The garage was silent, save for the low hum of cooling metal and the occasional ping of an exhaust manifold settling after a stress test.
Leonardo stood barefoot on the concrete floor, shirt off, grease on his arms, and his head tilted back, eyes closed. The air smelled like oil, sweat, and ozone.
He was tired.
Project Oblivion had pushed him past his limits that week. Precision tuning the quad-output fuel management system was exhausting work without digital diagnostics, especially when your tools were analog and your reference points were theoretical. But the design was near perfect now. The exhaust flow ratios were balancing out, the suspension response was millimeter-accurate, and the roll cage integrated into the monocoque frame without losing a single ounce of performance.
He was sixteen. And this car—this beast—was his.
He opened his eyes and looked around the garage. It had become more of a sanctum than a workspace now. The tools were placed not for convenience, but for ritual. Every wrench, every torque gauge, every custom-forged part had a place and a reason.
He approached Oblivion and gently ran his hand across the cold hood.
"Soon," he whispered. "Soon, they'll know who I am."
He didn't say it with arrogance. It was just truth.
He turned away, thinking about the next stage—testing on open roads, maybe tweaking the aero kit next week. He reached for his towel when it happened.
A sound. Not from the garage. Not from the estate.
From inside his head.
[SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE.]
Leonardo froze mid-step.
[Initializing Host Synchronization... 100% Complete.]
"What the hell..." he muttered, looking around as if someone had spoken aloud.
[Welcome, Host. Error previously detected: Dormancy due to lack of acknowledgment. System re-activated.]
"Oh no," Leonardo whispered, eyes wide. "I completely forgot about you."
It hit him like a rush of cold wind.
The system.
The thing the god mentioned right before his reincarnation. The reason for this second chance. The 'compensation package' for divine incompetence. He had gone so deep into building his life manually—proving himself with raw talent, sweat, and intelligence—that he'd literally forgotten the cheat code waiting patiently in the background.
[Host's development exceeded baseline expectations. System observed self-discipline and initiative. Granting delayed activation bonus.]
There was a quiet chime.
[Congratulations! Hidden Reward Unlocked: PLATINUM DELAYED INITIATIVE BONUS]
Leonardo didn't say anything. He just sat down on the cold garage floor and stared into the middle distance.
"I feel like I cheated on myself," he muttered.
[Reward Selection Initiated. Please choose one from the following list:]
Blueprint Archive Alpha (2030 Tier) – Contains technical designs for civilian and military-grade vehicle systems unreleased for decades. \
Body Optimization Serum (Tier 2) – Permanently upgrades Host's physical condition to the peak of human performance for endurance, reaction time, and recovery.
Resource Hub Access: Ghost Garage – Unlocks a metaphysical workshop pocket-space for item storage, fabrication, and time-dilated design testing.
Leonardo blinked.
"This is... a lot."
He had lived for six years in this world without touching the system. Without relying on it. Without needing it.
Now it offered him things that would've made his progress ten times faster.
But he didn't regret waiting.
"I didn't need you before," he said out loud, "but now that I'm standing on my own, I'll use what you offer. Not to take shortcuts—but to build faster."
He stared at the options.
And chose.
[Blueprint Archive Alpha (2030 Tier) Selected.]
[Importing data... Completed. 14,702 schematics added to host's mental library.]
The rush was overwhelming.
Schematics. Flow charts. Heat distribution diagrams. Hydraulic balancing models. Suspension design techniques beyond 2025 standards. Graphene-reinforced crankshafts. Nano-cooled composite disc brakes. Autonomous vehicle safety fallback protocols.
He clutched his head and gasped—not in pain, but in sheer data overload.
He could see it all. The possibilities. The shapes. The future.
Oblivion was obsolete.
"I'm going to have to rebuild everything," he whispered.
Then, he laughed.
Deep, genuine laughter that echoed off the garage walls and rang like an engine in an open tunnel.
He stood up slowly, wiped his hands on his towel, and looked at Oblivion with new eyes.
"Don't worry, baby. You're going to evolve."
He turned off the lights and walked out of the garage.
The system followed him silently, awaiting further instructions.
For the first time since he'd been reincarnated, Leonardo DeMarco didn't feel like he was building alone.