Reborn in The Legendary Mechanic

Six days, as if blotted out of time. My world had shrunk to holographic projections, calculations, and data, flickering with neon light in the semi-dark cabin. The Eridian was continuously processing massive amounts of information, feeding more and more optimization options. I no longer had any concept of time - just an endless stream of work, step by step bringing me closer to creating the perfect machine of destruction. 

I must say that the lack of need for sleep helps a lot in my work. As well as the lack of urgent need for food and water. The new body was great as it was, and with the improvements, it's literally a cheat.

According to medical data, I only need resources to replenish lost tissue, the rest being replaced by energy-generating nanorobots.

In theory, if I were to be put into a coma and locked somewhere isolated, I could stay that way forever. 

And yes, I'll admit again that the modifications from Eridian are wonderful and I have no regrets.

On the main screen hung a schematic of one of the key components, a compact but incredibly powerful fusion reactor. The intertwined lines, like arteries and veins, formed a network describing the process of energy redistribution in real time. I studied the holographic projection carefully, trying to find a way to optimize its efficiency.

- If we use quantum processors and secondary power cores, - Eridian began, his voice confident but detached, "the autonomy will increase by 48%. However, the cooling system will need to be redesigned. The current version is insufficient to manage the heat exhaust at this power consumption.

I frowned, analyzing the proposed data.

- What are the options?

Three alternative schemes immediately appeared on the screen.

- The first: using a liquid-metal cooling system with the addition of superconducting channels. This would reduce localized overheating by 70%, but increase mass by 12%. Second: integration of an inert helium-based gas circulator. Simple design, but efficiency will decrease by 15%. Third: redesign of magnetic stabilizers with the addition of plasma regulators. The most energy efficient solution, but will require expensive materials.

- We'll take the third option, - I replied, not taking my eyes off the screens. - Will it require a major reconfiguration?

- Yes, but it won't take long.

A second screen activated next to me, displaying the blueprints for the base model. The massive, heavy-duty structure now looked almost complete.

- How's the VBM prototype coming along?

- Analysis is complete, - Eridian replied immediately. - The repulsors and thrusters are not capable of the speeds we're currently looking for.

- We'll have to redesign the armor - I said thoughtfully, zooming in on one of the nodes. - Rebuild the armor using the most expensive and technically complex materials available.

In the schematic, the massive plates of armor were replaced by more flexible modules with reinforced connecting nodes.

- That will increase the final cost by 42%, - replied Eridian.

- I don't care. As long as it works.

A projection of a melt gun, a technology found on Omeos-9, appeared on a nearby screen. The design of this particular model was partially different from the one in my arsenal. Even a rusted and damaged cannon fired far more accurately, farther, and more painfully. This weapon could penetrate even the most powerful defenses.

- Conflict with the cooling system. Plasma recoil is overloading the power nodes, - Eridian said.

I swiped my finger across the screen, highlighting the problem area.

- Reduce power to 80% in normal mode. For critical situations, develop an "overload" mode, but set it for limited time intervals.

- This will increase wear by 300%.

- Whether it dies sooner or later makes no difference. The important thing is that the enemy dies first.

The next projection showed a contoured defense field. Unlike traditional spherical systems, it enveloped the object tightly, repeating its shape. The unique field structure required high synchronization with external sensors, core and projectors.

- The cloaking conflicts with the field's energy distribution, - Eridian pointed out.

- Remove that segment, - I said, pointing to the problem node. - Redistribute the flow through the triple regulator.

- This will reduce cloaking efficiency by 12%.

- The main thing is to make sure the system doesn't burn up on the first run.

The holograms changed again, reflecting the adjustments made. A schematic of the quantum processor for control appeared on the third screen. The processor, built on the principles of hybrid architecture, combined neural networks and quantum qubits to create an adaptive cognitive core.

- The current architecture does not support parallel processes at peak loads, - the AI reported.

- Integrate a photonic interconnect module.

- This will increase heat dissipation.

- Implement additional optical channels to dissipate excessive heat.

- Acknowledged.

The projections continued to flicker on the screens, distorting under the weight of new solutions. Each new step made the project more real, but at the same time added new challenges.

- The rough prototype is 64% complete. Another 36% required for full functionality, - Eridian reported.

- We have plenty of time. We'll finish it.

The holograms froze in place, displaying the current progress. My heart beat faster, realizing that the plan was beginning to become a reality.

A loud knock on the door interrupted my musings.

- Did you die in there? - came Ricard's voice. - We'd already started betting.

I pressed the button with irritation, and the door opened. Rickard stepped inside, his eyes immediately focused on the screens.

- What the hell is this? - He muttered, furrowing his brow.

- Work, - I answered briefly, not wanting to go into details.

He stepped closer, his attention drawn to the projections. Holographic diagrams of combat vehicles, power units, and blueprints looked like something from another reality.

- You haven't left your quarters in a week, not even to eat - he said, crossing his arms. - What are you up to?

- Something important, - I cut him off, minimizing the projections.

- All right, - he grinned, shaking his head. - But if you don't get out of this room right now, I'll have my men break down the door.

With a heavy sigh, I stood up.

- All right. What's going on in there?

- Dinner, training, and a game of cards. Join us, captain, while we have time to relax.

Rikard turned and headed for the exit, leaving a slight chuckle behind him. I glanced at the screens where the projections froze, as if waiting for my return.

- We'll get back to it, - I muttered, turning off the panels and heading after him.

As I stepped into the spacious dining room, I paused, taking in the atmosphere. The spacious room was filled with the hum of voices, laughter, and the clinking of cutlery. At the long table, as if eaten away by years of use, the mercenaries had taken every possible seat.

They sat with their legs stretched out, resting their elbows on the table or resting their feet casually on the leg, as if completely oblivious to contracts, risk, and the inevitable shadow of death that followed them.

Garth, boisterous as ever, positioned himself closer to the center, taking his place as natural leader. He was gesticulating so vigorously that the bread in his hand was almost flying toward his companion, Brenn, who was laughing so infectiously that even Rickard, normally calm and reserved, couldn't keep from smiling.

I took a step toward the table, and the voices quieted briefly.

- Ellarion, it's good to see you among the living, - Garth grinned, raising his glass of murky liquid. - I thought you'd turned into part of your ship.

- Almost, - I replied calmly, taking a seat on the edge of the table.

- He's just learning to be human, - Rikard quipped, his gaze sharp as a knife.

There was a friendly laugh, and the tension, if there was any, immediately evaporated.

The food on the table looked unassuming: porridge, stew, thickly crusted bread. But the flavor was pleasant, and the portions were larger than they needed to be. I took my plate and ate in silence, watching the mercenaries.

Garth was telling a story about a failed contract, and he gestured with such gestures that at one point he nearly knocked over the jug. Brann picked him up at the last moment, causing another fit of laughter.

- What about you, Ellarion? - Garth asked, turning his head toward me. - We're discussing who in this room could outsmart the god of luck. What are your thoughts?

- I don't play with gods, - I said, finishing the last piece of meat.

- That's why you win all the time, - Rickard interjected, and the table burst into laughter again.

Their jokes and conversations reminded me that humans were strange creatures. They need more than just survival. They need companionship, company, connection. And even in the most mundane of foods, they find a way to feel alive.

After lunch, the mercenaries moved to the training room.

The hot air, saturated with the smell of sweat and oil, enveloped the space. The sounds of blows, compressed by the effort of their breaths and the metallic scraping merged into a chaotic symphony of force. The pressure of five times the gravity was felt underfoot: every step was a feat, every workout a challenge.

Garth and Rickard stood in the center of the hall, sparring fiercely on wooden practice swords. The blows of their weapons were deafening, but so powerful that they echoed throughout the room. Rikard moved with the grace of a predator, his blows swift and precise, as if each was designed to target a weak spot. Garth, on the other hand, relied on brute force: his every movement was aimed at suppressing, at destroying the resistance.

- Will you participate? - Garth said in a hoarse voice when he saw me. His face was covered with sweat, but his gaze remained clear and defiant.

- Not today, - I said, raising my palm slightly. - I have things to do.

He grinned, returning his attention to his opponent, and I stayed in the shadows, watching their duel. Rikard retreated half a step, his grin hiding his displeasure. Garth easily seized the initiative, unleashing a series of crushing blows. Despite the obvious power imbalance, Rickard managed to hold on.

I watched them, noting how their strikes were becoming more precise and their movements more confident. These men were made for battle. Even in moments of routine, their bodies and minds remained trained survival machines.

Across the hall, several fighters were working out with heavy weights, their faces tense and their effort visible in every movement. One of them lifted a barbell that looked like it might crush the metal floor, but he held it, albeit with difficulty.

I looked around the room once more, memorizing how everyone here is using the time to get stronger. The mercenaries are real fighters. Every day is a preparation for tomorrow's battle.

Well, after a few hours of training, everyone decided to rest.

The central hallway buzzed with voices and laughter, as if the space of the ship suddenly came alive with human energy. A few mercenaries huddled around a large table, where shining maps depicting heroes, artifacts, and places came to life in the imagination of the players.

- Plasma bombardment! - exclaimed Kate joyfully, swiping a card onto the field. Her opponent, Laura, gloomed as she watched the field empty under the wave of destructive force.

- This is unfair, - she muttered, pulling a few ena out of his pocket. - You're cheating, admit it.

- I know nothing about it, - Kate smirked, raking up the winnings.

I stopped next to their table, crossing my arms over my chest.

- Ellarion! - Rickard called out to me, holding a card with a mage in shining armor. - Would you like to join me?

- Not yet, - I said, though my gaze lingered on the margins of the cards, glowing with mysterious runes. - But one day, perhaps.

- You don't realize what you're missing! - Brenn chuckled. - It's not just a game, it's an art!

- Perhaps, - I replied briefly, intending to return to my business. But Rikard suddenly blocked my path, raising his hand with the card.

- Even you have to relax sometimes, captain. Let's have at least one game.

I glanced at the table, at the cards spread out and the players' eyes burning with excitement. The thought flashed through my mind that a little pause wouldn't hurt.

- All right, one game, - I said, sitting down at the table.

- All right! - Brenn exclaimed, quickly handing me one of the decks. - Your faction is Time Mages. Let's see how you do.

With fifteen cards in my hand, I took a quick look at them. Heroes, spells, artifacts-it all seemed to be a mix of magic and tactics.

The game had begun.

- Okay, your first move, - Rikard said, smirking.

I made a move, placing a hero with a unique ability on the field. His card was decorated with an intricate pattern, and the text read: "Mirror Mage. Ability: copies the ability of any card on the field.

- Not bad, - Brenn commented as he played the artifact.

The turns came and went, and the field filled with heroes and spells. I quickly realized that this game required not only knowledge, but also strategic thinking. At a certain point, I played a card that turned the situation in my favor.

- Time dilation! - I announced, casting a spell. The field seemed to freeze: all of my opponent's cards lost their abilities for one turn.

- Hey! - Brenn was outraged, watching his strategic plan fall apart.

- You're just learning, aren't you? - Rickard grinned. - And you're already doing this kind of crap.

In the final game, I played the card that ended the game. It destroyed my opponent's last line of defense and led my hero to victory.

- So, what do you think? - Rikard asked as we were putting the cards back together.

- Not bad, - I replied, getting up. - Maybe I'll do it again.

The mercenaries laughed, and I headed for the exit, feeling strangely satisfied with the game.

When the door closed behind me, the familiar hum of the ship's systems filled the room. It sounded softer, more muted, as if the ship itself was responding to my return. I activated the override, and the light changed, warm and dim, creating the perfect environment to work in.

Eridian adjusted instantly, muting the outside noises. Holographic projections flashed on the table: countless schematics, lines of code, formulas and calculations. It all came to life in front of me, folding into complex three-dimensional designs.

- Eridian, open the "Dark Forces" project, - I said, sitting down at the control panel.

- I'm opening it, - the AI responded, its voice sounding calm, but there was a hidden energy behind it.

Data arrays began to unfold on the screens. Huge designs, hybrid processors, lists of augmentations and blueprints of unique systems. Every detail reflected the results of my research and ideas. 

The projections seemed alive. They pulsed with a subtle light, as if waiting for my decision. I ran my hand over one of them, magnifying the details of the design.

- If we use this plasma generator as the basis for the main core," Eridian began, quickly switching between circuits, - We can increase energy efficiency by 62%. However, the risk of overloading remains high.

I squinted, looking at the data.

- Find a balance between power and stability. I don't want mechanisms that explode before they destroy the target.

- Understood, - the AI replied succinctly. - I recommend implementing adaptive power distribution systems. This will allow us to redistribute the load in real time.

- Excellent. Add that to the schematics.

The schematics updated, and I saw the new energy circuit structure integrated into the overall design.

- The cooling system? - I clarified, pointing to the hot nodes in the projection.

- I suggest using a thermoelectric system with active emitters. It will reduce heat dissipation by 27%, but it will increase weight.

- That's too much. Use a superconductor network with a graphene backing.

- This will reduce weight by 14%, but efficiency will be 9% lower.

- Acceptable. Implement it.

A schematic of a portable contour field generator appeared on the screen. The field, which creates a film around an object rather than a sphere, required fine-tuning. Every error could make the system vulnerable.

- The field is stable, but power consumption increases when used in conjunction with cloaking, - said Eridian.

- What if we reduce the field density by 2%?

- It'll reduce the defense, but it'll reduce disturbtion by 18%.

- Do it.

The screens lit up with new calculations. I could feel the project coming to life. The complexity of every detail was both daunting and exciting. The things I was creating were more than just weapons. They were the embodiment of power, my power.

- We have a deadline to meet. Continue processing the data.

I swept my hand over the screen, moving the schematics around. This was more than a project. It was an idea transformed into reality.

Leaving my work to Eridian, I sank back into my thoughts. A few button presses and the medical report popped up in front of me again. The usual routine. But one line caught my eye, like a bolt of lightning piercing my consciousness:

"No super genes."

Those words, so simple and precise, drew a line under one of my most cherished hopes. I was not destined to become a super.

I leaned back in my chair, feeling frustration and rage mingle inside me, forming a dark, throbbing ball. The chance for transcendent power was closed to me.

I looked up at the door. Removing the soundproofing, I could catch echoes of the celebration that raged in the main hallway. Laughter, loud voices, the sounds of games. A crowd of supers on my ship.

In theory, if I had to fight them, I could win. Even Rickard, the fastest among them. But Garth. That man would probably smear me against the walls, turning me into a bloody stain. Even now, seeing their training, I was well aware that I wasn't physically capable of pulling them off.

I need more strength. But how do I get it?

Genetic manipulation?

The idea sounded tempting. Create a new body, refined on a molecular level. But there are enormous risks involved. I have almost no experience in this field, except for the little monster sealed in a capsule in the next room. Even at this stage, I don't know whether it will turn out to be a superkiller or failure.

And the very thought of turning into something with tentacles instead of hands... No, I'm not even considering it.

Augmentations?

That's a much more appealing prospect. Stronger muscles, faster reactions, invulnerability thanks to artificial armor. But there are complications, too. I'm not an expert on augmentations. My understanding is limited to what I've observed or studied in the lab. Even a chimera floating in a solution remains an experiment whose outcome is unpredictable.

In addition, there are supers mechanics in this universe. These beings are capable of performing mechanical magic that violates the laws of physics and common sense. If I decide to go for augmentation, I run the risk of having my personality "hacked" and becoming someone's puppet.

Super genes?

They can't be transplanted. They reject any alien body other than their host. It's an absolute law. The only exception is the legendary EsGod, who travels the universe gathering abilities to achieve even greater power.

And cloning super genes? Also a dead end. Clones either die or are born with horrific physical and mental disabilities, barely living to be a month old.

There's only one way left: an external source of power. And the two projects I'm currently working on could be the key that opens that door.

Of course, I'll never reach the level of a class-A super. But surviving a battle with a class B super? It's already possible.

I thought about it, distracted by a flashing memory. Supers. The ones who rule this world, who break every law-physics, biology, morality. Why are they so powerful? Why are they so dangerous?

That was a thought worth developing.