AN: So no=one complined one way of the other, so ill drop another and see.
Things my Wife said to explain: the wind-up is a lot longer; I mentioned an AU multiverse; if you guys like, I can drop the rules and basics I created for it. I did actually start a Fanfic about this Multiverse creation, but my wife said to rewrite first, as I promised.
Yes, the MC is very computer-like, and so the story will be; as he grows, it will change. If you're looking for outright romance, it's slow; I think he finally shows anything like affection in ch 30, maybe?
There was more, cannot remember, lol.
Because they are short, I added 2 and 3 together
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The first thing David Bater realized about being a god was that it tasted like copper and felt like stone.
His consciousness violently snapped into place, like a displaced bone being forced back into its socket. The silence of his sterile, automated 2123 laboratory was gone, replaced by an oppressive, heavy air that smelled of ozone, crushed limestone, and dried myrrh.
David opened his eyes. The world was pitch black, yet his vision unraveled the darkness with terrifying precision. He wasn't looking through human eyes anymore. The structural layout of the tomb, hieroglyphs etched into massive sandstone blocks, heavy stone sarcophagi, and dust settling on ancient offerings, was clear.
He tried to sit up, expecting the familiar, dull ache in his forty-nine-year-old lower back. It didn't arrive.
Instead, a surge of hyper-dense vitality rolled through his nervous system. David looked down at his hands. They were massive, thick-veined, and shaded a pale, metallic gray-blue, traced with geometric lines that seemed to thrum with a faint, low-frequency hum.
The timeline anchor worked, his analytical mind calculated, instantly compartmentalizing the shock. But the physical filter stripped my vessel. I am in the host. (This is an example of the AI translating a differing word, I used Body in Afrikaans, it chose Vessel, I liked vessel and left it, but if you see random words that do not seem right, let me know please)
He closed his fists. The raw physical pressure he exerted tore the air with a sharp crack. This wasn't just a healthy body; it was an immaculate biological engine.
David closed his eyes, turning his scientific focus inward to run a diagnostic on his own biology. What he found made his breath catch. He didn't just possess muscles and organs; he possessed absolute, conscious mastery over his own cellular matrix down to the individual protons and quarks.
He willed the skin on his right forearm to harden. Instantly, the blue-gray flesh rippled, shifting its molecular alignment into a hyper-dense, obsidian-like sheen. He tapped it with a left knuckle; it rang out like struck iron. He willed it to soften, and the flesh relaxed back into smooth, living tissue.
Absolute self-molecular manipulation, David realized, a cold, calculating satisfaction settling into his chest. I cannot alter the environment around me, but I am the master of my own clay. I can rewrite my own density. I can regenerate from raw atoms. I am my own weapon.
Suddenly, a violent spike of static flared behind his temples.
A passive sensory grid, extending in a perfect one-kilometer sphere from his location, forcibly mapped itself onto his brain. It was a genetic radar. And right at the edge of that one-kilometer
mark, the grid pinged.
Biological signatures. Low-tier, baseline human.
Thirty... forty...
moving rapidly toward the entrance.
Outside the tomb, the muffled sound of scraping stone and harsh, ancient Egyptian dialects echoed down the dark corridor. They weren't worshipers. They carried bronze spears, torches, and heavy iron chains. They were raiders, sent by local tribal leaders or the hidden tech-pharaoh Rama-Tut to eliminate or secure the anomaly in the desert before it could rise.
David slid off the stone dais, his massive frame anchoring perfectly to the floor. He didn't have a laboratory here. He didn't have security perimeters, automated defenses, or a single piece of data on this primitive era. (He knows Marvel, and DC, just not the small things things)
He was a 2123 mind trapped in a bronze-age tomb, completely blind to the world outside, and surrounded by primitives who he assumed were actively coming to cage him.
But as David willed his hands to shift, his fingers elongating and hardening into razor-sharp, hyper-dense biological blades, he realized one crucial thing.
They had no idea what kind of monster they were trying to cage.
CHAPTER 3: First Contact
The splintering of dry cedar wood echoed down the dark, limestone corridor like a gunshot.
David didn't flinch. He stood perfectly still in the center of the tomb, his weight evenly distributed, his mind actively measuring the rhythm of footsteps approaching the chamber. The orange glow of standard pitch torches bled into the room, casting long, dancing shadows across the hieroglyphs on the walls.
Seven men stepped through the ruined threshold.
They wore simple linen schenti wrapped around their waists, their skin baked dark by a desert sun David had yet to see. They carried curved bronze blades and heavy, fire-hardened spears. The man leading them, broader than the rest, bearing a heavy bronze collar that signaled some semblance of local authority, held up his torch, his eyes sweeping the chamber before locking directly onto David.
The entire group froze.
David used the silence to run a cold, clinical observation. Technology baseline: Late Bronze Age. Material composition: Low-grade copper alloys. Malnourished compared to 2123 standards. Height variance: five-foot-five to five-foot-eight. To them, David's six-foot-eight, hyper-dense, metallic-blue frame wasn't just intimidating, it was an impossibility.
The leader gasped, a sharp, guttural dialect spilling from his lips. "En... Sabah... Nur..."
The men instantly dropped to their knees, pressed flat against the stone floor, their bodies trembling in a mixture of profound religious terror and primitive awe. All except one.
A younger raider near the back, his eyes bloodshot with raw, unpredictable panic, let out a terrified shriek. He raised his bronze spear and charged blindly across the chamber, aiming straight for David's exposed chest.
David didn't even bother to raise his hands.
Instead, he turned his scientific focus down to his own heels. Utilizing his absolute molecular command, he willed a fraction of his own dense cellular biomass to liquefy, bleeding invisibly out from the soles of his feet and traveling beneath the layer of desert dust covering the limestone floor.
The charging raider got within three paces before his foot slammed down onto the dust.
Snap.
Instantly, David commanded the detached, microscopic cells under the sand to alter their molecular density, snapping from fluid to a hyper-dense, rigid obsidian-like cuff. The trap clamped violently around the raider's ankle. The sudden, absolute stop sent the young man crashing face-first onto the hard stone, his bronze spear clattering uselessly away. He screamed, thrashing wildly, but the ground itself seemed to have grown a flawless, heavy iron jaw that held him entirely immobile.
The rest of the raiders looked at the floor, horror draining the blood from their faces. The ground hadn't moved. The stones hadn't broken. To their primitive minds, the pharaoh had simply commanded the earth itself to reach up and take a prisoner.
David stepped forward, the obsidian cuff seamlessly re-absorbing into his foot as he walked past the trapped man. He stopped directly in front of the kneeling leader.
He didn't want to waste energy on a massacre. If he was going to build a global infrastructure capable of surviving a cosmic execution, he couldn't do it alone. He needed labor. He needed data. He needed to know exactly where, and when, he was on the master map.
David reached down, placing a massive, cool, blue-gray hand flat against the leader's forehead.
He didn't have a massive global telepathic network yet. But he had a brain that operated on multiple processing tracks and a baseline psychic connection. He forced his consciousness past the man's crude mental barriers, ignoring the screams of terror echoing in the man's mind, and began a brutal, systematic data-download of the local language, geography, and political factions.
The shopping list for the ancient world was officially being written.