After designing the armor’s blueprint in my virtual lab, I saved it in a folder. This time, I realized I would really need extra protection because, even though my precision with the virtual lab is absurd, there is now a clear chance that sparks could fall into my eyes—or something worse. Besides melting iron, I will be creating weapons.
Quickly, I left the lab, went to the trading post, and bought an engineer’s outfit—the best one available. In addition, I acquired the automaton book that Victor was selling. Then, I returned and began working while waiting for the virtual lab to complete its task with both magic models.
.
.
Days later...
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The smell of burnt oil and heated metal lingers in the air as I adjust my protective goggles over my nose.
I take a deep breath and grab the engine’s main cylinder with both hands. The brushed steel is still warm from the last adjustment, and I can feel its rough texture beneath my fingers. With precise movements, I fit the piece into the saw’s structure and secure it with rivets, hammering them carefully into place. Each strike of the hammer echoes through the lab like a mechanical symphony.
The copper boiler is already connected to the engine, its pipes snaking through the structure like metallic veins. I open a side valve and pour in some distilled water, listening to the dripping sound echo inside the tank. Now, the finishing touch: ignition. I take a blowtorch and adjust the bluish flame, bringing it closer to the combustion chamber. The metallic click of ignition echoes, and within seconds, steam begins to form, bringing the gears to life.
I press a large brass button on the side panel, and for a moment, there is a tense silence. Then, a deep, guttural roar spreads through the lab as the engine gains power. Thick, whitish smoke billows from the exhausts, spiraling up to the high ceiling. The sound of gears intertwines with the hiss of steam, creating a mechanical melody that only an engineer like me could appreciate.
"VRRRRRRRR~~"
"VRRRR~~"
I step back, wiping my grease-stained hands on my leather apron. My lips curl into a satisfied smile. The engine is functional, just as I wanted.
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My eyes shift from the still-growling engine to the side of the lab, where my most ambitious creation rests: The combat armor. It stands on a metal support, gleaming under the flickering gas lamps. The black vile steel covering the torso and arms is reinforced with additional plates on the shoulders and forearms, where I embedded small hydraulic pistons to amplify the strength of its blows. The joints and rivets are meticulously positioned, ensuring mobility without compromising durability.
But it’s not complete yet. The left leg is entirely missing, exposing the internal framework of gears and tubes awaiting the final installation. The central reactor in the chest also needs adjustments; the enchanted steam core is still not properly calibrated. I make these mental notes, already planning the next steps, but for now, my focus shifts back to the steam-powered chainsaw on the workbench.
I take a deep breath, grab a cloth, and wipe the soot from my fingers before continuing. I turn off the engine, making it go silent. With a firm pull, I slide the reinforced metal blade out of its casing. Its dull shine reveals the special alloy I used to make it absurdly resistant. The surface is studded with serrated teeth, razor-sharp and positioned at the perfect angle to tear through flesh and bone with ease. I run my fingertips along the edge, feeling its lethality.
Carefully, I mount the blade onto the newly finished engine shaft. Using a wrench, I tighten the securing bolts, ensuring it is properly adjusted to withstand the intense rotation. I give it one final turn, and then, satisfied, I lift the saw into the air. The weight is perfectly balanced, and the residual steam in the engine hisses softly.
With that, I could massacre some monsters with ease. This saw, with enchanted vile metal, has a power level above 5 points. This reinforced blade would easily cut through even bone.
When this blade spins, it will create a centrifugal force that activates the code I carved into the blades, heating them to a superhuman level, transforming them into plasma energy blades. It wasn’t what I initially intended, but it’s a satisfying result.
I grip the steam-powered chainsaw tightly and turn my attention to the unfinished armor. Its metallic gleam challenges me silently. I take a deep breath and walk toward it, already visualizing how the chainsaw will integrate into the mechanical arm.
I grab my wrench and begin removing the temporary mechanical forearm, loosening the bolts with swift movements. The clinking of metal echoes through the lab as I set the piece aside. With a small blowtorch, I adjust the brass connectors and reinforce the fittings. The saw’s structure needs to be perfectly aligned so it won’t compromise the armor’s mobility.
I grab a set of steel supports and begin bolting the chainsaw’s base to the forearm. Residual steam still escapes in small bursts as I adjust the final fittings. I use rivets to secure the joints, ensuring that the weapon not only functions but becomes a natural extension of the armor’s arm.
The integrated motor is already in place, and the gleaming blade rests on the forearm, ready to spring into action at the slightest command. Now, I just need to melt a bit more metal and design additional plates to connect a fist to this chainsaw arm.
Then, a sound resonates in my mind, interrupting my moment of contemplation:
["Beep!"]
["Spell model completed."]
["Should I transmit the information?"]
My heart races. I was waiting for this. "Finally…" I murmur, feeling a shiver run down my spine.
My eyes shift to the center of the lab, where a chair awaits me beside the main desk. Without hesitation, I walk to it and sit down.
I clench my fists tightly, feeling my fingers tremble slightly against the leather gloves. I hate this sensation. My body already anticipates what’s coming, as if a part of me tries to resist the inevitable. But there’s no way to ease this without using some magical crystals—and wasting them is not an option.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my mind before giving the command.
"Transmit."
The lab obeys instantly.
A wave of heat runs down my spine. My stomach churns, and for a moment, I feel an uncontrollable urge to vomit. I grit my teeth, trying to maintain control as my vision blurs and lines of pulsing energy dance through my mind.
The two spells, once only theoretical knowledge, are now fully assimilated. Not only do I understand them—I now control them. Every letter, every magical flow pattern, every slight variation in my brain has become part of me. Years of study and practice were compressed into mere seconds and poured directly into my being.
Taking a deep breath, I feel the artificial experience spreading through my body, integrating with my reflexes, my instincts. My muscles involuntarily contract before finally relaxing.
After a few minutes of pure discomfort, the sensation stops as abruptly as it began. I open my eyes, blinking a few times as my mind adjusts to the new reality.
I rise from the chair.
A determined smile forms on my lips.
"Time to test them."
I left my lab behind, climbing the spiral stairs of the Tower. My destination: the Magical Spell Practice Room on the third floor. A space designed to withstand the side effects of any arcane experiment—even a potential spell reflux, which could be fatal for an unprepared Acolyte.
At this hour, during dinner, few apprentices were present, which was convenient. I wasn’t in the mood for curious stares or unnecessary chatter.
I walked directly to the reception desk, where an elderly Acolyte—his wrinkled face and deep-set eyes like keyholes—was managing the place. His gaze scanned me from top to bottom before he extended his hand.
I sighed and pulled five magical crystals from the inner pocket of my coat, letting them fall into his bony palm. They tinkled softly before disappearing into his worn tunic. In return, he handed me a special card, cold to the touch, engraved with faintly glowing runes.
"One hour," he murmured.
For most Acolytes, sixty minutes of practice was an impossible luxury. With their pathetic amount of Spiritual Energy, they could hardly maintain basic spells for more than half an hour. If I didn’t control my energy flow, I could exhaust myself completely in just fifteen minutes. But I was no ordinary Acolyte.
With firm steps, I walked to one of the stone doors aligned along the hallway. The number engraved above it matched my card’s number. Without hesitation, I held up the card and waved it through the air in front of the door. The runes on it glowed, and without a sound, the massive stone slid to the side, opening.
The Magical Spell Practice Room was a simple, unadorned space. Cold stone walls absorbed any heat, and the floor was marked with deactivated arcane circles. The main feature of the room, however, stood at the far end: a gigantic humanoid target made of black augite. Its dark, irregular surface absorbed the room’s light, emanating an intimidating presence.
That material was strong enough to repel low-level magic, making it the perfect target for the experimental spells of Acolytes.
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1580 Words