In this life, Liam Passart never married. His years were consumed by relentless research, experiments, and the pursuit of truth—so much so that love slipped quietly past him.
To his female friends, Liam was the dependable one—thoughtful, intelligent, and kind. A great friend, they said. But never a lover. The classic "Mr. Nice Guy."
Now, in a dimly lit chamber surrounded by humming machines, Liam stood before the culmination of his life's work. At the center of the room lay a bionic body, crafted with his own hands using forbidden necromantic knowledge, advanced biology, and science from his previous world. It looked entirely human… only better. Stronger. Faster. More adaptable.
But there was a price.
If Liam transferred his soul into this artificial body, he would lose his ability to use magic forever.
"Once, I thought it wasn't worth it," he murmured to himself, stepping toward the transfer pod. "Even if my magical ability was meager, I earned every drop of it through blood and effort… I wasn't ready to give it up."
But now, with time running out and mana poisoning ravaging his aging body, the choice was no longer between magic and pride. It was between life and death.
He climbed into the containment chamber, fitting the oxygen mask to his face as monitoring wires connected to his chest. Across the room, a series of mechanical arms descended like silent serpents, lifting the bionic body into a secondary pod.
"Sir," AISAR intoned, calm as ever, "preparations are complete. The ritual will begin at your command."
Liam exhaled, long and steady. "Alright. Start the countdown. Three… two… one… go."
The pods filled with viscous green and blue liquid. At the heart of the chamber, energy began to swirl—arcane and scientific, a fusion of mystical runes and high-frequency oscillations. The air shimmered. If anyone else had been present, they would have collapsed in terror, tormented by hallucinations and the wailing of distant souls clawing at the veil.
An eerie green light engulfed the room. A mechanical ritual circle rose from the floor, spinning in opposing directions, blurring into a storm of light and metal.
The moment the light reached its zenith, Liam's biological body flatlined.
Then silence.
Slowly, the light faded. The circles stopped spinning. A soft pulse returned to the room.
"Checking vital signs… heartbeat confirmed. Weak, but present. Administering adrenaline and electrical stimulus."
A sharp jolt.
With a gasp, the bionic body lurched, eyes snapping open. Liam clawed at the liquid, suffocating, panicked—alive. A tentacle wrapped gently around his torso, lifting him out of the fluid and laying him on the floor like a newborn child.
He coughed violently, chest heaving as oxygen filled his synthetic lungs for the first time.
"Sir, the soul transfer was successful. Congratulations."
"Thank you, AISAR," Liam said between breaths. "No time to dilly-dally. Start the diagnostic scan."
Still damp, Liam pulled himself to his feet, a grin creeping across his face. "Let's start with a run."
"Sir," AISAR cautioned, "it is advised to allow a recovery period before physical exertion."
"I've been trapped in a dying body for decades, AISAR. I'm itching to move. Let's push this thing."
"At least begin with hand-eye coordination trials, Sir."
But Liam was already walking toward the in-house gym, gleaming with reinforced testing equipment.
Trial One: Endurance and SpeedHe ran. Sixty miles per hour. No breathlessness. No lactic acid buildup. His legs moved like turbines, a perfect balance of strength and control.
Trial Two: StrengthA single clean deadlift—three thousand kilograms. No strain. No sweat. He could have lifted more.
Trial Three: Adaptability and Pressure ToleranceA deep-sea simulation tank. Two hundred meters without supplemental oxygen. His systems didn't even blink.
Trial Four: FlexibilityHis body bent and twisted like a ribbon—graceful, fluid, impossible. Like someone with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, but without fragility or pain. Just limitless motion.
His reflection stared back from a reinforced mirror: a slim young man, seemingly twenty years old, hair pale as moonlight, skin almost translucent under the lab's glow. His old body was gone. This… this was perfection.
"Sir," AISAR reported, "all tests are complete. The bionic body is 100% functional. No deficiencies detected."
Liam smiled, catching his breath—not from exhaustion, but from wonder.
"No, AISAR. One test remains."
"What is it, Sir?"
"Hunger," Liam said. "And I'm starving. I want to know… can I still taste food?"