The perfectly soft morning light—filtered through the observation window's layers—gently spilled into the room, casting dappled shadows on the floor.
Artoria regained consciousness amidst a feeling of warm comfort. First was the sense of smell: the familiar, faint, cool scent belonging to Minerva lingered at the tip of her nose. Then came the sense of touch: her cheek pressed against a soft and resilient "pillow," warmth radiating through the thin clothing, and she could hear a steady, powerful heartbeat—thump, thump, thump—like the most soothing lullaby. Finally, there was the weight of her eyelids and her still somewhat muddled brain.
She struggled to crack her eyes open, and what met her gaze was a patch of delicate, healthy-looking skin, along with the graceful lines of a collarbone. Shifting her gaze slightly upward, she saw Minerva's peaceful sleeping face; long eyelashes cast small shadows under her eyelids, and her breathing was even.
Ah... right. Yesterday, I was drawing until very late, then I posted a request for help, and in the end, it seems Xiao Xiao carried me back to bed, and I just passed out...
Her brain felt like an old computer that had just booted up and was still loading a massive cache, running slowly. The fatigue had not completely faded; a faint soreness emanated from deep within her mind, reminding her of yesterday's excessive mental exertion. Her body, moreover, felt lazy, with every cell screaming, "I don't want to move."
So, she contentedly buried her face further into that warm "pillow," nuzzling it, and let out a satisfied murmur. Minerva seemed to be awakened by her small movements; her arms tightened instinctively, pulling her closer into an embrace, and her chin rubbed gently against the top of Artoria's head, accompanied by a sleepy, nasal voice: "Mm... Ling... sleep a little longer..."
"Mmm..." Artoria replied vaguely, her consciousness drifting off again.
That "sleep a little longer" actually lasted until the sun was high—the light from the simulated sky's star had already become bright and warm.
In the end, what woke her was not an alarm clock, nor Minerva's urging, but a series of clear and loud protests from her stomach.
"Gurgle..."
The sound was exceptionally distinct in the quiet room.
Artoria's body stiffened, and her face, buried in Minerva's embrace, turned slightly red.
A low, amused sigh came from above her head. Minerva had been awake for a while, but she was reluctant to break the peace, having been quietly watching her curled up in her arms like a small animal. Hearing the sound now, she gently patted her back: "Hungry?"
"...Mm." Artoria replied in a muffled voice, finally lifting her head reluctantly. Her eyes were bleary with sleep, her hair was a messy nest with several strands sticking up, and there was a red mark on her face from the pillow, making her look both adorable and pitiful.
The amusement in Minerva's eyes deepened. She leaned over and kissed her forehead lightly: "I'll go make breakfast; you take a moment to wake up." After saying this, she stood up with gentle yet efficient movements, put on a jacket, and walked toward the small kitchen area connected to the room. Although the observation station provided synthetic nutritional meals, Minerva preferred to prepare food for Artoria herself, which gave her a tangible sense of "being alive" and "taking care of the person she loved."
The space in her arms suddenly became empty, and some of the warmth dissipated; Artoria curled up, feeling a bit unaccustomed to it. She lingered in bed for a few more minutes until the hunger struck again, then she sluggishly sat up and rubbed her still-heavy eyes.
Her gaze swept unconsciously across the workbench, where the 3D concept model of the "hyperion" she had finished yesterday was still floating, rotating quietly in the morning light.
3D model... design... request for help!
That's right! The post!
Her muddled brain felt as if it had been injected with a refreshing agent, instantly becoming much clearer. Before going to sleep yesterday, she had posted a request for help on the "System Forum"! She wondered if anyone had replied? Would it sink without a trace? Or would there only be one or two inconsequential suggestions?
With a hint of anticipation and even more trepidation, Artoria threw off the quilt, stepped barefoot onto the cool floor, and trotted over to sit at the workbench. She woke the main light screen, skillfully brought up the special terminal interface left by Xiao Qi, and clicked on that familiar, strangely styled "Forum" icon.
She went directly into the [My Posts] list.
Then, she saw the familiar title, and behind it, that eye-catching, continuously flashing indicator representing extremely high-traffic replies—(999+).
Artoria blinked, wondering if she hadn't fully woken up yet and was seeing things.
She rubbed her eyes vigorously again and leaned closer to the light screen. The (999+) indicator was still stubbornly flashing, incredibly clear.
"O-over a thousand replies?!" Artoria gasped, completely dumbfounded. "This... how is this possible?!"
When she posted yesterday, it was almost late at night. Based on her sense of time, it had only been... She glanced at the time—about ten hours? Ten hours, over a thousand replies?! Did the "seniors" in this Forum not need to sleep? Or was the flow of time different?
The immense shock made her forget to move for a moment; she just stared blankly at the number. The bleakness, lack of interest, or even the possibility of being mocked for asking a "noob" question that she had anticipated completely failed to materialize. Instead, there was this explosive level of attention that far exceeded her expectations.
Her heart began to pound; she felt both flattered by the attention from so many "seniors" and curious and nervous about the content of the replies. Over a thousand... would there be useful suggestions inside? Would most of them be spam? Or... like some Forums, had they started arguing because of differing viewpoints?
She took a deep breath, tried to calm her mood, and stretched out her slightly trembling finger to click on her post.
The page refreshed instantly, and the long list of replies poured down like a waterfall, scrolling rapidly. Even though the light screen had an intelligent scroll-speed adjustment, the dense text, the occasional simple diagrams, and the various strange IDs and posting styles were enough to make her head spin.
She instinctively wanted to scroll up from the latest replies to see what everyone had said.
But right at the very top of the page, a reply that had been specially bolded, highlighted, and "pinned" to the front by some technical means firmly caught her gaze.
Reply ID: [Logic Weaver].
The content of the reply was not a long block of text, but a tree diagram—clear in structure, complex in its branches, and detailed in its annotations.
The title of the diagram was concise and powerful: "Feasibility Analysis of Countermeasures Against High-End Combat Decapitation Threats for 'One-Person Army' Type Hosts (Tech-Side/High Psionic/Early Interstellar Entry)."
Artoria's breathing hitched slightly, her gaze firmly locked onto the diagram.
She saw that the tree diagram started from a core question and, like a tree of life, branched out into several thick main trunks. Each main trunk had a clear name: [Concealment and Evasion], [Defense and Resistance], [Mobility and Dodging], [Deterrence and Counterattack], and [Survival and Recovery].
Beneath each main trunk, there were no empty theories, but numerous detailed branches extending outwards. Each branch represented a specific technical direction or approach, with key points noted in concise small text beside it:
"Spatial Phase Camouflage (Requires basic spatial theory; Materials: XXX-grade Ghost Gold/Phase Crystal)"
"Multi-layered Composite Energy Shield System (Can combine with the Host's Mechanical Sea characteristics; deploy automated shield generators)"
"Short-range Tactical Jump Engine (Miniaturization difficulty; requires resolving spatial disturbance field compatibility)"
"Psionic Early Warning Network (Utilize high psionic advantage; deploy wide-area sensing nodes)"
"Consciousness Dispersion Backup Protocol ('Swarm Mind' life-saving trump card; high risk to ethics and consciousness unity)"
"Reverse Erosion Module with Logic Bombs (Deterrent counterattack against psionic/rule-based attacks)"
"Rapid Damage Repair System based on nanomachines..."
All in all, there were no fewer than dozens of specific paths. Some she had vaguely thought of, while others were completely beyond her current scope of understanding. Yet, every single one pointed in a clear direction with precise logic, and many were specifically marked with hints such as "Can combine with existing mechanical manufacturing capabilities," "Requires prioritizing the upgrading of spatial technology level," and "High psionic adaptation plan."
This was not just a collection of scattered suggestions; it was a "Blueprint for Future Development Possibilities" that had been organized, integrated, and even preliminarily evaluated—tailor-made for her!
Artoria stared blankly at the tree diagram, which was small in scale but explosive in information density. Her heart beat rapidly, and an indescribable sense of shock and a warm current surged from the bottom of her heart.
When she posted, she only held the mindset of giving it a try and looking for a bit of inspiration. She never expected to receive such a serious, systematic, and... kind-hearted response. How many "seniors" had spent their late nights or their days discussing, debating, filtering, and summarizing this behind the scenes?
The post had 999+ replies; perhaps most of them were discussions aimed at forming this final blueprint?
Her gaze slowly moved downward, and she saw the postscript from [Logic Weaver] below the tree diagram: "Newbie, this is the feasibility analysis of directions that are relatively suitable for your situation, as discussed so far. You must choose your own path and walk it yourself. For reference only. Good luck, and may you soon achieve your 'One-Person Army'."
Concise and to the point, without any unnecessary fluff, yet it conveyed a sense of pragmatic and cautious care.
Artoria's nose suddenly felt sore. She reached out her finger and gently touched the tree diagram on the light screen, as if she could feel the wisdom and kindness condensed behind it, coming from countless unknown Worlds and unknown existences.
"Ling, breakfast is ready." Minerva walked in carrying a tray and saw Artoria staring blankly at the light screen with a complex expression on her face, so she couldn't help but ask, "What's wrong? Did no one reply to the post?" She assumed Artoria was disappointed.
Artoria turned her head, her eyes shining brilliantly, filled with excitement, gratitude, and a reignited fighting spirit.
"No, Xiao Xiao," her voice trembled slightly with excitement, "someone replied... and, they replied with a... 'big gift' beyond imagination!"
She pointed to the detailed tree diagram on the light screen, her tone firm and decisive: "I think I know what I should research next."
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