Chapter 8 - Chapter 4-4,2. Innovations.

Date: September 15, 3052

Time: 03:13

Three months since the disassembly drones arrived

I did it… I finally made this damn chi— No, I'm getting ahead of myself. Simply put, I created the final working superconductor for my plans. It was levitating over a test neodymium magnet, mesmerizing with the faint vapor rising from it. During its creation, I even started thinking about using less liquid nitrogen and how to do it. Considering the outside temperature drops below -60°C, I could just leave the superconductors outside for a few minutes and then test them…

But it doesn't work that way, to my great regret. I realized this after running the idea through my head thirty times. Each time, I found more hidden issues until I lost count. There were obvious ones, like the fact that the temperature is still too high for superconducting cooling—it needs to be at least three times lower. And less obvious ones. The radiation from asbestos would destroy the superconductors' properties, turning them into ordinary ceramic plates.

Plus, over these months, I realized I was an idiot. What a moron I am… Who knew this wasn't the only quantum computer in the institute? I didn't. I only found out now. It was significantly weaker than the main one. Located on the second floor of the Research Institute, it was hidden from prying eyes. It had a measly couple million qubits, which, compared to the main computer's over fifteen trillion qubits, isn't even dust. Considering each additional qubit doubles the power of the previous ones…

It's just raw power…

But that's not the point. Right now, I stood before a smaller version of that digital god, examining its terminal. Apparently, it wasn't used for anything extraordinary and was left to handle tasks the bigger brother took on, turning it into… a simulation rendering machine…

It says so right here, complete with a user manual, which I immediately used. With a couple of taps on the touchscreen terminal, I opened an info sheet with instructions. The file's name was amusing: instructions_for_dummies.md.

It perfectly reflected its essence. Everything was described in detail, from what to press to warnings about not touching the high-voltage wires connected to the computer. Clearly, humans wrote this, likely for their own kind, hoping someone would read it and follow it exactly. I wouldn't be surprised if a couple of people died from touching those wires without dielectric gloves.

Skimming the instructions again, I saved them to my memory and started working on launching the younger brother of the all-knowing god. Closing the instruction window, I dove into the settings and began a total overhaul. First, I increased the power flow, which forced me to boost the cooling system's capacity, increasing the cycles of liquid helium through the pipes. Then, I upped the qubit usage from 200,000 to the maximum two million. Mesmerized by the rising numbers, I glanced around and returned to the terminal. It felt like someone was watching me. I didn't dwell on it—worst case, I could throw my backpack at them, which would either crush them or deal enough damage.

Finally, with a light swipe, I closed all the terminal windows, revealing one big button responsible for launching the simulation on this computer. What did the simulation do? There's a door leading to a room where it's created, so I'd describe it as a solid hologram. Smiling, I pressed the red button and waited. A few moments later, the small lab filled with a quiet hum, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the institute. Behind the hum, I sensed ancient power, as if I stood not before a computer but the god who gave me this body.

A few seconds later, the terminal blinked green, notifying me the simulation was ready to use. With a short nod to myself, I walked to the corner of the lab, where an unremarkable metal door bore a biohazard sign and a stop sign.

I don't know where a simulation could pose a biohazard, but that's not my concern. Grabbing the thick handle, I pulled the door aside. The wheels screeched from long disuse. A second later, the door slid open, revealing…

"Life…?" I whispered skeptically, staring at the magnificent scene. The door was like a portal to another world. There was a sun whose energy I could absorb, as if it were real. Grass that crumpled under my feet as I stepped inside. So much greenery… So much life… Not Copper-9's genetically modified trees that could grow anywhere. A real tree…

I approached one and knocked on it. It produced a dull but tangible sound. That's how it should be. There were even birds! One perched on the tree, chirping brightly, sweeping away all my dark and negative thoughts, leaving only pure bliss. But I couldn't silence my inner scientist, so I sat on the ground and plucked a blade of grass.

I saw its fibers separate from the rest, saw light passing through it… I knew it was just a simulation created by a computer outside this room, but its "reality" was off the charts.

This is nothing like the Absolute Solver's holograms. It works on an entirely different principle! A quick explanation: a hologram is a mix of energy—usually photons—and animation. But not just any animation—one calculated to react to environmental stimuli. Yet, a hologram has no physical form, so its reactions depend on the host's knowledge of physics. A simulation, however, is an exact replica of the real world, from tiny particles like quarks or atoms to full-blown thermonuclear reactions. There's no variation in response to external stimuli because the simulation operates on real-world laws without being part of it. This opens insane possibilities.

But fate, as I realized, had other plans. Everything flickered, the simulation glitched with blue flashes, twitching and distorting before vanishing entirely. I stood in a dim white room in the same pose, unsure what happened. A simulation can't just stop on its own, and no one else has access to the terminal. So what happened? I've got zero guesses—I need to find out.

Turning, I bolted from the simulation room and rushed to the quantum computer's terminal. First thing I confirmed: no one touched it, ruling out external interference. It's definitely an external issue I overlooked. With a few taps, I accessed the logs and started scanning them at top speed. The faster I find the problem, the faster I'll solve it.

Here's the successful simulation launch. Here's a slight change in matter state—probably when I plucked the grass. And here's the final log: severe overheating of the main chip. Full shutdown of all programs and the simulation. Standby mode.

Problem found… But solving it will be tricky. I didn't expect this computer to have cooling issues too, and now I have to fix it… Though, why fix this one when I can fix the main one and save time? What's a couple million qubits to me? Nothing—I can't fully use the Absolute Solver even with this chip. I need the main computer's chip… Then my power will be absolute…

Either way, I need to fix the cooling system. And I don't have any blueprints. There weren't any in that data center either—it's just a massive digital chronicle of humanity's life on this planet since their arrival. No tech details, except for quantum chip creation, since that was one of this institute's main purposes.

The only place with cooling system blueprints is the office I raided early in my life on this planet. I just need to run there, head to the basement, plug into the main cable, and quickly find the cooling system… Sounds simple. If there's no interference, it'll be even simpler. Heh… Adjusting the backpack of cores on my shoulders, I touched the sword in its sheath and smiled. Whatever stands in my way won't escape my fencing skills. My reaction time's not what it used to be, but it'll do.

Sprinting from the small lab, I dashed through the wide corridor and reached the stairs. Jumping, I landed on the railing and slid down rapidly. I had to stand a couple of times to avoid crashing into the wall. Six seconds later, I was on the first floor, running toward the exit.

Slowly opening the glass door, I slowed my pace and enjoyed the beautiful asbestos snowfall. For a moment, I forgot I was surrounded by radiation and acted like a kid, trying to catch snowflakes in my mouth. But then I recalled the unpleasant truth about this "snow" and put on a serious face. Stretching my legs, I began my sprint. I can't waste time—radiation's slowly killing me, destroying my processor's transistors and memory, and destabilizing my smaller electronics. You can't imagine how annoying it is to live with constant white noise in my head from that upgrade I installed. It's called a "radio."

Fifteen seconds later, I was running at my max speed—120 km/h. Even for a drone, that's a lot; for a human, it's insane. At this speed, the surroundings could blur into an endless gray smear. But I didn't see it as a problem. My photosensitive sensors captured everything and fed it to my processor, which handled it all. I understood how Uchihas feel with their Sharingan.

I don't get other isekai'd drones who don't use their enhanced capabilities. Only a few tapped into upgrades and gained boosted processing speeds. I'm one of them—a human mind trapped in a digital cage of a drone's processor and memory blocks. Sounds awful, right? But combine a processor's power with a human subconscious, and you get an insane dual-processing mix. Becoming a drone made me a better version of myself, with huge potential and strong abilities. Don't forget the boosted intellect from the processor in my head. Absolute memory from yottabyte blocks. And so on…

With these thoughts, I reached Sector Seventeen. After ten more minutes of walking slowly from the sector's edge to its center, I looked at the JCJenson office building with a hint of nostalgia. Smirking, I walked in, trying to ignore the countless human skeletons scattered around.

Heading to a corner of the lobby, I calmly opened the door to the underground rooms and stepped inside. It was pitch black, so I used my built-in night vision. Descending a flight of stairs, I opened another door and entered an unlit corridor. As I walked, I noticed the thick layer of dust covering everything. Well… there wasn't much to cover… Definitely.

After a few turns, I reached the door to the server room. Heh, I remember kicking it down last time. They must've fixed it, since it's back in place. But the dents in the wall show they couldn't hide everything.

Approaching the door, I drew my sword and, with one light but precise strike, sliced through part of the mechanical lock holding it shut. No key needed—brute force works wonders in situations like this.

Entering the server room, I was surprised it was still running. I chalked it up to an isolated power source likely feeding the server and its connections. Approaching a wall with a panel hiding a cable, I ripped off a piece of aluminum. Without wasting a second, I unplugged the cable from the main flow and opened the back of my head. After a moment's thought, I plugged it in, receiving a familiar message:

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.

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Word count: 15,123