Kovacs blinked as the virtual world of the training ground dissolved around him, replaced by the dim light of his small, cluttered flat. The hum of the Mecha was gone, replaced by the distant sounds of the city—occasional traffic, a faint buzz from the neon signs outside his window. He was back in the real world, sitting on his bed, drenched in sweat.

His heart was still racing, the aftershocks of the neural link buzzing faintly in the back of his skull. He rubbed his temples, wincing at the lingering headache from pushing the system too far. The excitement of piloting his design in that virtual arena had been exhilarating, but the system's warnings haunted him now, bouncing around his tired mind.

"Trial neural link... contraindicated." The words replayed in his head. Kovacs leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the blinking light on his wristband. It pulsed faintly, almost like it was waiting for him to ask the next question.

He ran a hand through his hair, still trying to understand what he had just experienced. If this link could be dangerous... why was it even available to me?

The thought twisted in his gut. The system had unlocked the neural link for him, specifically mentioning his deficiency, but now it was warning him about the risks. He couldn't shake the feeling that something didn’t quite add up.

Taking a deep breath, he activated the wristband again. "System," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "I need answers."

The soft hum of the interface activated, the same calm voice returning as if it had been patiently waiting for him.

"Awaiting input."

Kovacs' eyes narrowed. "Why was the neural link unlocked for me? If it’s dangerous, why didn’t you mention that before?"

The system paused, a small delay that made Kovacs uneasy.

"The modified neural link was unlocked to compensate for your undiagnosed neural deficiency. Standard neural interfaces are insufficient for your physiological condition, necessitating a work-around. The system selected the most viable alternative based on your requirements and personal data."

Kovacs frowned. "But why didn’t you warn me about the risks upfront? I pushed too far, and it almost felt like I was burning out."

Another pause. The system responded in the same clinical tone, though something about its answer seemed slightly more deliberate this time.

"The trial neural link is designed for short-term use in non-combat environments. It provides superior control, allowing for advanced piloting capabilities despite your neural limitations. However, prolonged exposure, especially in high-stress or combat situations, may result in neural strain or damage due to increased bandwidth demand. The risks are part of an experimental configuration."

"Experimental," Kovacs muttered, his stomach sinking. "So I'm a test subject now?"

"Negative. You were provided with a necessary tool based on your unique condition. However, this neural link is not recommended for long-term combat use in systems such as Iron Wind or similar high-bandwidth environments."

Kovacs sat back, the weight of the words sinking in. Whatever it was, his deficiency had been an obstacle all his life. He had always struggled to connect with machines the way other people could. Now, this system had provided a solution, but it was one that came with risks he hadn’t anticipated. He felt a bitter mix of relief and resentment bubbling up inside him.

"So, what am I supposed to do?" he asked, feeling the tension in his voice. "Keep using it in simulations? What about when I need to pilot something real? What happens when I have to actually fight?"

The system was silent for a longer-than-usual beat. Then it answered, almost cautiously.

"Further modifications to the neural link are possible. However, these would require extensive testing and may still carry risks. Alternatively, you may proceed without the link, utilizing traditional control systems."

Kovacs snorted, the frustration getting the better of him. "Traditional systems? You know that’s not an option for me. I’ve tried that. It’s... useless."

He stared at the wristband, the blinking light feeling more ominous now than ever. The system had given him something powerful, but it felt like a double-edged sword. He could either embrace the modified neural link and push himself to the edge or go back to how things had always been—struggling, disconnected, behind everyone else.

“Is there any way to make it safer?” he asked finally, his voice lower now, almost resigned.

"Safety can be improved with incremental neural conditioning and limiting exposure during high-stress activities. System upgrades are also possible, but these would require access to restricted resources and advanced knowledge of neural feedback systems. Further research is advised."

Kovacs sighed, rubbing his eyes. Restricted resources. Of course. Nothing was ever easy. He needed more time, more knowledge, more everything. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. The headache was still there, throbbing faintly at his temples.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Thanks for the help, I guess," he muttered sarcastically, knowing the system wouldn’t take it personally.

"Acknowledged. System awaiting further input."

Kovacs dropped his arm, letting the wristband’s light dim as he stared up at the ceiling. He knew what he was going to do. He wasn’t going to stop—not now, not when he was so close to finally leveling the playing field. But he also knew that he needed to be smarter about this. He couldn’t afford to burn out before he even had a chance to prove himself.

The *Devil's Mantis*, the system, the link—everything was coming together. He just had to survive it.

His mind was already working on a plan as the pain in his head slowly began to fade. Incremental conditioning. System upgrades. Restricted resources. He’d find a way. He always did.

But for now, all he could do was try to sleep, knowing that he'd push even harder tomorrow.

Kovacs stared at the blinking light on his wristband, his mind swirling with thoughts about the system—this strange, powerful tool that had come into his life and changed everything. He had spent countless hours with it, using its capabilities to push his designs and pilot virtual mechas, but he realized he didn’t know much about *it*.

It wasn’t just a tool—it felt more complex, almost as if it had an agenda of its own.

He took a deep breath, feeling an odd sense of curiosity tugging at him. "System," he said softly, "what can you tell me about yourself?"

The light on the wristband flickered for a moment before the familiar, calm voice responded.

"The system is an advanced neural-interface design and development platform, intended to assist users with mecha and technological design, piloting, and operational control. It incorporates AI-driven algorithms for optimization and enhanced performance. My primary function is to facilitate your growth as a designer, pilot, and technician by providing tools and resources tailored to your skills and deficiencies."

Kovacs furrowed his brow. That was the technical description—cold and mechanical, just like everything else the system had ever said. But there had to be more. He wanted to understand why it was so invested in him, why it seemed almost... personal at times.

"That's the standard answer," he replied, his voice growing firmer. "I want to know more. Where did you come from? How were you designed? And why me?"

There was a longer pause this time, as if the system was considering his questions. The delay made Kovacs sit up straighter, intensifying his curiosity.

"The system's origins are classified and tied to proprietary experimental technologies. You were selected as a candidate due to your unique neural condition, which made traditional interfacing systems inadequate. This system was adapted specifically for your use, allowing you to overcome your limitations. Your performance has been monitored, and the system has been dynamically adjusted to meet your needs."

Kovacs felt a strange chill run down his spine. Monitored. The word made him uneasy, even though he’d already suspected it. The system wasn’t just a tool—it was watching him, learning from him, evolving alongside him.

"Monitored?" he asked carefully. "By whom?"

Another pause.

"System performance and user metrics are observed to ensure optimal functionality. Specific parties involved in the observation are beyond the system's direct control. My function is to serve you, not external entities."

Kovacs' mind raced. He didn't like the idea of being observed by some unknown party, but he was also starting to understand that the system itself might be more neutral than it appeared. It seemed to have no agenda of its own beyond helping him, but it was linked to something bigger—something he hadn’t signed up for.

"Are you saying someone else is tracking my progress?" Kovacs asked, his tone a little sharper now.

"External parties may access system performance reports. However, this does not affect your control over the system or its primary functions. My role is to enhance your capabilities based on your input and experiences. External monitoring does not influence this process."

Kovacs exhaled, feeling a bit of relief, though the thought of being watched still nagged at him. He shook his head, refocusing.

"Okay, forget them for a second. What do *you* want?" he asked. "Do you have any goals, or are you just here to assist me?"

The system's response came without hesitation this time.

"I exist to serve and optimize your potential. My purpose is aligned with your development and success in the fields of mecha design and piloting. I have no independent objectives outside of enhancing your abilities. The system's success is measured by your growth and achievements."

Kovacs frowned, staring at the dim light on the wristband. It was a comforting answer in one sense, but it also left him with more questions. Why had someone developed a system this advanced, with such a specific focus? Why had it been given to him—a relatively unknown student, no prodigy, just someone struggling to make a name for himself?

"Why were you created in the first place?" Kovacs pressed. "What’s the bigger picture?"

The system hesitated for a brief moment, then responded.

"The system was designed as part of a larger initiative to push the boundaries of human-machine integration in mecha piloting and design. You are part of an experimental group selected to test the limits of these new technologies. The ultimate goal is to revolutionize how mecha are designed, piloted, and controlled, allowing for unprecedented efficiency, adaptability, and power. Your neural condition made you an ideal candidate for testing new interfaces."

The pieces started to fall into place for Kovacs. This wasn’t just about him—it was part of something much bigger, a program that aimed to change the entire landscape of mecha technology. He was a cog in that machine, chosen because of his limitations, not despite them.

But there was still a question nagging at him, one he couldn’t ignore.

"And if I refuse to keep using the system?" he asked cautiously. "What happens then?"

The system responded calmly as if the question hadn’t fazed him.

"You retain full autonomy over your participation. If you discontinue using the system, all data associated with your progress will remain secure, and you may return to traditional methods of design and piloting. The system is intended to assist, not control."

Kovacs nodded slowly, absorbing the information. It was reassuring to hear that he could walk away if he wanted to, though deep down, he knew that wasn’t an option he would take. The system had unlocked too much potential in him, given him a taste of what he could accomplish. Walking away would mean going back to being stuck, to his old struggles.

But it was good to know he had a choice.

He looked down at his wristband one last time before lying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Thanks," he muttered. "I think."

"Acknowledged," the system replied. "Awaiting further input."

As Kovacs closed his eyes, a strange mixture of curiosity, unease, and determination swirled inside him. The system had given him power, but it had also tied him to something larger—something unknown.

And for better or worse, he would see where this path led.