Oh? So you decided to keep following my story? That's cool. It was the unibunnies, wasn't it? Yeah… it was definitely the cute unibunnies. Hehe. Well, enjoy, I guess.
I've just been taking stock of my new body. The outside hasn't changed much. But the inside… yeah, there's a whole lot to go through.
For starters—
My skeleton? Not entirely mine anymore. They swapped the bone for a titanium-graphene composite that's so light I barely notice it, but strong enough that I could probably take a sledgehammer hit without much more than an "owie." Joints are lined with micro-hydraulic stabilizers, so I can twist, jump, and land without shattering anything.
My muscles aren't really muscles anymore. They look the same on the outside, but under the skin is a weave of synthetic fibers that can contract way harder and faster than human tissue. I don't know the exact multiplier, but I can kick through a solid tree trunk now. Not that I've tested that on the trees. Yet.
My nervous system? Upgraded. They gave me a neural processor—something that intercepts brain signals and speeds them up. Reflexes are nearly instant now. If I see something coming, my body's already reacting before I consciously tell it to. It's freaky… but also awesome.
My senses got a serious overhaul. My eyes can shift modes—normal, night vision, thermal, even mana detection, which is like… seeing heat, but for magic. There's a HUD overlay in my vision now, giving me readouts on distance, targets, and threat levels. My ears? Directional audio mapping. I can tell where a sound's coming from within a couple degrees. And my nose… yeah, I can smell mana. Not like perfume or food—it's more like this static taste in the back of my throat.
My circulatory system isn't really "blood and veins" anymore. I've got some kind of synthetic fluid mixed with nanites running through me, repairing minor damage and helping the rest of my systems adapt to mana. That means I heal a little faster and my body doesn't reject magical effects the way normal tech might.
Then there's the weapons. Yeah, plural. My forearms have retractable mono-molecular blades that can slice through steel—and, apparently, most enchanted armor. My palms can charge and fire plasma bursts, and the targeting software adjusts on the fly for moving enemies. My legs have reinforced servos for high jumps and sprint bursts, plus grappling hooks tucked away behind panels near my calves.
Last, there's the weirdest part—the mana integration module. Whatever this world runs on, my body can drink it in. I can feed my cybernetics directly from ambient mana instead of relying on a battery. And the more mana-rich the area, the more "alive" everything in me feels.
So yeah, the outside's still me—same face, same hair, same tattoos—but inside? I'm a walking, talking, mana-powered war machine. And I am so going to test all of this out. Preferably not on the unibunnies… unless they ask for it.
Oh—almost forgot to mention—I figured all this out with my brand-spanking-new system HUD. Yup, I got a system. Thank the chocolate bunnies it's not one of those talking, semi-sentient ones that have gotten really popular in fantasy LitRPGs. Mine's more like an AI computer. So there's no talking back. Yay!
Now that that's sorted, I should probably start figuring out how to get out of this forest and into a town or something.
I tapped my temple, bringing up the HUD's environmental scan. A grid of glowing lines swept out across my vision, painting everything in shades of teal. The readout tagged tree species I didn't recognize, mana density levels, and… oh, great—more unibunnies, about fifty meters east.
"Not going that way," I muttered, turning west. The HUD projected a faint path overlay, estimating travel time to the nearest mana signature cluster that might be a settlement. It was either that, or camp out here and risk becoming a fuzzy lightning target again.
I adjusted my clothes—well, what was left of them after the whole "kidnapped and rebuilt" thing—and started walking, keeping one eye on the glowing waypoint and the other on anything that looked like it could vaporize me.
Wait… hold up. Wasn't I naked during the entire human-to-cyborg procedure? So how the fudge am I now wearing my favorite black sweatpants and oversized Hello Kitty long-sleeve hoodie? Did someone go through my laundry? Because if so… ew. And also, how?!
I tapped my temple to pull up the HUD's object scan. A faint shimmer washed over my clothes in my vision, and a readout popped up:
[Adaptive Nano-Weave: Mana-Compatible]
Status: Self-cleaning, self-repairing, temperature-regulated
Origin: Unknown
…Huh. So my "favorite outfit" wasn't actually my outfit—it was some kind of magical cosplay armor pretending to be it. Which was both cool and creepy. Cool because I could basically survive a snowstorm in this. Creepy because… yeah, still feels like someone dug through my mental closet and picked it out.
Well, whatever—no point stressing about it. Let's see… possible settlement, this way. Gotta say, this HUD is ridiculously useful.
Onwards!
I adjusted my direction and started walking again, letting the waypoint float ahead of me like some glowing video game quest marker. The forest around me was quiet—too quiet—which usually meant either everything was asleep… or everything was watching me.
Branches creaked overhead. My HUD flickered with tiny red pings somewhere off to the right, but they stayed at a distance. Fine by me. I had no intention of playing "Guess the Monster" until I at least found somewhere with walls.
Leaves crunched under my sneakers as I pushed forward, eyes flicking between the path ahead and the glowing indicator. Ten kilometers. That was nothing… unless this forest decided to throw more magic death-bunnies at me.
"Please just be a nice little village," I muttered. "Preferably one with chocolate."
I'm just gonna pretend the whole "what if I can't eat" thing doesn't exist. Nope. Not thinking about it. I'll deal with that existential crisis when I'm holding actual chocolate. I nod once to myself. Good call, me.
New priority added to my mental quest log:
1. Find civilization.
2. Find chocolate.
3. Everything else.
If step two doesn't happen right after step one, I might just cry—cyborg or not.
I adjusted my path toward the glowing waypoint, mentally chanting "chocolate" like it was some kind of sacred mantra. To any onlooker, I'd probably look like a lone pilgrim on a snack-based holy mission… or that guy in SpongeBob who screamed "Chocolate!" at random strangers. Yeah—peak television right there.
The waypoint marker in my HUD ticked down the meters as the forest began to thin. Sunlight filtered through the trees in wider beams now, the air carrying faint traces of woodsmoke and… was that bread? Oh, sweet binary gods, bread meant ovens, and ovens meant shops, and shops meant… chocolate.
Through the gaps in the foliage, I caught my first glimpse—stone walls, a scattering of rooftops, and the slow creak of a wooden gate. My HUD flashed Settlement Detected: 312m in the corner of my vision.
"Alright, Jax," I muttered. "Civilization. Don't scare the locals. And maybe don't ask for chocolate as your first sentence."
The waypoint blinked closer and closer until the trees finally gave way to a dirt road. Ahead, the town's walls stood about twice my height—wooden beams reinforced with rough-cut stone. A guard post sat beside the main gate, manned by two figures in mismatched armor that looked more thrift-store than military issue.
My HUD tagged them instantly:
[Target: Humanoid – Armed]
Threat Level: Low-Moderate
Mana Signature: Minimal
Good. Maybe that meant they wouldn't immediately try to set me on fire.
I slowed my pace, putting on my best "totally-not-a-dangerous-cyborg-from-another-world" smile. One of the guards stepped forward, hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword.
"You here for trade or trouble?" he asked, giving me a look somewhere between suspicion and boredom.
"Trade," I said quickly. "And, uh… maybe snacks?"
His brow furrowed, like he wasn't sure if I was joking. The second guard—a younger woman—snorted and waved me through. "Go on in, stranger. Just don't start anything you can't finish."
"Noted," I said, stepping past them. My HUD instantly began overlaying the town in my vision—mapping streets, highlighting points of interest, tagging buildings with neat little icons. And there, glowing like a divine beacon, was one simple marker:
[Guildhouse – 154m]
My grin widened. Oh yes. This day was finally looking up.