"Alright. Let’s go," I said, standing up.
Lyra nodded, already halfway out of the door in her mind. Then she stopped and turned her head slightly.
She looked at Assistant Jasmine, who had been helping for the past few weeks, and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.
"You follow us too."
"Understood." Jasmine nodded.
None of us spoke after that.
We left my lab and moved deeper into L Corp, passing through restricted corridors until we reached Lyra’s personal laboratory.
Unlike the other research spaces, this place felt closed off from the rest of the L Corp. Thick walls. Layered insulation. Runes embedded directly into the floor. Everything here existed for one purpose only.
Lyra’s research.
Lyra stepped inside first and imdiately began issuing instructions.
"Lie down on the workshop table," she said to Jasmine.
Assistant Jasmine complied.
She climbed onto the workshop table and lay flat on her back.
tal restraints slid into place automatically, securing her wrists, ankles, torso, and neck. They weren’t rough, but they were firm. There was no room to move.
Lyra checked the bindings once, then twice, and finally exhaled.
"Good. Stay still."
I stepped back and stood to the side, arms crossed, watching silently.
The ceiling shifted.
Panels slid apart, revealing a dense network of chanical tubes hidden above. One by one, they descended, unfolding like tallic vines. At the end of each tube was a clawed arm, each one different in shape and function.
Scalpels. Needles. Precision manipulators. Sensory probes. Interfaces I didn’t even have nas for yet.
Dozens of them surrounded the table.
Lyra stood at its side, hands moving in a blur as she guided the arms into position.
And then she began.
Assistant Jasmine— now Research Dummy Jasmine stayed still.
The mont Lyra activated her chanic Force, the atmosphere changed.
It was my first ti seeing it in this life.
A Rank 4 chanic in work.
The clawed arms moved in perfect coordination, responding instantly to her thoughts. They opened sections of Jasmine’s cybernetic body with surgical precision, exposing internal layers without spilling a single drop of fluid.
I couldn’t perceive most of what she was doing.
My chanic Rank was far too low for that.
But I knew.
I understood the principles. The sequence. The intent behind each movent.
She wasn’t repairing parts.
Normally, operating on humans and machine soul was done by grafting their souls together and fussing them as much as possible, while hoping the human soul would dominate the machine soul and the part of machine soul connected to System remained unhard.
But the research I gave Lyra used a different thod.
We would cut both souls to fit together like a key and lock. Then, we would put a thin sheet—to make sure the souls didn’t fuse—and put the both souls together.
Since they were cut to fit together like key and lock, the would remain join.
The thin sheet would make sure the souls didn’t fuse into each other.
This would connect both souls, giving them partial System Access, without destroying their individuality.
However, since Research Dummy Jasmine already had her soul grafted with machine soul, Jasmine first had to separate their souls.
This increased the difficulty of the operation trendously.
Hours passed.
No one spoke.
The only sounds were the faint hum of machinery and the soft adjustnts of tal on tal.
I didn’t move. I didn’t blink much either.
Watching her work was like watching a language I had once spoken fluently but had forgotten over ti. Each action triggered mories. Sensations. Instincts buried deep in my mind.
When Lyra finally stepped back, my system reacted.
Basic chanic Force Mastery: 2% → 6%
I exhaled slowly.
’Observing high-rank Exorcists in your field really does help.’
I hadn’t touched a tool. I hadn’t moved a single part.
And yet, I had learned.
Watching how she wielded her chanic Force, how she pressured the machine soul without crushing it, how she reinforced the human consciousness instead of suppressing it—it all ca back to .
Lyra wiped a thin layer of sweat from her forehead and took a step back.
Her eyes never left the workshop table.
Unlike her usual self, she wasn’t smiling.
Instead, she wore a stiff expression, as if she was afraid to relax too soon.
The seconds stretched.
Then—
"Wh... what?"
The voice was weak, hoarse, but clear.
Jasmine—no, the woman on the table—stirred. She lifted her hands slowly, staring at them as they trembled.
"I... I can feel again. How? I thought I was going to be trapped forever. That nightmare... I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even feel fear anymore."
She swallowed.
"I thought that was it."
That was when it fully registered.
The berserk cyborg had regained her sanity.
She was speaking normally.
She was aware.
Lyra snapped her head toward .
Tears were sliding down her cheeks. She didn’t seem to realize it.
"We succeeded. The technology you gave ... it works. It really works," she said, her voice shaking.
She laughed weakly, then wiped her face with her sleeve.
"With this, we can save so many people."
I didn’t smile.
Watching her happiness, my expression remained grim.
’This is bad.’
Her current skill level wasn’t enough.
She had proven the concept. She had stabilized a cyborg on the brink.
But Henry wasn’t on the brink.
Henry was already past it.
’As I thought, I need to help her recover her sanity completely.’
Only then would she be able to display the level of precision needed to save him.
There were five severity levels for berserk cyborgs.
Severity Level 1 was the lowest. Saints fell into this category. They had fused completely with machine souls and overpowered them without issue. They retained full sapience, full sentience, and complete access to the System.
Severity Level 2 consisted of partial fusions. These individuals retained their sanity but had limited System access.
Severity Level 3 had lost sapience but retained basic sentience. They followed orders chanically and could still respond to so stimuli.
Severity Level 4 had lost sanity entirely. They were unstable, violent, and unpredictable, attacking anything in reach like rabid animals.
Severity Level 5 was the worst.
Complete destruction of the mind.
This happened when the operation failed. And both the original person and the machine soul collapsed together.
Lyra’s current skill could save Severity Level 3 cases and stabilize Severity Level 4 cases, downgrading them to Level 2.
But Henry was Severity Level 5, his mind on brink of complete destruction.
And if he wasn’t operated on soon, his would die.
I rubbed my brow slowly and turned toward the woman on the table.
"Hey, What’s your na?"
She flinched slightly before answering.
"H–Huh? ? I’m Patricia."
"Patricia," I repeated. "You retained your mories from when you were a Severity Level 3 cyborg?"
She nodded in daze. "Yes. I rember everything up to the mont I lost myself."
"Good. Then, from now on, you’ll be working here—"
"Thank you," she said suddenly, tears spilling freely. "I saw it. I saw everything while I was trapped. You were the one who gave Director Lyra the technology that saved ."
She turned her head toward Lyra.
"Director Lyra... thank you. Thank you for bringing back."
Normally, one would think she would hate Lyra for turning her into a cyborg previously.
But there was no emotion of hate in Patricia’s gaze, only gratitude, relief and happiness.
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