Rip and Tear
When the ‘Stress Management and Sleep Techniques’ class finally ended, night had already fallen. Third period always wrapped up at ten o’clock. Yet even at that hour the air outside still clung, thick and humid. Each breath felt like it was sticking in my lungs, and every footstep sent waves of heat rippling up from the ground. The damn sun simply refused to set at a decent time.
The game’s setting is definitely Europe. Before I was possessed, I’d used part-time job money to travel there once. It had been summer, and the European summer had felt exactly like this—bright and blistering even at eight in the evening.
“There’s a reason the timetable is absolute garbage.”
That was why the Academy’s schedule was built this way. The two-hour gaps between classes existed so we could shower, drink something cold, and reset. Long breaks prevented total exhaustion by the next lecture.
“Haa…”
Grumbling about the murderous weather, I walked until I suddenly found myself at the dormitory. My room was on the seventh floor, an attic suite, but I had zero intention of climbing the stairs. That was why I had installed a short-range teleportation magic tool in my quarters for exactly these moments.
I slipped into the dormitory’s rear garden, confirmed no one was around, and rapped three times in quick succession on a brick only I would recognize. The spell activated at once, whisking me straight up to the attic.
The scenery flipped in an instant, and my half-remodeled penthouse came into view.
“Whirrr~!”
Look at what I did.
Fix was already there, of course. He had been carrying out the construction orders I’d given him.
“Fix, I’m home.”
“Whirrr~!”
The moment he saw me, he rolled forward eagerly on his wheels. I gave his steel head plate a couple of light taps. Delighted, he spun in happy circles, screen glowing with pride at his handiwork.
“Oh. You finished it perfectly? Nice job.”
What Fix had accomplished while I sat through lectures was the interior overhaul of the outdated attic. Traces of its former life as a storage room still lingered in places. It made sense—this space had been converted from warehouse to living quarters in only two weeks. Elena had taken me as her disciple and fast-tracked my Academy admission roughly two weeks before the entrance ceremony, so the renovation had begun immediately. As a result, the room had started at the same standard as an F-rank cadet’s dorm. Functionally fine, yet something about it felt… off. It didn’t quite feel like a place meant for rest. My personality refused to tolerate that kind of vague discomfort.
“All right, let’s wrap this up.”
“Whirrr~!”
Luckily, I had Fix. A state-of-the-art AI robot arm capable of independent research was assisting me. Thanks to him, a huge chunk of the remodeling had been completed in my absence. He had stripped out all the crude wallpaper and rotten wood, then single-handedly rebuilt the basic framework using steel pipes for the skeleton.
That had been day one. Now, on day sixteen, the floor had been leveled, carpentry finished, insulation installed inside and out, framing, drywall, insulated windows, mesh, finishing materials, and even the tiling—all complete. All that remained was the final wallpaper hanging.
“Wallpaper should always be clean and precise.”
Together, Fix and I covered every wall in crisp white paper. With my Hand Skill now at Level 3 and Fix’s flawless assistance, the job was done in no time.
“Next, a little more work on the bathroom… then lighting and furniture, and we’re finished.”
In just sixteen days since moving in, the attic had become a real home. Though the floor space was modest, it now rivaled the luxurious quarters of any high-ranking noble. And it was all modernized.
“Good work, Fix. Let’s take a break.”
“Whirrr~”
As always, nothing cured a foul mood like getting your hands dirty. I headed straight for the shower, rinsed off quickly, then pulled the beer keg from the fridge, poured a glass, and drank. The way it slid down my throat was pure art.
With a soft chime, I switched on the air conditioner. This was the true highlight of my healing routine. Cold shower, chilled beer, and now crisp AC on a sweltering tropical night—the holy trinity was complete. I collapsed onto the soft bed and let the cool breeze wash over me. This was living.
Yet my mind, unbidden, drifted back to what had happened earlier. Specifically, the moment I had put Isabella to sleep during third period. The memory I had recalled then still burned vividly. The last time I sent her away. It was only one route in a game, yet it felt as real as something I had personally lived through. Was this because I had been possessed into this world? My chest ached. A fierce determination welled up from deep inside me—I never wanted to experience that moment again.
“Ha. Damn game.”
Come to think of it, every heroine in this game met a tragic end. Enya had a corruption route, and even the true ending saw her die protecting me. Talking about Elena was pointless; it only hurt. As for the princess… was she even a proper heroine? She was so capricious that even a veteran player like me knew almost nothing about her route. Still, with so many variables appearing this time around, perhaps I would finally uncover secrets about her that had stayed hidden before.
“In the end, I just have to get stronger.”
No need to overcomplicate it. Every problem would vanish if I became overwhelmingly powerful. Of course, I couldn’t protect everyone by myself, so I also had to focus on drawing out the NPCs’ full potential. Raise them wrong and endings like “Corrupted Enya” might rear their ugly heads. Fortunately, I had thoroughly crushed Max this playthrough, so that particular worry could be set aside.
“Speaking of that bastard Max…”
He had picked me as his opponent for next week’s sparring practice in Professor Gracia’s class. I had been wanting to test the suit’s performance anyway, so he would make an excellent live benchmark. I almost felt bad for him.
“He’ll just get stuffed again. Hope he’s ready for it.”
Max had been immortalized in an educational video titled Tactics to Overturn a Disadvantage – Baiting Technique. Everyone had expected me to lose given the overwhelming power gap, yet I had lured him into a cave and won. The instructors and faculty had been deeply impressed. Ever since, replaying that footage of Max’s defeat had become standard practice in strategy classes. There simply wasn’t a better example of overcoming superior force through clever baiting.
Thanks to that, he had earned the nickname “Max Dies Again” and was apparently waiting for the day he could have his revenge. Once the suit was properly finished, though, he would only earn himself another entry in the hall of shame.
“Outdoor classes are about to kick off in earnest, too.”
So far it had mostly been theory, but from the third week onward we would head into the field for real combat training. The Imperial Academy had been founded so the Emperor could cultivate talent capable of carrying out his dream of conquering the Ruined Lands. We needed to face the kinds of monsters that appeared there and sharpen our instincts.
“Sigh. No way I can just lie here after thinking about all that.”
The thought of upcoming events made me too restless to stay in bed enjoying the AC. Max was sharpening his teeth for me, dangerous field classes loomed, and I refused to remain idle. I would push forward with the magic-engineering weaponry research I had been developing.
“Fix, let’s head to the lab. No classes tomorrow anyway.”
“Whirrr~!”
I really was cut out to be an engineer. The moment I stepped into the lab and began working, the fatigue crushing my whole body vanished like it had never existed.
Developing new weapons was simply too much fun. Especially the sticky liquid currently visible inside the test tube. That substance would prove incredibly useful in battles to come. I had taken Ungoliant spider silk, layered it with various spells, and induced genetic modification. The result was perfect for restraining enemy movement. Unless the target was a mid-risk monster of level four or higher, most creatures would be completely immobilized by this genetically modified spider web.
“Hmm… Still so much left to develop.”
Yet this was only the beginning. The number of special weapons I planned to create was practically endless. A prime example was the black cloak made from special materials lying nearby. The enormous mantle that would be built into the back of the Devil Suit had been designed to allow smoother landings after high-altitude flight. Think of those extreme wingsuit flights with their zero injury rate and one hundred percent fatality rate. This cloak was essentially an upgraded version of that.
And visually, it’s been improved dramatically.
The cloak had also been shaped like massive demonic wings to stay true to the Devil Suit’s concept. When fully spread, it measured a full four meters across. If I unfurled it in broad daylight, the shadow of giant demon wings would swallow the ground beneath me.
“The first version of the Devil Suit… is nearly complete.”
The Devil Suit maximized utility above all else. Flight, infiltration, manipulation, containment, stealth—the suit’s true charm lay in pushing mobility and versatility to their limits.
That was why I intended to replace the titanium-alloy plasma gauntlets with something else. To achieve true Iron Man-style flight, I needed repulsors that functioned as jet engines rather than palm-mounted plasma cannons. So what would I use the plasma gauntlets for instead?
My gaze fell on the mountain of blueprints covering the table. Among the dozens of overlapping sheets, one design in particular caught my eye: the super shotgun. A double-barrel monstrosity created for nothing but slaughter and destruction.
“Doom Suit.”
I murmured the name of the other suit I was conceptualizing—the one built solely to rip and tear demons apart. I didn’t know when its development would finish, but one thing was certain: once I realized every blueprint I had drawn, the demons would learn to fear me. From that point on, it wouldn’t be them massacring humans.
It would be me massacring them.