The high-precision, diamond-tipped drill began to spin, its scream cutting through the air. The sound reached Kaivan's living bone—breaking through the boundary between flesh and metal.
"AAARRRGGGHHH!!!"
Kaivan's scream echoed through the soundproof operating room. It was not merely a cry of pain, but the release of every emotion he had left inside. His body remained still. Only his left hand clenched the edge of the table, muscles tightening like steel cables.
"Stabilize his arm! Prepare the Neural Link Ring!" the doctor shouted.
An assistant swiftly picked up a metal ring the size of a silver coin. The device was pressed against Kaivan's bone, bonding with soft tissue through fourth-generation nanoadhesive. A gentle electric pulse spread through his nerves, forcing his brain to accept the artificial signals flooding in.
"Nnnggh…" Kaivan groaned. His jaw clenched tightly, veins standing out on his temples. Inside him, the last remnants of his humanity resisted the integration—metal against flesh, electricity against biological signals.
"Seal the network! Close the connectors, now! Neural contamination risk is too high!"
The wounds were sealed with biotechnological liquid adhesive that hardened into a semi-flexible shield. The process looked like alien embroidery—precise, efficient, and terrifying.
The medical team moved to Kaivan's right leg. The drill struck bone with a deep, brutal sound. Metal friction mixed with the clicks of bolts being tightened one by one. Each sound rang in Kaivan's ears like the bells of hell.
Sweat soaked his face. His eyes were red—not only from pain, but from the storm of hope and fear inside him. Fabrizio stood beside him, hands trembling, unable to look away.
"Activate the Neural Link system," the doctor ordered the technician.
A moment later, a strange pulse spread from the base of Kaivan's prosthetics. His eyes widened.
He felt something he had not felt since losing his body.
Not pain. Not pressure.
But touch.
A faint, living sensation—like a cool breeze brushing against dead skin. A ghost signal, yet undeniably real.
"Phase one successful. Continue monitoring for forty-eight hours. Prepare semi-active recovery and install calibrator sensors immediately," the chief doctor said, relief barely hiding beneath the hum of machines.
Kaivan lay on the operating table, his face still marked by suffering. Yet a small smile formed on his lips—calm, almost invisible, but full of meaning. He slowly turned toward Fabrizio.
"This is only the beginning, right?" he asked hoarsely, his voice echoing softly among the medical instruments.
Fabrizio stepped closer. He looked at Kaivan for a long moment, then gently patted his shoulder. The touch was not just between a scientist and his subject, but between two people who understood the weight of their struggle.
"Yes," he replied quietly. "And someday, this will change everything. You will become living proof of the new boundary between humanity and technology."
Exhaustion finally claimed Kaivan. He fell asleep on the operating table, his pale face reflecting the blue light of the monitors. The doctors carefully transferred him to a special recovery room. There, IV lines and medical devices pulsed softly in the cold, sterile air.
Rows of monitors displayed vital signs slowly stabilizing. But beyond the numbers, Kaivan slept in silence—haunted by faint dreams of his new body and a world about to change.
Elsewhere, while Kaivan remained unconscious, Fabrizio returned to his workspace. Blueprints calculated by the Tome Omnicent lay spread across his desk, surrounded by mechanical tools and synthetic materials. The gentle glow of the Tome Omnicraft guided his hands as he worked tirelessly, assembling artificial arms and legs to replace what Kaivan had lost.
The metal door opened with a soft hiss. Calm footsteps approached. Levan stood at the entrance, his face composed, his eyes sharp.
"You're not even resting, are you?" he asked quietly.
Fabrizio did not look up. His voice was flat, yet filled with resolve.
"He fought to live. He fought to save everyone. Now it's my turn to fight—so he can live better."
Levan stepped closer. His eyes caught sight of a thick bracer resting on the table, connected by micro-cables and spring-loaded mechanisms.
"Why this… for Kaivan?" he asked quietly.
Fabrizio stopped writing and looked up at him. "At first, the vambrace was just a simple support weapon. But after watching the way he fights with his kujang and chains, I started thinking… what if this device could launch his weapon up to fifteen meters in less than a second?"
Levan nodded slowly. "You've been paying more attention to him than you let on."
He turned toward the door. "Keep going. I know Kaivan won't waste your efforts."
After the door closed, the room fell silent once more. Then, an electronic voice broke the stillness.
"Will all of that really work?" Lyra asked. Her AI voice echoed from the ceiling speakers—cold and sharp, yet tinged with curiosity.
Fabrizio glanced at the small camera in the corner and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I don't know. I just hope Kaivan can move freely again."
"If it succeeds, it will be an extraordinary achievement, won't it?" Lyra replied flatly.
Fabrizio gave a small nod. White light from the Tome of Omnicraft illuminated the artificial hand in his grasp—almost perfect in its design. Yet beneath that precision, doubt still lingered.