“Don’t let the rating fool you. A D-Tier rifle kills you just as dead as an S-Tier one. The only difference is the S-Tier looks better doing it and costs more to repair.”

  — Deleted Anonymous Post on ‘Tinkerer DB Forum’

  I woke up to the holoband buzzing and sunlight stabbing through my window like it had a personal vendetta against my retinas.

  For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember why every muscle in my body felt like I’d been hit by a cargo tram. Then it came back in a rush: the rune practice, the soul-binding, the hollow ache in my chest that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.

  The holoband buzzed again.

  I lifted my arm, squinting at the projection that materialized above my wrist.

  [AliceOnFire_real: DASH! Neon Vault, 4pm West Corporate District!]

  [AliceOnFire_real: Don’t be late or Ceci will slash you]

  [CeciTheSamurai: I would not.]

  [CeciTheSamurai: Probably.]

  [CeciTheSamurai: Just don’t be late.]

  I blinked at the messages, my brain still trying to boot up properly. Right. Arcades. I’d agreed to that last night before passing out.

  I checked the time: 9:14 AM.

  Seven hours until I needed to be there. Plenty of time.

  I swung my legs out of bed, and the movement sent a pulse of that strange ache through my chest. Not pain, exactly. More like... awareness. As if something deep inside me had been stretched, it was still settling back into place.

  Soul strain? Well, the price of binding the pants to my essence, I probably could afford to bind only one more item.

  I stood up carefully, testing my balance, and caught sight of the tactical pants draped over my desk chair where I’d left them last night. The combat fiber caught the morning light, and I could’ve sworn the material looked slightly different from what it had before the binding.

  “Right,” I muttered, walking over to them. “Let’s see if you actually fit.”

  I tried them briefly yesterday, but that was just a quick test. I pulled off my sleep pants and stepped into the tactical ones, pulling them up over my hips. The waistband settled into place with a precision that felt almost unnatural, like the pants knew exactly where they were supposed to sit.

  I fastened the closure and took a step.

  Perfect.

  Not just good, or close enough, but absolutely perfect. The impact foam at my knees flexed with my movement without restricting it. The cargo pockets sat at exactly the right height for easy access. The fabric moved with me as if it had been tailored specifically for my body.

  Which, technically, it had been. I’d designed it, built it, and then bound it to my soul.

  I walked around my room, testing the range of motion. Squatted down, stood up, kicked my leg out. Everything moved smoothly, the distributed weight feeling natural despite all the embedded tech.

  “Okay,” I admitted to the empty room. “That soul binding thing is actually impressive.”

  My holoband buzzed again, and I glanced down at another message from Alice, this one just a string of fire emojis and what looked like a badly drawn stick figure with a sword.

  [4 PM at Neon Vault.]

  I looked around my room, at my desk where my homework—

  My stomach dropped.

  The book.

  Dante’s book. The one I’d borrowed for a week with the friendly reminder that failing to return it would result in consequences I really didn’t want to experience. The book currently sitting in my workshop, completely unprotected.

  I couldn’t just leave it there.

  Not with Comma wandering around the house, not with Mom potentially cleaning. As we talked, the now-workshop was supposed to be off-limits, but that had never stopped my sister before.

  I’m so careless and stupid. Something to work on then.

  I also couldn’t take it to an arcade in West Corporate and just... carry it around. What if I lost it? What if someone bumped into me and it fell? What if some opportunistic thief saw an expensive-looking book and decided today was their lucky day?

  “Shit,” I muttered, already heading for the basement stairs.

  I needed a case. Something protective, something secure, something I could carry without worrying about it getting damaged or stolen.

  And I needed it before 4 PM.

  I took the basement stairs two at a time, my new pants moving with me without any of the stiffness I’d expected from fresh gear. I pulled up my band to check the weather and… yeah. Rain, as usual in Tago. So the case also needed to be waterproof. The workshop came into view as I descended, and I went straight for the Orbital without even thinking about breakfast.

  The holographic system hummed to life as I stepped into its projection field, and I pulled up a new design template. Not clothing this time, but a simple protective case.

  But for a book that could literally get me killed if I lost it, simple wasn’t going to cut it.

  I started sketching in the holographic space, laying out dimensions scanned from the book’s size. Rectangular case, maybe two centimeters of clearance on all sides for padding. Hinged lid with a secure closure. Reinforced corners.

  The material selection screen appeared, and I scrolled through my available options until I found what I was looking for.

  EXOTIC ALLOYS - ASSORTED

  I’d scanned these into the Orbital’s database yesterday, and now the full list populated in the holographic interface. Titanium-graphene composite. Reinforced carbon lattice. Chromium-tungsten alloy.

  I selected chromium-tungsten for the outer shell. It was dense, impact-resistant, and had a subtle matte finish that wouldn’t draw attention. Just solid, not flashy or obviously armored.

  For the interior, I added impact foam padding. The same stuff I’d used in the pants’ knees, but configured as a custom-cut insert that would cradle the book perfectly. No sliding around, no pressure points that could damage the binding.

  The closure mechanism took more thought. Magnetic latches would be easy, but they could pop open if someone bumped into me hard enough. Mechanical locks were too obvious, too bulky. I needed something secure but subtle.

  I settled on a pressure-seal system.

  Micro-pneumatic latches that would engage when the case closed, creating a waterproof seal that required deliberate force to open. The kind of thing that wouldn’t pop open accidentally but could be opened quickly if I needed to access the book.

  I added reinforced corners with shock-absorbing geometry, because if I dropped this thing I wanted it to bounce, not crack open.

  And a subtle carrying handle on one side, integrated into the design so it didn’t look like an obvious attachment point.

  The final touch was the interior dimensions.

  I adjusted them correctly, accounting for the book’s exact measurements plus the padding thickness. Too loose and the book would shift around. Too tight and I’d risk damaging it trying to get it in and out.

  When I finished, the case looked... plain. Like something a mid-level corporate employee might carry documents in, not worth stealing, not worth a second glance.

  Perfect.

  I saved the design and sent it to the ACCIW, along with me manually carrying the materials. In the future, I could design a system to feed the correct materials automatically, but… my workshop didn’t even have shelves at this moment.

  The fabrication suite hummed to life, and I watched through its transparent panel as the cutting head descended. The chromium-tungsten alloy was harder than the combat fiber, and the laser had to work longer to make each cut, but the precision was just as perfect.

  The case took shape piece by piece.

  Outer shell segments, interior padding components, and the micro-pneumatic latches that would create the pressure seal. Each piece was deposited onto the assembly platform in exact positions.

  The estimated completion time appeared on the ACCIW’s display: 18 minutes.

  I glanced at the time. 9:47 AM.

  Still plenty of time before I needed to leave. But standing here watching the machine work felt wasteful, and my mind was already jumping ahead to the next problem.

  What was I going to wear to the arcade?

  I looked down at the tactical pants. They were good. Professional-looking. Could pass for expensive casual wear if nobody looked too close at all the pockets and embedded tech.

  But just pants?

  My armor was scrapped in bins, the yellow TitanWard plating scuffed and dented from all the fights. I loved that armor. Loved the color, loved the way it felt, loved that it had kept me alive through situations that should’ve killed me.

  But wearing combat armor to an arcade felt... excessive. Even for me. Thus, my idea of light materials, reason I bothered to buy expensive fabric.

  I needed a hoodie.

  Something that looked normal but had the same protective qualities as my pants. Something I could wear over a shirt that wouldn’t scream “paranoid system user” to everyone I passed.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  And I needed it done before 4 PM, which meant I needed to start designing it right now.

  I turned back to the Orbital, pulling up a new clothing template and scanned myself. The hoodie model materialized in the holographic space, a basic outline waiting for me to make it into something useful.

  The good news was I didn’t have to reinvent the wheel this time.

  I’d already spent hours figuring out the optimal projector placement for the Michalski Hexagon Hybrid system. Already worked out the micro-camera positioning for the MIRAGE adaptive camo. Already routed the conductive threading pathways for distributed power.

  All that math, all those carefully calculated geometric relationships... I could just adapt them for a hoodie.

  I pulled up my pants design in a second window, rotating both models side by side in the holographic space. The hex-pattern projector layout had leg coverage, but the same principles applied to torso protection. I just needed to scale it appropriately and account for the different surface geometry.

  Twelve projectors for the pants.

  For a hoodie covering more surface area, I’d need... I did the quick mental math, accounting for arm coverage and the torso... eighteen projectors. Maybe twenty if I wanted really comprehensive coverage, including the collar area and my face.

  I started placing them, following Michalski’s geometric principles. Really, naming all this after himself…

  Well, maybe that’ll be a standard one day?

  The projectors needed to form interlocking triangular relationships, each one positioned to create hexagonal overlaps with its neighbors. It was like building a honeycomb structure, but wrapped around a human torso instead of pants.

  The micro-cameras went next, offset from the projectors to capture visual data for the MIRAGE system. Twenty-four of them this time, distributed to cover all the angles the camo system would need.

  Then came the conductive threading.

  I traced the pathways carefully, creating a distributed power network with built-in redundancy. Up from the waist where it would connect to the pants’ system, branching to each projector, connecting the cameras, creating backup routes in case of damage.

  The pattern was complex but familiar now. I’d done this before. I knew what the system wanted, knew how to route the threads to avoid interference with the fabric structure.

  For the outer shell, I selected the Series-7 combat fiber again. Same material as the pants, same protective qualities, same subtle sheen that could pass for high-end civilian wear.

  Impact foam went into the shoulders, chest, elbows, and other areas most likely to take hits if I fell or got shoved. Not bulky enough to restrict movement, just enough to absorb kinetic energy.

  Then I hefted a color crate and dragged it to the scanner. I didn’t want to spend ages scanning each color, so… I scanned only those I planned for the hoodie. The rest would have to wait for my patience to grow. The system confirmed my scans, and I hit the color selection screen.

  My finger hovered over the options, scrolling through the available materials. I wanted yellow. That specific shade of yellow from my old TitanWard armor, the color I’d worn for months, the color that felt like mine.

  But TitanWard’s signature yellow was patented. Locked down by corporate IP law tighter than a vault door. I couldn’t order it even if I wanted to, and trying to replicate it exactly would probably trigger automated copyright detection in the ACCIW’s systems.

  What I had instead was a slightly brighter yellow. Close, but not quite right. More lemony than the warm, almost golden tone of TitanWard’s branded color.

  I stared at the color swatch rotating in the holographic space. It wasn’t what I wanted. But it was what I had.

  “Good enough,” I muttered, selecting it.

  The hoodie design updated, the combat fiber taking on that slightly-too-bright yellow tone. It looked... fine. Professional. Just different enough from my old armor that it felt off.

  But different wasn’t bad.

  I added pockets: cargo pockets on the chest, hip pockets with magnetic closures, an interior pocket sized specifically for the case I was currently fabricating. Everything reinforced, everything positioned for easy access.

  The final check was running the simulation. The Orbital processed for a moment, then displayed the results:

  ? Shield Coverage: 97.4% (Excellent)

  ? MIRAGE Coverage: 95.8% (Excellent)

  ? Power Distribution: Optimal with 2x redundancy

  ? Flexibility Index: 92% (Minimal movement restriction)

  ? Component Integration: No conflicts detected

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

  No warnings about inadequate coverage. No alerts about projector conflicts. No condescending notes from Professor Michalski about trusting the math.

  Just green checkmarks across the board.

  “Okay,” I said, saving the design. “Let’s make this happen.”

  I sent the hoodie design to the ACCIW, and the fabrication suite accepted it with a soft chime. The estimated completion time appeared: 43 minutes.

  I glanced at the case fabrication. Still had eight minutes left. Forty-three minutes for the hoodie, plus however long it took for final assembly and soul-binding...

  I’d be done by noon, easy. Still four hours before I needed to leave.

  The ACCIW hummed steadily, working on the case, and I leaned against the TABLO to wait, watching the machine work through its transparent panel with the satisfaction of someone who’d finally figured out how to use their tools properly.

  Time to organize the workshop.

  The ACCIW chimed softly, signaling completion.

  I walked over and opened the panel, pulling out the finished hoodie. The slightly-too-bright yellow caught the workshop lights, and I held it up, examining the construction. The seams were perfect. The embedded projectors were invisible under the outer shell. The conductive threading created subtle patterns along the interior that only I would ever see.

  Time to see what the system thought of my work.

  I focused on the hoodie, really examining it with intent, the way I’d done with the pants.

  [Item Analysis: Tactical hoodie (Prototype)]

  Name: [None]

  Item Quality: D (Low-End)

  Integrity: 100%

  Manufacturer: Dash Kallum

  Comparative Analysis (Tago Region): Within the category of integrated tactical wear, this item ranks in the 20-35th percentile. Construction quality exceeds mass-market offerings but falls short of licensed professional equipment.

  D tier.

  Low-End.

  Maybe if I put a rune of durability it would change, but I didn’t want to ruin expensive things with zero practice. I stared at the system window, feeling frustration building in my chest. Hours of careful design work, expensive materials, precision fabrication... and the system called it low-end.

  …but I’d expected this. The pants had started at D- and jumped to C- after soul-binding. If the pattern held, the hoodie should do the same thing.

  There's only one way to find out.

  I took a breath, laid the hoodie flat on the TABLO surface, and placed my right hand against the fabric.

  “Hoqalo.”

  The warmth hit immediately, flooding through my hand like a liquid fire that didn’t burn. It spread up my arm faster this time, maybe because my soul recognized what was happening, what I was asking it to do.

  The sensation yanked at something deep in my chest, and I felt the same pulling sensation from last night. Except now, there was an ache underneath it. A soreness, like a muscle that had been worked too hard and hadn’t fully recovered.

  The hoodie glowed beneath my hand, soft golden light bleeding through the combat fiber. Every projector mounting point lit up. Every conductive pathway became visible as luminous tracery, highlighting the distributed network I’d so carefully designed.

  The pressure in my chest built, becoming almost painful. Not as bad as the first time, but present enough that I gritted my teeth against it.

  A window appeared:

  [Soulwright’s Engraving: ACTIVE]

  The light flared brighter, and I had to close my eyes against it. The pressure peaked, threatening to crush something vital, and then—

  Release.

  The warmth faded as the light dimmed and disappeared. The ache in my chest intensified for a moment, then settled into a dull throb that sat right behind my sternum.

  I opened my eyes, breathing hard.

  The hoodie looked the same, but it felt different under my hand. More real. Like it had moved from being just an object to being... mine. Part of me.

  I focused on it again, examining with intent.

  [Item Analysis: Tactical hoodie (Prototype)]

  Name: [None]

  Item Quality: C (Mass-Produced)

  Integrity: 100%

  Soul-Bound: Yes [Dash Kallum]

  Manufacturer: Dash Kallum

  Comparative Analysis (Tago Region): Within the category of integrated tactical wear, this item ranks in the 35-55th percentile. Construction quality meets professional minimum standards. Soul-binding provides personalized performance enhancement.

  C tier.

  Mass-Produced.

  The same jump as the pants. D to C, low-end to mass-produced.

  I stared at the descriptor, feeling the same rage rising. “These aren’t mass-produced,” I muttered. “They’re custom-fabricated. Soul-bound. Literally one-of-a-kind.”

  The window didn’t change.

  I dismissed it with a mental swipe, too tired to argue with the system’s terrible naming conventions. The ache in my chest pulsed with my heartbeat, steady and insistent.

  Two soul-bindings in less than twenty-four hours. I could feel the strain, feel that I’d pushed something to its limit. The thought of trying to bind anything else right now made my chest tighten with instinctive rejection.

  Not this week, I realized. Maybe not for several weeks, depending on how long it took for whatever I’d strained to heal.

  I picked up the hoodie carefully, feeling the weight. Heavier than normal clothing, but distributed well across the shoulders. I slipped it on over my shirt, and it settled into place with the same uncanny precision as the pants.

  Perfect fit with perfect weight distribution. The soul-binding had done exactly what it promised. Now came the question of actually powering the systems.

  I walked over to the crates, searching for the power components. The shield matrix was there, the Michalski Hexagon Hybrid system in all its complex glory, but it required mana batteries I didn’t have. And honestly, experimenting with shield projectors before heading out to a public arcade felt like asking for trouble. If something went wrong with the shield, I could end up seriously hurt, or worse, hurt someone else.

  The MIRAGE system, though... that was different.

  I found the adaptive camo module, the same one I’d scanned into the Orbital’s database earlier. It was smaller than the shield matrix, designed to work with lower power requirements. And if something went wrong with camo? Worst case, I’d flicker pink at an inconvenient moment or look distorted.

  …embarrassing, sure, but not lethal.

  I grabbed the Aurelius Powerframe Level 2, from the components crate. On Monday, Eddy sold me level 3, along with the…

  No, no point in getting upset about the drain now.

  At least Level 2 could run the MIRAGE system for a few hours. Nothing fancy, nothing that would explode if I configured it wrong.

  The hoodie’s interior had mounting points for both systems, designed so I could swap between shield and camo depending on what I needed. I clicked the MIRAGE module into place on the left side, then connected the power cell to the distributed network and to the pants.

  The conductive threading lit up faintly as power flowed through it, and I felt a slight vibration through the fabric as the micro-cameras activated. The system ran through its diagnostic sequence automatically, each projector pulsing once to confirm it was online.

  I put my band to the chip, and a new notification appeared.

  [Pairing request from: MIRAGE Adaptive Camouflage v3.2.0]

  [Accept pairing?]

  I accepted, and my holoband’s interface flickered as the system automatically installed its control app. The FutureTech Systems logo appeared briefly, then dissolved into the app’s main screen.

  Almost immediately, another window popped up.

  MIRAGE PREMIUM SERVICE

  Unlock the full potential of your Multi-Index Refraction Adaptive Graphene Emulator!

  - Real-time calibration updates

  - Priority technical support (15 minutes response)

  - Cloud-based settings backup

  - Skins functionality (change your clothing to anything you want!)

  - 10 free pulls each month

  Special Rate: Only ￠3,000/month

  [Subscribe Now] / [Continue with Basic Features]

  I stared at the subscription offer, my eye twitching slightly.

  Three thousand credits a month. For software features that should probably just work out of the box on equipment I’d already paid for.

  “Continue with basic features,” I muttered, jabbing the option.

  With the premium offer dismissed, the actual control interface appeared. It was simpler than the paid version probably was, but it had what I needed: power status, activation toggle, and a basic calibration slider.

  [MIRAGE Adaptive Camouflage System: ONLINE]

  [Power: 100%]

  [Status: Standby Mode]

  [Sequence Database: Basic]

  [Skins: Missing MIRAGE PREMIUM SERVICE]

  I grinned despite the ache in my chest. The system was working, all those carefully placed projectors and cameras interfacing perfectly with the MIRAGE module through the basic app.

  After I activated it, I glanced at myself and… it wasn’t invisibility exactly, but it was really hard to spot, like the space was distorted. If someone glanced at me while searching, they would find me, but during the night sneaking somewhere?

  Yeah, cool.

  I turned it off, though. Standing in my basement workshop while invisible seemed pointless, but knowing it was there, knowing I could blend into my surroundings if I needed to, made me feel substantially better about my future visit to the fixer.

  I grabbed the case from where it sat cooling on the ACCIW’s output tray. The chromium-tungsten alloy was smooth under my fingers, the matte finish catching the light without being flashy. I opened it, checking the interior padding one more time, then walked over to the TABLO where Dante’s book waited.

  The book slid into the case perfectly, cradled by the impact foam with just enough clearance to prevent pressure on the binding. I closed the lid, and the micro-pneumatic latches engaged with a soft hiss, creating an airtight seal.

  I tested it, trying to pull the case open without disengaging the latches first. It held firm, the seal unbroken.

  Good enough to survive whatever the day threw at me.

  I slipped the case into the hoodie’s interior pocket, the one I’d designed specifically for this purpose, and it disappeared completely. No visible bulge, no obvious weight shift. Just... gone.

  Completely hidden.

  With my clothes covered, I could move to fabricate weapons. But… I still didn’t know what I wanted. Not even category, I’ve always used plasma weapons, but… That worked against bugs. Laser for shields? Or maybe even go with bullets?

  Choices, choices…

  I checked the time: 12:34 PM.

  Three and a half hours until I needed to be at Neon Vault.

  Time to get moving.

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