104: Chapter 105 New Life

Four hours after the Modification Pod closed, Li Cang knew something was wrong.

It wasn't the panel that told him. It was the sound.

The operating sound of the Modification Pod had changed. Amidst the originally steady, low hum, something else had been added—an irregular, intermittent vibration, the sound of metal grinding against metal.

Li Cang looked at the monitoring panel.

Collapse Rate: 27%.

His pupils constricted.

Four hours ago, this number was 8%.

He dragged back the timeline of the Collapse Rate curve. For the first three hours, the curve was almost flat—8%, 9%, 10%—climbing slowly within the normal range of fluctuation.

Then, at the three-hour and forty-minute mark, the curve suddenly took a turn and began to climb steeply.

12%. 17%. 22%. 27%.

It had risen 17 percentage points in forty minutes.

The progress bar showed 62%. The upgrade was just over halfway complete.

Li Cang opened the internal imagery of the Modification Pod.

The image was not very clear. The refraction of the nutrient solution gave everything a pale green blur. But he could see C-19's body changing.

It was not a steady change.

C-19's muscles were twitching. It wasn't the contraction of entire muscle blocks, but a disorder at the level of muscle fibers, jumping irregularly and rhythmically beneath the skin.

The injection needles on both sides of the spine were vibrating slightly, and the gene-editing vectors in the connecting lines were being squeezed by the twitching muscles, flowing at erratic speeds.

Collapse Rate: 31%.

Li Cang's hand moved toward the control panel.

There was no abort button on the panel.

【This operation is irreversible】

He had seen this line of text four hours ago when he pressed the confirmation button.

Collapse Rate: 34%.

The vibration of the Modification Pod grew louder. The frequency of C-19's muscle twitches happened to overlap with the operating frequency of a certain equipment component, causing the entire Modification Pod to shake along with him.

36%.

37%.

Li Cang gripped the armrest tightly.

The death threshold marked by the system was 50%.

There were still 13 percentage points to go.

C-19 did not know what was happening outside.

He only knew he was being torn apart.

Genetic chains were snapping, and every break sent a dull, heavy tearing sensation from deep within his bone marrow. It wasn't pain at the level of flesh and skin; it was deeper than that. It was something happening inside the cells, the most fundamental components that made him who he was being dismantled.

Dismantled and then rebuilt.

The problem was that the speed of dismantling was getting faster and faster, while the speed of building couldn't keep up.

He could feel himself falling apart.

His consciousness began to blur. Signals were being lost, and everything in his field of vision was turning into raspy white noise.

Within the white noise, he heard some things.

Footsteps. The footsteps of many people. power armor boots stepping on gravel.

Gunfire. Short bursts from a Bolter. Two shots, a pause, two shots.

The firing rhythm of TW-188.

Then there was another sound. The dull impact of metal footpads slamming onto the asphalt road. One. Two. Three.

A walking vehicle.

His body remembered that sound. It remembered the vibration transmitted through the handle when the Chainsword sliced into the hydraulic lines, the scalding heat of high-pressure oil spraying onto his left arm, and the soreness in his arm the moment he pulled the sword out while standing on the wreckage of the walking vehicle.

He remembered something else too.

Doom had built three in total.

He had only killed one.

There were two left.

Next time, they might both come together.

A T2 body couldn't withstand two of them.

The white noise grew louder. His consciousness drifted further away.

But his heartbeat did not falter.

It was slowing down. A deep, powerful slowness. Every pulse pushed blood further, and every pulse sent the gene-editing vectors to deeper places.

The genetic chains were still snapping.

But the speed of reconstruction had changed.

New genetic chains grew out from the breaks. It wasn't a repair; it was a replacement. The old chains broke into fragments, and new chains grew from those fragments—thicker, denser, and more stable.

The collapse continued. But for every place that collapsed, two places were reborn.

The white noise began to recede.

His consciousness began to pull back together.

Collapse Rate: 37%.

Li Cang stared at that number.

It didn't move.

He waited ten seconds.

37%.

Twenty seconds.

36%.

He didn't let go. He didn't dare let go.

35%.

33%.

29%.

The curve had turned. A decisive, irreversible descent.

24%.

18%.

12%.

Progress Bar: 71%.

The vibration of the Modification Pod vanished. The operating sound returned to a steady hum.

Li Cang leaned back against the chair.

The back of his shirt was completely soaked.

The sixth hour.

Progress Bar: 100%.

【T3 Base Upgrade — Complete】

The airtight lock of the Modification Pod popped open. The pod cover rose slowly. The nutrient solution drained, revealing the person inside.

TW-078 stood at the door of the transformation room.

Per Li Cang's orders, he was responsible for the subsequent status assessment after the upgrade was complete.

Three days ago, he had led thirty men into Manila Fortress; twenty-one came out. Now he stood here, waiting for C-19 to wake up in the Modification Pod.

When the pod cover was fully open, TW-078 glanced inside.

Then he froze.

He knew the man lying in the Modification Pod. C-19. His Commander. He had watched this man at Manila Fortress charge alone toward a walking vehicle, run a hundred meters in seven seconds, and jam a Chainsword into the heat sinks.

But the man lying in the pod now was different.

C-19's muscle definition had changed. Previously, he had the heavy muscles standard of the Thunder Warriors, with large, full blocks covering his skeleton.

Now those muscles had tightened; every block was denser, firmer, and the contours were sharper. It wasn't that he was bigger, but that he was more refined.

His skin had changed. The skin that was once covered in old scars was now much cleaner; those shallow, recent scars had been covered by reborn skin. The burn on his left arm from the hydraulic oil was completely gone.

C-19 opened his eyes.

TW-078 locked eyes with him for an instant.

TW-078 took half a step back.

It wasn't a conscious movement. His body had retreated on its own.

C-19 sat up.

This movement made the hair on the back of TW-078's neck stand up.

It was too fast. There was no transition between lying flat and sitting up, no movement of hands bracing against the pod wall, no pause for abdominal muscle contraction. For a Thunder Warrior to go from lying flat to sitting up, it would take at least half a second of exertion.

C-19 took zero.

He looked down at his own hand.

He clenched his fist once. Then released it.

Then he looked at something in the corner of the transformation room.

power armor. It had been taken off and placed there before the upgrade; the left arm section had already been dismantled, and the remaining parts were stained with the dust and salt of Manila Fortress. Beside it leaned the Chainsword.

C-19 stood up from the Modification Pod. The nutrient solution slid off his body and pooled on the floor in a small, pale green puddle.

He walked toward the power armor.

His bare feet stepped on the conductive alloy plates, every step steady. TW-078 noticed that his stride was slightly larger than before, but the frequency was lower. The same speed, fewer steps.

He picked up the Chainsword.

One-handed.

TW-078 had seen C-19 use a Chainsword at Manila Fortress. Back then, C-19 had gripped the sword with both hands to hack at the joint shields of the walking vehicle; his arm muscles were taut as the chain teeth bit into the metal, every strike requiring full force.

Now, C-19 lifted the Chainsword with one hand, his wrist showing no unnecessary wobble. The 1.2-meter-long Chainsword seemed weightless in his hand.

He gave it a spin. The blade drew an arc through the air, making a slight whistling sound as it cut through.

He stopped and looked at the blade.

"It's lighter," C-19 said.

TW-078 knew the Chainsword hadn't become lighter.

C-19 put the Chainsword back in its place and turned around.

"How long?"

"Six hours," TW-078 said.

C-19 nodded.

He walked toward the door of the transformation room. As he passed by TW-078, TW-078 caught a scent. It wasn't the chemical smell of the nutrient solution; it was something more fundamental, the kind of scent emitted by newly cast metal after it cools.

C-19 walked out of the transformation room.

TW-078 stood in place, watching his back disappear down the corridor.

He stood for a few seconds.

Then he looked down at his own hand. Grade A. 79 points. T2 Base.

He clenched his fist.

It was the same movement C-19 had made just now.

His own fist was tight.

C-19's fist had been relaxed.

On Li Cang's screen, the final settlement panel glowed quietly.

【T3 Base Upgrade — Success】

【C-19】

【Rank: SS → SSS】

【Score: 121 → 156】

【Base: T3 · Beyonder】

【Collapse Rate: 0%, Permanently Locked】

【Base Trait · Beyonder: Strength, speed, reaction, and perception completely break through T2 limits; regeneration ability significantly enhanced; genetic chain permanently stabilized】

Li Cang finished reading these numbers.

He didn't smile. Nor did he breathe a sigh of relief.

He closed the settlement panel and opened the tactical map.

Pan-Pacific region. Grey unexplored areas. Kara Enzo's two secret factories. Two walking vehicles.

Beside the annotation for Manila Fortress, he wrote a second line of text.

"Next."