I woke up abruptly—not like waking from a dream where you gradually drift back to reality, but as if someone had flipped a switch right inside my head. For a second, I just lay there, listening to the silence. But it couldn't last forever, so I opened my eyes and saw the sky.
The sky was… too clean. A blue so deep it only exists in pictures where the artist wasn't afraid to crank the saturation to the limit. Beautiful and pure—no smog, no contrails, no light pollution. Around me lay a sea of beautiful, wonderful-smelling grass. Even in the heart of nature, "nature" usually doesn't smell this good, let alone in the city, where even the parks were hardly what you'd call lush.
I pulled myself up and sat. Only then did I notice the lake to my left. It was enormous. Crystalline. Its surface was mirror-like but not dead; ripples danced across it here and there, and in the depths, I could see fish and various aquatic plants. At the edge, the water faded into an incredible transparency, while further out, it deepened into a rich navy blue, as if the depth there were infinite.
In the distance—mountains. Big, real mountains. Sharp ridges, white caps on the peaks. They stood so far away they looked almost decorative, like a backdrop in an old game… but I knew it wasn't a backdrop. These were real mountains. Probably ten kilometers away, at least.
To my right—a meadow strewn with boulders. The rocks looked as if they had been placed intentionally: massive, light-colored blocks with veins of something black, some covered in moss. Beyond the meadow was a forest. A dark line of trees on the horizon; I couldn't make out the species, but I could tell the woods were thick and ancient—not a "park," but a proper forest: the kind you could get lost in if you wandered too deep.
I ran my palm over the grass. It was damp, cool, and pleasant. And in that second, the realization finally caught up with me: I didn't remember how I got here. Not a "I don't remember the last five minutes" kind of thing, but a total lack of memory as a fact. I tried to grasp at any memory—a home, a street, a face, a voice—and hit… nothing.
A cold shiver ran through me, despite the sun warming my face.
A name. At least a name.
I whispered it to myself—and it surfaced immediately, as if it were the only thing left behind on purpose.
Prometheus.
I let out a short, nervous chuckle. Well, thanks. I don't know who named me that, but you're a comedian. Prometheus—the one who brought fire. The one who stole it and gave it to humans. The one who paid the price for that deed. I hope I don't suffer the same fate.
I tried again to remember something else. A hobby, a habit, a profession. And suddenly, I remembered what I was doing right before the "transfer."
I… had sat down to play. A factory-building game. A big one. With a massive modpack—so large it wasn't just "a few new recipes," but "a brand-new game for a few thousand hours of a single playthrough, good luck." I remembered that feeling: the anticipation before the start, when the map is still blank, but your mind is already drawing conveyor lines, blueprints, future industrial districts, logistics, and resource balances. I remembered my hand reaching for the mouse. I remembered intending to play "for just an hour." The most honest lie in the world.
And then… nothing. A void.
And now I'm here, on the grass, by a crystal lake, under a sky that looked like it was designed specifically so a person would have no doubt: "Yes, you're in a new world, congratulations."
I exhaled and tried to think in a logical chain, as I was used to: if I was transported, there must be a reason. And if I assumed for a moment that I was in a cliché "isekai" story—the kind I loved because they let me relax my two remaining brain cells—then there had to be some kind of System to explain the what and how, since there was no god or goddess on the horizon to introduce me to this wonderful (or maybe not) world.
As if reading my thoughts, a window appeared before me.
[Lord Profile: Prometheus]
[Class: Engineer]
[Class Rarity: ██████ (Restricted)]
[Power Source: Technology System]
[Warning: Class and System mechanics differ significantly from standard Lords.]
What Lords? What classes? What systems? What was I looking at? A large, opaque window with… my data? And what was with the redacted rarity for the Engineer class? Was that good or bad? Hell if I knew, but the fact that the System emphasized my difference from other players (of whom I didn't know how many there were) made me uneasy.
But then the System continued—and this is where it got truly interesting.
[Welcome, all Lords and Heroes, to the wonderful Aether World]
[To adapt to the new world as quickly as possible, everyone will randomly receive a starting territory where they can recruit troops, extract resources, and develop their power.]
[In this vast world, like a sea, you will face not only competition from all races but also threats from the natives. The fate of the weak is death!]
[Therefore, keep growing and become stronger!]
[Here, you can enjoy all beauties and pleasures—beauties, wine, eternal battles—but only if you have the strength to take them.]
[A random distribution to your territories is now occurring; you will be issued random classes, abilities, and unique artifacts.]
[For the next three days, a barrier will protect all territories. It can filter out hostile creatures but cannot be passed by other Lords or their servants.]
[To become stronger, kill creatures and especially other Lords, conquer new territories, and empower your own.]
[Defeat is defined as your death or the loss of your territory.]
The System continued to pour out a mountain of information from which I drew my own conclusions. I certainly wasn't alone. There were clearly many of us. And we were all locked in something resembling a massive Battle Royale, only the rules were "kill or be killed."
But if the messages said there was about to be a random distribution of everything, why did I already have a class and why was I already here?
A new message, addressed only to me, answered my thoughts.
[Respected Lord]
[In a standard case, each Lord is randomly assigned a race, territory, class, talents, starting buildings, and servants. However, for you, Lord Prometheus, a unique profile has been prepared.]
[Starting territory of a standard Lord: 1 × 1 km.]
[Your starting territory: 5 × 5 km.]
[Reason: Compensation for the lack of base buildings and standard infrastructure.]
Twenty-five square kilometers. Decent. But what was I supposed to do with all this land? I scrolled down.
[Starting Buildings: None.]
[Central Territory Building: None.]
[Summoning Gates: None.]
[Territorial Token/Core: None.]
[You are the heart of your domain. As long as you live, the empire stands. As long as you breathe, its power grows. The death of the Lord is the end of all.]
I didn't understand half of it, but it seemed others were starting with a pre-set kit of buildings related to their race and abilities, while I had nothing. On one hand, that was bad; on the other, I didn't have to worry about protecting a central core. But the lack of Summoning Gates was depressing—it looked like that's how others would summon mobs and NPCs to help them. And me? I had… nothing?
Sensing my confusion, the window added more text.
[Warning: You cannot be deprived of your territory by the destruction of a core.]
[Warning: You can be deprived of everything by your death.]
[Recommendation: Avoid direct combat until autonomous defense measures are established.]
"Autonomous defense measures." So I could do something and fight. Robots, drones, that sort of thing. I just had to live long enough to build them. The window scrolled further.
[Engineer progression differs from the standard skill system.]
[Combat Skills: None.]
[Active Abilities: None.]
[Compensation: Increased base stat growth.]
Wait. I didn't get it. I had no magic, no sword techniques, nothing like that—and no workers to start with either. What was I supposed to defend myself with when the barrier dropped?
[Base Stat Growth: 2X]
Ah, well, that's different. So I'm at least twice as strong as everyone else in raw stats. Cool, I guess, but that would probably only be useful in the beginning. Without skills, I was like a Terminator without guns. Tough, but limited.
[Skill Points: Not applicable.]
[Technology Points: Available.]
Technology Points? The System, seemingly pleased to finally use the word "technology," finished the explanation:
[Upon leveling up, you receive:]
— [Stat Points: Distributed manually.]
— [Technology Points: Used to unlock technological breakthroughs.]
[Warning: Technological breakthroughs may require resources/components above your current level.]
Of course. I could "unlock" something I couldn't actually build. Just like those games where you have the blueprint for a nuclear reactor but haven't even learned how to smelt iron properly because all your time went into mining copper and surviving bugs.
[Open: Tech Tree]
[Status: Available.]
I didn't even have time to think "don't click," because sometimes hands move faster than brains. My fingers rose, and I tapped the air.
Suddenly, thousands of items flashed before me. Lines, branches, nodes. Levels. Technologies intertwined so tightly it wasn't a tree anymore—it was a forest grown on the bones of common sense. It wasn't beautiful or dramatic. My head just felt like cotton, my stomach did an unpleasant somersault, and my vision blurred for a second because my brain tried to process a volume of information not intended for a single human being.
There were simple things—wind turbines, basic mechanics, ore processing, primitive electronics. And then, further in, behind dense layers of requirements, words loomed that made me go cold: supercomputers, atomic munitions, space elevators.
How was I supposed to get through all of this? No factory could handle this load.
The System, as if reading my mind, displayed one last block—and it was the most unpleasant of all, because it rang true:
[All basic technologies are available to you from the start; however, researching new ones requires: Research Packs.]
[Research Packs require stable and mass production.]
[Research difficulty grows exponentially.]
[The Engineer's Key Resource: Time.]
Time. It made sense that to scale up I'd need heaps of time and patience. And while I had plenty of the latter, the former could run out quickly. Then visitors would come for my soul—and not the kind I'd welcome.
I looked at the lake, the forest, the boulders, the mountains—and for the first time, I saw them not as beauty, but as resources. Stone. Wood. Ore somewhere down there, underground. Coal or its local equivalent. Space for the first lines. Space for expansion. Space for what would come later, when "later" became "now."
And then, I clearly understood the other side of the coin: while I was building a factory and squeezing resources from the earth, other Lords would be leveling up more easily. They'd have Summoning Gates. Servants. Infantry. Magic. Direct "power" solutions. They would become more dangerous every week—not because they were smarter, but because their system yielded results faster in the early days.
Which meant I didn't have the right to a beautiful, slow engineering dream. I had to do it fast. And right. The first time. Or at least with a minimum of errors.
Alright, let's see what we have.
[Lord Status]
Name: Prometheus
Class: Engineer
Level: 1
Experience: 0 / 100
Base Stats (Lvl 1):
Strength (STR): 10
Dexterity (DEX): 10
Constitution (CON): 10
Intelligence (INT): 10
Willpower (WIL): 10
Perception (PER): 10
Charisma (CHA): 10
Luck (LCK): 10
I blinked. Straight tens. Too bad this wasn't poker. Then more statistics appeared.
[Stat Effects (Power scale by decades of levels)]
[Important: The effectiveness of one stat unit depends on the level range]
Levels 1–10: Base efficiency (×1).
Levels 11–20: Efficiency ×2.
Levels 21–30: Efficiency ×4.
…and so on—every 10 levels, the multiplier squares.
So, "1 unit of Constitution" at Level 5 and at Level 35 were two different universes in terms of value. Convenient. And terrifying, because high-level guys wouldn't just be "stronger"—they would be qualitatively superior.
Derivative Parameters (Current)
Health: 200
Stamina: 200
Energy: 200
Carrying Capacity: 200 slots
Reaction: 20
Speed: 20
Mental Resistance: 20
Accuracy: 20
And below, a "legend," like in a proper game, showing what converts into what.
Calculations (Levels 1–10)
(Note: Base multiplier = ×1. Mine is ×2.)
Strength (STR): +1 inventory slot per 1 STR. +5% manual "heavy" action speed per 1 STR. +5% melee damage per 1 STR.
Dexterity (DEX): +1 ACC (Accuracy) per 1 DEX. +1 EVA (Evasion) per 1 DEX. +5% "fine" work speed per 1 DEX. +5% movement speed per 1 DEX.
Constitution (CON): +10 HP per 1 CON. +10 STA (Stamina) per 1 CON. +1% resistance to poisons/disease/bleeding per 1 CON. +1% HP regeneration per 1 CON.
Intelligence (INT): +3% research speed per 1 INT. +1% energy/tool efficiency per 1 INT.
Willpower (WIL): +1 M-RES (Magic Res) per 1 WIL. +1% STA recovery per 1 WIL. +1% fear/control resistance per 1 WIL.
Perception (PER): +1% chance to notice resources/ambushes per 1 PER. +1% long-range accuracy/sensor range per 1 PER.
Charisma (CHA): +1% to trade/diplomacy per 1 CHA.
Luck (LCK): +0.5% rare loot chance per 1 LCK. +1% random tech quality per 1 LCK. +0.1% "death save" chance per 5 LCK (does not scale with levels).
And now, the most important part: the scaling.
Example of Scaling Efficiency
For CON (Constitution):
Levels 1–10: 1 CON = +10 HP and +10 STA.
Levels 11–20: 1 CON = +20 HP and +20 STA.
Levels 21–30: 1 CON = +40 HP and +40 STA.
The same logic applied to everything else (carrying capacity from STR, accuracy from DEX, etc.). The further you went, the more valuable each point became. At the bottom, a separate block held a couple more messages.
[Beginner Bonus Active.]
[Until Level 100:]
[Experience Gained: ×5.]
[Stat Efficiency: ×2.]
I re-read it twice. Until level 100, leveling was five times faster. And stats gave twice the result. So right now, my "10 Constitution" wasn't just 100 HP, it was 200 HP. And that applied across the board. This explained why the System even risked making me the "heart of the empire": it had to give me a starting buffer of durability, otherwise I'd have died before I even built my first crooked workbench.
I raised my head and looked at this world again—at the lake, the forest, the rocks. Beautiful. Peaceful. But that peace clearly wouldn't last if I just kept standing here doing nothing.
If I have a cool system then it would be a sin not to see what it holds.