The melting point of Mithril is 2,600 degrees. At that temperature, the metal doesn't just liquefy; it sings. It lets out a high-pitched, ear-splitting shriek, and if your spirit is weak, that sound can drive you mad.
Elara adjusted her protective goggles and placed the white-hot plate onto the anvil with her tongs. "The cooling system is insufficient," she shouted, her voice barely audible over the hissing steam. "The core is running too hot, Aren! If you wear this thing, your own armor will boil you like a lobster before the enemy even touches you!"
I looked at the pile of metal lying on the warehouse floor like a disassembled skeleton. It didn't look like armor yet. It looked more like the cursed offspring of a torture device and a clockwork mechanism. Project: Aegis.
"We can't vent the heat," I said, making a quick alteration on the blueprint with my charcoal pencil. "Heat is energy. We're going to recycle it."
"How?" Elara paused, her hammer hovering in the air. "Are you going to break the laws of thermodynamics?"
"No, I'm going to work around them," I said. "Route the heat through copper pipes to the pistons in the joints. The steam pressure will increase punch velocity by 40%. The hotter the armor gets, the faster it moves."
Elara looked at me like I was insane. Then, that familiar, dangerous grin spread across her face. "Armor that gets stronger as the battle heats up... That is incredibly stupid. And brilliant. Let's do it."
The next four days were a blur. We lost all sense of time. Cian was our only link to the outside world. He ferried gold from the Adventurer's Guild, sourced materials, and deflected Kaelen Thorne's suspicious questions.
"Twenty kilos of pure Mithril," Cian said, dropping a heavy chest onto the table. "And ten High-Grade Gravity Stones. Kaelen 'borrowed' these from the Council's private vault. If we get caught, we won't just be expelled; we'll be hanged for treason."
"Kaelen is investing," I said, opening the chest. The purple stones pulsed in the dim light. "When I wear this armor, our chances of winning the tournament go from 5% to 65%. He knows that."
"What about you?" Cian asked, his voice laced with worry. "You're putting S-Rank power onto an F-Rank body. Will your bones hold up?"
Zane was in the corner, polishing his own armor. He looked up. "If they don't, I'll carry him. Like always."
I smiled. "Don't worry. The armor won't carry me. I will carry the armor."
In the center of the table sat the heart of the project: The Micro-Chimera Core. It was a miniaturized version of the massive heart in Unit Alpha. It was the size of a fist, pulsing inside a canister of green fluid. It wasn't just a battery; it was a living engine.
It was past midnight when assembly was finally complete. Aegis hung from the suspension rig in the center of the workshop. It wasn't shiny or heroic. It was matte black, covered in complex runes and a web of copper piping. Along the spine, steam exhaust ports lined up like vertebrae. In the chest, the green light of the Chimera Core pulsed rhythmically.
"Ready?" Elara asked. Her voice trembled.
I took off my jacket. I was wearing only a thin undersuit. The bruises on my body—souvenirs from Kaelen's training—still ached. "Initiate."
I stepped into the armor. I shivered as the cold metal touched my skin. Elara engaged the locks. CLICK. CLACK. First the legs. Then the torso. Finally, the arms. It felt heavy. Like wearing a coffin. I couldn't move.
"System activation," I said. The Spell-Driver on my left wrist locked into a port inside the armor. The suit wouldn't use my mana; it would run on Aether Tonic. [Injection Initiated]
I heard a sharp hiss behind my back. Concentrated tonic was pumped into the tubes instead of veins. The Core roared. THUMP.
Suddenly, the weight vanished. The visor in front of my eyes lit up. Red data streams began to scroll. [System: Online] [Power Output: 100%] [Pilot Status: Stable]
I raised my hand. It wasn't my hand. It was a black, steel claw. But it felt as light as my own flesh. The hum of pistons and magic-infused servos supported my every movement.
"Zane," I said. My voice came out metallic and deep through the armor's modulator. "Hit me."
Zane hesitated. "Aren, are you sure? I have a heavy hand."
"Hit me."
Zane picked up a training sword (blunted steel). He took a deep breath and swung. Normally, that blow would have shattered my ribs. In Kaelen's gravity room, I had nearly burst my lungs trying to dodge it.
Now, I didn't dodge. I raised my left hand. CLANG!
The sword stopped dead in my armored palm. The sound of metal on metal echoed through the warehouse. I didn't even slide back. The Gravity Stones anchored my stance to the floor.
Zane's eyes went wide. He tried to pull the sword back, but I didn't let go. I squeezed the armor's fingers. The sound of twisting steel filled the room. The barrel of Zane's sword crumpled like playdough.
"My God," Cian whispered. "He stopped an A-Rank attack with one hand."
Elara was staring at the monitors, taking notes with manic excitement. "Reflex latency 0.02 seconds! Strength amplification 400%! Aren, right now you could rip a bull in half with your bare hands!"
I let go of the sword. The crushed metal clattered to the floor. I clenched my fist. I could feel the power gathering in my palm. I wasn't weak anymore. I wasn't just smart anymore. I was dangerous.
"There's a problem," I said, looking at a warning light on the HUD.
"What?" Elara asked anxiously.
"Fuel consumption," I said. "That one move ate 2% of the reserves. If I fight at full capacity, I'll run dry in 10 minutes, and this armor will turn into a 200-kilo statue."
"10 minutes," Cian murmured. "Tournament matches average 15 minutes."
"Then I'll have to finish it early," I said.
I opened the helmet's faceplate. The cool air hitting my face felt good. Inside, it was like an oven, but that feeling of power... it was addictive. "We need to give it a name," Zane said, looking sadly at his bent sword.
"Mark I," I said. "This is just the beginning."
The next morning, the Great Hall of the Academy was louder than usual. Massive parchment scrolls had been hung on the walls. The National Tournament Brackets.
Students were gathered in crowds, whispering excitedly as they scanned the lists. Cian, Zane, and I pushed through the throng to the front. Kaelen Thorne's team—Team Apex—was at the very top of the list.
[Team Apex]
Kaelen Thorne (S-Rank) - Captain
Lyra Storm (A-Rank)
Jax (A-Rank)
Aren Vance (F-Rank) - Substitute/Support
People who saw the name started laughing. "F-Rank? Has Kaelen lost his mind?" "Maybe they brought him on as a mascot." "Valerius is dead, so they just grabbed whoever they could find."
I ignored the whispers. My eyes slid down the list. Our first opponent. Our first match in the qualifiers.
[Team Iron-Blood] (Military Academy of the West)
Babylon Academy's bitter rival. The Military Academy. A team that relied on pure physical strength and discipline rather than magic. Their captain was the General's Son, a famous spear master.
"A tough start," Kaelen's voice came from behind me. I turned. He was standing with his arms crossed, looking at the list. "The Military Academy hates mages. They see us as 'fancy clowns.' They'll want to break bones in the first match."
He looked at me. His gaze lingered on the bandage on my left wrist (hiding the Spell-Driver). "Are you ready, Architect? Or do we need to strap you to Jax's back?"
"I'm ready," I said. "But I have one condition."
Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "Condition?"
"I enter the arena with my own equipment. I won't wear the standard Academy robes."
"The rules allow for 'Approved Personal Equipment,'" Kaelen said. "I don't care what you wear, Aren. Just don't die and don't embarrass the team."
He started to walk away, then stopped. "By the way... Valerius's body still hasn't been found. The City Watch has called off the search."
"I know," I said.
"Be careful," Kaelen said, sounding for the first time like a worried captain. "The Tournament is public. Masked men can't enter the arena but... accidents happen."
That night, we made the final preparations in the warehouse. We painted the Aegis armor. Over the matte black, we painted a thin gold line across the shoulder. And on the chest, right over the Chimera Core, we painted our own emblem. A Gear intersected by a Staff. Technology and Magic.
"Tomorrow is the big day," Cian said, holding a bottle of champagne. "We should celebrate."
"Celebrate after we win," I said, greasing the armor's joints for the last time.
Elara had fallen asleep on a chair. Zane was sharpening his sword. Plans were flying through my head. The Military Academy was strong. But they were preparing to fight "Mages." They had drilled against shield spells and fireballs. They weren't expecting to face a metal demon.
The warehouse door clicked open softly. The wind blew in. But it wasn't the wind.
An arrow flew from the shadows. Silent. No whistle. Zane's reflexes were superhuman. He raised his sword. CLANG. The arrow deflected off the flat of the blade.
"Ambush!" Zane roared, flipping the table to provide cover for Elara.
The warehouse windows shattered simultaneously. Figures in black burst inside. Four of them. Carrying curved daggers. On their faces, they wore the masks of the Crimson Dawn.
Valerius's new friends. They had come to "eliminate" us before the tournament.
"Get in the armor!" Elara screamed, her sleepiness turning to panic in seconds.
"No time!" I shouted. The armor's activation sequence took 30 seconds. The assassins were rushing us.
Cian threw the champagne bottle at the head of the lead assassin. The bottle shattered, the man stumbled, but he didn't fall. Zane was fighting two of them at once, struggling to swing his massive sword in the confined space.
The fourth assassin lunged at me. His eyes were filled with the intent to kill. His dagger was poisoned; a green liquid dripped from the blade. Against an F-Rank mage, his victory was guaranteed.
But there was something he forgot. I wasn't just a mage anymore. I was a merchant. And my shop was always open.
I reached into my pocket. "Unit Alpha!" I shouted. "Protocol: PROTECT!"
In the dark corner of the warehouse, Unit Alpha, who had been standing like a statue until that moment, lit up. Blue eyes ignited. WHIRRRRR.
Just as the assassin was about to plunge the dagger into me, a metal hand caught his wrist. Unit Alpha stepped out of the shadows. The assassin looked at the machine in shock. Alpha squeezed the wrist. CRACK. The sound of bone snapping. The assassin screamed.
Alpha lifted the man like a ragdoll and threw him across the warehouse, slamming him into the far wall. BOOM. The man stuck to the wall for a second before sliding down, motionless.
The other three assassins froze. They had been dodging Zane's sword, only to find themselves facing a 2.5-meter metal monster.
"Retreat!" their leader shouted.
"Alpha," I said, my voice cold. "Leave no one alive."
The machine lunged forward.