The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the A.I. promps running background diagnostics. Leylin sat cross-legged on the floor, his young frame unnaturally still like a statue.
Eyes closed, breathing steady. But inside, a storm of data rippled across neural pathways.
Leylin circulated the enhanced knight breathing technique.
Each inhalation no longer merely filled his lungs, it coaxed, guided, and stimulated his whole body into a more perfect form.
His tissues strained but they did not tear.
His muscles contracted but they did not fatigue.
His body, now partly composed of an intricate web of programmable matter, mimicked the organic, then improved upon it.
[Cycle: 99/100 sessions per day]
Leylin calculated inwardly.
"9 days until Knight-level stats."
He muttered with disdain.
If the original breathing technique was followed, he wouldn't even be a preparatory knight even if he was given another five years.
Yet here he is, close to becoming a knight even before he reached eight years old.
Leylin's eyes opened slowly revealing a cold, yet burning gaze with strange, detached hunger.
[Nanite Control Core: Systems Optimization Sequence - Initiated.]
[Reinforcing Modules: Skeletal Reinforcement… Enhanced Neural Interface… Self-Repair Subroutines…]
[Installing Modules: Muscle Fiber Enhancement... Metabolic Efficiency... Kinetic Energy Converter...]
Given the option, Leylin opted not to fully transform himself entirely into a machine phase matter organism.
Not out of fear of the pain but more on the potential for magic.
There's a non zero chance that his magic potential would be affected by the transformation so he decided to delay it for the future or until he's sure it wouldn't affect him.
Instead he chose enhancements that not just expedited his growth, but also gave him practical advantages over the locals of this world.
Slowly, he felt a bone-deep force, as if invisible hands were carving new density into his skeleton.
His whole frame vibrated faintly, a low hum thrumming through his marrow.
Pain flickered at the edge of awareness, but it was dull, distant and filtered, processed by his internal systems.
He gritted his teeth but made no sound.
The pain simply reminded him that he is alive.
[Skeletal Reinforcement: 10%...
23%...
56%...
91%...
Complete.]
After an unknown amount of time, his head pulsed with release and the world in his view suddenly became clearer, sharper.
Details he never noticed before like the faint crack on the stone floor, the drifting dust motes floating across the moonbeam now came into crystalline focus.
[Reinforcement of the ENI complete...]
Now that the Neural Interface has been enhanced, the world seemed to move in slow motion, the nanite processors predicting trajectories of floating particles, subtle air movements mapping across his brain like a soft blueprint.
[Enhanced Neural Interface: Active.]
[Processing Efficiency: +12%. Reaction Time: -8ms.]
Finally, a soothing coolness spread through his veins while the Self-Repair Subroutines embedding into his bloodstream heated up giving his skin a pinkish hue.
His body now understood damage differently.
Not as something to heal over a few days but as a system failure to correct instantly.
[Self-Repair Subroutines: Complete.]
Then came the Muscle Fiber Installment and it was different.
Leylin felt like each muscle fiber tightened, twisted, and wove itself stronger, layer after microscopic layer.
The only comparison he can think of is that of being beaten senseless by a group of raiders when he was a teen in the post apocalyptic world he left behind.
Leylin's fingers twitched involuntarily. He felt weak but muscles in his back rippled beneath the skin, unseen.
[Muscle Fiber Module Installation: Complete.]
Leylin flexed his hand experimentally.
Strength, faint but growing, rippled through the motion.
[Primary Installations Complete. Leylin Farlier Unit: Optimization Phase Two – Achieved.]
He inhaled, the Knight Breathing Technique flowing smoothly through reinforced lungs, and exhaled pure, focused potential.
He was ready.
The knight's path would fall before him not after years of grinding toil, but as a natural inevitability.
[Cycle 100/100. Initiating...]
And the rhythm began anew.
Ten days later.
The room was warm and cozy, stone walls, low fire from a nearby hearth.
Leylin sat before his father, hands stirring a cup of warm tea, his adult frame sat straight and still 'like a little man' as his mother put it.
His breathing was steady, unnatural for a boy his age but people just got used to it.
Everything about him looks very normal and yet unnatural.
'He's barely eight, but a sixteen or even eighteen year old might not be his size anymore.'
John Farlier watched him with some founded worries that his son may be in some kind of unknown ailment but felt reassured when he thought about how the physicians found nothing out of the ordinary after a check-up.
'Nothing out of the ordinary?'
He almost yelled in disbelief but taking a step back, and realizing that it is actually a good thing, he sighed helplessly.
How can his son be so...
'How should I put it? Uhmm, matured?'
John's scarred hand rested over his knees as the other swirled a glass of wine that he poured himself for his pondering session.
'Was there ever such a case within the family?'
He scrutinized his son as he pondered but didn't speak his mind, as it wandered into areas unknown.
Something had shifted in his son these past few months after their lesson on the family's knight breathing technique.
He could feel it, like a change in the air before a storm.
'Maybe I messed up right there. Teaching him that stuff at just five. Training him like a madman...'
Leylin broke the silence after taking a sip from his cup placing it back on its saucer and gently putting it on the table.
"Father I've to seek your counsel."
Leylin spoke while returning his cup on the saucer.
"Speak freely then." John replied lost in his thoughts.
"I've optimized the family breathing technique you taught me. And I've just been promoted as an official knight."
No preamble. No flourish.
It was like a sudden strike of lightning under a clear blue sky.
"Oh! Thats... Wh?? Ehhh?"
John expected to be surprised when his son, his heir suddenly wanted to speak to him in private, but he did not expect to be THIS surprised.
More like terrified.
He caught the glass that threatened to slip from his hand and fixed it onto the table.
He frowned, thinking he misheard his son's statement.
"Wait! Let me clarify what I think I heard you say. Did YOU just... I mean did you say you optimized the family's knight breathing technique my beloved son?"
A plethora of emotions flashed through John's eyes but he tried to ask calmly, he feared he heard right.
Much to his horror, his precious son confirmed his suspicion as he nodded in response.
"How could you be so foolish!"
He immediately stood from his seat, his heavy frame stepped forward with urgency as he bent down to check on his son, his eyes trembled with worry.
He quickly grabbed his son's wrist with one hand and his back with the other.
His hands glowed golden as he examined his son's body using life energy.
As practitioners, knights knew much more about the human body than regular doctors or healers.
"I'm sorry father. It seems that I have made you worry."
'But this is important.'
Leylin expected such a reaction since his father doted on him very much.
There's nothing to find, even a third level acolyte would most likely not find anything wrong or know of the existence of his nanites.
He apologized and let his father see for himself to calm him down.
Changing something in a breathing technique could lead to catastrophic results, something that has been tested through the long history of their family.
There are no small number of talented individuals, family members, who died trying to upgrade the Farlier's knight breathing technique in the past.
"Can you feel it father?"
John breathed a sigh of relief when he finally noticed but Leylin's words spurred him to think.
"You're... A knight! How? Son... You optimized... How? This is... impossible."
John mumbled incomprehensibly while looking at his son.
His eyes wide in disbelief.
His world view almost collapsed at his 'sudden discovery'.
'How long has it been since Leylin first trained with the family's knight breathing technique? Its barely been two years and a few months! This is impossible.'
"Father, I did it. Nothing is impossible. Let me show you..."
He saw through what was running through his father's mind even without the behavioral analysis of his AI assistant.
He began to show his progress on the breathing technique as his father observed the movement of energy inside him.
Slow inhale. Measured exhale. Muscles tensed, then relaxed with precision.
The pattern repeated, each cycle more efficient than the last.
John was astonished he could barely believe what he just witnessed.
What he is witnessing.
Then it stopped.
Leylin smiled at his father.
Not even winded.
"With this optimization, the average man reaches the level of a knight in under five years. I can optimize it further to reduce that time or we can find or formulate a potion catered to enhancing the training efficiency. As for the technique, further research will be required for subsequent changes or optimizations. In simple terms, we need to take a peep at the knight breathing techniques of other families."
'That was a very generous estimate. If the said average man dedicated 2 to 3 cycles per day, it would at most take five to seven years for a normal talent to reach the level of an official knight if they used this breathing technique. It's effect should be comparable to those high grade ones from ducal houses.'
John made an estimation himself. He may be a brute who swung his sword in the battlefield but he is no fool.
John looked at his son in wonder.
'Genius! Monstrous even.'
A smile threatened to tug on his cheeks as his heart swelled with pride.
A feeling only a father can understand.
"What do you think of it father?"
John didn't speak. His eyes moved across his son's form, no tremor, no doubt. There was a cold certainty in the Leylin's gaze that didn't belong to a child his age.
"It's not impossible if you have funds... There are fallen nobles out there and collectors who will be happy to show their collection for a price..."
John's eye gleamed with fear and worry at first but a glimmer of resolve subly surfaced.
Leylin gripped his hands with strength. His tone dropped, low and even.
"What are you aiming for son?" He finally asked what he had in mind.
"Do you still care about the Farlier name?" It wasn't an answer but another question.
John's eyes narrowed. "How cou-" he suppressed his bubbling rage and gave an honest answer. "I did. Once. I still do."
Leylin studied him for a moment, then nodded with approval.
"Then it begins again."
He raised his hand while pulling his father down reaching for the back of his neck.
He smiled like a naughty boy for the first time.
Lines of silver metal crept from his fingers and slipped into John's nape as if it was absorbed by the skin.
No pain.
Just a jolt, and the sudden rush of something awakening.
John tensed. His vision flickered. A voice calm, clear spoke directly into his mind.
[Synchronization complete. Interface link established. Welcome, Sir John Farlier.]
He took a breath. It felt... clean. Powerful. His heartbeat was steady. His mind, clearer than it had been in years.
Leylin's voice came again.
"I've given you an extension of my ability as a mutated knight. I call it biological Artificial Intelligence assistant. A.I. for short, you can do many things with it. It will help accelerate your reflexes. Guide your thoughts. Help us rebuild the estate. If you can think it..."
He turned, looking toward the frost-covered window.
"I've spent my time to read the books from your personal collection. There hasn't been a mention of our household apart from great grandfather's time of enoblement. It seems we've been forgotten. Left to rot in the corners of this world. But I know of your longings for glory father. I have seen it through your eyes. Let us lead the Farlier family into new heights."
Farlier Estate
Six Months later
John Farlier knelt in the center of the training ground, shirtless beneath the moonlight.
His breath steamed in the cold air, slow and controlled.
Every vein pulsed, his body soaked in sweat and the raw scent of blood and iron.
For the first time in years, his muscles felt alive.
Not decaying… but growing.
[Session 3 complete. Muscle fiber density increased. Neural relay efficiency up 160%. Stat threshold approaching Grand Knight baseline. Breakthrough emminent.]
John's AI assistant whispered.
He can feel it.
His plateau, the limits he thought age and injuries from years of war had imposed suddenly shattered like an illusion.
He opened his eyes that now glowed with golden hue.
His athletic physique radiated a form of pressure to the surroundings.
A crack like lightning split the air as something broke within him.
He felt not pain but release.
John Farlier had finally become a Grand Knight after training for more than 30 years.
Not from inheritance.
Not from a noble bloodline miracle.
But from clawing his way back from ruin.
All this was possible thanks to his son Leylin.
The golden light that surrounded him dimmed as he rechecked his body that has been engineered to do what knights do best.
Killing.
Sir Bran and Sir Kelric stood under the old flagstones, staring at their lord in silence.
They could feel it.
The pressure from his mere presence had changed.
The way his steps fell.
"You will break through too," John said,
"But we have to add some changes to your contract. You know. Official stuff."
Both of these men followed , fought and trained for years under John's command.
Both had bled for the House. And now, with the optimized method and Leylin's adjustments… it took only a few months of rehabilitation and a few days to breakthrough.
The estate buzzed with life for the first time in decades.
The view from his window showed the new recruits that stood at the courtyard below.
They numbered fifty, maybe more.
Boys with promise.
Mercenaries with sharp eyes.
Failed nobles who saw the rising tide.
They are to become the force that will move the Farlier household.
John stood at the center of the map table again, his frame broader, heavier with power.
Bran and Kelric flanked him like twin wolves.
"I called and they came," John said gesturing at the view from outside.
"Because we can offer them power. The power they needed to be freed from their chains."
He gestured to the scrolls on the table.
"This is the original breathing technique, those men who are willing to sign the contract with Farlier can practice. Three cycles a day with minimal gains. One can become a knight within 10 years with it depending on talent."
He opened a separate scroll marked with the seal of House Farlier.
"This is the best one so far. Ours. The household's. Those bound by soul, oath or blood will carry it. They will become knights that no other lord can forge. They will become one with the Farlier and thus will bear its name."
John looked across the table.
"This kingdom has laid rotten by the peace it enjoyed from it's past glories. Other kingdoms walk over our lands unobstructed. Killing our men, raping our women, pillaging our homes. It's been far too long that we let this happen. If the king doesn't want to lead it's people, it's time for him to step down."
****
One year later the Farlier lands hummed with a kind of industry no one had ever seen outside the greatest ducal capitals.
Rows of long low buildings stood beyond the manor walls—glassworks with furnaces burning steady day and night, distilleries where fragrant steam rose in curling plumes, clean white wards where healers worked with methods no apothecary had ever dreamed of.
Wines once rough and sharp were now aged in treated casks, blended to precise recipes, filtered clear and smooth; they fetched prices that made merchants blink then pay gladly.
Glass no longer came thick, green and bubbled. The AI had formulated mixtures that ran crystal‑clear, thin yet strong, shaped into panes, goblets, lenses and delicate instruments that nobles and scholars fought over.
Medicine moved past herbs, poultices and prayers: antiseptic washes, distilled extracts, properly measured doses and stitching techniques cut infection and death rates by more than half.
In effect, gold flowed into the estate like rain in monsoon season.
John walked the grounds, watching carts loaded with crates roll out toward distant cities and messengers arrive bearing letters sealed with noble crests.
[Every lord, merchant and bishop within three kingdoms now knows our name] John said, half marveling half wary [They want our wine, our glass, our tonics… some even beg for the right to send their kin to train here. Yet none truly understand where all of this comes from and where it's heading.]
[It is all but natural father...] Leylin replied calmly directly sending the message through John's head [People have long since been attracted to power, and money in a sense is a form of power.]
Beneath John's feet far deeper than any cellar or vault the real Farlier foundation spread.
It was a world apart—smooth white walls glowing with even soft light, corridors lined with conduits and humming machinery, rows of vast chambers stretching through solid rock where silence reigned save for the low constant thrum of power and faint rhythmic pulse of life‑support systems.
This was not medieval or magical; this was fully digital, fully automated, every system networked, monitored and optimized down to the electron.
Sensors tracked every variable, processors ran millions of calculations in the blink of an eye—civilization‑level technology buried deep where none would ever suspect.
And here lay the core of it all.
Endless ranks of upright stasis pods stood in ordered rows stretching far into shadowed distance, each one sealed, glass face dimly showing a figure suspended within.
Condemned criminals, prisoners from border skirmishes, troublemakers no lord would miss or all those sentenced to death or lifelong chains, now gathered here.
They were fed, sustained, their bodies kept healthy and living while their bio‑electricity, metabolic energy and even the very potential of their life‑force was siphoned, channeled and harvested with perfect efficiency.
What remained theoretically possible now stood as a testament of just how powerful an AI could be given enough time.
Not cruel waste but systematic conversion; every spark they burned became power, heat, charge. Energy which is in turn used to run forges, refine materials, build nanites, expand this very facility.
Leylin walked slowly down the central aisle of the main harvesting level, his boots making no sound on the seamless floor.
[Total Units Online: 12,742]
[Net Energy Output: Stable + Rising]
[Conversion Efficiency: 98.7%]
[Facility Power Reserves: 79% — sufficient for full expansion and ongoing operations]
The soft internal voice reported unemotionally.
He paused before one pod, inside is a man who had once been a notorious bandit leader, eyes closed, expression slack, completely unaware.
"Life for life" Leylin murmured "Wasted in a dungeon or on a gallows… here it serves purpose. It is only logical."
These people are literally living the dream.
He turned away as systems hummed adjusting flow rates. Up above they sold luxury and healing; down below he built empire on converted death sentences.
He stepped through the heavy blast doors toward the fabrication bays.
More alloys, better tools, further refinement.
Everything was ready.
Now came the next step.