I put on the armor and froze, listening to my sensations.
It was a strange feeling. Usually, clothing is just a layer of fabric that you stop noticing after a minute. But this homemade cuirass tightly hugged my torso, and with every movement, the leather let out a creak.
I took a deep breath. My chest expanded, and the bone plates slid against one another, redistributing the pressure. The system worked, but something was wrong. The armor restricted movement rather than protected. One wrong move—and the edge of a plate would dig into my ribs," I said.
Zeno sat near the entrance, sharpening a small knife.
"Well?" he asked at last, setting aside the whetstone. "Tight in the shoulders?"
"Within acceptable limits," I replied, rolling my wrists. "The balance is slightly shifted to the right due to the weight of the spaulder, but I compensate for it with my posture. Calculations showed that the momentum from an impact would distribute better this way."
"Calculations," Zeno snorted dryly. "Are you sure your 'Will' won't burn you out before this hide saves you from claws?"
"Let's go," Zeno said, rising with the help of his staff. "The forest is a bit livelier than usual today. Perfect time to see what your 'armor' is worth."
We moved deeper into the thicket. The further we went from the cabin, the denser the air became. I physically felt the mana pressing against my eardrums. The birds fell silent. It seemed even the insects had abandoned this sector. It smelled of ozone and rotting leaves.
"Here," Zeno stopped in a small clearing scored with strange furrows.
"Will to Live" responded with a short, sharp impulse. The system warned: a threat exceeding standard parameters ahead.
It stepped out from behind the trees.
If I were an artist, I would have called it a wolf. But I was an engineer, and all I saw was a glitch in the matrix. The creature flickered constantly. Its contours blurred, its paws left smoky trails, and its snout looked as if it had been stitched together from several different beasts. It let out a sound like metal scraping against glass.
"Movement vectors are unstable," I whispered, activating the skill.
The world lost its color. Time thickened. I saw the creature tense its hind legs for a leap. It moved via micro-teleportations, covering the distance in jagged bursts.
I thrust my left forearm forward, protected by the thickest plate.
The impact was so powerful that the vessels in my ears popped. I was thrown back against an old pine tree. The armor held, but the momentum didn't go anywhere. Something shifted inside. The air escaped my lungs with a wheeze, and heavy red spots floated before my eyes.
Another leap.
I rolled to the side, my left shoulder flaring with a dull pain. The armor on my side creaked—one of the sinews binding the plates had snapped. Mobility was compromised. Now every movement of my left arm was accompanied by the harsh grinding of bone against bone.
"Critical load on the left sector. Armor integrity—82%," my mind coldly reported.
I needed to catch it at the moment of stabilization. Every anomaly has a cycle—an instant when it fully "renders" in our world before the next burst. I pressed my back against the tree and began building up pressure in my palms. It was painful. Mana flowed through the channels like boiling oil.
The shadow wolf froze three meters away, preparing to leap. Its empty sockets locked onto mine.
"Come on then..." I rasped.
At the exact instant it leaped, I released the accumulated mana in a focused vibration. The air between us cracked.
The creature slammed into an invisible barrier and gained density for a fraction of a second. That was enough. It collapsed to the ground and crumbled into black flakes that melted away before even touching the grass.
I remained standing, digging my fingers into the bark.
"Deactivation..." I squeezed out. "System reboot..."
The skill wouldn't obey. The body was locked in survival mode. Stress hormones flooded my brain. My muscles were taut, ready to snap at any second. I felt my temperature rising.
"Iron!" Zeno's voice broke through the ringing in my ears. "Vent the pressure!"
He struck his staff against the ground near me. The vibration passed through my boots, breaking the rhythm of the panic. I forced myself to take a slow breath in. Then out.
And in the very next second, Zeno slapped me across the face.
"Enough," he said sharply. "Come back."
The world gradually began to regain its color. My field of vision expanded. "Will to Live" receded, leaving behind a savage fatigue.
I slid down the trunk to the ground. My left arm hung like a dead weight. The troll hide on my side was torn, exposing a cracked wolf plate.
"The armor..." I looked at the broken bone. "It didn't hold up. The attachment joints are too rigid."
"It's not about the armor," Zeno squatted beside me and pressed his palm to my forehead. "You're burning up. Being in a state of constant war with yourself is a very heavy burden. If you don't find a balance, one fine day you just won't be able to 'turn off.' And then you'll become an anomaly yourself—just like that wolf."
We slowly trudged back to the cabin. The path that had taken half an hour in the morning now felt endless. I felt every single ounce of the armor's weight. Right now, it felt unbearable—a pile of junk that I had voluntarily strapped onto myself.
Once inside the house, I stripped it off. It fell to the floor with a dull thud. I looked at it—damaged, dirty, smelling of ozone and sweat. The skin beneath it was rubbed raw to the blood in places, and a massive bruise was already blooming on my shoulder.
Zeno silently set down a mug of bitter brew. "Drink. It will stop the tremors."
I drank it, feeling the warmth slowly bring me back to reality.
"It needs to be remade," I said, looking at the cuirass lying on the table.
"You're hopeless," Zeno sighed, sitting opposite me.
I picked up the knife and pulled the damaged breastplate toward me. Despite the exhaustion, new designs were already assembling in my head. Replace the rigid sinews with braided structures. Add a layer of soft moss or wool between the plates to dampen the vibration. And most importantly—make sure the armor "breathes" along with me when I activate the skill.
"You hate your own weakness," Zeno said quietly, watching my work. "That's dangerous." He paused, then added, "If you don't learn to control yourself... one day you just won't be able to stop."
I grunted without looking up. "You're repeating yourself, old man."
Zeno snorted. "And that's exactly why I won't leave you alone, rookie."
I raised my head and looked at him. "Thanks, of course, but I'll pass. I still haven't forgotten that slap."
"Oh, come off it," he waved it away. "You're alive, aren't you?"
"That's not an argument."
"For me, it's more than enough," Zeno smirked. "You won't last long out here on your own."
I shook my head but didn't argue. "We'll see."
"We'll see," he mimicked, smirking.
And so Zeno and I chatted until late into the night, until we finally passed out from exhaustion.
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