Chapter 148: One and a Half Percent of Life
The rain had been falling for three days straight.
The gray ash of Dornheim mingled with the water, turning the entire camp into one giant, miserable bog. The screech of saws and the dull thud of hammers hadn’t stopped from dawn till dusk.
Noah drove his splitting maul into a thick log with brute force. The wood gave a dry crack and split cleanly in two. He kicked the halves aside with his boot and reached for the next one. He worked in nothing but his shirt, which was soaked through by the icy drizzle. The dirty bandage on his right arm was gone; the skin beneath was completely smooth, without a single scar.
Right above Noah's head, Elyria flitted about like a persistent green blur. Energy was bursting from within her so intensely that she couldn't stay still for a single second. She glowed incandescently, serving as a replacement for oil lanterns for the militia in the gray gloom.
"Further left, shorty," Walter rasped, trying to drive a rusty nail into a damp load-bearing beam.
Elyria obediently darted to the left, illuminating the crooked wooden frame of the future warehouse. In three weeks, they were supposed to unload the first batch of choice coal and iron there.
Iron watched them from beneath a canvas canopy stretched between two charred walls. Water dripped rhythmically from the edge of the tarp onto his knee. He didn't pull his chair back; he just watched other people's hands do the heavy lifting.
Closing his eyes, the sound of the rain and the thud of axes outside grew muffled, blending into a monotonous white noise.
Lumon, he called out mentally. Status report.
[System Status: Critical]
Energy Channels: 1.1% (Conductivity disrupted)
Central Nervous Circuit: 2.0% (Neural connection restoration slowed)
And why the hell are my energy channels damaged? Weren't you supposed to manage the Core's energy?
Silence.
Fine, then why is it so slow? he pressed. Noah is already swinging his axe full tilt. Elyria is glowing. Why am I the exception?
[Notice]
Subjects "Noah" and "Elyria" possess high-rank innate regeneration. Host "Iron" suffered a Level 9 overload. I am currently keeping your form from dissolving; the rest is a matter of time and resources.
Iron tried to force an impulse downward. He focused entirely on the big toe of his right foot. He strained until his jaw ached, and...
Nothing.
[Failure]
Signal strength is insufficient to breach the damaged tissue barrier. It is recommended to discontinue these attempts. Excessive energy expenditure slows regeneration by 0.04% per hour.
He opened his eyes. Before him lay the same gray wall of rain, and drops pooling on his blanket. Slow. Damnably slow.
Lumon, how long until the next threshold? To five percent?
[Estimate]
442 hours. Subject to the absence of stress and the availability of proper nourishment.
Almost three weeks. A damn long time.
Darwin approached the canopy, panting heavily. A sack filled with rusty gears and scraps of chain hung over his shoulder. With a loud clatter, he dumped it all onto a pile of construction debris next to Iron's chair.
"This is everything I managed to unearth from the old workshop," Darwin said, wiping his brow and leaving a greasy streak of engine oil on his skin. "Half of it's junk. The teeth are stripped, the metal's warped. Will it do?"
Iron looked down at the pile. Using his left hand to manually shift his lifeless leg, he nudged a rusty disc with the toe of his boot to inspect it.
"It'll do," he grunted. "Lay it out on the boards. I need measurements."
He picked up a piece of charcoal and pressed it against a scrap of parchment. His fingers were stiff from the cold, but he forced himself to draw. These were the blueprints for Reinhart's hoists.
Iron was deliberately altering the angles. He increased the load on the bearing axles by a couple of millimeters. On paper, everything looked seamless. But after a month of intensive use, the metal wouldn't withstand the fatigue. The axles would snap. The levers would jam.
"Here, eat." Noah placed a wooden bowl on the armrest of the chair.
It was a watery porridge, greased with old lard. It smelled of woodsmoke and something sour. Iron took the spoon without looking up from the blueprint.
"Are you sure they won't notice?" Noah asked quietly, nodding toward the parchment. "Reinhart is bound to have his own engineers. They aren't idiots."
"We'll find out soon enough," Iron said, biting off a piece of stale bread. "Just how good they are."
Noah squatted beside him, watching the rain beat against the mud. "We just need to make it to the first shipment. It'll be easier after that."
Iron finished the slop in the bowl and picked up the charcoal again.
Eventually, the coal completely crumbled in his fingers, leaving a thick, smeary black streak across the parchment. Iron tossed the stub into the mud. He tucked his left hand under his armpit, trying to leach whatever warmth was left from his own body.
"That's it," he muttered hoarsely. "I'm done for today. My eyes are watering."
Noah silently gathered the sheets, pressing them to his chest to shield them from the drizzle.
"Walter will lock them in the chest," Noah said, nodding toward the ruins. "Tomorrow Darwin will start sorting through the parts. If Reinhart sends an inspection ahead of schedule..."
"Don't jinx it," Iron cut him off. "Just assume they won't, and leave it at that."