In the aftermath of the battle with the armored warrior, the L-3 submarine’s command center had been left in shambles.
Fortunately, the A.I.
had acted with clinical efficiency, deploying a squad of androids to assist Vladimir with the necessary repairs.
Vladimir wiped sweat from his brow, his eyes darting across a chaotic web of multicolored wires.
He let out a long, weary sigh.
“I never imagined I’d be forced to double as a mechanic.
Back in my day, I had an entire crew for this kind of work.”
There was no reply from the A.I.
The silence was absolute.
Vladimir’s movements were methodical but sluggish; he was a master of naval warfare, not internal systems engineering.
The androids were efficient laborers, but they lacked the intuitive spark of a living crew.
Vladimir suspected his own level was still too low to unlock a dedicated crew interface.
Still, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the androids.
Their chassis were forged from an unknown, high-density alloy—deceptively thin, yet harder than any steel he had ever encountered.
It was a testament to the A.I.’s sophisticated design.
As the machines busied themselves with engine diagnostics and custom upgrades, the A.I.’s flat voice cut through the hum of the ship.
“Are you holding up, Admiral?”
“For now,” Vladimir replied, resting his hands on the console.
“But if I’m to survive out here, I need to upgrade my own capabilities.
This ocean is a lawless frontier, and if I’m going to dominate it, I need to be better.”
“Understood.
I suggest we chart a course for the Eastern quadrant.
The Western sector is dominated by the Torquis Empire and the Ars Kingdom.
My data indicates that both nations share a deep, complex history—and secrets that remain hidden from the surface world.”
“Secrets, you say?” Vladimir’s eyes narrowed.
That was exactly the kind of leverage he needed.
“Very well.
Finish the repairs and get us moving East immediately.”
“As you command, Admiral.”
The androids moved with relentless precision, splicing cables and tightening bolts with superhuman strength.
Meanwhile, Vladimir and the AI analyzed the combat logs from the skirmish with the armored stranger.
It was a tedious, exhausting process, but Vladimir pushed his frustrations aside, focusing entirely on the task at hand.
The armory was stocked with crates of ammunition, while the storage bay was overflowing with provisions—casks of water and enough rations to last months.
Taped to one of the crates was a mysterious white envelope.
There was no return address, only a single line written on the front: To Vladimir Konovalov, Hero of the Soviet Union.
~o0o~
The submarine began to behave erratically.
The rear engine was showing signs of wear, specifically in the gearbox.
As the A.I.
worked on a diagnostic solution, a shrill, piercing siren erupted throughout the vessel.
“Report!” Vladimir barked.
“Contact,” the A.I.
replied instantly.
“An unknown vessel is closing in.
450 meters and gaining.”
Fast, Vladimir thought, his gut tightening.
He didn’t waste time wondering who they were.
He tapped the interface, pulling up his status screen in Russian.
Name: Vladimir Konovalov
Age: 55
Level: 46
Race: Otherworlder
Job: Traveler
Ability: [Submarine Skill] [Infinite Ammo & Weapon]
Skills: [Age Resistance] [Laser Beam] [Missile] [Sonar Searching]
Status: Submarine L-3 Control [Level 1]
“Still level one, despite leveling up three times,” he grumbled, stroking his chin.
He ignored the [laser beam] and [missile] skills for now; he would rely on the sub’s existing munitions.
Suddenly, a new notification blinked on his screen.
Replacement Skill Unlocked: [Insight] Note: [Infinite Ammo & Weapon] is restricted to personal use only and cannot be applied to the submarine’s main battery.
“[Insight]?” Vladimir murmured, intrigued.
The AI instructed the androids to retreat into their cooling chamber—a specialized compartment that shouldn’t have existed in an L-3 submarine’s historical blueprints.
As they entered, white vapor hissed from the vents, cooling their overheated cores.
Outside, Vladimir launched a preemptive missile.
Two radar blips vanished from the screen as the weapon struck true.
“You should rest, Admiral,” the A.I.
advised.
“Your dehydration levels are at 80%.
If you continue to exert yourself, your combat efficacy will drop significantly.”
“I appreciate the concern, but I can’t afford to sleep.
The moment I close my eyes is the moment an enemy moves in for the kill,” Vladimir replied with a grim smile.
“Understood, Admiral.”
The A.I.
adjusted its protocols.
While the androids recharged, they were programmed to handle Vladimir’s domestic needs—managing his meals and water intake without being asked.
~o0o~
Thirty minutes later, after a brief period of forced rest, Vladimir cleaned himself up.
He emerged to find a feast waiting for him.
The scent was intoxicating—a culinary masterpiece prepared by the androids.
On the table sat fresh Kamchatka crab, a massive species native to the Bering Sea, paired with a bottle of vintage wine aged seventy years.
Beside it was a bowl of shchi—a traditional Russian cabbage soup.
It was a dish that bridged all social classes, a staple served at Christmas feasts in Orthodox churches, embodying the old saying, “Shchi and kasha are our food.”
Vladimir sat down, tucked a napkin into his collar, and took a spoonful of the soup.
It was perfect.
“Exquisite,” he muttered.
“I am pleased it meets your standards, Admiral,” the A.I.
replied.
“Don’t make it a habit.
A man gets tired of the same meal every day.
Just keep it simple,” Vladimir said, taking a sip of the wine.
He ate slowly, savoring every bite.
He recalled his parents and the rare, meager meals he had once taken for granted.
He was drifting into a light slumber when the A.I.
jolted him awake.
“Admiral… Admiral, wake up.”
Vladimir snapped his eyes open.
It was 5:05 PM.
He had expected a one-hour nap, but over seven hours had passed.
He sprinted to the control room.
“Diagnostic complete.
The engine is fully operational,” the A.I.
reported, displaying a 3D hologram of the vessel.
Vladimir was becoming accustomed to the hologram.
He studied the schematics before taking the helm.
The sonar began to ping rhythmically—something was moving in the water ahead.
“Admiral, we have a massive signature.
700 meters out, closing fast.”
“What is it?”
“Large.
Extremely fast.”
Vladimir slammed the sub into a dive, triggering a missile volley.
The sub shuddered as the weapons cleared the tubes, but the explosions in the dark water only illuminated rock formations.
The creature was too fast.
Suddenly, the submarine lurched as something massive slammed into the hull.
Through the external cameras, Vladimir saw it: a prehistoric-looking shark, nearly eighteen meters long, its jaws capable of crushing a whale.
It lunged again, teeth scraping against the hull.
The A.I.
engaged the magical barrier, but the sub was taking a beating.
“A.I., analyze its movement patterns!”
“Analyzing!”
The sub shook violently as it dodged toward a cluster of jagged coral reefs.
Vladimir pushed the throttles to the limit, hitting 450 km/h—a speed that defied the laws of physics.
“What have you done to my ship, A.I.?!” Vladimir yelled, struggling to keep his hands on the wheel.
“I engaged the [acceleration] protocol, Admiral.”
“It’s too fast!”
Vladimir fought to maintain control as they rocketed through the water.
He checked the rearview camera—the monster was gone.
Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived.
The sub suddenly broke the surface, launching into the air like a breaching whale.
They crashed back into the waves, water flooding the cabin.
“A.I.!” Vladimir roared as the ship finally grounded itself on solid earth.
“I am never letting you use that acceleration protocol ever again!”
They had landed on the shore of Roseldt, a jagged stretch of island spanning sixty kilometers.
They were no longer in the ocean; they were in the heart of the borderlands.