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Upgrade Choice 1:

Use 7 credits to send out a wave of force. The force becomes more intense the smaller the area affected is. The user may not gain credits back.

Upgrade Choice 2:

Spending 5 credits allows the User or HAI to freely control an object for 3.2 minutes. The object can reach a maximum at slow speed.

Upgrade Choice 3:

At an increased cost of activation of 1.5 credits, the User may control two objects at once.

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I stare at the upgrade choices like I’m trying to decipher the meaning of life. It feels like that, honestly—one wrong choice and boom, I’m toast. Again. The first one, the wave of force, immediately grabs my attention. I mean, it’s basically what I did back there, right? I channeled all my credits into that last desperate move. Granted, it left me feeling like I’d headbutted a concrete wall, but it worked. Kind of.

But here’s the catch—it’s 7 credits. Seven. That’s more than double what I’ve even got left right now. Sure, it could pack a serious punch if I manage to concentrate the force, but I won’t be getting any of those credits back.

I rub the back of my neck, feeling the tension creep in. Okay, next option: 5 credits to control an object for 3.2 minutes. Not bad, right? Seems like the kind of ability that could turn the tide of a fight—slow speed or not. Three minutes is enough time to get creative, maybe have some fun messing with an enemy’s head.

Then there’s option three: the ability to control two objects at once. At an extra cost. Because of course there’s a catch. Why not make me juggle chainsaws while I’m at it? I’m barely keeping it together trying to command one thing at a time—now I’m supposed to split my focus between two? I’m sure Jessica would love it, but I’m not a multitasking wizard like she is. It feels like a trap.

I exhale slowly, running through my options again. First one’s tempting, but 7 credits? That’s steep. Second one, useful in theory, but slow control seems... meh. Third one is a credit hog for twice the mental gymnastics. I picture myself trying to manage two objects at once—probably ending up controlling nothing while my opponent slices me in half.

“So, wave of force it is, I guess,” I say to myself, feeling both slightly resigned and vaguely annoyed. I’m not thrilled about committing to something that really messed me up last time, but at least I know it works. Kind of.

I press on the first option, the familiar surge of energy flowing through me as the upgrade takes hold. A brief notification flashes across my HUD: Upgrade applied successfully. Oh good. Now let’s see how long it takes for me to regret this.

I call up my stat sheet, winicing at the reduced Body stat.

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STAT SHEET:

Health: Dead.

Progress: 62% to Level 6

Credits: 1.27/30.00

Abilities:

Ghost in the Machine (Upgrades: 1)

Next at level 10.

Attributes:

Body: 4 → 3

Mind: 2

Senses: 2

Absorption: 2

Capacity: 3

Free Stat Points: 4

[Click to see Jessica Carter’s Page.]

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I stare at the stat sheet, and the sinking feeling in my gut gets worse. Body: 4 → 3. It’s like a slap in the face, a reminder that the Net doesn’t take kindly to me pushing its abilities too far. I’d already guessed it didn’t like people gaming the system, but this? A permanent reduction for using an ability upgrade? That’s... more severe than I expected.

I try to shake off the frustration, but it sticks to me like grime. Not only did I burn through a bunch of credits in the last fight, now I’m physically weaker. I knew the Net had its rules, but this feels like punishment.

I open the stat menu, and the free points hover there, waiting for me to assign them. Free Stat Points: 4. I grit my teeth and put two into Body, then one each into Mind and Senses. I’m trying to be balanced, though it doesn’t feel like much.

As the points slide into place, I expect that familiar high, the surge of strength. But there’s nothing. It feels like dropping pebbles into a bottomless well—no sound, no splash, just... nothing. No rush of power, no satisfying boost. Makes sense, I guess. How am I supposed to feel the changes when I’m some kind of floating orb in a void? I’m literally dead right now.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I let out a long breath, watching the stat sheet fade from my vision. It’s frustrating not being able to feel the effects, but it’s not like I have a choice. I’m stuck in this limbo, waiting for the Net to drag me back into the world.

I wait. And wait. Time moves at a crawl when you’re nothing more than a collection of blobs in the void, with nothing to do but think. My thoughts keep looping back to the last fight—the way everything spiraled out of control so fast. Jessica falling. The flying bots tearing through our defenses. Me pushing Ghost in the Machine too far.

Finally, the familiar hum begins, the void around me shimmering as my avatar starts to form. I brace myself, and the world snaps back into place.

The battlefield is quiet now, a far cry from the chaos of before. I stand there, my new body humming with life, looking around at the aftermath. The towering wall we fought against looms in the distance, and scattered debris litters the ground. Most of the animatronics are either wrecked or badly damaged. A few still stand, though, including the one with the metal plating Jessica had been so proud of. The plating is battered now, chunks of it missing or hanging off in twisted strips.

The battlefield feels eerily calm compared to the chaos I left behind. As I materialize back into existence, I spot Jessica and Ethan off to the side, hunched over one of the fallen flying bots. Ethan’s holding a slice of pizza—because of course he is—and talking animatedly, while Jessica clutches at a nasty cut on her arm that is healing rapidly as she applies a lotion from a bottle that she holds. Which I can reasonably guess is some kind of healing salve that Ethan’s given to her.

I take a few steps toward them, my body still buzzing from the respawn, but it feels... off. Lighter, like I’m not all there. It’s like walking around in a body that doesn’t quite fit.

“So, let me guess,” Ethan’s saying, his tone carrying that sharp, blunt edge. “You went for a straight-up upgrade, didn’t you? Should’ve branched out, Jess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I watch her work, the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers move with that almost obsessive precision

He gestures with the pizza slice like it's an extension of his hand, “It means, Jess, every time you boost how many credits you get back, it’s only a tiny bump. You gotta start thinkin’ bigger.” He waves the slice towards the bot. “You make ‘em last longer, they’ll get stronger over time. You’re burnin’ through ‘em too fast, so you never see the benefits.”

Jessica straightens, wiping her bloodied hands on her pants, clearly not impressed. “And how do you expect me to do that, huh? The Type A’s chew through these like cardboard. We barely have time to fix them before tomorrow.”

I wince, catching the tail end of that statement. The whole conversation makes me think about my own choices. A lot of potential, but not much staying power.

“Hey, I’m back,” I call, walking up to them.

Ethan doesn’t miss a beat, eyes flicking over to me. “Good. Thought I was gonna have to finish this pizza by myself.”

I roll my eyes, but Jessica cuts in, frowning at me now. “How many credits did you burn through? And what ability upgrade did you choose?”

“Let’s just say I’ve got 1.27 left. I went for the wave of force option. It’s powerful but... yeah, expensive.”

Jessica sighs, running a hand through her hair. “A wave of force? How much does it cost?”

“Seven credits now,” I reply, “but before I upgraded, it took everything I had just to pull it off once. Burned through 13 credits in one go.”

“Thirteen credits?” Ethan lets out a low whistle, his voice cutting through the still air. “You’re playing with fire.”

I shrug, more out of habit than confidence. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“This time,” Jessica snaps, her voice clipped and sharp. She finally looks up, eyes burning with that relentless intensity I’ve come to know. “You got lucky, Greg. But what about next time? Seven credits for one move? What happens when you run out mid-fight?”

Her words sting, but she’s right. I can’t shake the image of the Type A’s swarming, the flying bots raining destruction. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Jessica’s gaze hardens. “There’s always a choice. You need to start thinking long-term. What if we both are low on credits?”

I glance down, shifting uncomfortably. “I know, I know. But in the heat of the moment, it felt like the best option.”

“Yeah, well, now you’ve got 1.27 credits left and your Body stat’s taken a hit,” Jessica says bluntly, not sugarcoating the facts. “You need to plan ahead. We’re not just dealing with one fight at a time anymore. This is a marathon.”

I exhale, the situation settling in. She’s not wrong, but it’s not like I had a lot of options back there. “So, what now? We just patch up the bots and hope for the best?”

Jessica looks back at the wreckage, then at me. “We’ll fix what we can later in my base. Right now I want to see if I can get any good electronics from these bots.”

I nod, trying to suppress the growing sense of unease. “Alright, I’ll help.”

Ethan claps me on the shoulder. “Good. But don’t forget, after this, you’ve got some time to hit the human sector. Might wanna think about taking one of those combat classes.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Combat classes?”

He grins. “Yeah, y’know—learn how to fight without burnin’ through your credits. Might come in handy when you’re not spamming your wave of force.”

Jessica smirks, glancing over at Ethan. “He’s right, actually. Might be useful for you to focus on more than just your abilities. Sometimes the best way to survive is to not rely on them.”

I groan, knowing they’re probably right but not thrilled about the idea of spending my downtime in some grueling training session. “Alright, fine. I’ll check it out. After we’re done here.”

Ethan gives me a thumbs-up, already turning back to the half-dismantled flying bot. “Good call. You learn a thing or two, and who knows? Maybe next time you won’t need to spend 13 credits just to stay alive fighting off a bunch of Type C’s.”

Jessica dives into the wreckage, her hands working with mechanical precision as she rifles through the components of a fallen bot.

As I haul the wreckage of the Type A and C bots toward Jessica, my mind keeps circling back to Ethan’s jab about combat classes. He is not wrong. The System’s download taught me the basics—how to swing with maximum force and how to absorb impact with my shield. But that’s not enough. I know that now. I’d rely too much on my abilities, throwing credits around like they were infinite.

I need real training, not just some pre-programmed instructions.

But the thought of spending all my free time on combat lessons rubs me the wrong way. There’s so much of this city I haven’t seen yet. I’ve barely scratched the surface of what’s out there—technology, society and so many other things. And Ethan’s constant gatekeeping? Yeah, I know it’s for my own good, so that I won’t get addicted, but it’s starting to wear thin. I’m not a child. I can make my own choices.

I glance over at him, still munching on his pizza, while Jessica’s absorbed in scavenging the bot’s parts. My fists tighten. Maybe I’ll train, but I’m not going to spend my whole time swinging a hammer in some gym. There’s got to be a balance between preparing for battle and finding the edge I need to survive here.

With that thought, I make a silent decision. After we’re done here, I’ll check out the combat classes. But I’m also going to explore. And I’m not going to let anyone hold me back.

Jessica looks up from her work, her voice snapping me out of my thoughts. “Greg, toss me that module. I think I can rewire it into a scanner for tracking the bot signals.”

I nod, pulling the requested part from the debris, but my mind’s already racing ahead. Training, exploring—whatever it takes, I’m going to figure this out. Because the next time I’m in a fight, I won’t be the one scraping by on the edge of defeat.