They were 4 hours, 45 minutes in.

[Test #47:

Commencing.]

Clare watched anxiously as the modeling engine began to run. They had fixed the flaws in their last test (Joints: enough said), but that was no guarantee this one would be a success. She went to chew her fingernails, but realized she had none.

Their draft came together in lines of blue and white, defining itself against the negative backdrop of the skill. All its essential organs came online—everything functioning perfectly. There was a slight malfunction in one of the brain cores scattered throughout its body, which she noted on a system-provided interface. Kepler kept his own notes beside her.

The model rose to its strange, uncanny-valley feet. It was designed, as required, to be humanoid, so all the right limbs were in place; two arms, two legs, a large head, and even the ability to stand upright. They’d put a lot of effort into her hands, too, with an invisible layer of sensitive hairs escaping from the woven chitin and complex musculation and—damn it, the joints weren’t quite right, the model couldn’t flex her hands properly. Clare noted it, slumping her aura in a dungeon-sigh.

Still, their design was beautiful, in an unsettling way. Her chitin skin—several layers of different chitins, actually, interwoven with nerves and muscle and respiratory tissue—gleamed hypnotically under the skill’s omni-present light, a slightly translucent rust-red with hints of silver. Her movements were inhumanely smooth; like a grasshopper stalking its prey. In fact, everything about her screamed ‘predator,’ from her clawed/webbed feet to the long, delicate antennae sprouting from her faux scalp.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

[Moving to underwater simulation.]

Slight visual distortions marked the skills new environment, and their design floated off the abstract ground. In-water movements were functional, but Clare made a few notes about how to improve them.

The claws were just a hair too long for unhindered swimming. They glittered with a razor-sharp edge from the ends of her webbed toes and fingers. Gorgeously frightening.

In the end, though, her head was the most frightening part. Trailing antennae—covered in tiny sensory hairs—were thin enough to imitate coarse, movable hair, and where the eyes ought to be, a thick band of white olfactory sensors wrapped around her face like a visor. Her face had no chitin; they’d left it sans armor to allow for more of the almost-invisible hairs that heightened her sense of touch. It was, perhaps, a mistake, as it made for micro-expressions close enough to human that they threw the whole design deep into the uncanny valley. Her mouth, at least, was unremarkable looking. They’d just made a bigger version of the Diplurans’ pouched pinchers, making it seem nothing more than a thin line and an odd pattern in the half-hidden musculature. Those pinchers were sharp, though, and the muscles behind them persistent.

The head was frightening, really, because it wasn’t trying to be. A head, a face, so close to human that it sent chills down your aura just looking at it. Haunting because you couldn’t name the danger, only the similarities.

Clare loved her, this design that spooked you just by existing. The eerie beauty of her skin and movements, her unsettling way of holding completely still for long moments, every awe-inspiring chill awakened by her…

[Clare.] Kepler nosed her excitedly.

Hmm? Clare made another note about the neural system, deep in thought.

He whined impatiently, his tail wagging. [Clare, the test is finished.]

What do you mean—She glanced up into the empty skill space, finding nothing but schematics, But the design hasn’t failed yet—

Clare paused, aura dimpling. Wait, does that mean--?

[She passed, Clare! Our design is functional!]