Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

812  Aftermath

If someone were to enter the simulation, they might assume a battle between two warships had occurred, judging by the extensive damage visible across the landscape. The ground was riddled with craters, some filled with water and others with lava. The vegetation that once thrived there was now entirely gone—either obliterated during the attacks or wiped out by their aftermath.

Aron stood with his hands on his knees, his chest rising and falling heavily as if he had just finished an intense workout. His entire body was drenched in sweat, but beyond that, there was no visible evidence of the chaos that had unfolded—no scratches, no injuries. It seemed almost unbelievable that he had been a key player in the destruction surrounding him.

Seraphina, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. If one could see through the terrain, they would find her massive dragon form submerged in one of the lava-filled craters. Her body was riddled with holes, yet she endured the molten pit as if it were nothing more than a sauna. Her scales withstood the searing heat with ease, showing little to no damage. Even the lava that seeped into her wounds caused only minimal harm, a testament to her incredible resistance to fire.

Nova, who had been the sole witness to everything that had unfolded, materialized in front of Aron. Her referee outfit was nowhere to be seen.

“Is the fight over?” Aron asked, noticing her change in attire. He hadn’t heard any announcement signaling the end of the match.

{Yes, congratulations on the win,} Nova replied with a smile, her demeanor now back to normal. It was a stark contrast to the serious expression she had worn while officiating the fight.

“But where is she? Did something happen to her consciousness?” Aron asked, glancing around for Seraphina. Now that the fight was over, she should have already been resurrected—like in a game, moments after death.

{She hasn’t selected the revive option that appeared in front of her when she died,} Nova explained. It seemed she was leaving the decision entirely up to Seraphina, recognizing that losing a fight she had so desperately wanted, one tied to her freedom, was not something easily overcome.

“Okay,” Aron said, quickly understanding her reasoning. “Help her come to terms with it and let me know when she’s ready to talk.”

While he knew he was stepping into a private matter by asking Nova to accelerate Seraphina’s acceptance, Aron didn’t feel deeply connected to her, at least not enough to hold back for her sake. Besides, he saw it as a way to prevent the loss from turning into a lasting trauma. Depending on how someone processed such a monumental event, it could either become a scar they carried for life or just another challenge they had faced. He wanted it to be the latter—especially because a Xor’Vak burdened by trauma was not something he wished to deal with.

21:07

{Yes,} Nova replied, accepting the task. Without hesitation, she began her work, monitoring Seraphina’s brain activity and subtly guiding her thoughts in the right direction. Her approach was gentle—far from the more invasive method of implanting entirely new ideas into her mind.

Following that, he logged out immediately, needing to rest his mind, which was more exhausted than anything else.

………………….

While Aron rested aboard his ship, the imperial machine continued its relentless work. Officials from the Imperial Mana Agency were deep in meetings, finalizing quotes and prices.

Meanwhile, citizens were enjoying the final days of their empire-wide, week-long vacation. Many had spent this time with their families in VR, thanks to Sarah, who had directed her company’s gaming division to create a game where players could fight as Aron against the various opponents he had faced. Others used her company’s open-world game to recreate the recent war.

This surge in immersive experiences led to a noticeable increase in respect for the military and its soldiers. It also inspired a rise in military applicants, particularly among those who had previously been hesitant due to their fear of war. Seeing how the empire’s approach to combat had resulted in no loss of life during the previous conflict, aside from material losses that the empire deemed an acceptable sacrifice, gave people newfound confidence to join the military. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Meanwhile, five individuals were gathered inside a space station located a short distance from the third defensive line. Seated around a round table, they were engaged in a focused conversation.

“We’ve lost our chance to gain favor and prove our capabilities,” said the giant, his voice heavy with frustration as he turned his gaze to the dark elf sitting at the same table.

“Don’t even start,” the dark elf replied, her tone sharp as her eyes remained fixed on the projection of the window that projected the space outside it. The station, a military base positioned in preparation for the war, now seemed almost unnecessary. “I’m having a hard time accepting it, too,” she muttered.

Over the last five years, during which her main consciousness resided in this body—a reflection of her own creation—her perspective had shifted dramatically. Spending time in the empire had forced her to reconsider her actions, and now she deeply regretted what she had done to Aron during his visit to Proxima Centauri, a meeting he had attended as per his promise. She and Oak had hoped to use the war as an opportunity for redemption, to demonstrate their worth, and help the empire overcome a significant challenge. But to their dismay, the war never reached them. The enemy fleets hadn’t even managed to breach the first line of defense, leaving them stranded on the station without a chance to act.

“How about you just go and tell him how you feel?” Birch suggested, her tone exasperated as she grew tired of their endless brooding.

Over the years, they had met with Aron on several occasions and had the freedom to speak with him whenever they wanted. Yet, more often than not, they were too preoccupied with their own pursuits—pursuits that Aron had supported without interference, even spending billions of his own resources to ensure they could do as they pleased. Despite all this, neither of them had the courage to simply apologize for what they had done and tried to justify their delay by waiting for an act of equivalent exchange—something significant they could offer before apologizing.

But that chance had come and gone. The opportunity to prove themselves during the war had vanished before they could even lift a finger.

Crabapple, the dwarf-like member of the group, chimed in, his tone carrying the weight of wisdom despite his sharp delivery. “Birch is right. Your whole ‘equivalent exchange’ strategy might be noble, but Aron’s too busy for this nonsense. Besides, who knows what he’s thinking while you two hesitate? And don’t forget—if you patch things up now, he might grant you access to the knowledge we’ve gained. That’s something I’m looking forward to, by the way,” he added with a smirk.

Though he often came across as blunt, Crabapple’s words carried undeniable logic. Having spent most of his time in the lab, his research had already proven valuable enough to be adopted by the empire. He was one of the few eagerly anticipating the influx of new knowledge, and he wasn’t above nudging the others toward reconciliation—if only to ensure nothing delayed his access to the treasure trove of information.