Chapter 7 - Chapter 4-4,1 Innovations.

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…

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Word count: 14,022 

Today I learned that Inkstone has a word limit...

The full length of the chapter was supposed to be 29,080 words.

I will divide it into parts.