On the morning of the thirtieth day since "mei le ge mei" went online, Artoria was woken up by her phone's notification sound.
She grabbed her phone and squinted at the screen—it was the monthly settlement notification from the app store. The body of the email was concise, with a detailed report attached. She opened the report and scrolled straight to the numbers at the bottom:
Total downloads this month: 42,817
Net income: $31,594.22
Artoria stared at that number for a full ten seconds.
Thirty thousand dollars. It was double her most optimistic estimate.
She sat up, walked barefoot to her desk, and opened her notebook. Flipping to the funding progress page, she crossed out the previous number after "Accumulated" and wrote:
Accumulated: $31,594
Target: $5,000,000
Progress: 0.63%
Less than one percent. But at least it was no longer zero.
She closed the notebook and walked to the window. The sea in the morning light was as calm as a mirror. That matte silver Aston Martin was still parked in the clearing in front of the house, its body covered in a thin layer of dew.
"What to buy first?" she asked herself softly.
She had already reviewed the 2B technical data in the Underground Room dozens of times. The manufacturing process was divided into three stages: skeletal structure, nervous system, and outer shell integration. The most basic and urgent requirement was the titanium alloy material needed for the skeleton.
She opened her computer and searched for special metal suppliers. Titanium alloy plates, tubes, and rods all needed to be high-purity medical grade. Less than half an hour after sending out inquiries, her inbox was piled with replies.
The cheapest quote was from one company: basic specification titanium alloy plates at $320 per kilogram. Estimating from the design blueprints, a complete skeleton would require about eighty kilograms.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars," she calculated, "plus processing fees, shipping..."
The first month's income would basically be gone.
But she didn't hesitate. She selected the supplier with a good reputation and placed the order: fifty kilograms of TC4 Titanium Alloy plates, twenty kilograms of rods, and ten kilograms of tubes. The total price was $24,800, with a 50% down payment and the balance due upon delivery.
When she clicked to confirm payment, her finger still trembled slightly. Twelve thousand four hundred dollars, spent just like that.
"It's worth it," she told herself.
After ordering, she sent a message to Coulson: "I've purchased a batch of titanium alloy materials for personal research. Reporting in advance to avoid misunderstandings."
Thirty seconds later, a reply came: "Received. Do you need transport assistance?"
"No need, the supplier is handling delivery."
"Understood. Also, Stark Industries' materials department inquired about this order this morning—they are an upstream channel for your supplier."
Artoria frowned. So Tony not only knew what she bought but also knew what she planned to use it for.
"He's watching me," she typed.
"He's always been watching. Do you need intervention?"
"Not for now."
Closing her phone, she walked down to the Underground Room. The workbench was empty, but the first batch of materials would arrive soon. She needed to prepare tools, plan the processing area, design jigs...
Just as she was thinking, the doorbell rang.
At this time? She glanced at the wall clock; it was 9:10 AM. The materials couldn't possibly have arrived this quickly.
Through the peephole, she saw Tony Stark standing outside. He wasn't wearing his signature loud shirt, but a simple gray T-shirt and jeans, carrying a paper bag. His sunglasses were pushed up to the top of his head, and his expression was that casual 'I'm just passing by' look.
Artoria opened the door.
"Morning." Tony held up the paper bag. "Croissants from that bakery on the corner, fresh out of the oven. Thought you might not have had breakfast, so I bought extra."
The aroma of butter wafted from the paper bag. Artoria was silent for two seconds before stepping aside: "Come in."
Tony walked into the house, his gaze quickly scanning the living room—simple, clean, with almost no decoration except for essential furniture. His eyes lingered for a moment on the open computer in the study, then naturally moved away.
"Nice house." He placed the paper bag on the dining table. "The view is even better than mine."
"Sit." Artoria went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. "Coffee or water?"
"Water is fine." Tony sat down at the table and naturally picked up a Croissant. "Seriously, that game of yours is well-made. 'mei le ge mei'? I've caught several employees in my company playing it on the job three times already."
Artoria sat opposite him: "So you're here to hold me accountable?"
"No, I'm here to learn." Tony took a bite of the bread. "A 42% daily active retention rate, and an average of 7.3 ad impressions per user per day—those stats are phenomenal for a casual game. How did you do it?"
"Make the players get stuck on the second level, then watch ads to get items."
Tony laughed: "Direct enough. But numerical balancing isn't that simple. Too many ads and players leave; too few and you don't make money. You've hit the sweet spot perfectly."
Artoria didn't respond, taking small sips of water. The Croissant was indeed delicious, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside.
"So," Tony looked at her, "what are you doing with titanium alloy? The specifications of that batch... are for structural components."
"Personal hobby."
"Medical-grade titanium alloy, eighty kilograms, processed into specific ratios of plates, rods, and tubes." Tony put down his half-eaten bread. "This configuration looks very familiar. If I'm not mistaken, you're making... a Bionic Skeleton?"
Artoria looked up at him.
"Don't look at me like that." Tony spread his hands. "I've made similar things. Early versions of the suit were titanium alloy skeletons. It's just that I later switched to Gold-Titanium Alloy for a better strength-to-weight ratio."
"And?"
"And I was thinking..." Tony leaned forward, elbows on the table, "If you need better materials, or processing equipment, or technical advice—I have all of that. Free of charge, consider it a friendly neighbor's sponsorship."
Artoria met his eyes. Tony's gaze held curiosity and inquiry, but indeed no malice. It was more like the enthusiasm of one engineer seeing another working on an interesting project.
"Why?" she asked.
"Three reasons." Tony held up his fingers. "First, I'm bored. Second, I'm interested in what you're doing. Third..." He paused. "I think you're going to make something very cool."
"You're not asking what I'm making?"
"You'll tell me when you want to." Tony leaned back in his chair. "And honestly, I can probably guess the direction. Bionic Skeleton, nervous system, shell integration—ultimately a mobile mechanical entity, right?"
Artoria didn't deny it.
"Then that's it." Tony stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to her. "There aren't many interesting people in this World, and even fewer interesting people doing interesting things. I just don't want to miss out."
He turned around: "So? Do you want help?"
Artoria thought for a long time. Tony's offer was very tempting—Stark Industries' equipment and resources could save her a lot of detours. But the price was that her project would be completely exposed under his nose.
"Not for now," she finally said. "I want to try it myself first. If I encounter problems I can't solve..."
"Knock on my door anytime," Tony interjected, his smile sincere. "I'm online twenty-four hours a day—except from three to five in the morning, that's my nap time."
He walked to the door and then looked back: "By the way, do you really not plan to learn how to drive that car? It's a waste letting it sit there."
"I'll learn when I have time."
"If you need a coach..."
"I'll let you know when I need one."
Tony nodded, put on his sunglasses, waved, and left.
Artoria closed the door and stood leaning against it for a while. Tony's attitude was... more normal than she had expected. No prying, no pressure, just a simple invitation for technical exchange.
Maybe she could try treating him as a... technical consultant?
At 2 PM, the materials arrived. A box truck drove up to the house, and two workers unloaded over a dozen long wooden crates. When Artoria signed for them, she noticed a small line of text in the remarks section of the delivery slip:
"Surface passivation treatment already applied; suggest wearing protection during processing. —TS"
Tony had meddled. He had the supplier treat the material surfaces in advance, reducing the difficulty of her subsequent processing.
"Meddling busybody," she whispered, but the corners of her mouth curled up slightly.
The workers moved the wooden crates into the Underground Room, stacking them neatly against the wall. After paying the balance, Artoria stood before the workbench, looking at these silver-gray metals.
This was the first step. The true first step.
She opened the first wooden crate and took out a titanium alloy plate. Thirty centimeters square and two centimeters thick, the surface had a matte finish. It was heavy, but she picked it up easily with Artoria's arm strength.
"Start with the spinal skeleton," she recalled the design blueprints.
The spine was the core load-bearing structure, requiring seven vertebrae, each with complex curved surfaces and connection holes. With her current tools—handheld wire saw, angle grinder, drill press—it would take at least a week to process them.
"Maybe I should use Photograph," she mused.
Bronya's Photograph cooldown had long since ended, and the Herrscher of Reason's 'Understanding and Reconstruction' ability could improve processing precision by several orders of magnitude. But using it once triggered a three-day cooldown; she had to save it for the most critical moments.
"Try to see how far I can get on my own first."
She put on goggles and gloves and turned on the angle grinder. A piercing noise echoed in the Underground Room as sparks flew off the titanium alloy surface.
Two hours later, she finished the rough processing of the first vertebra. The shape was roughly correct, but the surface was rough, and the dimensional error exceeded 0.5 millimeters—an unacceptable error for a Bionic Skeleton.
She turned off the machine, looked at the crooked piece of metal in her hand, and sighed.
"I still have to use Bronya."
But there was no rush today. She packed up her tools, washed her hands, and went upstairs.
The sea at dusk shimmered with golden-red light. She sat on the terrace, eating the remaining Croissant and looking at the game data on her phone—estimated income for today was $1,127, still growing steadily.
The funding progress had changed to 0.65%.
Very slow. But at least the materials were lying in the Underground Room, the design blueprints were in her head, and the path was beneath her feet.
She looked toward the shoreline. Tony's Villa was lit up, and there seemed to be a figure on the terrace.
She raised her hand and waved.
A minute later, her phone vibrated. An unknown number sent a message:
"Processing going smoothly? —TS"
"Still learning," she replied.
"If you need a CNC machine, I have a five-axis one in my garage just sitting idle."
"Not for now."
"Anytime."
She put down her phone and continued watching the sea.
As the night deepened, she noticed a faint light on the sea. It wasn't a reflection of moonlight, but a pale blue fluorescence coming from underwater, flashing and then vanishing.
She stood up and walked to the edge of the terrace. The light appeared again, closer this time, just fifty meters below the surface at the base of the cliff. A blurry blue halo moved slowly, then sank into the depths and disappeared.
The "glowing thing" the old man at the grocery store mentioned.
The "abnormal energy fluctuations" Coulson warned about.
She watched for a while, but the light did not reappear.
Returning inside, she sent a message to Coulson: "There was a blue light under the sea just now, sending you the coordinates."
"Received. Logged. Suggest not approaching the coast at night."
"Understood."
She turned off all the lights, leaving only a small nightlight. As she lay in bed, images of the silver-gray titanium alloy, the blue light beneath the sea, the jumping numbers on the game's backend, and Tony's words "You'll make something very cool" alternated in her mind.
Take it slow. One step at a time.
She fell asleep to the sound of the waves, dreaming of a silver-white figure walking on the deep blue seabed, followed by a trail of tiny points of light.
---------------------------------
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! If the fanfiction has you hooked and you can't wait to see what happens next, you can unlock 30 or more chapters in advance over on my patreon: patreon.com/FTLGenBen
Also every bit of support means the world to me so if you're loving the ride, don't forget to drop a Power Stone, Thanks.