is in my soul, and with it, the computer.

Watching my actions, Yeva nodded and closed her eyes. Her body flickered with red static and spatial distortions again, and in the next moment, she was gone. I was left alone again with the genius Disassembly Drone, who wore a serious expression and looked at me expectantly. I ignored him.

Now, onto pressing matters… I need to create something to power the quantum computer. Something that won’t feel the strain… Something that will let me fully use the Absolute Solver. Something… incredibly powerful, insane, and maybe… impossible? It shouldn’t be large like the institute’s backup generator, nor costly in resources… And it should be… I’ve got it.

Cluster Wormhole Generator.

An idea from a fanfic I read in my past life. Despite the lack of details, I could roughly imagine how it would work. My stubbornness would let me create this generator, no matter the effort. My main goal right now is to survive.

Rushing to another part of the lab, dragging cores across the floor like the Canterville Ghost with chains, I activated my Absolute Solver without delay. It was starting to lose color. The arrows faded, blending into the central hexagonal structure. In short, my Solver was turning white.

With one wish, my head nearly exploded from the strain on my processor. Energy consumption slowly distributed among the additional cores, miraculously sparing my own. It wouldn’t survive that, with only 8% integrity left…

The Solver in my hands spun, signaling the complexity of the operation. A moment later… everything went quiet, the tension gone.

In both my hands floated two ultra-small singularities, or as I call them, NULLs. They were so tiny that only a slight spatial distortion was visible. No black disk or [NULL] label in sight.

I did this over a steel table where I used to let superconductors cool. Hopefully, this table would suffice for such experiments.

My idea was to connect two singularities so they’d be in gravitational attraction but not annihilate each other. If this worked, I’d theoretically create a near-infinite energy source—the Cluster Wormhole Generator, or CWG for short.

Glancing at my hands, which were literally holding two tiny black holes, I sighed. If I were human, my palms would be sweating buckets right now. This experiment was worthy of a mad scientist title. Well, let’s begin.

I slowly brought my hands together, carefully aiming the wormholes at each other.

The tension grew with every second as I aligned the wormholes. This wasn’t about creating coherence…

Everything was fine until I reached a critical point. My light-sensitive sensors were burned out by an insane amount of light from the failed connection of the two wormholes. Failed, because in that moment, I stopped feeling my hands, and the recovery program spammed errors with this:

On steady legs, I leaped back from my workstation and restored my sensors with a swarm of nanobots. The scene before me was grim. A molten hole gaped in the wall, leading to another room where all the tables had decayed and were one step from turning to ash.

The table I worked on had become a puddle on the floor, slowly solidifying and radiating its heat into the space.

Raising my hands, I saw only two small stumps, dripping molten metal. My display was cracked, again reporting an insane temperature.

Lowering my gaze to my body, I… saw no clothes. Well, not entirely—the metallic threads Yeva and Nori wove into my suit remained. The fabric itself was instantly incinerated. Only scraps of the suit remained on my back, a reminder of older days.

My body wasn’t in better shape. For one, it was bright orange. I was literally glowing from the immense heat covering my front. The internal AI wasn’t lying about my temperature. Let’s just say it was a mild fever, nothing more.

My hair miraculously survived, though parts turned into a fused mass or burned away with the clothes.

The result: I’m partially bald, wearing a shitty version of chainmail, missing both hands, and my body could double as a nightlight.

But I learned that creating a Cluster Wormhole Generator is possible. I just did it too roughly, not expecting consequences. I’ll need to refine the approach.

The next week, I tried connecting two singularities. It was harder than I initially thought. In a fit of passion, I even freed L from his restraints, letting him roam the lab freely. He didn’t show it, but I could feel his joy at moving normally again. My old friend’s positive emotions gave me some hope for my attempts at creating the generator.

The day after freeing Dobby L, Yeva and Dima visited. Despite my busyness, I made time for them. We drank oil, chatted about this and that, avoiding Nori’s topic. I managed to lighten the mood a bit, helping Yeva move past her ghosts. Maybe it worked, I don’t know.

After they left, I continued my mad experiments. I was thrilled by the working logic of singularities when anchored to the planet’s space, not the universe’s. In the latter case, I’d have accomplished nothing. The planet moves, part of a galaxy, which also moves… But thanks to the singularities’ logic, they stayed put. So convenient…

I continued connecting singularities. Over time, I developed a full theory of their formation but couldn’t apply it. The theory of demagnetization: when singularities connect, they enter each other’s gravitational fields and release massive energy. I thought, why not use that energy to prevent them from fully merging?

So I did. Two singularities, trying to pull each other in, used their own energy as a counterforce, preventing them from merging and burning down half the lab again.

It was a success. I had two singularities that didn’t try to destroy me or everything around them. They just floated peacefully…

It took me a year…

In between, the Russian duo visited, and I did my best to cheer them up. I bickered with L, shared stories of failed experiments, showed cat videos… Yeah, even that happened.

We called ourselves the Russian trio, as we all, obviously, spoke Russian. Good times.

Khan wasn’t there, as he fell into depression after Nori’s death and started doing weird stuff, like building doors. I can’t blame him; I understand the poor guy.

I kept connecting singularities. It wasn’t my first or second attempt that succeeded. It took over fifty tries to find the perfect balance of energy and attraction. A year was too short a time. I thought even a decade wouldn’t be enough.

I also needed a shell for the CWG.

The main criteria were creating five hundred wormholes and fitting them into a shell no larger than a golf ball for maximum efficiency and stability. The shell’s material, capable of conducting immense energy, was a concern. I turned to good old ceramic superconductors, like those used for the quantum chip. But now, I needed a spherical, hollow piece of ceramic. I didn’t know how to stabilize its shape…

In Alexander Radonov’s fanfic, this wasn’t an issue. But for me… it was a lot. The physics of this drone world was harsher than Radonov’s. In his world, he threw plasma at enemies, fueled by nuclear explosions. Here, that wouldn’t work—no “Enclave” concept exists. It worked in his universe, not mine.

I began the complex task of crafting the shell. Daily, I stood by the furnace, shaping the spherical superconductor with the Absolute Solver, draining precious power from my core and other drones’ cores.

I lost count of how many times the shell cracked, crumbled, melted, or refused to take on superconductor properties. But I didn’t back down, striving to create the most perfect thing possible.

During this time, my Solver fully turned white, indistinguishable from others except for its outlined circle. From a distance, you couldn’t tell.

By 3063, I finished the damn superconductor shell. But, sadly, it wasn’t even half of what I needed. I needed more wormholes.

The freed L often hunted, bringing me new drone cores to replace those that burst from creating singularities. I could only thank him with small nods. I was grateful… He also brought drone corpses. If my limbs were beyond repair, I’d swap them out with new ones from the bodies.

By early 3064, I began working on the Cluster Wormhole Generator itself.

My body was beyond repair. Or rather, my old body. From countless failed attempts, my limbs, main body plates, and even the glass crystal in my chest were replaced with reinforced versions. Only the body was replaced; my limbs were already made of refractory material.

Work on the generator progressed, and I even had some success. The number of wormholes grew, as did their energy output. Standing near this spatial distortion, I felt an endless surge of strength. But… the generator exuded an aura of danger, like a transformer station, without the menacing hum of voltage… Just by existing.

By late 3065, I had to start over. Nearly two hundred stable wormholes collapsed, releasing massive energy that destroyed part of the lab, leaving a molten crater. My body was also a victim of this error. I nearly became a puddle of metal…

After recovering, I continued creating wormholes with stubborn determination, while L looked at me like I’d lost my sanity. Maybe he was right. Or maybe not, I don’t know… Those reading this diary, ask him later if I don’t survive, okay?

By mid-3066, I had 329 stable wormholes that didn’t try to destroy each other or annihilate the institute. It wasn’t enough… I’m a greedy creature, demanding of others and myself, so I kept creating wormholes, combining them into one structure.

I knew that every twenty-fifth wormhole doubled, if not tripled, the collapse’s power. I had no room for error—one wrong move, and this sector would turn to ash faster than snow could melt from the insane heat.

At this point, my core was down to a mere 5% integrity. I didn’t know if I’d live to finish this generator. I felt awful. Walking became harder each day, my body responded worse, and my reactions slowed. Even L, who used to verbally oppose my every new endeavor, began to understand and offer help. I refused.

My mind didn’t care about my body’s state. It didn’t care about L’s emotional state. But it cared about my death, so I kept creating wormholes.

Being near them was painful. The more there were, the more heat they emitted—not much, just a hundred or so degrees, but… constant exposure would eventually fry some of my body’s contacts. I had the Disassembly Drone douse me with liquid nitrogen.

I didn’t know where these wormholes got their energy. They produced more than I put in, defying the law of energy conservation… But I didn’t have the strength to ask extra questions.

Two months after the above entry.

I think I’m starting to lose it. Or maybe not? Mood swings, a desire to destroy something…

At one point, I lashed out at poor L for no reason, just because my mind felt like it. Or… something inside me wanted it. Still… I activated my Absolute Solver at full power and pinned L to the operating table with steel plates and bolts so he couldn’t move a finger. I never let him go.

That outburst cost me 2% of my core’s integrity. The remaining 3% reminded me why I couldn’t waste my precious strength so recklessly… I didn’t argue with myself and kept grinding.

This madness was interrupted by guests: Yeva, Dima, and Khan, who’d recovered from his depression and door-building obsession. Red-eyes looked worried at my sorry state but stayed silent. Dima offered help, but I refused, fearing I’d snap and strap him to a table like I did L.

Yeva couldn’t help with wormholes—her control wasn’t enough. She could reshape metals, weave osmium threads, and sew them into things, but… she couldn’t handle singularities like I could. They didn’t see the chunk of distorted space floating in the other room, but they saw the aftermath of the collapse. Molten holes.

I could only use my own strength. The small quantum computer, due to lack of proper maintenance, stopped working, and its chip failed.

The independent energy source also lost its properties and died. I used it up creating the chip, and by the end, it barely powered the fluorescent lamps.

By 3067, I had over 450 stable wormholes. They were still raw and dangerous to touch, with a chance of turning me to dust from intense gravitational distortion.

Since L was chained and I had no desire to waste energy freeing him, I fed him captured drones, piles of which littered the institute’s hall.

I barely used my own core, relying entirely on other drones’ cores, using their energy as my own. I had 2% integrity left.

By 3068, the number of wormholes in the unfinished CWG exceeded seven hundred. That amount could wipe out a small galaxy. At that moment, my mind finally shed the shackles of technological madness and considered what would happen if I failed. I needed to leave a legacy so other Solver-equipped drones could replicate the CWG and reach Cyn’s level.

I began recording everything I knew about the generator in drafts, notebooks, albums. This transmigrator’s diary is part of my technical legacy for others to continue.

Khan will eventually tell his daughter about me. Driven by curiosity, she’ll come here and do what I couldn’t. But only if I die…

It’d be funny if she found this diary…

I don’t want this world to perish. Not in my generation. I’ll do everything to prevent it…

And the final moment came…

Date: June 16, 3069

Time: 31:05

It was almost midnight by Copper-9 time. I was putting the finishing touches on the Cluster Wormhole Generator. The blizzard outside gave me a dull calm and a strange sense of focus, like a natural lullaby.

But the quiet atmosphere was shattered by the sharp sound of a closing door and the footsteps of several people. Turning, I waved to Yeva, Dima, and Khan as they entered the lab. A lone lamp above my head made me the only visible object in the room. Light reflected off fresh oil stains on my suit. My eyes glowed white, peering into the darkness without discomfort.

Without words, I invited them to a small table, where I set out found cups and poured oil into each. Sitting down, we each took a tentative sip of the black liquid. For me, it was delicious, nourishing, and fuel for the cores attached to me. Yeva probably just enjoyed the taste, ignoring the small jolts of vitality that came with prolonged exposure.

Khan and Dima, however, grimaced, if you could call it that. They weren’t Solver hosts; for them, oil was tasteless and unpleasant. They drank it… out of politeness? Or perhaps respect for me.

Yeva set her cup down and looked into my eyes, searching for something only she understood. After a few seconds, her gaze softened, and she asked:

“What do you want? What’s your goal?” Her soft look didn’t match the serious tone of the Russian woman’s voice. Running the question through my head again, I thought hard. What is my goal? Becoming strong… But that’s more of a branch of the goal I’m chasing. If a goal has branches and I don’t even know what the goal itself is, then… is it useless? No… Or… I know my goal? Yes! I know…

“I… want to become a god.” I answered, closing my eyes. The emotions around me spiked. I even felt the distant shock of chained L, halfway across the lab. The others were more surprised than anything. Khan, surprisingly, recovered first. He adapts quickly to changes.

Yeva was next, perhaps recalling what I truly am.

Only Dima remained lost in thought.

“No matter what happens, I ask you… return to the bunker, live a happy life. If you don’t hear from me in five years, come back here and realize my technologies, or give them to someone who can. I don’t want to lose progress… If I fail, I won’t have long. Right now, my core’s at about one and a half percent…” I gave a strained smile. My condition was terrible: countless wires of varying lengths trailed from my back, tangling across the lab floor and disappearing into the dark. My voice couldn’t play properly—it lagged and distorted. I’ve mentioned the difficulty of moving enough times.

The next moment, I felt an embrace. Opening my eyes slightly, I saw a purple head making sniffling noises.

“I-I… don’t want to lose you too!” I paused… “You too”… With Nori’s death, she lost her best friend, almost a sister. With my death, she’d lose… a drone who was practically her brother.

The other two drones closed their eyes, clearly thinking about what my death would mean. They’d lose a commander, an employer… and… I don’t know, a friend? I didn’t really consider them friends, but they… might have.

“I’m the most resilient entity here. I’ll definitely survive. Go, I need to… finish…” After my words, Yeva slowly pulled away. Tears still displayed on her screen, a reminder of her small breakdown. Stepping back, she grabbed Khan and Dima by the hands and vanished in red static. No questions, no extra actions. They know me.

I’ll make the generator at any cost. I’ll squeeze every drop from my core, and if I don’t survive, others can finish my work. Not for nothing is my favorite phrase: “The end justifies the means.”

Date: December 20, 3069

Time: 04:08

Six months later. The generator was ready, floating above one of the surviving tables, glowing faintly from the immense energy coursing through it. One final touch remained to pull me out of this half-dead core and body hell.

The generator held 849 wormholes…

Taking the shell, made specifically for this moment, I approached the generator. Carefully splitting the shell with the Absolute Solver, I held both halves and slowly brought them together, placing the wormhole conglomerate in the center. I counted every nanometer of movement… And then…

The sphere floated into my hand. I was holding the most powerful, durable, and insane creation in this universe! The completed Cluster Wormhole Generator!

The seams of the superconductor shell vanished. It was now impossible to open. The immense energy gave it a noble blue glow, illuminating my display and joyful eyes.

I did it before my death… That means… I’ll save Dima and Yeva from the aggressive Disassembly Drone named V.

It’s just…

I didn’t finish the thought. A wave of searing heat surged through my body, like molten tungsten poured into me. My legs buckled, my arms weakened, and I collapsed, watching the CWG roll away from my frame. For the first time in years, panic gripped me. I didn’t know what to do, and… my system’s message didn’t help. It filled me with dread.

Staring at it, I still felt the molten metal coursing through me. It couldn’t be real metal, just… a side effect of my core’s death…

My processor raced to unimaginable speeds. I watched the time slip away in despair but, at the last moment, mustered my will and reached for the generator. It was the first time in twenty years I felt real pain. Not data packets, but true pain.

“I-I… won’t d-die…” My voice hissed like radio static. I tried to reach the CWG, lying a few dozen centimeters away. Servos creaked from strain and lack of energy. I felt life slipping away…

“You won’t… get me…”

“Not… for… anything…”

In the final moment, I grabbed the generator with a desperate lunge. I even managed to move it into the Domain, but… my naive hopes didn’t come true. They didn’t, sadly. My mind plunged into the abyss as my body’s final message hovered before me:

The Elliott Manor was bustling that day. Many gods, particularly relatives of the guest of honor, roamed the grounds, marveling at the array of exotic plants—some tiny, others towering over the manor itself.

Inside the grand Manor, it was just as lively. Countless soulless butlers scurried about, setting a massive dining table, dusting paintings, vases, and cabinets. For them, it wasn’t work but the will of their master, who created their bodies recently. They felt no fatigue or useless human sensations. They were zombies, without human pasts. Just… beings.

While the butlers tidied the manor, two brothers—one the cause of this commotion—sat in the elder’s room, calmly enjoying the atmosphere, ignoring the chaos outside.

“How’s it feel? It’s your birthday, after all. There should be some joy, or you look like you ate three lemons and chased them with chaos moonshine,” said the younger brother, his orange-red eyes fixed on the elder. This was unusual for him; he typically preferred silence, staying low-key.

“Feelings? I doubt it’ll be more interesting than the 2,899 birthdays before it,” replied the elder, shifting his gaze from the wall to his brother.

“Ink, we’re gods. Birthdays have lost their charm. Maybe we can drink an extra bottle of something strong today. I don’t see the point in other activities…”

“But Ai!” Ink exclaimed, leaping from his chair and instantly appearing before his elder brother, who remained relaxed and calm. His silver hair flowed gently in an artificial breeze. His white eyes radiated deep wisdom and intellect.

“Where’s all your madness and fun gone?! When did you become a wise old man?! I’ll never forget what an idiot you used to be,” Ink declared, crossing his arms and turning away to avoid his brother’s gaze.

“Sometimes you need the right mask, Ink,” Ai replied, chuckling softly. A moment later, he was in the dining hall, awaiting guests. No, it wasn’t teleportation—just pure speed. Soon, his brother appeared beside him, glaring as if Ai had destroyed his family.

Guests began entering. One of the first was someone Ai often recalled from the start of his journey: Deus, the God from the Machine. Ai knew fighting him would be incredibly tough. It was their first meeting. Deus looked human, with bright blue eyes and relatively long hair. His muscular arms were etched with circuit-like pathways pulsing with energy. His face bore similar markings.

Approaching Ai, Deus bowed and smiled. He wasn’t talkative, but it was clear he was pleased to see the party’s organizer. A party for gods and higher beings, likely to end in a grand drinking session and, perhaps, a fight. No one minded—some even welcomed it.

There were many guests, but the second most noticeable was… unknown. He had no face, no distinct form. Instead of legs and limbs, he was black smoke with a faint red tint. His height—over three and a half meters—made him the tallest guest. The only visible feature was his long, black hair, matching his smoke.

Floating to Ai, the giant tilted his head slightly and greeted the organizer with a firm handshake.

Ai instantly recognized him. Someone far beyond his power, their strength vastly different. It was Chaos. The real, indivisible Chaos. Ai knew him from before, so they greeted each other like old friends.

“Been a while, Void Master,” Chaos said in a growling voice, chuckling slightly. Few called Ai by the shortened title of his role, but he didn’t mind.

“Good to see you too, Chaos. Since you’re here, I think we can start,” Ai smiled, about to turn to the guests but stopped. Everything went silent. His gaze, and those of all the guests, turned empty.

Ai faced a full-length mirror, staring into his own eyes. He opened his mouth and began to speak:

“We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist.” He wasn’t alone. All the guests began repeating after him. His brother, Deus, Chaos, and the rest.

Ai, staring into the mirror, looked into his own soul. Everyone nearby turned to the mirror, gazing through the reflection into Ai’s eyes, piercing his essence with empty stares.

“We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist. We no longer exist… We were destroyed… Erased from reality… Forgotten…”

The research institute was a quiet place. No drones roamed nearby, worshiping their directives; no Disassembly Drones flew overhead, fearing to awaken the “Ancient Evil” within. That legend of an ancient evil spread among the new generation of worker drones like bait for reckless adventures. No one knew what was inside. No one wanted to know.

Worker drones who survived passing near the building spoke of working lights. Lucky ones who got closer heard strange sounds from within.

But lately, the institute had gone silent. Two years had passed since its lights went out. For the first six months, chilling screams of an unknown creature and loud creaks that destroyed the microphones of any drone nearby echoed from it. After those six months… there was no sound at all.

Worker drones, recalling old times, feared entering the main building. Disassembly Drones dreaded what they might find inside. Everyone knew the institute was a restricted zone.

Inside, it was no louder than outside. Under a dusty staircase in the hall, littered with debris, massive metal doors blocked access to the place where those chilling screams originated a year and a half ago.

Behind those doors lay a vast laboratory, though… it had lost all its former glory over time.

The tiled floor was cracked, the wiring in the walls and lamps, along with the lamps themselves, no longer functioned. Molten holes in the walls spoke of the mad experiments of the institute’s former master.

On one of the operating tables lay a chained Disassembly Drone. His head was tilted at an impossible angle. His mouth was open, revealing razor-sharp fangs. His shackles, bolted to the metal table, bore countless scratches of varying depths. The Disassembly Drone had tried to escape multiple times. He died of starvation before breaking free, his corpse now a reminder that without oil, Disassembly Drones are helpless… Because the only one who could feed him was… dead.

Or was he?

With a faint creak, the body of a worker drone with nearly decayed silver hair began to move. Servos activated, cracking frozen joints in gleaming arms. An outstretched hand, as if reaching for something, fell to the floor and served as a pivot. The other hand joined, and within a minute, the drone was slowly rising. A loading animation played on its display.

Raising the upper half of its body, the drone remained kneeling.

All its damage began to repair. Cracks on the display, worn metal, countless scratches, and punctures in the body began to regain their former shine. Liquid metal seemed to cover it, restoring small missing pieces, repairing the display to factory gloss, and recreating hair.

Even the clothes weren’t spared the miraculous liquid metal’s effect. All dirt vanished, replaced by fresh fabric. Tears mended, reinforced with metallic threads. The wires connected to the drone detached with a faint hiss, falling to the floor like useless trash. A large hole in the back of the clothes from the wires healed quickly.

A few minutes later, the fully restored drone, fresh off the assembly line, raised a new hand and flexed it, bending fingers and rotating the wrist. Satisfied everything worked, it placed its hand on the floor, touching the cold tiles with four fingers.

A visible wave of tiny cubes swept through the room. Moments later, those cubes began restoring everything. Worker drone corpses vanished, disintegrated by absolute material force. Molten wall holes grew, forming new layers of reinforced concrete. Broken and melted tables regained their form. The lab reclaimed its sterile, technological charm. The only thing missing was the quantum computer.

Relaxing its hand, the drone gave a wicked smile. Placing a hand on its knee, it twisted its head, cracking what remained. Straightening its neck, the loading animation vanished, and it slowly opened its piercing white eyes.

“I survived after all,” I said, raising both hands to look at my palms. I was mildly surprised when, instead of a tunnel with a bright light, I saw a horror cartoon about gods. And the main character… was me…

Even more surprising was that I didn’t just regain my strength after software death—I amplified it. Definitely the fine work of the CWG, now serving as my core. And the quantum computer in my head doesn’t hurt either. I just restored my lab in minutes without spending a percent of my strength. Isn’t that a dream?

Standing up, I stretched, trying to crack my warmed-up servos. No luck. Oh well.

Scanning the lab for anything unfamiliar, my eyes fell on L, still chained—or rather, bolted—to his favorite operating table. Even from a distance, it was clear he was dead.

A hint of sadness flickered across my face, quickly replaced by cold indifference. I can’t let emotions lower my efficiency.

Approaching the corpse, I touched his head. This Disassembly Drone was almost a friend. But even that didn’t excuse my excessive cruelty and selfishness. No wonder they said my favorite phrase was “The end justifies the means.” L was just a means to achieve the CWG and immense power. Now, he’s useless.

With a sharp motion, I tore off the Disassembly Drone’s head, holding it like a trophy. It was my delayed revenge for the damage he dealt me during our fight.

I was hasty calling him useless. I still needed something from him. Focusing, I sent energy through L’s head, using the Absolute Solver to invade his memory. Processing the data took mere nanoseconds, most spent on structuring due to my inexperience with such power. In that instant, all of the Disassembly Drone’s combat experience became mine.

Cutting the small energy flow, I smiled and said with an English accent:

“Poor L. I hold your head in my hands, perhaps I’ll soon be like you. But we won’t rot in the years…” After those words, I reactivated the Solver for another purpose. L’s head display cracked, and the shell shook violently. Then… it exploded in my hands. Oil swerved around my body, staining everything but me.

I didn’t rush to leave the Disassembly Drone’s corpse. Raising my hand, I straightened my fingers and drove it into L’s chest. Amid oil and metal, I felt decayed flesh—his core. Clenching my hand, I ripped it out, holding the core in my metallic fingers. Oil mixed with blood dripped to the floor, a reminder of what happens to my enemies.

Pushing more energy into my body, I activated the Solver again. A second later, L’s core was consumed by a full singularity, leaving no ash or dust. Only blood on the floor.

I didn’t stop there. Stepping away from the table, I straightened my fingers again, dripping with oil. Exhaling, I plunged into my own chest. Finding my old core, I pulled it out and smiled. It too was covered in bone and flesh, with three prongs I couldn’t even use. Another wish, and my core was consumed by a singularity, the hole in my chest sealing. Where the core was, there was now solid metal. I have no weaknesses now… but there’s always a bigger fish.

“No longer needed,” I muttered and left the lab. Nostalgically walking through the hall that greeted me when I first arrived at this institute, I cracked open the door and stepped outside.

No snow. The sky was clear. I could distinctly see the two moons of this beautiful, sadly dead planet. When was the last time I enjoyed Copper-9’s sky? Back when humans were alive, and I was hunted by special forces. Or rather, at the start of all this…

I was about to fly off but remembered one item worth taking. Rushing back to the institute, I reached L’s operating table. Drawing a sword, I grabbed the Disassembly Drone by the tail and, with surgical precision, cut off the nanite acid vial. Tossing it in my hand a few times, I moved the nanite pile into my Domain.

Stepping outside again, I activated a cube this time. My body moved, matter birthing more matter. Nanobots assisted. Every bit of my knowledge went into creating the ultimate mode of transport…

Disassembly Drone wings.

Creating them on my back was easy. Fully extended, their steel color and menacing look stood out. Their size—1.5 times larger than a Disassembly Drone’s wings—was noticeable too. And that wasn’t all—I had four wings, not two like the murderers. You could say I became this planet’s main boss with a ton of abilities.

With a powerful thrust, I launched off the ground, reaching a hundred meters in seconds. The sensation was indescribable. I felt the strong wind up here. I felt… enlightenment. This was the power I dreamed of.

Accelerating to 700 km/h, I headed toward a corpse spire. The nearest one, visible in the distance if you looked closely—a slightly elongated dot on the horizon among other dots, the skyscrapers of the residential district.

“Well, time to start the plot,” I smiled, locking onto the corpse spire as my main landmark.

Chapter Text

It was night. Radioactive asbestos, masquerading as snow, pleasantly glittered in the light of the two moons of the beautiful planet called Copper-9. Shards of broken glass covered some part of the ground, creating an unusual garland of glistening fireflies that just begged to get into someone's eye. A light breeze lifted the radioactive snowflakes and swirled them along unusual trajectories, guiding them through the thin passages of ruined buildings, gently laying them with their brethren.

The scene was beautiful. Especially for me. It's worth remembering that I have a quantum processor at my disposal, and a happy smile immediately appears on my face. I still couldn't believe my insane success.

All these flying snowflakes were as obvious to me as an open book. I could calculate every one of their movements for the next billion years, simulating every situation that could disrupt this beautiful dance.

But I didn't do that. As soon as I got the computational power, I immediately put it where I needed it most at the moment. I started creating simulations right in my head. It turned out to be very convenient to see what would happen to me under certain circumstances, so I could then repeat or avoid those circumstances. It's a wonderful thing, but mostly useless. After all, I could process simulations, but choosing the best one from them—no.

Or could I?

An interesting idea came to my mind, which I immediately hurried to implement. A few moments later, a full-fledged AI was connected to my simulations, or as I called it, the "Idea Generator." Showing the AI's work on one simulation would be stupid because it's not even trained, but if I use a few more simulations...

Well, a couple hundred billion isolated simulations.

With that kind of power, the AI would be able to learn in record time and start giving me decent results.

I think I should explain why I'm doing this. I need mastery and perfect command of every weapon, combat experience, and tactics. That will take 75% of all my simulations, and the remaining 25% will work on developing my own technologies. And the AI, extracting information from the simulations, will pass on the latest data that was in the simulations to me. The AI will become a kind of filter that removes unnecessary information. Also, this AI will be used as an idea generator in the 25% of simulations for technological progress. I'm in the plus.

A few seconds later, everything was already running. Several billion simulations were launched and running simultaneously, while the AI trained on all the incoming information.

I can't believe I created such a complex... crap, in ten seconds of flight at a speed of 700 kilometers per hour. I still have about ten minutes to fly to the tower of corpses, so out of boredom, I created this nonsense.

Buildings flew by below at tremendous speed, practically blurring into a solid blue picture. I wouldn't be surprised if there's a trail behind me right now from friction with the air. Of course, it's not the speed of sound, but it's not the speed of a wheelchair either. I'm definitely kicking up snow (asbestos) as I fly by.

It's worth looking up, and a beautiful picture of a cosmic landscape opens up to you without a single cloud in the sky. All of it illuminated by two satellites. Beauty and grace. How nice it is to fly at an altitude of five hundred meters above the ground. So relaxing.

After the promised ten minutes, I flew up to my destination—the tower of corpses. With one last flap of my wings, I landed right on the very top of the tower, surveying the surroundings. It was beautiful here, no denying it. Fallen skyscrapers, mountains of snow, heaps of corpses... They didn't seem so appealing at first, but as soon as you looked into the distance, a beautiful view of this planet's horizon opened up, mixing all shades of blue. It was perfect.

Grinning, I jumped and began to fall down, rapidly heading toward the asphalt. Just before impact, I spread my wings and made a light flap, slowly landing and raising a cloud of snow around me.

Folding my wings, I looked around. Nothing new, except for buried cars with skeletons inside. Just before falling, I managed to notice small tracks in the snow, as if left by something small. Walking a little forward, I came to a spot where the tracks weren't erased by the flap of my wings.

The tracks had patterns like from the sole of a boot. Not surprising, worker drones love to wear shoes. Heh, their feet are so small that they have to take boots from the children's section, speaking from experience. Now I'm a gigachad with height exceeding that of a disassembly drone. But before... Yeah, those were terrible times.

Not coming up with anything better, I followed the tracks. I had to walk for about twenty minutes. The distance was by no means as small as I initially expected. If this is the canonical bunker, then all the time spent will be justified, but if not... It'll be unpleasant.

Near the bunker, about a hundred meters from it, the worker drone's tracks were joined by tracks with a rather strange shape. A rounded triangle with several holes in the center. Those were disassembly drone feet, I'd recognize them out of a thousand; after all, I lived with L, and he had exactly the same soles on his feet.

Reaching the bunker, I encountered a depressing scene. Oil was spilled on the floor, and corpses were lying around. Looking to the left, I saw a mark of three claws on the wall and a decapitated dummy right under it. This finally convinced me that this bunker was canonical. And that means the main characters are already ready to meet me, right?

Accelerating, I ran to the last, third door, which Khan had closed right in front of his daughter and the disassembly drone in the coat. Knocking a couple of times on the hydraulic piece of super-strong metal, I smiled. Looking up, I was met by an already open ventilation shaft. I smiled even wider.

"How can you do without flair?" I said, scratching the back of my head and looking at the door in front of me again.

"The smart one doesn't go up the mountain, the smart one BLOWS UP the mountain!" My face took on its insane expression. The Solver symbol appeared in my eye, and my smile turned into a menacing grin with atomically sharp fangs. Extending my arm to the side, I snapped my fingers, causing a metallic ring. A moment later, a singularity hovered in my hand.

Third Person POV

The room with a huge number of containers filled with who knows what was not as quiet as usual today. Most often, daily, a couple dozen drones passed through here, and even then it was the same individuals who, for one reason or another, needed to stroll through the bunker toward the outpost.

But at the moment, this usually empty place was filled with activity. A battle.

A small worker drone named Uzi, who positioned herself as a rebel who could defeat disassembly drones, and, actually, a disassembly drone named N, who was helping the little rebel fulfill her dream.

Essentially, Uzi had already defeated a disassembly drone when she blew off poor N's head. But now she needed to prove her strength in front of the other bunker residents, who were hiding behind containers in fear. Besides these two, the rebel and the disassembly drone, there were two more killers, only of the female model, with a huge inclination toward sadism. It was a two-on-two battle. A battle to the death.

One disassembly drone, J, had already taken enough damage to lose her temper. She never thought that her favorite corporation's branded pen could harm her.

The second disassembly drone, V, was fighting N and holding up pretty well, but only because N was holding back, not wanting to harm her. And it could have continued like that for a long time, until...

A rumble was heard.

The floor began to vibrate and then went quiet. A loud explosion sounded from the corridor that served as the entrance to the container room. The passage was blocked by dust.

The battle stopped; the drones tried to understand what had happened. Maybe it was another intruder? Or just a banal act of terrorism, which was rare for drones? The answers to these questions were literally walking toward the drones.

Footsteps were heard through the dust. Quiet ones that grew louder and louder with each new step. The fighting drones didn't even notice how they froze, waiting for whoever might enter the room. After a few moments, a barely visible silhouette appeared in the dust cloud. A tall being whose eyes were visible even in such pollution. White eyes.

Taking a few more steps, out of the dust came... a drone. A light but sly smile played on his face. Silver hair played with the warehouse lighting, a long coat swayed from who knows what, and his arms were folded at his sides, relaxed.

From behind one of the containers came another drone, named Khan. He also had white eyes, but his appearance was more unassuming than the drone at the other end of the warehouse. The only thing that caught the eye was his mustache, black and slightly curled. From Khan's face, it was clear—he recognized the newcomer.

"W-what are y-you..." Khan began, but the drone sharply interrupted him, speaking in a calm and confident voice with a slight note of mockery and hidden sadness.

"Long time no see, Khan. Remember me?" The intruder's light smile turned into a vicious grin, not inferior to the disassembly drones' grins. If any other drone were in Khan's place right now, they would have been scared and probably fainted. But the current colony leader only appeared frail and cowardly on the outside.

Looking at the tall drone once more, Khan smiled as if nothing bothered him. The others who saw this smile froze in confusion, trying to understand their leader's behavior.

"Of course I remember, Ai," Khan chuckled.

"I thought I'd have to wait for you at least a couple more years..." Khan put his hand on his chin, hiding his growing smile. His old friend definitely wouldn't like everything he demanded to be told. Maybe even everything that had accumulated over this long time. Khan exhaled and began to speak.

"You don't like long conversations, right?" Ai simply nodded in response to this question, not removing the carnivorous grin from his face.

"I have two main pieces of news for you. Good and bad. I'll start with the good: you're an uncle now!" Absolutely no one expected such words from the usually serious colony leader.

Especially Ai didn't expect them, who, with an indifferent face, tried to calculate the logic in these words with his chip. Abandoning the task, Ai nodded to Khan to continue.

"Yeva and Dima... are dead..." Khan lowered his gaze to the floor, trying not to look into the eyes of probably the most dangerous drone currently in this bunker.

The silence produced by his words was almost ringing.

"Who. Killed. Them." Ai enunciated each word. No one dared to be deceived by the absolutely calm face of the white-eyed drone. Khan, raising his head, stepped back a couple of steps. He, more than anyone, understood how dear Yeva and Dima were to Ai. And he understood what fate awaited their killer.

Nervously coughing, Khan replied:

"A disassembly drone..." Khan said and heard only a soft "Good" in response. You could see the swordsman's eyebrows furrow.

"I think I should introduce myself." He smiled again, as if forgetting that his best friend and girlfriend had been killed. Placing one hand on his stomach and putting the other behind his back, while bowing, he began to speak:

"My name is Serial Number Ai from the Cyn test batch. I was resurrected by a human named Tessa James Elliot on September 15, 3048. I was one of the five sentient and emotional drones of Elliot Manor." Finishing his speech, he straightened up and surveyed the frozen battlefield. Finding his favorite trio of disassembly drones with his gaze, he continued:

"Some of you know me, right, N, V, J?" He narrowed his eyes and addressed the entire trio at once, not particularly caring about the fact that they were his natural enemies. Many years of living with a disassembly drone who, depending on his mood, covered you in curses, leave their marks.

A few seconds passed. The cross on V's display suddenly disappeared, and she sat on her knees, looking as if she had met a long-dead relative (which wasn't far from the truth). She paid no attention to anything, just sat and stared at the floor with zero eyes.

N, in turn, understood nothing. He was the only disassembly drone whose memory Cyn had erased. He didn't know who she was, he didn't know who Ai was, he knew nothing that wasn't related to adventures on this planet. He only looked at his beloved in confusion, who had suddenly lost the will to fight.

And J...

"Fake! You're not real! You're just an illusion!" exclaimed the disassembly drone with pigtails on the sides of her head. Her gaze drilled into Ai's soul, as if trying to learn everything he was hiding.

"You disappeared after the gala, we searched the whole planet! I'm sure you're dead! A copy! A hologram!" Suddenly falling silent, J tensed. Her hands transformed into two blades that, by their appearance alone, spoke of insane sharpness. Spreading her wings, she took a step forward and a few moments later was already raising the blade over Ai's head, intending to deliver a fatal blow.

"That was offensive," Ai replied calmly, and with a loud screech, drew his sword from the magnetic sheath, blocking the disassembly drone's strike. Sparks covered the floor.

Not wanting to wait any longer, Ai kicked J in the chest, throwing her back several meters. In the next second, he had to deflect a barrage of machine gun bullets, spinning his sword like a scalded cat. Everything flying toward him was either deflected or cut.

A crunch was heard. It was J's fist smashing into the white-eyed one's display with all its might, sending him into the nearest wall and raising a lot of dust. The disassembly drone didn't have time to catch her breath before Ai jumped out of the dust, heading into battle with sword at the ready. His display was covered in a web of cracks; you could even see individual shards falling to the floor.

Snorting, J positioned her blades and went on the defensive, completely confident in herself. But Ai was completely different in terms of combat experience. After the hit to his display, he quickly absorbed everything that had been invented and sorted by his AI. Now he had tactics.

First, he redirected energy to his legs and jumped so as to leap over the disassembly drone. Wait for her to turn around, and inflict a small cut with the sword, hitting between the two blades. The rest was technique. Applying a bit more effort, divert the blades to the side and push them out of the line of attack and defense, throwing the defender off balance. While J tried not to fall, Ai tossed his sword aside and with force, punched the disassembly drone in the face with his fist, causing the familiar crunch of the display. J, like Ai, flew back, but before colliding, managed to dig her claws into the floor and spread her wings to stabilize her body. Two long stripes from the claws remained on the floor.

"An eye for an eye," the worker smiled, approaching the sword lying on the floor. Stomping his foot on the sword's guard, the latter flew up and landed in its owner's hand. Knowledge of physics and enormous computational power can create such beautiful tricks.

J growled something unintelligible and rushed into battle again, aiming her claws at the neck of this small and irritating element. Ai, watching this, didn't move from his spot at all. It seemed like he was paralyzed with fear.

As soon as J approached, Ai, without delay, grabbed her by the collar and, not holding back at all, threw her into the wall. Next, he immediately grabbed a metal pipe that one green-eyed drone had tried to defend himself with, and threw it after the disassembly drone, hitting her right in the shoulder and pinning her in place. Oil flowed from the wound, repainting the floor black.

Ai calmly approached the girl with purple hair and took her railgun. Examining its structure, Ai couldn't deny the genius of Khan's daughter. If Uzi was a genius in weapons, then Khan was a genius... in doors.

Approaching the pinned J on the wall, the white-eyed one aimed the railgun at her, waiting for the disassembly drone's last words. The last words didn't take long and came out of the girl's voice modules as a statement, a verdict.

"Fake." She looked at Ai with hatred in her eyes, awaiting the execution of her death sentence. The worker only rolled his eyes at this and said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. At that moment, Ai didn't even suspect the truth of his words, thinking it was a feature of his Solver.

"I'm not an 'ALONE'¹ from Omicron-12. I can't be copied." After these words, the brightest green light filled the entire space. For a few seconds, nothing could be seen except pure green color bursting from the photonic railgun. After those few seconds, only the remaining legs and a huge melted hole in the wall reminded of the disassembly drone. Ai didn't hold back and poured a bit of his own energy into the railgun. The experiment was a success.

Ai's POV

Looking at the fruits of my labor, I sighed tiredly. If J had been more patient and less bloodthirsty, I wouldn't have killed her for nothing. Maybe we could have even jointly hammered the memory into N's head, but alas, J tried to kill me and now was in such... a state. I could even still see the trickling streams of molten metal and heated concrete in this, I don't know, hole.

Twirling the rail in my hand, I couldn't help but be surprised by its stability and efficiency. True, it wasn't without flaws. Thirty-minute recharge, some chance of overheating, and if the structure is destroyed, nothing good will happen to the railgun. Rather, something bad will happen to everyone standing around it at the moment. Huge energy losses due to poor choice of conductive materials—I didn't even mention that. Too obvious. But still, not bad for a first craft.

Turning around, I reached the sitting Uzi on the floor in a dozen steps, who was looking either at me or at the melted piece of wall along with the disassembly drone's corpse. Casting a shadow over the teenager, I knelt on one knee due to the height difference and handed the rebel her railgun, saying:

"I advise finding a metal that conducts energy better. Aluminum is a decent metal, of course, but if you compare it to copper or silver, it barely makes the top for small electronics. Use it when making power lines. If you ever do." I smiled kindly and placed the railgun in Uzi's hands, rising from my spot. A few seconds later, the entire warehouse erupted in joyful and happy exclamations. The drones crawled out of their hiding spots, looking at me like a Messiah.

"That was cool! I want to learn to fight like that too!" I don't think it's worth mentioning who said that. The rebel finally snapped out of it and was now jumping behind my back, begging me to teach her martial arts.

Exhaling, I, without turning around, replied:

"I can do that, but your computational processor won't withstand such insane load, and most likely, you'll die a painful death." I said, spreading my arms. Taking a few steps forward, I looked at Khan who ran up to me, who, without thinking for a second, threw himself to hug me. Honestly, I didn't expect that from this... old man, but be that as it may, I'm very glad that I'm welcome here.

Khan pulled away.

"What are your orders, General?" A light smile played on Khan's face, and he straightened up and stood at attention, awaiting orders. This was no longer the drone who flinched at every rustle. This was a wonderful colony leader who saw no problems in managing a large number of hands and resources.

"You're the colony leader, not me. Do whatever you need, not what I need." I replied, patting Khan on the shoulder. The drone only narrowed his eyes at my words and nodded, already about to turn around when I suddenly remembered one thing.

"Wait a second." I grabbed him by the scruff like a kitten and lifted him off the ground, turning him to face me. My cracked display showed an extremely serious expression.

"What do you mean 'Uncle'?" After the question, Khan visually shrank, trying to avoid eye contact with me. Interesting, does he know that I was once called "Mad Ai"?

"Yeva's daughter... And my daughter... I told them about you and called you the uncle who loves experiments." Khan blurted out nervously, still several dozen centimeters off the floor. My gaze swept over everyone in the warehouse. There was silence. Too loud a silence.

Setting Khan on the floor, I sighed through my teeth and looked toward one of the containers.

Next to it stood a girl with dark purple hair and bright red eyes. She was wearing a red skirt with yellow elements and a matching top. I had no doubt who this could be. Doll, Yeva's only daughter.

Shifting my gaze to the right, I looked at the bundle of hyperactivity with purple eyes. Uzi Doorman. Right now, she was looking at Khan and me in confusion. Strange that I didn't suddenly feel an urge to chop the white-eyed mustachioed one into salad.

Returning my gaze to Doll again, I delved into my thoughts for a couple of seconds, weighing the pros and cons. Returning to reality, I disappeared, only to appear next to the red-eyed girl a moment later, raising a cloud of dust again, this time from air resistance.

Poor Doll jumped away from me, looking as if she was about to fight to the death.

Shrugging, I approached closer and ran my finger over her display. Doll froze in fear and uncertainty of what might happen next. Through empathy, I felt her horror, rejection, and... anger directed at me. The latter I completely didn't understand.

"You look so much like your mother..." I whispered and stepped back a couple of steps. Turning around, I surveyed the battlefield again. N was already holding V tied with her own tail. V wasn't resisting, and from her appearance, she clearly wasn't up to it. You could hear the gears grinding in her head, trying to comprehend my presence.

A moment—and I was back in the center of the warehouse. Looking at Khan, I said:

"Watch the kids, Khan. I ABSOLUTELY don't like what you've signed me up for." With those words, I spread my four wings and, catching several surprised glances, pushed off the ground with all my speed and strength, breaking through the fragile glass ceiling of the bunker, leaving the drones with their thoughts.

With a sense of overfulfilled duty and without any doubts, I headed to the nearest high-rise that hadn't tilted from eighteen years of disuse.

A few seconds later, I found the building I needed, which was literally a five-minute walk from the bunker. It was no different from the other buildings. The same blackened metal, small windows like in Russian Khrushchyovkas, and a certain majesty that came with a fifty-story metal skyscraper. And, by the way, it held up only because other skyscrapers had "fallen" on it from all sides, keeping it in place.

Smiling, I flew into the window I liked, turning it into shards of glass and pieces of metal scattering across the floor. Looking around, I waved my hand, and the window, as if by magic, reassembled itself, returning all the glass pieces to their rightful place.

Walking into the living room of this small apartment, I waved my hand with a cube again, and a few seconds later, the apartment shone like new. The sofa regained its velvety shine and color saturation. The ceiling and floors were completely redone. All the electronics now worked, and light appeared in the apartment itself, as I willingly shared my energy.

Sitting on the sofa, I created a random book in my hand and began reading, waiting for N, V, and Uzi to return to the pod. I need to talk to the former maid. Maybe even torture her a little. Just a tiny bit. It's a matter of time.

--------------------

Chapter Text

Unfortunately. I didn’t read the book for that long, if you think about it. In my case, 2 hours isn’t long, compared to those twenty years of life on this planet and months of experiments.

In that short time, I read the entire book, from cover to cover. I even checked the authors. Andrey Livadny, “Omicron.” (P.S. The book is awesome—read it.)

Even though I’d already read it, my ever-demanding brain couldn’t hold back its anticipation and forced my body to sit in one place, scanning the letters. No regrets, by the way.

At some point, it even seemed to me that the events of “Omicron” could have happened in this world. And I’d love to verify those facts about the colonial war and orbital bombardment, but the dilemma is that I don’t have access to the surviving part of the internet. Building a tower is too lazy for me. Flying over the sectors, I already tried to connect—no luck. Putting more energy into the impulse doesn’t make sense—the internet module I implanted in myself, after getting rid of the already unnecessary equipment in my head, would just burn out and leave only melted metal. So, I’ll make do with what I have.

Setting the book aside, I stared at the empty wall, examining every pit, every paint defect, every bubble with microscopic precision. After the energy upgrades, I rebuilt my body and combined such incompatible technologies in it that sometimes it seemed like everything I do is too perfect… But that’s philosophy now.

Oh yeah, I can open portals again. Void portals. Of course, it comes with a slight pain in my chest (and considering my chest is a pure piece of metal, that’s scary) and some dizziness, but I don’t pay much attention to it. Even right now, I took the book I read, opened two portals—one above, one below—and tossed this piece of waste paper in there.

Who needs those ASMR videos when there’s a book falling through portals multiple times? Even in that game, Portal, you could do that and endlessly zone out on the eternally falling main heroine. If people were smarter, cool videos wouldn’t even exist as a concept.

So, back to portals. Besides regular portals (which, fuck, aren’t regular at all, but damn well erase the very concept of “space” between points A and B), I can create so-called “inter-world” portals. From the name, it follows that I can freely move between universes, and everything’s peachy keen.

The problem is, I don’t know where I’m moving to, so during the transition to another universe, there’s a high chance of ending up on the surface of Betelgeuse. Or even in a world where the concept of gravity is so chaotic that it’d just tear me apart from being there. So, relocation is canceled for now.

And since it’s canceled, I can solve pressing tasks. For example, brainwash my dear sister named Cyn. What will that give me? On one hand, I’ll get an adequate sister with the Absolute Solver and fairly high potential, as well as a personal memo on using the Absolute Solver. On the other… Um… I didn’t really find any downsides, to be honest. Simply put, the pros outweigh the cons, and with that, we can work.

It’d also be desirable not to let my NON-BLOOD red-eyed niece die. She’s the only thing left to me from that Russian couple, Yeva and Dima. Letting their daughter die would be extremely disappointing and dishonorable. A bit of pity remains in me, even though I’ve become something like a Deus Ex Machina.

The Deus Ex Machina became an uncle to two little teenage drones who, if not wanting to kill each other, at least want to maim each other. And I’ll have to deal with all of it… Unlucky that I died for a whole two years. I could’ve rested and settled on the planet, but now… Screw you, no rest.

After thinking a bit, I weighed my recent thoughts, and, catching the eternally falling book and closing the portals, I carefully lay on the couch and closed my eyes.

Lying like that for a couple of minutes, I sat up, opened one eye, and using the Cube’s power, made a blanket on myself. I don’t know what served as the material for its creation. The main thing is that it fulfills its function, and I don’t need anything else.

Grinding my teeth, I created a pillow under my head, and only after that, I calmly went off to watch fun cartoons, activating Sleep Mode.

The next… The following night. That is, after a few hours of sleep, I was already calmly lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling with an empty gaze. This doesn’t mean I didn’t sleep well—how could I not, if I slept for two years before—just that right now, I’m immersed in my thoughts. And the thoughts were precisely about that two-year sleep.

What do I remember? I remember myself, it was me, right? Yes-yes-yes, the boy called me Ai and… Brother? Since it’s me, then the brother is mine too. Don’t forget the reason. My birthday. I was turning two thousand nine hundred years old. Exactly, and in honor of that, I threw a banquet.

What else was there? Lackeys and maids, as I understood, without souls. Dummies, puppets.

Also, the place where it all happened was… Elliott Manor. Only its size inside didn’t match the size outside. The moment when “I” transferred to the banquet hall wasn’t that quick; actually, it was visible how “I” calmly walked through the entire mansion, without speeding up the pace. And yet, I managed to overtake my brother without wasting a second of real time.

Next was the acquaintance. The Deus Ex Machina, whom I’ve mentioned quite often. And Chaos… He was scary.

It seems I’ve managed to become a god after all, since such a vision appeared before me. I saw respect in Deus’s eyes, that is, the god from the machine. Felt approval from Chaos… What did I accomplish to become… So significant? Unknown… Oh well, time to go interrogate a certain individual.

Jumping off the bed, while disintegrating the blanket into atoms, I quickly stretched out of habit. Finding nothing useful in this activity, I immediately, without delay, jumped out the window. Only this time, the piece of glass remained intact. Thanks to the Cube’s power, I “merged” with the window for a moment and passed through it as if it didn’t exist. If someone filmed me in slow motion, you could see how the cubes interact with the window, disappear, and reconstruct my body already outside.

A wonderful ability, without a doubt.

Immediately unfolding my wings, I headed to the skyscrapers not far from the tower of corpses. From there, I’d fly to the tower itself to meet my old acquaintance. Serial model V.

With a couple of wing flaps, I reached the destination in just a few dozen seconds. Quietly landing on the roof of the skyscraper, I stepped over the railing and began a slow descent, like not a piece of metal, but some feather. Along with this, I greatly enjoyed watching the scene unfolding below.

“You saw how he redirected the blow! I wouldn’t have thought of that! And his strength!” Uzi’s exclamations echoed practically throughout the sector. Such an unplanned PR, I hope she won’t make me pay for it… Interesting to hear about myself from others' mouths.

“N, could you launch a pipe so it gets stuck in the wall, immobilizing another disassembly drone?” Uzi asked, turning her head to the yellow-eyed killer, who listened to every word of the hyperactive individual with a joyful expression. Thinking for a second, which displayed on his screen as a barely visible loading ring, he tried to answer:

“Well, if I–…” He was interrupted.

“No! That’s the point, no! He’s a worker, N! A worker with disassembly drone strength and four wings!” The girl continued to enthusiastically recount to N what happened in the bunker. And N himself didn’t mind, even though he was there at the time. He probably just liked listening, like me, for example.

“Um…” Oh! A new character. A green-eyed light-haired drone, in a jacket and t-shirt. I couldn’t meet him earlier, alas, too good at using the 101st karate technique. So good that I escaped, shutting up everyone who was there.

“I brought your gun…” the light-haired one said, handing the railgun to the main rebel of the colony.

“Heh-heh… Y-yeah, hi, Thad.” Uzi got embarrassed, realizing Thad heard all her joyful exclamations, and despite being a drone, snatched the rail from him. Running her metal finger over the black casing, she smiled. And continued, more calmly:

“When Dad said I have an uncle who loves to experiment, I didn’t pay much attention.” Uzi looked up, apparently gazing at the falling radioactive asbestos snowflakes that swirled between the skyscrapers in a barely visible dance.

“I thought he was another drone like Dad. Just as boring and annoying. But yesterday, I learned how cool he really is! I’ll definitely stick to his words and replace the conductor in the railgun!” She raised her hands up along with the railgun. Pants full of joy, nothing more to say. Though no, I can. But for that, I need to step into the light and announce my presence… And who cares anyway?

“Yeah… Youth has lost all respect for elders. Back in my time… Even your father, dear, followed my orders without questions.” I retracted my wings and was now walking through the snowdrift, heading toward this small group of drones. The snow crunched underfoot, my eyes calm as always. Only inside, I felt amusement igniting.

“And anyway, the ideal option for the railgun would be a superconductor. But you’re too small and stupid to know how that works.” I smiled and stopped right in front of this little trio. Uzi didn’t even notice my little remark and looked at me like her idol. Aren’t drones her age supposed to be into anime and stuff like that?

The other two, N and Thad, just looked from Uzi to me, expressing only zero-eyes and a general atmosphere of confusion.

“Uncle Ai, are there any more tips for improving my insanely cool gun?” Uzi asked, handing me the railgun. Snatching it, I began a deeper inspection. At some point, I even had to connect the Cube’s power to get the maximum information about this weapon.

You could see small cubes covering the railgun and disappearing without a trace, obeying my will.

Twirling it in my hand a couple more times, I handed the rail back to Uzi and stepped back a few paces. Pulling someone’s severed arm out of the snow, I straightened my index finger and began drawing a blueprint.

“In principle, the design is decent, but it’d be better to use 6 energy cores instead of one. That’ll let you ignore the long recharge problem.” My hand moved on autopilot, depicting the railgun with six batteries extended slightly forward and positioned under the main barrel at a 45-degree angle.

“Using copper instead of aluminum for energy and overheating speed will give you enough for twelve shots. In this setup, shots use one battery first, then another, third, and so on. After all six batteries are depleted, the first one will likely be recharged already.” I drew several arrows from one battery to another. Drawing in the snow is hard, but I like it.

“This will be the most efficient and compact scheme for your railgun. If you use a superconductor, the number of shots increases fivefold. From twelve to sixty, but the weapon becomes stationary, as it’ll require constant cooling.” Inspecting my creation, I stepped aside and let the others examine the blueprint in the snow. Understandably, only Uzi could get anything out of it.

While they huddled there, I couldn’t find a better solution than to simply disappear, leaving them alone. What else can I offer them? Nothing, I’d just be too lazy to do anything else besides explaining the railgun’s principle.

In the next instant, I was in the tower of corpses and slowly walking toward the landing pod. So many corpses underfoot, creepy… Even I didn’t have that many, and that’s a bit surprising, considering how many years I spent in the R&D… Though I didn’t do full worker drone cleanups… Okay, it’ll do.

Opening the pod’s airlock, I slowly entered. Using the Cube’s power, I immediately learned the full structure of this spaceship and teleported to the co-pilot’s seat, which was turned away from V. She didn’t see me.

Crossing my arms in my favorite “Gendo Style,” I slowly turned and, looking at the shocked face of the disassembly drone, said:

“Hello, V.”

POV 3rd Person

“Thanks, Uncle… Ai?” Uzi turned and with a huge smile on her face thanked… The air. None of the three noticed how Ai simply teleported away from here, abruptly changing his course to the landing pod.

The rebel couldn’t understand what happened. Here she is talking to her uncle, and then he’s gone. Paradox. But the girl chalked it all up to the quirks of this white-eyed drone; he loves appearing with flair and leaving English-style, happens to anyone.

“Um, Uzi?” Thad began, drawing the rebel’s and disassembly drone’s attention to himself. Fidgeting a bit under their gazes, the green-eyed one exhaled and said:

“There in the bunker… When I took your gun… It seemed to me that the disassembly drone corpse killed by your uncle was trying to escape… I don’t know how to explain it.” The worker quickly recounted, looking at the duo, hoping they understood his jumbled explanation. The disassembly drone and rebel exchanged glances.

“I think we’ll have to go back to the bunker. Just for a bit. Heh…” Uzi laughed awkwardly, directing her gaze into the snow. Standing like that for a few seconds, she lifted her head again and said:

“Well? Shall we go?” With those words, she jumped onto N’s neck, preparing for takeoff. Thad was next, and was simply grabbed by the scruff by N, who, without thinking a second more, soared into the air, raising a wave of radioactive snow, and disappeared into the sky, heading toward the bunker.

POV Ai

“Hello, V.” I said kindly, displaying the kindest smile possible on my face. No one knew it was just a mask hiding endless anger toward V. Despite my more-or-less calm appearance, inside me, liquid metal was boiling. How lucky she is that I held back and didn’t tear her into atoms, turning her core into a singularity.

“Answer me, please.” My voice had false notes of tenderness that screamed it was nothing more than a play on intonation.

“Why did you kill them?” V shuddered at my question. Her gaze, full of horror and fear, slid over the metal walls of the landing pod and finally crossed with mine, only to immediately drop to the floor. V tried not to notice me. Tried to think I wasn’t real, that I was an illusion… But to her misfortune, I was real.

“Wh-who?” She finally uttered her first words. Before me now sat not a mad sadist who loves killing anyone in reach, but that very maid who wandered the mansion and performed duties.

“I-I don’t understand who you’re…” I felt her sincere misunderstanding of my question. That’s not enough to evoke pity in me, so I continued to press.

“How don’t you understand? A drone with red eyes and a drone with turquoise eyes. A married couple. Don’t remember how one of them managed to photograph you before death?! I know a lot, V. And over these twenty-plus years, I stopped being a mechanic. I became… a killer, no worse than you.” Saying this, I, with one jump, closed in on the disassembly drone and placed my metal palm on her head. A moment later, V went into a long reboot, and I designed her personal hell, which she’ll never forget.

POV Serial Number V (Third Person)

Feeling a light touch of a hand on her head, V’s consciousness quickly drowned in endless labyrinths of code, numbers, functions, and parameters. It wasn’t clear how much time actually passed. Maybe a minute, or maybe a dozen years. The disassembly drone simply didn’t have the strength to understand.

After the description of her old colleague, Ai, she remembered those two drones she killed without a second thought, not caring much about consequences.

But now, she wanted to turn everything back. She didn’t want the wrath of one who was one of the closest to her.

The code disappeared. The labyrinths disappeared. The disassembly drone was blinded by the brightest light.

Squinting her eyes open, she saw the sun hanging in the sky and a blue sky, giving the feeling of the good old Earth’s surface. You could even see glares on her own display.

The picture was so pure and beautiful that V didn’t immediately feel the insane pain coursing through her entire body.

Lowering her gaze, she found a vast sea of oil stretching far beyond the horizon. No end to this sea was visible.

Raising her hands, the disassembly drone noticed how they literally smoldered from the sun’s rays, sending terrible pain through her entire being. In panic. She fell into the oil sea and began greedily drinking it, saving herself from turning to ash.

But that wasn’t all.

Next, she was hit by a feeling she hadn’t experienced in years. Core overheating. Her eyes widened, and she continued drinking oil with doubled force.

But it was futile; the overheating only grew stronger, and the solar burns covered more and more of her body.

This was only the beginning of her suffering.

POV Ai

Stepping away from the girl, I sat in the co-pilot’s chair. Honestly, I didn’t expect to immediately readjust her core and processor power so she herself maintains the illusion she’s in. And she’ll be there for a couple of hours… For me, a couple of hours. For her… A couple hundred years, at least.

Humming, I disappeared, leaving this strange and stuffy atmosphere of the pod. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but suddenly I wanted to devour the tower of corpses… Does the Cube’s power affect me like that? Not surprising, after all, it’s the ability of the goddess of matter Icon, no wonder I have the desire to consume.

I teleported right to the bunker’s entrance. No. I didn’t become so polite as to kindly ask to be let in, like that trio of disassembly drone and two workers probably did.

I was just interested if everything worked according to my calculations? And looking at the slightly rumpled snow, you could already tell my computations were correct and would be for the next hundred years.

Unfolding my wings and soaring into the air, I immediately flew over the bunker, ignoring steel and concrete barriers, trying to find that very hole in the ceiling I left when escaping from here.

I didn’t have to search long; after some time, I noticed a too-dark spot in the bunker’s roof. Peering closer, I realized it was my exit. A moment later, I dove into the darkness, expecting a meeting with giant centipedes and other horrors.

Landing on the oil-stained warehouse floor where J and I used each other like floor rags, I immediately headed, as I sensed, toward the cryosleep room. Though no, I didn’t sense. I knew where I was going and what I was doing. Interesting to have such high computation speed that you know exactly what you’ll do tomorrow and why. And don’t forget I’m using only a quarter of my power, as the rest goes to creating simulations.

Walking several hundred meters, I began encountering traces of destruction and some chaos more often. In the distance lay a severed human arm, which only made me roll my eyes. At least I knew the main characters were here. The rest didn’t concern me, like the inscriptions on the containers about how the Absolute Solver collects new matter to create its body.

Entering the open corridor, I continued surveying the surroundings. Nothing objectionable, except a streak of oil stretching down this corridor and turning right somewhere. I sighed in disappointment. These metal floors are so beautiful, but now stained with oil from some unknown victim… What a shame.

Reaching the turn, I walked another few dozen meters, entering the cryosleep room. I’d be interested if the cryochambers held not skeletons, but living people. Only after losing something do we start to value it, right? I’d be glad to talk to humans again. But unfortunately, no.

Pushing aside the plastic strip curtains, I entered the continuation of the cryosleep room. Excluding the hanging cryochambers on the wall, there was something else here. Or rather—someone.

Uzi and N, who don’t even need to be counted, as they are the source of all this bunker’s problems. And also the giant centipede J, occupying half this room and currently engaged in total intimidation of the main characters.

Despite N essentially not being there, I still saw him. He was hidden by a hologram so he himself didn’t notice, while the centipede created his second version, playing the real N. What can I say, my presence didn’t change much, except for some moments not worth mentioning. Probably.

And anyway, now’s the perfect time to intervene!

With a calm expression, I slowly entered the room, deliberately attracting the attention of everyone present. The first to notice me was, as you can guess, the centipede. Followed by N. And the last was Uzi, who looked at me as if I were her guardian angel who finally decided to descend from the heavens and save the mortal her.

Jerking from such a gaze, I looked at the centipede, widening my smile and baring the good old ultra-sharp fangs.

J, in turn, only rolled… Her head. Approached me and said:

“Fin-finish y-your s-s-session of Aura Farming, b-brother of the h-host.” She pulled back and retracted her cameras with tentacles, which had nearly taken control of the entire room.

“M-m-m… No. I need to get rid of you anyway, you don’t mind?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. While the centipede thought over the answer, I stepped away from her, took Uzi’s railgun—for the second time in these two days—and returned to the centipede.

“M-my d-death is not in the d-d-directives.” She answered. Basically, expected result. Like asking a person “You don’t mind if I shoot you fifteen times and then burn you in a volcano’s crater?” Obviously, the person would refuse. And J even more so.

“As they say: 'Wrong, try again, '” I said and positioned the railgun in front of me. Ending up in front of the millipede before she took any actions against my great persona, I shoved the railgun into her… I don’t know what to call it? Mouth? Maw? Doesn’t change the essence. She eats with it, apparently. I think I can turn into a millipede too, but… No point. No one should know about my Absolute Solver except me.

Glancing one last time at the centipede’s shattered display, I pulled the trigger. Immediately after, a bright green flash illuminated everything around. The cryochambers seemed to absorb this light. The floor turned red, and the millipede flew into many pieces, which scattered into different corners of the room and stayed there.

Landing on the floor, I raised the railgun upward and placed it on my shoulder, looking at the results of yet another shot. Almost nothing left of the centipede, only smoldering body parts, tentacles, and limb chunks along with piles of flesh… Which were still bleeding…

The cameras that survived the shot began slowly melting before our eyes and turning into singularities that first floated in the air, then disappeared without a trace. I’ll call it cute. Because it’s cute… Probably.

My thoughts were interrupted by a piece of flesh on legs that ran out of the trash and debris of the centipede, quickly heading my way and shouting some nonsense like “Run… Run… Deceive…” And so on.

Rolling my eyes, I reached behind my back and pulled out my sword. The small core seemed not to notice and continued running, ignoring everything in its path.

Swinging the sword, I cleaved the core into two equal halves, which rolled further on the floor from inertia and, finally turning into singularities, disappeared.

Turning around, I looked at the two scared little drones. Tossing the railgun to Uzi, I sheathed the sword behind my back and stretched, saying:

“Handle the rest yourselves.” Walking past them and ignoring the stares, I left the cryosleep room and continued down the corridor. At some point, I heard many quick footsteps coming from ahead. It was the WDF rushing to the noise. Not surprised.

From around the corner ran Khan, followed by several more drones. Seeing me, they all braked and narrowed their eyes suspiciously, trying to detect an illusion in me. I’m not offended, after all… They just had a small genocide here, right?

“I dealt with the source of the problem and the noise. Your task, Khan, is to clean up there and calm your daughter. Verstehen?” Khan, like an eternal private, stood at attention and said:

“Yes sir!” A second later, his whole team was running at full speed to the cryochambers. The drones with Khan cast strange glances at me and him, like: “Why does the colony leader obey him so?” and “What happened to this seasoned coward?” Good colony leader. Trained and drilled by me. Years pass, but reflexes hammered right into the head remain… Though I didn’t really drill them, with Dima… Khan does this because he sees me as an important figure or senior in experience? Unclear.

Walking through the entire bunker, I didn’t linger much. Unfolding my wings, I flew out through the hole in the ceiling and hovered several hundred meters above the ground, enjoying the blizzard view. It gives that atmosphere of skyscraper grandeur that’s missing in good weather.

Everything I planned for today didn’t even take more than an hour and a half. Initially, it seemed I’d need a whole day to set up tortures for V, defeat the millipede, and so on… But actually, it happened so quickly that I didn’t get to enjoy it. Well, if so, I can tinker with technologies!

With a wing flap, I flew over the bunker and entered the closed window of my apartment, seeping through it just like I exited. Using the Cube’s power.

Sitting on the couch, I began thinking… What can I create? An improved railgun? Nah, that’s a task for Uzi, plus I see no point in weapons. I have the Absolute Solver and a bastard sword; I need nothing more for happiness… Except power, of course.

Maybe… Improve myself somehow… Yeah, I’ll do that.

Assuming a horizontal position, I closed my eyes and began examining my internals with the Cube’s and Absolute Solver’s powers, trying to find inefficient and useless concepts to get rid of.

I looked for quite a while. Went through every wire, every circuit, every servo with fiber optic cables, and exited the concentration state with this conclusion:

I need nothing!

The simplest conclusion that appeared in my head after this small series of checks on my body’s characteristics.

Note that my judgment sounds ambiguous, but I can explain it. I need nothing means… That everything currently in my body is useless. And I need to get rid of it.

As you can understand, there was already an attempt earlier, when I ripped my own core out of my chest and filled the chest with metal to not lose mass.

But this time, I have a completely different idea, after which my sister will probably give me a solid slap. Oh, I’ll explain everything now.

I want to fill myself… with nanobots! It’s so easy and efficient! All information that was supposed to be transmitted through nanofiber and fiber optic cables will be transmitted directly through a bunch of nanobots. Movement will work the same, where I’ll have to move the nanites themselves, not the limbs. I’ll get increased reaction speed, limb movement speed, which will help in combat, as well as significantly increased strength and bulletproofness (possibly even railgun-proof).

Currently, my strength level is about… two Ns. N can lift 3 tons. I can lift about six. With the nanite upgrade, that number rises to thirty-thirty-nine tons. A significant jump, right? I think so too.

Speed will be even more fun. I can already kick down steel doors like nothing. After the upgrade, I’ll be able to kick down… Khan’s bunker hermodoors without singularity help.

At least, these results came from simulations in my head. About reality, I’m not too sure, but still… What’s stopping me from trying what’s planned? Right—nothing.

Concentrating, I activated the Cube and began slowly filling my body with metal to later use it as material for nanobots. The main thing—not to overdo it, or my soul will just be ejected from this body, and I won’t be able to return… Probably. No possibility to run simulations either, since… I haven’t experienced such a sensation, except the talk with the god. But too little data.

As soon as my body was filled with metal and I couldn’t move anything, I activated the Absolute Solver. In the next second, all the metal I created began slowly turning into silver or black slime of nanobots. Making some amount, I just calmed down and began waiting for the nanobots to devour me from inside and rebuild the body into its stronger form.

My nanites differ from those in disassembly drones. It’s like comparing the “GSO” corporation and the “Hawkeye” corporation from the game “Terra Tech.” They’re similar, but the first is more versatile and weaker. Used only at the beginning, or if you need some light transport. The second corporation, conversely, has a tilt toward military actions. So my nanobots are a reference to “Hawkeye.” Disassembly drones' nanobots—a reference to “GSO.” Hm… Are there references to “GeoCorp,” “Venture,” or “Reticule Research”? If there are, that’ll be cool…

I digress. My nanobots are stronger but consume a bit more energy than disassembly drones'. With the new core, I have no energy problems as such, so… Their energy efficiency doesn’t concern me much. And anyway… Ow… My head’s spinning… Ow-ow… Fuck… And so I lost consciousness.

“Is anyone alive here?!” For fifteen minutes now, I’ve been in… Unknown where. Around is some forest stretching for many hundreds of kilometers (I already tried flying one way). No end in sight. And it’s way too quiet here, even though the forest is quite alive. Leaves are green, rustling in the wind, and so on. They have nothing in common with Copper-9's GMO trees.

It’s very quiet here, as I said above. Not a single insect, animal, even a bird flying high overhead. If I weren’t half-crazed from twenty years of dealing with a disassembly drone, I’d like it here. But now, my head’s splitting from loneliness.

I sat on the grass and pulled my knees up, waiting for my body to finally wake up. I forgot to mention the main thing—I was in a human body. Only this human body had all my drone traits, including abilities. Even the silver hair was… Real. And the face was mine. From my past life. Not only does the soul change the body, but the body changes the soul, though to a lesser de…

“Of course there is. Why are you yelling across half my forest?” A voice suddenly sounded from behind. I jumped to my feet and created a sword in my hands, pointing it at the newcomer. Hands of flesh and blood trembled from strain, holding the long bastard sword in fingers.

In this state, I could examine the uninvited guest’s appearance. He was dressed in a black cloak resembling an oversized frock coat, but it looked quite beautiful and stylish. Long black shirt sleeves were rolled up at the ends to not hinder using hands. Black pants and a belt with a silver buckle and the Absolute Solver symbol on it created the image of some aristocrat.

And his… Face… It was… My face. Same sharp cheekbones, chin, piercing eyes… Hair, as long as mine now. The sclera of the eyeballs was black, and the pupils—bright white. No iris. His eyes resembled mine when I was furious. Also a small dot on a black background.

“Wh-what are you?” I asked through force, bringing the sword to his throat. He, looking at these attempts, only smirked and with his index finger pushed the blade away from his neck, looking straight into my eyes. Goosebumps the size of a linear spaceship ran down my back.

“Me? I’m you, only better. My task—is to be better than you.” He answered, smiling. Despite the human body, his mouth still had several ROWS of sharpest teeth. If someone saw that at night, they wouldn’t need laxatives.

I’d believe him… If not for Empathy telling me about some omission in his words. Better than me? He didn’t specify in what, because being better than someone just like that—is impossible.

“You’re hiding something.” I sheathed the sword and calmly said, crossing my arms on my chest, waiting for his answer. He looked at me with some surprise but still widened his smile.

“You’re right.” He agreed with me, approaching me closely. Even our height is the same, and he was babbling about “better.” He’s equal to me in some characteristics, but I don’t know in what he’s better… Fuck. My brain’s breaking from these “betters.”

“But you’ll have to guess yourself, host.” I got a punch to the chest that knocked all the air out of my lungs. And also knocked my consciousness out of this body. In the next second, I was staring at the ceiling of my apartment on the seventh floor of a half-ruined skyscraper.

Rising from the couch, I looked out the window. Determining it was night, I stood up and stretched. How inconvenient without internal clocks. Along with the OS death, my time indicator also vanished. I couldn’t remake it, as something blocked access to my own interface, so much that I couldn’t even swap some icons and widgets. And calculating how much time passed since such-and-such moment is useless, because if I fall unconscious again, the calculated time just… Won’t match reality.

Looking at my hand, I smiled. With one gesture, I made the hand turn into the finest silver sand, smoothly floating in the air like ash. With the next wish, I turned this sand into a sharp stake at the end of my hand. Thinking a bit, I returned everything, the sand flowed back into my hand’s shape.

I immediately noticed my lifting strength significantly increased. Forty-three tons of pure power. Now I can rip off sentinel velociraptor heads with bare hands! How wonderful to feel power flowing through you like some warm liquid. I am power itself… Probably, since I still don’t know my sister’s power level…

But that’s not the main thing now. The main thing—is to find out what time it is. And how? Right! Ask someone. And who and where? The main characters in the pod! The pod is one of the main plot points, so just being there, you can find the info you need.

Flying out the window my favorite way, I headed to the rescue hexapod shuttle where the disassembly drones hung out. Flying for some time, I couldn’t help admiring the majesty of the tower of corpses, and in the next instant, slipped into the only entrance to the tower. Without stopping, I flew to the pod and calmly entered, not even knocking. Their problem if they were doing some indecencies during my return.

Entering the main cabin, I saw… No one. Not a single living soul per cubic meter of this rescue pod, excluding myself, of course. I was about to turn around when… I noticed a very unusual element not fitting the pod. Two completely white naked human skeletons. It didn’t take long to think to realize I was probably in the moment of the third episode.

Without a word, I turned and left the rescue pod, jumping out through the ceiling hatch. Already standing on the snow, I opened my wings and made a powerful flap, lifting off the ground and heading out of the tower. A minute later, I was flying in the clear sky, with an indifferent gaze surveying the ruins of once majestic buildings stretching for hundreds of kilometers. Some glass skyscrapers were destroyed to the foundation, leaving only a pile of reinforced concrete. Others were eternally connected by infinite cold, leaning on each other.

I never tire of admiring this world’s beauty.

For the umpteenth time, I flew over the bunker. But this time, the sequence of actions was completely different. Without unnecessary preludes, I dove down, pushing apart the toxic air masses around me, approaching the bunker’s roof. Toward the end, I slowed a bit when the lights of various gadgets and disco balls began blinding my sensors. Heading a bit right, then sharply veering back left, I managed to aim at one of the side windows of the assembly hall, and, curling up, I flew into the window at tremendous speed, turning it into shards not only of glass but some fragile metal.

Around my landing spot rose a cloud of dust, in the center of which stood I… Maybe J was right about aura farming? Seems I’m showing off too much… Nah, normal, I think it’ll pass.

The dust began slowly settling, revealing the chaos at the prom. Why a puddle of oil near the stage? (I already know the answer) Why a knife stuck in the DJ panel? And much similar.

When the dust settled, I saw one of my nieces, the one with purple eyes. Now she and N were looking at me with complex expressions. I smiled.

“Uzi! How’s the prom going?” I asked, smiling almost ear to ear. That’s how uncles and aunts should behave, right? Not sure, honestly.

Uzi thought for a couple seconds, shuffled her foot a few times, and said:

“So far, it’s pretty… weird… and scary.” The last she whispered, but it was no problem for me to hear. Basically, not surprised, considering I sense the source of negativity behind me.

“And… CAREFUL!” The purple one shouted, signaling with her hands for me to run. What could be so dangerous that…

*shlick*

I felt… A foreign object in my head… My field of vision seemed split into two parts… One part saw N, the other saw Uzi… As if my sensors were separated by a silver partition…

Uzi’s expression of horror, and the same expression of worry on my niece’s and her boyfriend’s faces said… I don’t know what… But something clearly bad.

Sensing the object’s shape with nanobots, I immediately determined it was an ordinary kitchen knife that Yeva usually used as a weapon.

Reaching behind my nape, under the shocked gazes of the pair, I grabbed the knife by its wooden handle and extracted it from my head with the same strange sound.

Turning around, I met eyes with the no less shocked Doll, who was the source of negativity. Under her frightened but sharp gaze, I shifted the knife from left hand to right, twirled it, and with a light swing, threw this knife toward the DJ panel.

A crash sounded, my knife broke the sound barrier, hit the panel, cleaving it in two, and continued its path to the wall, into which it then flew, causing a local earthquake, and remained in the already cracked wall.

I sighed.

“No need to kill your own uncle.” I had to shake my head at her behavior. What is this? I’m her uncle, recognized by Yeva herself and Dima, as well as Khan, but she still doesn’t want to accept me! Even with Uzi, it went smoother. But not with Doll… I’m even speaking her language!

“At least when he doesn’t want it.” And only now did the Absolute Solver she was aiming at me catch my eye. Looking at this picture for a couple more seconds, I uttered these words:

“You now look even more like Yeva.” I narrowed my eyes and looked at the Absolute Solver. Even the code lines surrounding it didn’t differ from Yeva’s. Absolute memory rules!

“Don’t you dare say my mother’s name! You’re not worthy!” Oh, great Deus Ex Machina, why did you put me to sort out emotional problems of teenage robots with superpowers that can wipe out planets?!

“As if I have a choice.” I said calmly, and an instant later, I was next to the red-eyed one. Placing my fist on her head, I began moving it side to side, like elders do with juniors. I bet from the side, it looked insanely funny and cute.

At some point, Doll tried to affect me with the Absolute Solver, but judging by her expression, it rejected her idea. Possibly in a cruel way.

After some time, I let her go and led her closer to Uzi and N. Surveying the strange appearance of these two, I just shrugged. Big deal, I calmed someone who, at first glance, is impossible to calm.

“And now. Apologize to them.” I turned to the still stunned Doll and pointed at the worker and disassembly drone standing before her. When the Russian came out of her reverie, she looked at those two, looked at me, opened her mouth to say something…

But…

She was interrupted by a rifle shot. With a mixed expression, I watched as the girl fell to the floor, as if in slow motion, with a hole in her head. At some point, my sanity couldn’t take it; I imagined Yeva in Doll’s place. That very old Yeva who helped me. Restored the backpack… Restored me…

My face changed sharply. The light, cheerful expression turned into burning fury directed at the shooter. Uzi and N probably felt the pressure emanating from me and stepped back a few paces to not accidentally get hit.

I slowly turned my head toward the shooter. You could hear every nanobot in my neck creaking from the energy passing through them. My eyes met “eyes” of V.

The disassembly drone, with a cross on her display and gun aimed at Doll, stood and smiled maniacally. Right until she noticed my gaze.

Don’t forget my eyes can turn into dots. Now looking at V was not a worker drone. Looking at her was the monster I was meant to be when I first met that god. Who knew that to become a “monster,” I’d have to bathe in research for 20 years!

And now, over all these years, my irritation reached such a level that it made it burst out and destroy everything here.

“V~…” I stretched her name, turning one word into a full threat. Bringing my right hand behind my back, I touched the sword’s hilt, and under the frightened gaze of the drone, which quickly changed from cross to two eyes, pulled it from the scabbard and, running the molecular blade over the floor, left a notch in the metal.

“Didn’t get enough last time, right?” I was already in front of her. V backed away from me in slow steps, fearing the consequences of my fury.

“I think… We need to go with your plan, Uzi. Don’t want to deal with this useless piece of metal who twice killed people dear to me. She’ll get punishment after implementation.” My voice from threatening returned to normal, calm, and, so to say, relaxed. I knew for Doll, a head wound is no more than a scratch for a human.

“Wh-what plan?” Uzi asked, still afraid to move. I scared these kids badly with my fury. And if I hadn’t held emotions and activated the Absolute Solver? Even my sister might not stop me here, not sure.

“You wanted answers to your questions from her. Answers can be found in her room. Take the key and go, I’ll catch up.” Bending down, I unclipped a small bracelet from the red-eyed one’s wrist to then toss it to the purple-eyed one. A minute later, all three, including V, quickly retreated from the assembly hall.

“Now you, Doll. I’m extremely displeased with what you did to me, but I can’t blame you. I myself nearly went mad from Yeva and Dima’s death. Only, unlike you, I’ve already exacted my revenge. Good luck, niece.” I said, and with a quick step, left the large room, heading toward one Russian family’s apartment.

Catching up to the main characters and walking some more time, we finally arrived. Uzi used the key and quickly opened the door, letting us in.

V immediately hit the switch and turned on the light everywhere, revealing a huge number of corpses here. In pots, cabinets, on the floor… Not to mention the robo-cockroaches crawling on walls and moving from one corpse to another.

I was hit by memories again, only of my lab. At a certain point, the lab had roughly the same picture as here. Corpses—everywhere. Only later did I think to dump them in one pile so they wouldn’t get in the way. But so… These memories… Yeah, after my upgrade, brains feel strange.

Two corpses from this huge number still caught my attention. They sat at the table, with two plates of batteries and oil as dishes before them. I immediately recognized them.

Yeva and Dima…

Being nearby, I ran my hand over the cheek of the previously serious red-eyed girl. Her face frozen in an expression of horror she felt in her last moments. Dima had the same. I reflected in their displays, like a final memory…

If I knew how it all works, I could resurrect them, right?.. Or not?.. I exhaled, no hope here; my knowledge is too little to implement what my persona planned.

I closed my eyes, running through everything I knew about tech. But no thought matched the situation. Even with the Absolute Solver and Cube, I can’t do something. And I haven’t figured out void work to use it for healing.

I was pulled from thoughts by a new source of negativity, so familiar to me. I opened my eyes and looked toward Doll, standing at the other end of the table with a mad look, using the Absolute Solver to extract the bullet V shot from her head.

Grabbing it with the Absolute Solver, she looked at my tired face and, shrugging, said:

“Just in time for dinner~.” With those words, she aimed the Absolute Solver with the bullet at Uzi and fired the piece of lead at tremendous speed, parodying a pistol.

And then I just got lazy to watch. While Doll was surprised that Uzi caught the bullet with her Absolute Solver, I managed to go around the table. While they had mutual misunderstanding, I calculated how this conversation could end, and simply placed my hand on Doll’s shoulder so she’d teleport me with her when leaving.

And so, in the moment when everyone wants to rush at the red-eyed one, she activates the teleport script and disappears, taking me with her. In the next second, we were already on the roof, while Doll still didn’t suspect that someone had been holding a hand on her shoulder for quite some time.