Project Seraphina [LitRPG, Magitech, GL]
3.1 Restful Morning

Planet Earth, Year 1 A.I. (June 2023 C.E., 11 weeks after System Integration.)

I wake up early in the morning, just as the first lights of dawn begin to emerge in the sky. Were it any other day, I’d slip out, eager not to waste daylight that I could spend enchanting or studying glyphs or formulating a plan for getting stronger, or, I don’t know… something. But right now, lying down, with Chloe in my arms, both of us nude as the day we were born, just feels right. Feels like we were made for each other.

In a way, perhaps we are.

I feel her heartbeat. I hear the gentle, contented sighs of her breath as she lies beside me. I enjoy the feeling of our skin pressed against one another. Even the smell of the room and the lingering aroma of our previous, passion-filled night tickles me in a way that nothing else can. And the memories… Oh goddesses above, the memories of last night will carry me through a lifetime. And even should my mind be foolish enough to forget, my body will remember eternally.

Were there not some universal-destroying cosmic System looming overhead, I should like nothing more than to make this moment last a lifetime. Even as it is, the temptation of lying down, of enjoying the moment, of perhaps convincing Chloe for another unforgettable night, is almost overwhelming. But I am the [Mechanical Angel], created to protect humanity, this compulsion baked into the very fabric of my consciousness.

As such, I am forced to relent, to step away from the bliss of the immediate, in order to prepare myself for the challenge ahead.

I see it outside of the bedroom window the moment I step onto the floor, eschewing the warmth of Chloe’s body for the cold world outside our freshly-defiled bed. The local Tower Gauntlet stands high above the pittance of a city skyline that exists downtown, a monument to the System’s nigh-omnipotence, looming overhead like a giant middle finger glaring down on all of us who live underneath its oppressive shadow. And yet, contained within might well be the keys we need if we are ever again to live lives free of the System.

Though, I wonder. The people with the Order of the Wilds. They were all about seeking some degree of certainty, some meaning from the System’s arrival. They had wanted assurance that, even with all of the changes to the world, all of the hardship, all of the death and chaos that had followed in the System’s wake, that it’d all have meaning. That they and theirs would survive, even if it meant playing the role of the villain and trying to scare— terrorize, really— people into growing stronger. Strong enough to survive what that so-called Oracle foresaw.

But there’s another class of fanatics, and I suspect they’ll be even worse. The ones who truly do worship the System. And without the foreknowledge I possess that the System is the harbinger of universal annihilation, I can’t exactly blame them. After all, what kid didn’t daydream or pretend to play the role of a great wizard, able to fly around, cast magic, and serve as a little hero or heroine, fighting against evil monsters and other bad guys.

And yet, here I am, able to do exactly that. I can fly, I can outrun a car, I can cast a spell that can level a large house. With my [Mechanical Arm Cannon], I can fire concussive bullets formed of my own magical energy, each powerful enough to match or exceed the destructive might of conventional machine gun fire. And I’m not even close to the potential contained within me.

I slip into some clothes— namely the pajamas I briefly wore last night. Thankfully, they are mostly clean, even if I’m far from it. Chloe and I will each need a long, warm shower and probably a change of bedsheets, but not immediately. First, breakfast. My stomach is rumbling, as it always seems to do more and more frequently since the System arrived.

Once I’m decent and have equipped my [Wings of Icarus], I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, to begin whipping up some sort of breakfast for Chloe and myself. It’s still early enough in the morning that Chloe’s mother is still asleep, and I do my best to remain quiet. Even without a stealth-focused Skill, I have enough stats that I can be plenty quiet as long as I put in at least a token effort.

Ultimately, I decide on some precooked breakfast sausage links and some pancakes, having spotted some pancake mix in the pantry. Thankfully, the refrigerator is stocked up with the eggs and milk I need to properly get everything made. Mrs. Jacobs probably won’t mind. I am dating her daughter, after all.

I do briefly consider just cooking everything under my own power. It would be easy, and a good way to practice my [Basic Glyph Manifestation] Skill some more. But I decide against it. Today is a day of rest, and more importantly, I don’t want to screw up our breakfast. Chloe deserves that much.

Before long, the sausage is sizzling on the frying pan, little specks of grease flying all about. With my [Angelic Insight], I can actually see each individual droplet as they try to escape the pan. And with my System-boosted speed, I’m quick enough that I can actually catch them all in a napkin as they fly, preventing the stovetop from being coated in a greasy sludge I’ll have to wipe up later. A cute way of practicing with my Skills even when doing something as innocuous as preparing a breakfast in bed for my girlfriend.

Eight sausage patties and ten griddle cakes coated in maple syrup later, I make my way back upstairs, floating up the stairwell with… I’d like to say angelic grace, but I’m not sure if I quite meet that threshold. Even with my [Angel’s Grace] spell. Which does not work for me for some goddess-damned reason!

I arrive to a grumbling Chloe, who’s still half-asleep and muttering something about the bed being cold and her feeling lonely. But as soon as she sees the two meals I’ve prepared, her dour mood brightens like a lightswitch being turned on. She flicks the light on and pats the bed beside her, instructing me exactly where I’m to remain as we eat breakfast together. Unfortunately, it does require removing my wings. Still uncomfortable, but for Chloe’s sake, I endure the unpleasant sensation and remove my wings once more, sitting beside her and greeting her with a kiss that lingers just a bit.

“I hope it all turned out well,” I say.

She takes one bite and smiles. “It’s wonderful. As are you, Sera.”

We enjoy our breakfast, not talking about much other than the normal small talk and sweet nothings that any couple would on a lazy morning. Once we’re finished with our meal, however, I broach the important topics that we agreed to put aside yesterday.

“So, Chloe, how are you feeling after your class change?” I ask.

“Hmm…” she pauses, not sure of the words. “I feel great, actually. Like I’m more myself than before. Stronger in body and mind alike. It’s strange, like you just fall asleep for a few hours and then you wake up extra refreshed and ready to take on the day!”

“Yeah. It was the same for me, actually. Do you mind telling me what class you chose?”

Chloe demurs for a moment, and I think I see a hint of blush emerge from her cheeks.

“I chose to become a [Heavenly Saintess],” she eventually says. “I was originally planning to take a [Combat Medic] type of class as we talked about, but when it was me, communing with my soul, looking at the options before me, I– It’s like you said. It was the option that spoke to me. The one that resonated with the core of my being.”

I wrap my arm around her— my mechanical arm, as I’m sitting to her right— and pull her in close. “I’m glad that you found something that spoke to you. I’m guessing you’re going to get more and stronger healing spells and similar?”

“I have greater mastery of Light-element spells for healing, as well as a baseline to learn offensive magic that is particularly strong against demons and undead.”

“Like that Servant of Moloch from the Sky Island Dungeon?”

Chloe nods. “I have to imagine a creature that looks exactly like a demon, acts like a demon, and smells like a demon, is probably considered a demon by the System.”

Still, undead. I think back to that desecrated forest from our flight back home. That looks like the sort of dark, desolate hellscape where I wouldn’t be surprised to see such abominations prowl. A part of me does feel a small urge to fly out there to deal with the unholy masses— the more wrathful side of my angelic being. But it’s an urge easily suppressed to focus on more immediate matters.

“So,” I eventually mutter. “There’s one other thing we should probably talk about. And that’s that letter from the government. The one your mom mentioned just before she left yesterday morning.”

“What did it say?”

“Well, it contained a rather large check. And a job offer for me to do Ethertech research for the government.”

“You’re not going to accept that, are you?” she asks.

“It’s… it’s tempting. They’re throwing a lot of money at me to try to get me to work for them for the next two years. I hate the idea of working for the Department of Defense even more than I hate the idea of working for the military directly. And yet, the salary isn’t anything I can just shake a stick at, either.”

“How much?”

“There were two checks in there. A hundred grand for you. Half a million for me. Part of that is the money Lindsey said we’d be getting for combat pay and for disability for losing my arm in combat. But I think most of that is them trying to butter me up for their job offer.”

“Half a million dollars?” Chloe asks.

I nod.

“That’s–”

“Another $350,000 salary for me for each of the next two years. And three million yearly in research funds. The exact amount and purpose was left a little vague, and I think that’s by intent, to give me flexibility on how best I can spend that money. In short, I guess they want me to be something of a head researcher in Ethertech and glyph design.”

“Do you want to?”

“Want to be paid a colossal sum of money to sit around and build Ethertech for eight or ten hours a day? Absolutely I do. But do I want to do it for the feds? Not a snowball’s chance in hell!”

“Then don’t,” Chloe says. “The two of us together have more than half a million dollars to work with. That’s more than enough to get started. You want to work for someone else, you can.”

“That simple?” I ask.

“Yeah. That simple. Sera, you’re not just a nobody from the rough side of town anymore. You’re a leading expert on a brand new field of research. You don’t have to beg for whatever job will hire you. You want to work for the feds, do it. You don’t, don’t. You can stay as an adventurer, find some startup to work for. Hells, found your own if you want; I’m sure you can find more than a few investors or philanthropists. What I’m saying is that you have options now. Don’t feel like you have to jump on the first one that presents itself.”

I chuckle. I had expected a long conversation, in great detail, laying out all the pros and the cons, the good I could do for society with this research against the risk that the feds will demand I focus on more military applications. Applications which will make the United States military even more lethal. And what they get will inevitably be turned on We The People in due time.

But Chloe’s not wrong. I don’t have to do my research under the auspices of the government now. That’s not to say I’m not immune from the law or the government, by any stretch. Lindsey, or Alexey, or someone else of their strength can easily force me to heel if I do anything too disruptive to civil order. Not that I have any intention of doing so. But it’s not like rank and file agents with conventional weaponry can force me to do anything I don’t want to do.

At the very least, if this letter is an Offer I Can’t Refuse, I’ll force them to demonstrate their ill-intent without any vagaries or doublespeak. For now, though, there are other, more pressing matters. I smell the room. A hot shower is very, very high atop the list.