Absolute Solver? Almost...

      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”…

۞⦰۞

Welcome back! You shut down due to an overload of information and an electromagnetic wave.

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.

Object: “Snowflake”

Elemental Composition:

Silicon Dioxide (SiO2) — 49%: Primary component. Microcrystalline structure, similar to quartz dust.

Iron Oxides (Fe2O3, FeO) — 38%: Primarily hematite and wüstite. Gives the precipitation a characteristic rusty-brown hue upon melting. Source: corrosion of industrial structures.

Aluminum Oxide (Al2O3) — 8%: Corundum form. Extremely hard microparticles.

Magnesium Oxide (MgO) — 5%: Product of industrial alloy combustion.

Physical Characteristics:

Structure: Microcrystalline conglomerate.

Properties: High abrasiveness. Particles have sharp, needle-like shapes capable of causing micro-damage and accelerated wear on moving parts.

Low thermal conductivity.

State: Solid. Not frozen water (H2O).

Threat Classification:

SYSTEM NOTE: Composition does not exactly match asbestos-group minerals. “ASBESTOS” threat flag assigned due to algorithmic similarity to known silicate threats (class: pulmonary fibrogenic pathogens).

RADIOACTIVITY: Elevated background radiation detected (Beta and Gamma).

Source: strontium-90 and cesium-137 isotopes, typical of technogenic disasters. Radiation level exceeds the norm for synthetic life forms by 350%.

      “…” 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:

Verification…

Biometric data mismatch

Password priority level: Maximum

      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:

Critical damage!

Right Arm module integrity: 0%. Warning! Integrity below 10%—how did you manage this?

Left Arm module integrity: 0%. Warning! Integrity below 10%—how did you manage this?

Main chassis integrity: 41%

Right Leg module integrity: 77%

Left Leg module integrity: 70%

Multiple hydraulic line ruptures detected!

Several titanium rods broken!

Low oil pressure!

Nano-storage: 0% capacity

Insufficient energy! Resource-saving mode activated. Most services disabled.

Overall body integrity: 49%

How did you let yourself get to this state, host?

      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: 3:13 PM

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:

Warning! External storage connected: jcjenson_server1

Establishing connection…

15%…

45%…

83%…

100%…

Success.

Obtaining permission for connection and debugging via SFF cable…

33%…

99%…

Success.

External storage connection successful!

      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:

Core module integrity: 11%, critically low.

      “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.

Nano-storage: 38% capacity

Authorize repair of damage and internal systems?

[Y/N]

      “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.

Nano-storage: 15% capacity

      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:

Warning! Body temperature: 1315°C! You are literally burning!

      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.

Transmigrator’s Diary (If I have translation issues.)

      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.

Warning! Software death imminent in approximately ten seconds.

      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…

Three…

      “You won’t… get me…”

Two…

      “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:

It was an honor working with you, Boss.

Software death.

۞⦰۞

      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.