The winter air of Vienna was crisp, carrying the mingled scents of coal smoke and horse-drawn carriages.
Elias sat at a café table along the Kärntner Strasse, the bustle of the imperial capital rolling past him.
Aristocrats in tailored coats, merchants shouting in German and Hungarian alike, and soldiers in gleaming white uniforms of the Kaiserlich-Königliche Army.
He blended in easily enough—an English traveler by appearance, with polished boots and a fine coat bought from a tailor who asked no questions so long as the coins were real.
But behind his calm expression, his thoughts were not on Vienna's finery.
The number had been reached.
500,000 credits.
His reserves, the product of three patient months of mining, trade, and discreet siphoning of Balkan spoils, stood at the threshold.
And with that, the chance to leap forward into the next age.
He had prepared himself for this moment.
Still, as the system's prompt flickered into his vision, translucent and cold, his heart quickened.
System Notice: Upgrade to Rank II available.
Cost: 500,000 credits.
Confirm?
Elias did not hesitate.
Confirm.
The credits vanished in an instant.
And with them, the hum.
It was as if the world itself had gone silent.
No whisper of the mines.
No presence of the bases in his mind.
No glow of the interface.
Nothing.
For the first time since his arrival in this world, Elias felt naked.
He stiffened in his chair, setting down his cup of black coffee with deliberate calm.
The chatter of Viennese passersby carried on, oblivious to the earthquake in his reality.
His hands did not tremble, but his chest tightened with a pressure he had not felt in years.
The system was gone.
Had he broken it?
Had his gamble erased his only advantage, leaving him stranded in a world not his own, stripped of the army and the power he had built?
He waited.
Minutes passed.
An hour.
He walked the streets, pacing through Vienna's grand boulevards and narrow alleys alike, his face a mask but his thoughts racing.
By evening, when gas lamps began to glow and the cafés filled with music, Elias found himself staring into a mirror in his rented rooms.
The man who looked back at him was the same—gray eyes, sharp lines of thought etched into his face.
But without the hum of his connection to his summons, without the system, he felt diminished.
Ordinary once more, lost in the past.
The night stretched long, sleepless.
And then, at dawn, it returned.
The surge nearly staggered him.
The system roared back to life, but not as before.
Where once it had been a simple lattice of options and commands, now it unfolded like a vast machine, polished and intricate, every gear and dial gleaming with potential.
System Online: Rank II Achieved.
New functions unlocked.
Previous units and structures may be upgraded.
New technologies are available.
Elias sat down heavily, relief washing over him.
The terror of the previous day gave way to exhilaration.
He summoned the interface fully, letting it spread across his vision.
The old interface was gone.
No longer did he see the static options of the 1850s alone.
Instead, the interface he now saw showed options —choices to upgrade existing units, to replace outdated designs with those of the 1870s for a cost smaller than it would be to simply buy anew.
The deeper he looked the more a grin crept onto his face, be it Infantry, Artillery, or even buildings everything had jumped an era;
Bolt-Action Riflemen.
Infantry no longer bound to the slow, choking ritual of musket volleys, or the delayed firing from needle rifles, true rifled weapons capable of allowing for more than 10 shots per minute.
Lever-Action Skirmishers.
Faster, more mobile, deadly in close-range fighting, capable of pouring out fire in ways no musket line could match, perfect for close range combat as they were wielded like precursors to pump action shotguns.
Breech-Loading Rifle Cannon.
Artillery that could reload in seconds, not minutes, spitting death with unerring accuracy.
Howitzers and Mortars.
Curved-fire weapons, perfect for crushing fortifications or raining shells into mountain passes.
Early Gatling Batteries.
Crude, yes, heavy and temperamental, but the sheer psychological shock of their fire would shatter cavalry and infantry alike.
And mobility…
He paused, staring at the entry that mattered most.
Rail Depots.
Locomotives.
Trains.
For the first time, he could move entire divisions across land faster than a horse could gallop.
Not mere battalions trudging on foot, but armies shifting from one front to another in days instead of weeks.
With rails, he could turn Montenegro from a rocky fortress into a nerve center of movement, striking where the Ottomans least expected.
Elias exhaled slowly, his mind racing through possibilities.
This was more than an upgrade.
This was transformation.
He leaned back in his chair, letting the system's glow fade to the background as he gathered himself.
The panic of yesterday had left its mark—reminding him that, for all his plans, his fate was tied to this alien machine.
One command, one error, and it could vanish forever.
He would need contingencies, mortal ones, to ensure his influence survived even if the system faltered again.
But for now…
For now, the dawn of a new era was his.
He picked up a notebook and began to write, laying out a new doctrine.
Infantry divided between bolt-action lines and lever-action skirmishers, preparing for the widespread use of trenches, and tactics his forces could use to storm them without suffering extensive losses.
Artillery batteries restructured around breech-loaders and howitzers.
Gatling guns placed at key fortresses.
And rail—rails everywhere.
The Balkans laced with iron veins, carrying men and guns faster than any Ottoman army could react.
And beyond the Balkans, across the Atlantic…
The thought made him smile faintly.
If Montenegro was to be his experiment, America would be his showcase.
He would arrive there not as a traveler, but as a man with the future in his pocket.
While the Union and Confederacy bled each other with muzzle-loaders and horse-drawn cannon, Elias would unleash armies that fought as if they had stepped out of the next century.
For now, though, Vienna awaited.
He had to remain the traveler, the observer.
His enemies could never know the storm gathering in the shadows.
He closed the notebook, slipped it into his coat, and rose.
The cafés were waking again, their windows fogging with warmth against the morning chill.
Elias walked out into the streets, the hum of the system now steady once more within him.
He felt the difference—sharper, deeper, more powerful.
A new age had begun.
And he would be the one to shape it.