After designing the armor project in my virtual laboratory, I saved it in a folder.
This ti, I realized I would truly need extra protection because, although my precision with the virtual lab is absurd, there is now a clear chance that sparks could fall into my eyes — or sothing worse.
In addition to lting iron, I will be creating weapons.
Quickly, I left the laboratory, went to the trading post, and bought an engineer’s outfit — the best one available.
In addition, I acquired the automaton book Victor was selling.
After that, I returned and began working while waiting for the virtual laboratory to complete its task with the two magical models.
Days later...
The sll of burnt oil and heated tal lingers in the air as I adjust my safety goggles over my nose.
I take a deep breath and grab the main cylinder of the engine with both hands.
The brushed steel is still warm from the last adjustnt.
With precise movents, I fit the piece into the saw’s fra and secure it with rivets, hamring them carefully into place.
"Paing~~"
"Paing~~"
Each hamr strike echoes through the laboratory.
The copper boiler is already connected to the engine, its tubes snaking through the structure like tallic veins.
I open a side valve and pour in so distilled water, hearing the dripping sound echo inside the tank.
Now, the final touch.
Ignition.
I grab a blowtorch and adjust the bluish fla, bringing it close to the combustion chamber.
"Sussss~~"
The tallic 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 mont, there is a tense silence.
Then, a deep, guttural roar spreads through the laboratory as the engine gains power.
"VRRRRRRRR~~"
Thick, whitish smoke pours from the exhausts, spiraling up toward the high ceiling.
The sound of the gears intertwines with the hiss of steam, creating a chanical lody that only an engineer like 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, exactly as I wanted.
My eyes shift from the still-growling engine to the side of the laboratory, where my most ambitious creation rests — the combat armor.
It stands on a tal support.
The vile black steel covering the torso and arms is reinforced with additional plates on the shoulders and forearms, where I incorporated small hydraulic pistons to amplify the force of its blows.
The joints and rivets are ticulously positioned, ensuring mobility without compromising durability.
But it is not complete yet.
The left leg is entirely absent, exposing the internal frawork of gears and tubes awaiting final installation.
The central reactor in the chest also needs adjustnts; the enchanted steam core is not yet properly calibrated.
I make these ntal notes, already planning the next steps, but for now my focus returns to the steam-powered chainsaw on the workbench.
I grab a cloth and wipe the soot from my fingers before continuing.
I shut off the engine, silencing it.
With a firm pull, I slide the reinforced tal blade out of its casing.
Its dull sheen 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 shaft of the newly finished engine.
Using a wrench, I tighten the fastening bolts, ensuring they are properly secured to withstand intense rotation.
I give it one last turn and then, satisfied, lift the saw into the air.
"VRRRR~~"
The weight is perfectly balanced, and the residual steam in the engine hisses softly.
With this, I could massacre a few monsters with ease.
This saw, made of enchanted vile tal, has a power level above 5 points.
This reinforced blade would easily cut even through bone.
When this blade spins, it creates a centrifugal force that activates the code I carved into it, heating it to a superhuman level and transforming it into a plasma-energy blade.
It was not what I initially intended, but it is a satisfying result.
I grip the steam-powered chainsaw firmly and turn my attention back to the unfinished armor.
I walk toward it, already visualizing how the chainsaw will integrate with the chanical arm.
I grab my wrench and begin removing the temporary chanical forearm, loosening the bolts with quick movents.
The clinking of tal echoes through the laboratory as I set the piece aside.
With a small blowtorch, I adjust the brass connectors and reinforce the fittings.
The saw’s structure must be perfectly aligned so as not to compromise the armor’s mobility.
I take a set of steel brackets and begin screwing the base of the chainsaw onto 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 becos a natural extension of the armor’s arm.
The integrated engine is already in place, and the gleaming blade rests along the forearm, ready to spring into action at the slightest command.
Now I just need to lt a bit more tal and design additional plates to connect a proper grip to this chainsaw arm.
However, a sound echoes in my mind, interrupting my thoughts.
["Beep!"]
["Emulated spell models completed."]
["Shall I transmit the information?"]
I had been waiting for this.
Finally...
My eyes turn toward the center of the laboratory, where a chair waits beside the main table.
Without hesitation, I walk over and sit down.
I clench my fists tightly, feeling my fingers tremble slightly against the leather gloves.
I hate this feeling.
But since there is no way to ease it without using a few 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 biochip obeys instantly.
A wave of heat runs down my spine.
My stomach churns and, for a mont, I feel an uncontrollable urge to vomit.
The two spells, once rely theoretical knowledge, are now fully assimilated.
I do not just understand them — I now control them.
Every letter, every pattern of magical flow, every tiny variation in my brain has beco part of .
Years of study and practice were compressed into re seconds and poured directly into my being.
After a few minutes of pure discomfort, the sensation ceases as abruptly as it began.
I open my eyes, blinking a few tis as my mind adjusts.
I rise from the chair.
A determined smile forms on my lips.
Ti to test them.
I left my laboratory behind, climbing the Tower’s spiral staircase.
My destination: the Spell Practice Room on the third floor.
A space designed to withstand the side effects of any arcane experint — even a potential magical backlash, which can be fatal to an unprepared Acolyte.
At this hour, during dinner, few apprentices were present, which was convenient.
I was not in the mood for curious stares or unnecessary conversations.
I walked straight to the reception desk, where an elderly acolyte — his face wrinkled and his eyes sunken like keyholes — managed the place.
His gaze examined from head to toe before he extended his hand, expecting magical crystals.
Without delay, I pulled five magical crystals from the inner pocket of my coat and let them fall into his bony palm.
They clinked softly before disappearing into his worn robe.
In return, he handed a special card, cold to the touch, engraved with faintly glowing runes.
—You only have one hour! he muttered.
For most acolytes, sixty minutes of practice was an impossible luxury.
With their pathetic amount of Spiritual Energy, they could barely maintain basic spells for more than half an hour.
If I did not control my energy flow, I could completely exhaust myself in just fifteen minutes.
But I was not a common acolyte.
With steady steps, I walked toward one of the stone doors aligned along the corridor.
The number engraved above it matched the number on my card.
Without hesitation, I raised the card and waved it through the air in front of the door.
The runes glowed and, without a sound, the massive stone slab slid aside, opening.
The Spell Practice Room was a simple, unadorned space.
Cold stone walls absorbed any heat, and the floor was marked with arcane circles.
The room’s main feature, however, stood at the far end.
A gigantic humanoid target made of black augite.
Its dark, uneven surface absorbed the ambient light, emanating an intimidating presence.
This material was strong enough to repel low-level magic, making it the perfect target for an Acolyte’s experintal spells.
...
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