Chapter 97
"Welcome kiss," I said with a smile, stepping toward Gwen.
She was a little less tense than she had been back in the S.H.I.E.L.D. parking lot. She smiled back and let me kiss her. It was the same short, slightly awkward, but warm kiss that finally convinced me she had probably never done this with anyone before. I won't pretend that didn't flatter my slightly atrophied ego.
"Here," she said, holding out her Ghost suit.
"Rubedo," I said, addressing the AI capsule as I took the suit from her hands. "New task. Integrate phasing technology into this suit. Base it on a stabilized reactor using quantum tunneling and an electromagnetic resonator array. Both need to be embedded directly into the fabric. Don't forget field stabilization; we can't have her accidentally get stuck in a wall. And figure out how to assimilate the unstable molecule fabric into the current material. The 'Imperceptible' conceptual enchantment already on the suit could theoretically handle that part."
"Acknowledged. Running compatibility analysis. The 'Imperceptible' concept and the phasing technology will produce a synergistic effect. Beginning upgrade design."
"So that's what your AI is like," Gwen said, drawing the words out as she studied Rubedo's black Adamantium housing with undisguised curiosity and a faint edge of wariness.
"Yep," I said, nodding.
I'll need to hide him, I thought. Not just in a basement. Deep in the Earth's core. Better yet, in a separate pocket dimension, somewhere no one will ever find him. I wouldn't be lying if I called Rubedo my most valuable and most dangerous asset right now.
"He's almost like me. Except I'm the good-looking one and he's the smart one," I said with a smile, turning back to Gwen. "How's patrolling been going, by the way?"
"Amazing!" Her eyes lit up instantly. "Invisibility is incredibly useful. Most criminals don't even understand how they ended up tied up, heh," she said with a slightly wicked grin. "I literally ran into Peter in the air, actually. But here's the strange thing: I was invisible at the time, and he still..."
"Sensed you?" I guessed. When she nodded, I continued. "Most likely his 'spider-sense' is something more. More layered than what most Spiders have. Better to call it a 'Web-Sense.'"
"Web-Sense?"
"Yeah. The Web of Life and Fate, the one that supposedly runs through all of existence. Looks like Peter passed his 'interview' and got permissions close to the highest level. Above him are probably only administrators and programmers. That's why he can sense the fabric of existence on a deeper, more fundamental level."
"So he's... kind of a psychic?"
"Yep. Lucky cheater," I snorted. "Well, fair enough. Given what his trial put him through, he earned it."
"Trial?" She frowned.
"Right, you're not caught up. The short version..." I paused, trying to find the right words. "Our universe could be destroyed at any moment if someone snapped their fingers." Seeing her confused expression, I continued. "Same goes for any other universe, really. One particular... entity... showed Peter exactly how that destruction could happen, and what consequences our little games with higher powers could bring."
"That's... vague and uncertain," Gwen said, narrowing her eyes. "And it sounds like you're leaving something out."
"Wow. Your instincts have evolved too?"
"Women's intuition," she shot back.
"Well..." I scratched my head. "I went through a similar trial myself," I said, noting how her eyes widened in surprise. I quickly added, "But according to that entity, I failed spectacularly. Not that anyone asked for my opinion, of course."
"Wait. If you had... passed... you would have also... I mean..."
"Gained spider-powers? Yes," I nodded, taking Anansi at his word on that point. "Apparently so. But I didn't pass. I was given a choice: save Peter or save you. I chose you."
I watched her turn a charming shade of red. A whole range of emotions flickered across her face: shock, realization, and a faint, barely visible trace of guilt. I couldn't help pulling her close again, this time for a longer kiss.
"And I have no regrets about that choice," I said when we finally pulled apart. "It was an honest one."
Though to be fully honest, it had been made under far-from-ideal conditions: under pressure, in agony, and, as I now understood, under some kind of intellectual debuff. I had to admit it was probably driven first and foremost by the ancient instinct to save the woman. I wondered: if I had been in full, cold, rational control of my mind, what choice would I have made?
Still, thinking about that now was not just pointless. It was dangerous.
After a little more time together, I eventually walked her out of the lab. She promised to drop by again tomorrow morning.
I returned to Rubedo. Now then, where had I left off? Right. Improving the marketing campaign's efficiency.
"Back to Blink, for starters," I continued, addressing Rubedo. "Add targeting. You can analyze terabytes of public social media posts. Identify everyone complaining about existing platforms: blandness, draconian censorship, laggy interfaces, boring content. Anyone who's unhappy should become the initial targets of personalized Blink ads."
"Acknowledged. Beginning analysis of public social media APIs and forming the target group."
"Run this in parallel. Analyze all small influencers with between ten and a hundred thousand followers. Identify the ten thousand with the highest engagement-to-follower ratio. Offer each of them a 'Founder's Contract': early access, guaranteed monetization from the first thousand views, and a financial incentive. Say, one to five thousand dollars. Upfront."
"Acknowledged. Beginning influencer analysis and drafting the legal framework for the contract."
There we go. By launch day, we'll already have an army of ten thousand motivated content creators. Yes, some will drop off, but what matters most is that during those first critical days, the platform won't be empty. After that, consumers will get pulled in and start creating content themselves.
There's plenty more to build on. Aggressive monetization for early users, say ten dollars per thousand likes. A marketing push highlighting the app's zero-bot policy and actually delivering on it; ten percent of the Quantum Brain's processing power dedicated to administration is no small thing. But for now, this is enough.
"Good. Blink is on hold for now. Keep executing and wait for the go-ahead to launch."
Time to move on to a more enjoyable task. Suit design.
Gwen's suit was right there in front of me, waiting for its upgrade. But Rubedo had that covered. I could think about the others. Starting with myself.
Adamantium-Vibranium composite as the base material: decided. If I need more, I'll buy another crate from the System. And if I really need more, I'll have Rubedo analyze the chemical composition of primary Adamantium and set up my own production line.
Conceptual enchantments. Ideally, I'd enchant each element of the suit separately: the pauldrons, chest, forearms, helmet, undersuit, even a cape or something similar. If each piece had its own unique enchantment... it's a shame that most would be passive effects. But even so, the result would be something special.
And what if... Wait. I have the Hood's artifacts! Once I study them, active effects might be within reach too!
My train of thought was cut short by Rubedo's dry, flat voice from the speakers.
"Notification. Agent Frank Castle has reached his position. Preparing to breach. Initiating Dark Object protocol at Wilson Fisk's base. Dispatching meta-security agents on a false call. All base systems are under control. Live communication with Agent Castle is active."
"Good." I nodded, processing the update. No need to monitor the operation; Rubedo would handle it.
I turned my attention back to the Hood's artifacts. Materializing the first one, a worn pair of boots, I picked them up.
If I can reverse-engineer this... Give everyone in the Vanguard the ability to fly? Turn invisible? Then there were the guns. I'd need to study those too. I suspected they could significantly boost the team's firepower as well. The Vanguard would become truly unstoppable.
All right. The boots.
I touched them and activated my spirit sight. And more importantly, for the first time, I truly immersed myself in my new, inherited knowledge. I awakened that deep, instinctive magical sense of the GURPS-world artificer-researcher within me. I stopped looking at the boots. I began to read them.
I felt the currents of energy woven into the leather. Complex spell matrices. A binding tethered to... to something...
Finally. Finally, I could...
"Damn it!"
The words slipped out the moment I realized the catastrophic mistake I'd made. I hadn't just "looked." I had pulled on the thread. I had activated the binding without knowing where it led.
And the world tore apart.
The ground was gone. There was no earth beneath my feet, only obsidian-black stone, cracked. I was standing on... a shard? A shard drifting in a void. In every direction, as far as I could see, there was nothing.
The air was thick with the smell of rot, ozone, and nightmares. No sun, no stars. Only far, far away, in the ink-black emptiness, dim, dark-blue motes of light flickered, casting a ghostly glow.
And islands. Hundreds, thousands of other islands drifting in the void, shards of shattered worlds. Each one was a perfectionist's nightmare, impossible geometries heaped over dead ruins.
The Dark Dimension.
I understood immediately where I was. And just as quickly, I felt the putrid, entropic energy of this place began to seep into my body, corroding it from within. Extremis screamed, trying to fight back, but it was fighting the very reality of this place.
At least some analog of oxygen existed here. Unfortunately, my glorious but brief run as a displaced soul appeared to be coming to an end.
I hadn't simply been "transported." I had been ripped out of my own reality. And whoever had done it...
I looked up. Something like clouds, a churning mass of pure darkness, had begun to gather directly overhead.
Whoever had done it was almost here.
***
Frank knew immediately that something had gone wrong.
One moment, the flat synthesized voice, Thompson called Rubedo, had been guiding him through the earpiece in his phone: "In ten meters, service corridor on the left." The next moment, dead silence. Not static. Just silence. The connection was gone.
A setup?
He dismissed the thought instantly. Thompson wasn't dirty. He needed Frank alive; that was the whole point of arming him like a one-man army. The Chimera under the coat, the stimulants in his pockets, that unsettling gauntlet. No, not Thompson.
Kingpin? Had he caught wind of something and killed the generators, blacking out the whole base? More plausible. Or maybe something had happened to Thompson's building? To his AI?
Frank stopped in the dark concrete corridor and listened. Silence.
If that was it, there wasn't much he could do about it. All he could do now was finish what he'd come here to do. Finish his revenge.
To hell with the dead AI. He had memorized the base layout. He was stronger than he'd ever been. Turning back now, when he was this close, would be no different from spitting on his family's graves. If it came to that, he'd rather die taking that bastard with him.
Frank Castle, the Punisher, set aside the pointless speculation and moved forward in silence. The hem of his heavy leather coat, thrown over his Chimera tactical suit, swept through the stale, stifling air of the underground corridors.
The "clear corridor" Rubedo had promised was predictably gone. Guards started appearing. First in pairs, then in threes. They hadn't expected to meet death here. Standard rounds from his suppressed pistol were enough for them. Double-tap to center mass, one to the head. Fast, quiet, professional.
But when an entire patrol squad rounded the next intersection, six men in Kevlar and carrying automatic weapons, Frank used Thompson's gift.
He didn't shoot. He stepped toward them and jabbed himself with a stimulant. The world slowed. The first guard was just beginning to raise his weapon when Frank hit him in the chest with the vibro-gauntlet.
There was no blow. No sound. The man simply... collapsed. His body armor, bones, and organs turned to a bloody mist inside an otherwise intact uniform.
The other five froze for a fraction of a second, unable to process what they had just witnessed. That fraction of a second was all Frank needed.
It wasn't killing. It was erasure. The smear of bone, blood, and shredded uniform that remained of Kingpin's guards after a medium-power strike from that gauntlet etched itself into Frank's mind alongside the worst horrors of his Iraq deployment. Effective. But grotesquely filthy.
He shook it off, reminded himself of what these men were: killers, rapists, traffickers of children. That steadied him. He moved on, toward Fisk's elevator. Just a few more corridors until the office. The only thing that mattered was that the bastard hadn't run.
He hadn't run.
He stood in the center of his enormous office, behind a massive mahogany desk, watching Frank as if he had been expecting him.
"Castle," Fisk said with a grim nod.
His enormous frame, wrapped in an expensive suit, seemed to fill the entire room.
"Your little revenge performance was impressive. Unfortunately for you, it ends here."
With an inhuman, bull-like roar, Fisk seized his desk, a solid slab of wood weighing half a ton, and hurled it at Frank like a cardboard box.
Frank's stimulant-sharpened reflexes didn't make him step back. He stepped forward and hit the flying mass with the gauntlet.
The desk exploded. It became a cloud of sawdust, wood chips, and lacquer fragments.
But Fisk had only used the desk as a distraction. Straight through that cloud, moving with a speed impossible for his three-hundred-pound frame, his fist came. It was the size of Frank's head.
Frank felt the attack for what it was: not just a punch, but concentrated, pure and absolute death hurtling toward him.
At the last possible instant, at the very edge of his limits, Frank shifted his body. Fisk's fist passed millimeters from his temple, and even the shockwave of displaced air scorched his skin. Frank, pivoting instantly on the ball of his foot, activated the gauntlet at maximum power and aimed directly at Fisk's unprotected side.
That was when something appeared between them.
He came from nowhere, like a shadow sliding off the wall. An Asian man in a close-cropped silk kimono, green and gold.
He moved with speed beyond what even stimulants allowed Frank to fully register. He didn't just intercept Frank's arm. He caught it. His palm closed around the vibro-gauntlet at the exact moment Frank struck.
At the moment of impact, the stranger's hand flared with a bright, almost solar golden light.
And then: nothing.
The most powerful vibrational strike the gauntlet could deliver, capable of reducing men to dust and annihilating machines, simply... vanished. Dissolved into that glowing palm.
Frank froze, unable to believe what he had just seen. The entire kinetic force of his weapon had been absorbed without a trace.
What followed was a logical consequence, though Frank hadn't anticipated it.
The man in the kimono didn't release Frank's captured arm. He simply... squeezed.
A wet, revolting crack followed. It was not just metal and ceramic, but his own bones. Thompson's invention, capable of knocking down walls, crumbled to scrap, and Frank's hand became a bloody ruin of metal shards and pulverized flesh. The pain was sharp, almost white.
"Master, I could have handled him myself," Fisk rumbled with displeasure, though he dipped his enormous head in a ceremonial bow.
"Master?" Frank seized on that word, pushing through the agony in his hand.
"Foolish student," the "master" replied coldly, shaking his head. His gaze was icy. "Your Iron Shirt would have only partially absorbed the vibrations. You would have been dead before you even understood what happened."
Then he turned his head toward Frank.
"And you..." the master narrowed his already narrow eyes. "You came far too well-prepared for a lone operative."
"Thompson," Fisk answered on Frank's behalf, straightening up. "He's behind everything that's been happening at the base for the last half hour. Including your emergency departure, Master. Though it seems something went off-script on his end..."
"Yes," the master said, nodding. "I had to make my way back here on foot. Fortunately, I arrived in time."
Frank listened to this calm, unhurried exchange. They were discussing him the way you'd discuss a broken piece of furniture. An inconvenience. He understood that he was already dead. They weren't going to let him walk out of here.
Thompson, with his all-powerful AI and miracle gadgets, had clearly gotten tangled up in something ugly. The connection hadn't died for nothing. There was no counting on him now. Frank was alone. Trapped. With two monsters, one of whom had just destroyed his primary weapon with bare hands.
That left only Plan B.
He silently asked Maria, Lisa, and little Frank for forgiveness. For failing to finish what he'd set out to do. For dying here, stupidly, without ever getting to watch the fat bastard suffer with his own eyes.
Frank bared his teeth, eyes dropping to the floor. His free right hand moved slowly behind his back, to his lower back. To the small metal pin. His personal exit.
He raised his head and looked both of them in the eyes. There was no fear in his gaze. Only regret. Regret that he wouldn't see the result.
He pulled the pin. Every explosive charge rigged to his belt detonated instantly.
The wide, stunned eyes of Fisk and his 'master,' who finally understood what he had done a moment too late, were the finest last reward he could have asked for.
What Frank never found out was what the explosion actually looked like. When the Palladium Reactor powering the Chimera made contact with the detonator, the explosion wasn't merely powerful. It was absolute. It vaporized everything. Fisk's base and the empty skyscraper above it simply ceased to exist, replaced by a scorched, smoking crater dozens of meters across.
What Frank did get to experience was waking up.
He opened his eyes. There was no darkness, no oblivion. There was Hell.
Real, blood-red Hell. He stood on cracked, hot ground that seemed to breathe. A crimson sky was choked with rolling clouds of ash and soot. The air was thick, saturated with sulfur, suffering, and old, ground-in blood. It prickled his nostrils.
And ahead, on an enormous throne built not from stone but from a living, writhing mass of groaning bodies, sat a figure.
The lord of this place. Tall, muscular, with skin the color of fresh blood. Long black hair, a neat goatee, and two enormous curved horns. He inspired not just fear. He inspired a deep, animal, primal dread.
DMT death trip.
The thought came immediately. Of course it did. He remembered how he and the guys back in Iraq used to trade stories about what happens when a person dies. One theory that had always stuck with him was that the brain, realizing everything is over, floods itself with every last drop of DMT and adrenaline it has left. It stretches the final moment into a subjective eternity.
A trip in which you might relive your entire life. A trip in which you might find yourself in Heaven. Or in Hell.
Frank had apparently drawn the short straw. It would have been something, though, to see Maria again. Even like this.
The creature on the throne spoke.
"Welcome, Frank Castle," it said. The voice was completely at odds with the appearance: deep, velvet-smooth, an almost soothing baritone that seemed to invite instant trust.
It had the opposite effect on Frank. He tensed.
"And I'll give you good news right away," the Demon said with a smile. "None of this is an illusion."
//==============//
Chapter 98
Dormammu.
That name saturated the oppressive, impossible reality I had just been ripped into. The churning, living, thinking, malevolent darkness roiling overhead could be nothing else. The air, if you could even call it that, pressed against my very existence, and was saturated with the stench of rot and equally putrid metaphysical concepts.
While I still have time, I thought. Except I don't. I'm counting down the seconds before this cosmic entity turns its attention to me and erases me.
In a panic, I mentally opened the System window. It was my only chance at survival. Skills to get out of here on my own? None. Inventions for interdimensional jumps? None. To stand against Dormammu? Not even worth a laugh.
Only one option remained, a despised method, a one-in-a-million shot. Trusting in pure, rotten luck.
My balance was 7,850 OP. Everything I had accumulated over the last week since getting Skynet. Best case, enough for six pulls.
Please, Celestial Forge... System... if any part of you is sentient, play along. Just once. Give me something that gets me out of here. "Portal Master," "Dimensional Escape," "Pocket Refuge." If anything like that exists, I'll take any "Uncommon" rarity that saves my life. Just give it to me.
Mentally crossing my fingers, I burned the first 950 OP in desperation.
[Information Package (Epic) received: Legacy /m/ (World Seed). Unlock Cost: 25,000 OP]
You are a carrier of the "Gattai" concept (Combination). You instinctively understand how to merge separate components into a unified whole that exceeds the sum of its parts.
Effects:
Gestalt Design:
[You can design multiple independent devices (ships, swords, drones) with a built-in "Combination" function from the ground up.]
[Synergy: When combined, their collective power (durability, damage, speed) scales exponentially, not linearly.]
[Mental Resonance: You can embed "psi-resonators" into such designs, allowing multiple pilots to synchronize minds for seamless, instinctive control of a single unified mechanism.]
Advanced Swarm Control (Nanobot Control):
[At the micro-level, this skill lets you command billions of individual nanobots as a single entity.]
Forced Combination ("Kitbashing"):
[This is the skill's primary combat function. You can forcibly merge two or more devices never designed to work together.]
[Flaw Negation: The combined object retains the best qualities of its components while ignoring all their weaknesses.]
[Example 1 (Weapon): You take the most powerful weapon (massive damage, ravenous energy consumption) and your most efficient reactor (low output but infinite endurance). Result: a weapon with massive damage and permanent power.]
[Example 2 (Physics): You can merge five spacecraft into a single mech. That mech possesses the combined firepower and durability of all five, while retaining the size, speed, and maneuverability of just one, if you so choose.]
System Note:
[Physics is a rulebook. You just earned the right to rewrite it. Size, mass, and power consumption no longer constrain you.]
Reading and processing took a fraction of a second. Verdict? Overpowered. Broken nonsense that essentially gives me the engineering absurdity of an anime mech series.
And it is completely, absolutely useless right now.
The darkness overhead thickened further, taking on the shape of an immense, unspeakable face. I needed a screwdriver to turn a single bolt in reality, and I'd been handed the world's most perfect wrench. Too bad I don't have 25,000 OP to unlock it. And even if I did, this skill wouldn't help me here and now.
Next pull. Second attempt. Minus 1,000 OP. And I froze.
If I hadn't been in a life-or-death situation, one step from annihilation, I might have laughed. Instead, I choked on the sheer cosmic absurdity of it.
First an Epic. Now a Legendary.
A golden, gleaming, mocking word. LEGENDARY.
Why?! Why did the God of RNG decide to shower me with divine gifts at this exact moment? Was this a sign? A sign that I was definitely not getting out of here alive and the System had simply decided to give me a farewell bonus? Letting me glimpse the peak before Dormammu devoured me?
And the specific Legendary that dropped made it even worse.
[Blessing (Legendary) received: Creator's Beloved. Unlock Cost: 2,000,000 OP]
[A Higher Entity that governs the act of creation has recognized you as a kindred spirit. Your purpose is to create. The System will reward you for following that path.]
Skill Effects:
1. Guaranteed 'Return':
[For every completed creation (item, AI, technology, or building) with a base System value exceeding the threshold (100 OP), you are guaranteed a 'System Reward.' ]
2. Reward Value:
[The reward value will never fall below the base value of the item you created.]
3. 'Creator's Seal' (Absolute Authorship):
[This skill activates even if you had no direct involvement in the creation.]
[It is sufficient that the creation was made by your blueprints, in your automated factories or Research Facility, or by your AI on your orders.]
4. Reward Quality (Escalating Potential):
[The more complex and valuable your creation, the higher the chance the reward will be not just a stat buff (Physical Stats, Intelligence, Wisdom) but an entirely new skill conceptually tied to your creation.]
Example: Creating a fully realized AI could grant [Neuromorphic Immunity (Rare)]. Creating a Portal Travel Device could grant [Spatial Manipulation (Epic)].
System Note:
[Stop thinking of crafting as a means to an end. Now it is the end itself. Create, and the System will shower you with gifts.]
I wanted to swear. Loudly, filthily, with everything I had. But I couldn't. Emotionally, I had burned through my reserves back in Anansi's pocket universe. All that was left now was cold, animal terror, and a single thought: survive.
Then, as if to mock me further, a system notification appeared that under normal circumstances I would have welcomed with open arms. Not now.
[ATTENTION! SYSTEM SYNCHRONIZATION!]
User "John Thompson" has crossed the cumulative development threshold of 1,000 OP (Craft Points). Your standing in the eyes of the System has been elevated. Your potential has been recognized as significant.
The following permanent interface and capability upgrades are being applied:
1. System Favor (Improved Loot):
[The probability of receiving rare, epic, and legendary rewards is permanently increased. The System has become more generous toward you.]
2. "Analyst's Eye" (Enhanced Descriptions):
[For your Creations: Descriptions generated by the System for your creations will now be more detailed. They will include not only technical specifications but also conceptual analysis and the potential impact of your creation on the current world.]
[For System Rewards: Descriptions of skills and items you receive now contain more context, hidden synergy hints, and examples of advanced application.]
3. "Forge" Interface (Customization):
[Partial visual customization of your "Forge" interface has been unlocked.]
4. "World Forging" Optimization:
[The minimum "step" (bet) for "World Forging" has been forcibly increased to 100 OP.]
Damn it.
I howled internally. First, a "favor"? Increased probability of rare and legendary rewards? That felt like a knife in the back. I didn't need Legendaries with two-million OP unlock costs I couldn't afford. I needed something cheap. Common. Uncommon. Something I could unlock right now and use to run.
Second, "optimization." Minimum step increased. That meant the next pull cost not 1,050, but 1,100 OP. The System had "helped" me by draining even more of my precious points.
I clenched my jaw, watching the darkness above me solidify into a nearly complete form: a gigantic, featureless, impossibly malevolent silhouette of Dormammu. Time had run out.
Forget it. I mentally spent 1,100 OP.
[Information Package (Rare) received: Professor T.O. Morrow's Notes (Young Justice). Unlock Cost: 4,000 OP]
Right after the title, a wall of text crashed over me. A long, very long, and extraordinarily detailed description. This was apparently the "Analyst's Eye" in action. Even with my intelligence and the intellect buff from my amulet, reading that entire block would have taken precious seconds I didn't have.
I mentally barked, "Compress."
The description collapsed instantly into a short summary. Interface customization, at least that was useful.
On the downside? What I'd pulled was completely useless. Robot blueprints in the lair of a Lord of Darkness. Brilliant.
This data package contains the complete theoretical frameworks, engineering blueprints, circuit schematics, and source code developed by the brilliant, if notorious, robotics genius T.O. Morrow.
Key Components:
"Red" Series Projects: Complete specifications for constructing four high-powered androids: Red Torpedo, Red Inferno, Red Tornado, and Red Volcano, including: [blueprints for their unique, highly specialized chassis;] [operating principles and schematics for elemental control systems enabling manipulation of water, fire, air, and earth respectively;] [power source specifications.]
"Humanoid Simulation" Technology: Comprehensive research and practical blueprints for constructing androids externally and behaviorally indistinguishable from living humans, including: [formulas and production methods for synthetic organic tissue;] [life-sign emulation protocols (breathing, heartbeat, body heat);] [advanced behavioral matrices and AI algorithms.]
Autonomous AI: Foundational principles for creating complex, self-learning artificial intelligence capable of independent decision-making, deception, human emotion emulation, and long-term strategic planning.
Moving on. The darkness was already closing in. Minus 1,200 OP.
[Blueprint (Uncommon) received: Miniverse Creation (Rick and Morty). Unlock Cost: 700 OP]
A complete set of blueprints and scientific principles required to initiate, stabilize, and operate a pocket dimension (Miniverse) for the sole purpose of energy generation.
Key Components:
1. Dimension Creation: Technology for generating a stable spacetime "bubble" with preset physical constants favorable to the emergence and development of life.
2. Evolution Stimulation: Methodologies for "seeding" and accelerating the development of an intelligent civilization inside the Miniverse to the necessary technological threshold.
3. Energy Harvesting Interface: Blueprints for a "terminal" that simultaneously: [is perceived by the Miniverse civilization as their primary energy source or a technological interface requiring "charging" (e.g., via electricity generation on their end);] [functions as a converter extracting that generated energy from the Miniverse into "outer" reality to power the host device (ship, base, etc.).]
Limitation:
[this technology package does not include methods for physically entering, exiting, or establishing two-way communication with the Miniverse. The civilization develops autonomously.]
Build a Miniverse in the few seconds I had left? Impossible. A universe I couldn't even enter? Pointless. Not to mention Dormammu would devour me anyway; he'd just swallow the pocket universe along with me.
Next. Minus 1,300 OP.
[Information Package (Rare) received: Divine Drag-Ride Construction Technology (Saijaku Muhai no Bahamut). Unlock Cost: 2,500 OP]
A lost archive of knowledge containing both the engineering and esoteric design principles required to construct the high-performance combat machines known as Divine Drag-Rides.
Key Components:
1. Dragon Mechanics: Blueprints for high-performance, maneuverable, dragon-like mechanical armor (mechs).
2. Power Sources: Specifications for creating and maintaining unique "Cores" with enormous, stable energy output, serving as the heart of each suit.
3. Weapons Systems: Designs for integrated armament including standard weapons (blades, energy weapons) and specialized types (unique abilities known as "Divine Raids"), placing these machines a tier above standard mechs.
4. Pilot Interface: Neural or quasi-neural interface technology allowing the pilot to control a Drag-Ride with high responsiveness, as if it were their own body.
Mech blueprints. In the Dark Dimension. System, are you mocking me?
It looked like there really was no way out.
2,300 OP remaining. One more attempt. No longer expecting anything, I spent 1,400 OP. The last pull.
[Information Package (Common) received: Lab Work (IOU). Unlock Cost: 300 OP]
You possess an intuitive talent for reactive engineering, allowing you to rapidly develop highly specialized solutions.
Effect:
1. Threat Analysis: After encountering and surviving a specific technology, gadget, or supernatural ability used by an opponent, you can analyze its operating principles.
2. Countermeasure Creation: Given several hours and access to a suitable lab or tools, you can design and build a specialized single-use device (a "Counter-Gadget").
3. Functionality: This device is engineered for one purpose: to neutralize, disable, or otherwise counter the specific threat it was built to address.
Limitation:
[The "Counter-Gadget" is single-use and unstable. It functions reliably only once or twice before its specialized construction fails or is fully depleted.]
Useful. It would have been incredibly useful, if only I had a lab and "several hours." Not mere seconds before annihilation.
Useless. There was definitely no way out.
I had no idea how to escape the hole I'd dug for myself through my own stupidity. Dormammu was supreme within this space. He was King and God of this rotting, entropic pocket of reality. He could turn me to dust with a snap of his fingers.
Without an Infinity Stone in my pocket, there was nothing to be done here. And even then, the Time Stone would have given me only a chance at escape or a negotiated stalemate, not any kind of victory. Though escape was exactly what I needed...
I stared at the monstrous face of the demon. Was he even a demon? For me, right now: yes. His face had fully taken shape. It was a colossal humanoid visage the size of several skyscrapers, formed from deep violet darkness with blazing violet fires where eyes should have been.
And I felt his attention. It was concentrated like a laser beam, the attention of an entity for which time and space were toys.
To him, I was an ant before a human. Possibly something worse. At least an ant could crawl into a crack, or hope the human was decent enough not to bother crushing it. I had no such advantages. I was a bacterium on his operating table.
"...Insect..."
The voice of this energy-based abomination didn't come from anywhere in particular. It rang through the entire dimension, yet echoed only inside my head. It was a low, rumbling, vibrating sound that seemed to tear apart the very atoms of my body. He wasn't speaking English, but I grasped the meaning.
"...How dare you lay hands on my creations? On my people? On MY Energy?"
Though it shook me to the foundation of my soul, my emotions were dulled. I had already burned out. I had made my peace with it.
Two options: die in silence or try to negotiate. If he had spoken to me first rather than annihilating me on the spot, there might have been a microscopic, perhaps impossible, chance that he wanted something. Emotions were definitely not my ally here.
"O Great Lord of the Dark Dimension," I said into the void, keeping my voice from shaking as best I could. I had no doubt he could hear me. "Is there... is there any chance of redemption for my transgression?"
Right. No posturing. No pride. None of that 'Dormammu, I've come to bargain' energy. My standing wasn't nearly high enough for that. Neither was my power level. And the situation was nothing like that, either. Pure submission.
"...The insect... wishes to negotiate..." Dormammu rumbled, and something that sounded almost like curiosity colored his voice. He went silent for a moment, and that moment stretched into an eternity.
His next words brought everything into focus.
"...There is a chance at redemption. But everything requires... an appropriate price."
The darkness around me began to thicken, forming tendrils.
"Give me what is hidden within your soul!"
It had seemed like the situation couldn't get worse. It just had.
Dormammu wanted my... System?
Well. That was it, then.
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