Kovacs awoke to the faint, rhythmic beeping of his wristband connected to his Design System. Blinking groggily, he rubbed his eyes and squinted at the soft glow coming from the band's display. The pulsing light illuminated the dark room with an eerie blue hue, pulling him out of sleep.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion. He’d barely had enough rest after staying up late, running calculations on the mecha designs he was working on.

He fumbled with the band, his fingers clumsy with sleep, and tapped the blinking light. The interface lit up fully, the screen displaying strange symbols and data that he couldn’t make out in his foggy state. Then, a voice came through—calm, detached, and strangely mechanical.

“System has identified neural deficiency and determined a workaround. The mecha system is now fully functional. You may now interact with a modified neural link. Do you wish to enter the system?”

Kovacs froze, the words sinking in like a sudden jolt to his brain. A workaround? His heart pounded as the implications of the system's message hit him. Ever since the accident, he’d struggled with neural links—an invisible flaw that had haunted him, an unspoken curse that kept him from fully utilizing the most advanced mecha systems. No one knew what the problem was, not even the doctors. And yet, here it was—the system had found a solution.

He sat up, the grogginess now gone, replaced by a rush of adrenaline. His eyes locked onto the band, the blinking light pulsing in sync with his racing heart.

"Fully functional..." he whispered. His mind raced, thinking back to all the times he'd felt limited, the frustration of being on the edge of something great but never quite reaching it. If this was real—if this was happening—he might finally be able to push beyond those limits.

He swallowed, feeling a mix of anxiety and hope bubbling up. A part of him wanted to say no, to ignore it, fearing the unknown consequences. What if it was a mistake? What if it made things worse? But the rest of him—the part that had dreamed of becoming the best mecha designer and had fought through every challenge—knew he couldn’t ignore this chance.

He took a deep breath, his hand hovering over the band.

“Do you wish to enter the system?” the voice repeated, almost urging him now as if sensing his hesitation.

Kovacs nodded to himself, his fingers shaking slightly as they hovered over the confirmation. I’ve come this far, he thought. There’s no turning back now.

He pressed the button.

The band pulsed with a bright light, and suddenly, the room around him seemed to dissolve into darkness. His vision blurred, and for a split second, he felt weightless, like he was falling into an abyss. Then, just as quickly, the world snapped back into focus—but this was no longer his room.

Kovacs found himself standing in a virtual space—vast and shimmering with lines of data, grids forming and disappearing as if they were alive. In front of him, a sleek interface appeared, displaying schematics, neural pathways, and a layout of the Chimera system. It was overwhelming, but at the same time, it felt familiar.

The voice echoed in his mind again, more integrated now, like it was part of the environment around him. “Modified neural link calibration initiated. Synchronization with pilot... 60%... 75%... 100% complete.”

Kovacs felt a slight pressure behind his eyes like a soft hum vibrating through his skull. And then, suddenly, it was gone. The strain, disconnection, and fuzziness he’d always felt with neural links had vanished. In its place was clarity. He could feel the system now, every connection, every relay. It wasn’t just some cold interface. It was alive, in tune with him.

His heart raced as he opened the system's interface with a thought. The design for the Chimera unfolded in front of him, larger than life, suspended in the air. With a simple command from his mind, he could zoom in on every component, wire, and bolt. His hands instinctively moved through the virtual space, manipulating the data with fluid, precise motions.

The realization hit him—this was how everyone else experienced the neural link. This was what he’d been missing.

"Holy crap..." he whispered.

Suddenly, new options appeared in his view—additional modules, new weapon loadouts, advanced tracking systems, all things he could now explore without the restrictions that once held him back. He had access to everything, and it felt right for the first time.

But before he could dive deeper, the system's voice broke through his thoughts again, this time with a hint of urgency.

“Warning: Modified neural link is experimental. Continued use may result in unforeseen complications. Proceed with caution.”

Kovacs froze. Complications? The excitement dimmed slightly as the weight of those words sunk in. But before he could process the warning fully, the virtual space around him began to shift again. It twisted, warping like a ripple through water.

His heart pounded as the world re-formed, and he stood in front of a towering mecha—his Devil’s Mantis, the design he had painstakingly worked on, now standing in perfect detail.

The system’s voice echoed in his mind once more, this time calm but firm.

“Do you wish to test the modified neural link in combat mode?”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Kovacs stared up at the Devil’s Mantis, its gleaming form ready, as if challenging him. His fingers curled into fists, the hesitation still gnawing at him, but the fire in his chest growing stronger.

This was it—the moment he’d been waiting for. The moment he could finally break free from everything holding him back.

Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Yes."

***

Kovacs blinked as the virtual world around him shifted, the towering image of his Devil's Mantis flickering before the scene transitioned smoothly into a training ground environment. The landscape was vast and rugged, with rolling hills, jagged cliffs, and pockets of simulated forest dotting the terrain. It reminded him of one of the training ranges he’d seen in old military vids, only this was sharper, clearer—an almost perfect replica of reality.

The air crackled with a faint electric hum as the Devil's Mantis came to life, and for the first time, Kovacs wasn’t just watching it move—he was *inside* it, controlling it from within. The neural link connected him to every joint, every servo, every system of the mecha. His thoughts were commands, and the Devil's Mantis responded instantly. He could feel the subtle shifts of its massive weight, the resistance in its limbs, the power humming beneath the armor plates. It felt natural, effortless.

“Neural link synchronization: 100%,” the system chimed in his mind.

Kovacs flexed his fingers instinctively, and the *Devils Mantis* mirrored his movements, raising one of its massive arms. He took a deep breath, adrenaline pumping as he took his first step forward. The ground rumbled beneath the mecha’s weight, sending small vibrations through him.

This... this is incredible. He thought.

“Begin calibration sequence,” the system prompted. A series of waypoints appeared in his HUD, lining up across the training ground—a range of targets from simple stationary dummies to moving drones, all designed to test his accuracy and speed.

“Let’s see what this baby can do,” Kovacs muttered, his voice barely audible beneath the surge of excitement.

He flicked his thoughts toward the weapons system, and the Devil's Mantis responded instantly, arming its four *Samhain lasers* and two quad-pack missile launchers. The targeting reticle appeared on his screen, snapping into place as he aimed at the first stationary target.

"Samhain laser primed. Commencing fire test."

With a thought, the lasers fired, the beams cutting through the air with a sharp hiss. Each shot hit its mark precisely, leaving glowing scorch marks on the targets. Kovacs felt the familiar hum of the weapons systems, but there was something different this time. He could feel the *nuance* in the power draw, the subtle adjustments the system made to the laser focus, as though the neural link was feeding him the information he had never been able to access before.

“Target hit. Calibration optimal,” the system reported.

He moved to the next set of targets—this time, moving drones zigzagging through the air. His HUD tracked their patterns effortlessly, and with a quick mental nudge, he launched the quad-pack missile system. The missiles fired rapidly, arcing through the air toward their targets. One, two, three… every drone exploded in a satisfying burst of light.

The sense of control was intoxicating. Every movement, every shot—it was as if the Devil's Mantis was an extension of himself, no longer a machine but a second skin.

But then, the system’s voice cut through his euphoria with a sudden note of caution.

"Warning: Trial neural link detected. Bandwidth for the current setup is significantly higher than standard. Usage may be contraindicated for Iron Wind and other advanced combat systems due to the increase in bandwidth demand."

Kovacs' stomach twisted at the warning. He didn’t know much about *Iron Wind*—a high-level combat system designed for elite pilots, rumored to push mechas to their absolute limits. But he understood enough. The increased bandwidth demand meant that this neural link drew more from his system than any normal link would. More than a normal human brain was designed to handle.

He hesitated, his grip on the Devil's Mantis controls loosening momentarily. Contraindicated? He didn't like the sound of that. Was it dangerous? The system’s voice was cold, detached—no sense of urgency, just a matter-of-fact statement.

He clenched his jaw. No. Not now. I can handle this.

“Proceed,” Kovacs muttered under his breath, pushing the warning aside.

The next set of targets appeared, but they weren’t drones this time. A squad of simulated enemy mechas materialized on the far side of the training ground, their dark, hulking forms unmistakably modeled after combat units he’d seen in classified schematics.

Kovacs’ heart raced. This was no simple test—this was real combat simulation.

The system buzzed in his mind, urging him forward. “Engage hostile mechas. Combat systems online.”

He didn’t hesitate. With a flick of his thoughts, the Devil's Mantis surged into action. The ground shook beneath him as he sprinted toward the first enemy unit, closing the distance faster than any mecha he'd ever piloted. His HUD flared with data—enemy movement vectors, possible weak points, and environmental hazards. The neural link processed it all in real time, feeding him information faster than his mind could normally process.

The first enemy mecha raised its weapon, but Kovacs was already reacting. He sent a volley of missiles straight toward it, the quad-pack launchers releasing with a satisfying thunk. They struck the target dead-on, sending the enemy mecha crashing in a fiery explosion.

Before the smoke even cleared, he turned his attention to the next target. The lasers fired with pinpoint precision, shredding through the armor of a second mecha. The enemy’s return fire was sluggish—he could see every move they were about to make before they even made it.

Kovacs grinned, adrenaline surging through him. This is it. This is how it’s supposed to feel.

But as he moved in for the final strike, a sudden, sharp pain stabbed through his head. His vision blurred, the HUD flickering as if someone had cut a wire.

"Warning: Neural bandwidth exceeding safe levels."

The system’s voice echoed in his mind, but now there was a faint tremor to it, as though the system itself was straining.

Kovacs grunted, pressing a hand to his head. The pain flared again, more intense this time, like his brain was being stretched too thin. He felt the Devil's Mantis stutter beneath him, the seamless connection suddenly faltering.

He clenched his teeth, forcing his mind to focus, willing the mecha to move. He couldn’t stop now—he *wouldn’t* stop now.

“Come on… come on,” he muttered, his voice strained.

The final enemy mecha loomed before him, and with one last surge of effort, Kovacs sent a barrage of lasers and missiles straight into its core. The enemy exploded, fragments scattering across the field, and the simulation finally blinked out.

Silence.

Kovacs slumped back in the cockpit, gasping for breath, his head pounding like a drum. The pain was receding, but the warning from the system still echoed in his mind.

"Trial neural link contraindicated for extended combat. Continued use may result in permanent neural damage."

He stared at the words on his HUD, his hands shaking slightly as the adrenaline ebbed away.

The Devil's Mantis powered down, leaving Kovacs in the darkened cockpit. The thrill of victory was already fading, replaced by a nagging sense of dread.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?