In the basement, Artoria stared at the monthly revenue settlement figure for "mei le ge mei" on the screen: $31,594.22.
She closed her eyes and opened them again. The numbers hadn't changed.
A month of day-and-night maintenance, six hours of daily update development in Umaru form, and the meticulous tuning of hundreds of levels had yielded thirty thousand dollars. Meanwhile, the five-million goal hung motionlessly ahead, like a moon that could never be reached.
She picked up the few crooked titanium alloy vertebrae on the workbench. This was the result of her month's hard work—metal blocks that could barely be recognized as shapes, with precision so poor they were too ugly even to be paperweights.
"This isn't right." She put down the parts, her fingers unconsciously tapping the table. "My approach is wrong."
She needed money, a lot of it. Making games was a slow and steady process, but she couldn't afford to wait. Building 2B required equipment, materials, and professional tools—none of which could be solved with small-scale efforts.
She opened the system and pulled up the directory of 2B's technical data. Thousands of pages of blueprints, formulas, and algorithms—complete technology from another World's mechanical civilization. She couldn't sell the core, but the peripheral technologies might be revolutionary breakthroughs in this World.
"What should I sell?" she asked herself.
Her gaze fell on "Lightweight Structure Topology Optimization Algorithm v3.7." This was the fundamental algorithm for the skeletons of machine lifeforms in the NieR World, capable of reducing structural weight by 30%-50% while maintaining strength. Applied to aviation, aerospace, and battle suits, its value would be immeasurable.
But for how much? And how?
She thought of Tony Stark—the World's top engineer, the buyer with the best eye for quality, and the one least lacking in money.
Her phone vibrated at that moment. It was a text from Tony:
"The vertebrae are processed and will be delivered at 10:00 AM. Also, I've looked at the structural design you sent me; it's quite interesting. Talk in person?"
The opportunity had arrived.
She replied: "See you at ten. I have something to discuss."
At 9:50 AM, the logistics truck arrived on time. Seven sealed boxes were moved into the basement. As Artoria signed for them, she noticed the delivery crew was a dedicated Stark Industries team—professional, silent, and asking no unnecessary questions.
Opening the first box, her breath hitched slightly.
Seven titanium alloy vertebrae lay in custom foam, their surfaces finely matte-finished, curves as smooth as biological bones, and connection hole chamfers precise to the micron level. The morning light fell on the metal, reflecting a cold and elegant luster.
This was industrial-grade precision. Her month of manual polishing couldn't compare to six hours of machine work.
At exactly ten o'clock, Tony's sports car pulled up in front of the house. Today he wore a simple black polo shirt and cargo pants, carrying a transparent tablet, and headed straight for the basement as soon as he entered.
"How's the cargo?" he asked, his eyes already fixed on the row of vertebrae.
"Perfect," Artoria said truthfully.
Tony put on a jeweler's loupe and carefully examined every detail. Five minutes later, he straightened up, his eyes shining with the light an engineer has when seeing an exquisite design.
"The processing quality is fine. But this design..." He pulled up a 3D model on his tablet. "The way the load is distributed is very special. The traditional approach is to reinforce wherever the stress is, but yours redistributes the force flow paths, making the structure itself the transmission system."
"Yes," Artoria nodded. "Material utilization is improved by more than 40%."
"More than that." Tony zoomed in on a part of the model. "Here, this curved transition—it looks like an aesthetic choice, but it's actually key to stress dispersion. And the locking mechanism at the joints, self-centering and self-locking, has a high tolerance for assembly errors."
He put down the loupe and looked at Artoria: "This isn't just 'interesting'; it's an entirely new structural design language. My lab team hasn't achieved this level of optimization in three years. Where did you learn this?"
"I researched it myself," Artoria responded calmly.
Tony stared at her for three seconds and laughed: "Alright, I won't ask about the source. Let's get down to business—do you want to sell this technology?"
"Yes."
"Your price?"
Artoria took a deep breath. She had calculated it repeatedly in her mind: this algorithm was basic in the NieR World, but it was at least twenty years ahead in this one. Applied to Stark Industries' aerospace division, it would be worth tens of millions and bring about a qualitative leap.
"Five million dollars," she said. "Buyout licensing; you can use it in any field. I retain the rights for personal use and academic research. I won't provide follow-up technical support or guarantee performance in other application scenarios."
The air went silent.
Tony didn't speak, his fingers sliding rapidly across the tablet. He was retrieving data and doing mental calculations. A minute later, he looked up:
"Too low."
Artoria was stunned.
"With this technology at Stark Industries, the annual patent licensing revenue alone would exceed five million. Including on that little toy of mine, the mobility boost from weight reduction, improved energy efficiency, and increased equipment capacity—its value is in the tens of millions." Tony leaned forward. "Are you underestimating your own technology, or overestimating my conscience?"
"Then how much do you think it's worth?"
"Ten million. Installment payments, with a five-million-dollar down payment and subsequent royalties based on product line revenue," Tony said decisively. "But I want the complete technical package, including the mathematical models, optimization algorithms, application case libraries, and... detailed design tutorials for three typical structures."
This was a real business negotiation. Tony wasn't taking advantage of her, but he also wanted to get the full value.
Artoria thought quickly. Ten million would directly complete 20% of her funding goal. Installment payments meant a steady cash flow. The royalty clause would be valid long-term.
"Deal," she said. "But on one condition: I need to borrow your Five-axis CNC machine until I finish purchasing my own equipment. You will be responsible for all consumables and maintenance during that period."
"Done." Tony reached out his hand. "The contract will be ready today. The down payment will arrive within twenty-four hours."
As they shook hands, Artoria felt the warmth and strength of Tony's palm. This wasn't charity; it was an equal exchange of technology.
"Now," Tony withdrew his hand, his eyes shining with curiosity, "may I ask what you need so much money for? Of course, you don't have to answer."
"To build something," Artoria said. "It requires precision equipment, special materials, and time."
"Does it have to do with these vertebrae?"
"Yes."
Tony nodded and didn't press further. He walked to the workbench, his fingers lightly brushing over those perfect metallic curves.
"You know," he said suddenly, "I've seen many geniuses and many crazy ideas. But few are like you—having a complete technical system and a clear manufacturing plan, yet choosing to live in a seaside cottage and ride an electric scooter every day."
"It's quiet," Artoria said. "It's quiet here, good for thinking."
"True." Tony looked at the sea outside the window. "Sometimes I want to move out too, but my lab equipment is too much to move." He paused. "By the way, regarding that thing in the deep sea, I collected more data last night. It seems to have a periodic activity pattern, with an energy peak every three days."
"Does S.H.I.E.L.D. know?"
"They do, but they just said to 'continue observing'." Tony pulled up a data chart on his tablet. "Look, the energy signature is changing, as if it's learning to adapt to our detection frequencies. This thing is intelligent, and not just a little."
On the chart, the light blue energy curve showed a clear trajectory of learning and evolution.
"It's observing us," Artoria whispered.
"Observing each other." Tony put away the tablet. "I've placed several stealth probes on the seabed for continuous monitoring. I'll notify you if there's any anomaly—after all, you're the closest."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." Tony walked toward the stairs. "I'll have Potts deliver the contract once it's ready. The machine will be shipped over this afternoon, and Jarvis will help you install and debug it. Contact me anytime if you have technical questions."
He reached the door and turned back: "By the way, your game is quite good. A lot of people in my company are addicted; productivity dropped by 15%."
"That's a management issue on your end," Artoria said.
Tony laughed heartily, waved his hand, and left.
An hour later, Artoria's phone received a bank notification: the five-million-dollar down payment had arrived.
She opened her laptop, crossed out the old figure on the funding progress page, and wrote:
Accumulated: $5,310,594
Goal: $5,000,000
Progress: 106.2%
Target exceeded.
She stared at the number, speechless for a long time. A month ago, she was delighted by thirty thousand dollars. Now, five million lay quietly in her account.
And all of this was from selling just one technology—and only the tip of the iceberg of the tech tree she possessed.
"Mother Earth..." she whispered, "Will you be unhappy with me selling technology like this?"
There was no response. But the system interface expanded automatically, and a line of text appeared:
[Knowledge should be put to good use, not buried. But remember: too much is as bad as too little.]
Understood. It could be sold, but not without restraint. There must be choices and boundaries.
She closed the interface and walked out onto the terrace. The sea breeze brushed against her face, carrying the scent of salt and the breath of freedom.
At 2:00 PM, a transport truck delivered Tony's CNC machine. Five engineers spent three hours installing and debugging it, while Jarvis synced into the control system. When the machine emitted a low hum and all axes passed self-check, Artoria knew the door to manufacturing had truly opened.
In the evening, Tony's assistant Potts personally delivered the contract. A thirty-page technology transfer agreement with clear terms and explicit rights. Artoria read it carefully and signed.
"Mr. Stark said that if you have any other technologies you wish to transfer, Stark Industries will always be the best choice," Potts said with a smile.
"Not for now," Artoria said, "but perhaps in the future."
"Looking forward to our cooperation."
After Potts left, Artoria returned to the basement. The machine stood quietly against the wall, its control screen glowing with a soft blue light. She touched the cold metal casing, a surge of genuine excitement rising in her heart.
Now, she had the funds, the equipment, and the technology.
She could truly begin.
Late at night, she sat on the terrace, her laptop screen glowing. It was the complete design for 2B's skeleton. She began listing the procurement items: servo motors, sensors, control chips, specialized wiring...
Each item was marked with its model, quantity, supplier, and budget. Total budget: eight hundred thousand dollars.
Not excessive. She was building a companion to accompany her, not a perfunctory toy.
A faint light suddenly shimmered on the sea surface.
She looked up and saw that familiar light blue halo appearing under the water a hundred meters away. This time it didn't move, just suspended silently, its light pulsing rhythmically.
Like breathing, and like watching.
Artoria didn't move, nor was she afraid. She just watched the light quietly until it slowly sank into the deep sea and disappeared.
"Do you feel it too?" she whispered. "Something is about to begin."
She closed her laptop and walked inside.
In the basement, the machine waited quietly. On the workbench, the perfect vertebrae glinted with a cold light. In her account, funds were ample. In her mind, the blueprint was clear.
Tomorrow, she would order the first batch of core components.
Tomorrow, manufacturing would enter the fast lane.
And she, the traveler who had come to this World by accident, finally had the ability to leave her mark on it.
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