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Cyber-Commando is an S-Rank Adventurer

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Prologue

Cyber-Commando is an S-Rank Adventurer

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Prologue: The Wreckage of Tomorrow

The sound of the explosion did not echo like thunder.

It tore through the mountain air with a sharp, sickening screech—the sound of warped spacetime violently collapsing in on itself.Full novel: Cyber-Commando is an S-Rank Adventurer — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠

High above the timberline, deep within the pine-choked woods bordering the city of Solheim, the spherical temporal displacement capsule suffered a catastrophic core breach.

Sparks of blue-white quantum plasma spewed wildly from its fracturing rings.

Then came the implosion.

The vessel erupted into a wall of roaring orange fire. In a matter of seconds, the absolute pinnacle of 45th-century engineering was reduced to a smoking, twisted skeleton of charred scrap metal, burying itself deep into the rocky mountain soil.

Smoke rolled over the burning debris.

Ash rained down like black snow.

Through the rising heat haze, a single figure stepped out from the blast radius.

Trevor Van Heimer coughed once, raising a hand to brush a thick layer of soot from his shoulder.

He was geared for survival. He wore a form-fitting black sleeveless Kevlar vest that exposed his heavily scarred, muscular arms, paired with durable leather pants and heavy leather combat boots.

Strapped tightly across his back was a sleek, rectangular futuristic knapsack—miraculously unscathed by the temporal backfire.

In his right hand, his fingers tightened around a familiar weight.

It was his primary arsenal. A long, heavy, and unpretentious rectangular iron briefcase, covered in a dull layer of rust.

Trevor cleared his throat.

“Diagnostics, Eelon.”

His voice carried a subtle, artificial resonance—a faint hum underneath his vocal cords born from his internal cybernetics.

From the top of the rusted iron briefcase, a sleek metallic shape began to move.

Segmented chassis scales gleamed against the dim sunlight as a mechanical serpent uncoiled itself.

Two emerald-green optical sensors lit up in the dark.

This was Eelon, his onboard AI snake bot.

Eelon raised its slender head. Its optics pulsed gently, sweeping across the breathtaking panoramic horizon before them.

This page contains an unapproved copy taken from the author's publication page; the official version supports their work.

Below the cliffs, floating majestically over a sea of thick, rolling clouds, sat the industrial skyline of Solheim.

It was a sprawling metropolis. Spikes of Gothic towers pierced the sky, interconnected by massive rotating gear-assemblies, while humming airships and small flying skiffs drifted through the misty air currents.

Inside Eelon's core, light-speed processors clicked softly into gear.

It cross-referenced atmospheric pressure, stellar alignments, and encrypted historical ledgers in milliseconds.

[TEMPORAL SCAN COMPLETE]

Current Date: Year 1500

Era: Industrial Steampunk Era

Country: Roth Re'Gahr

Location: Solheim Mountain Borders

The mechanical snake turned its head, its green optics locking onto Trevor.

“Temporal anchor locked, Trevor.”

It paused for a fraction of a second as data streams settled.

“We have arrived in the year 1500. We are sitting dead center in the Chaotic Century within the country of Roth Re'Gahr.”

“Local telemetry indicates an active power vacuum following the death of Richter Strauss two centuries ago... and global intelligence networks confirm every major faction across the continent is mobilizing to forge a New World Order.”

Chapter 1: Welcome to the 15th Century

Trevor stood amid the settling ash, staring down at the charred, smoking heap of scrap metal that used to be his ticket home.

Frustration boiled under his skin.

The temporal displacement capsule had malfunctioned horribly.

His original mission—to travel back to the era where Richter Strauss was still alive—was officially dead in the water.

The capsule was burned to a crisp, reduced to useless ash and melted alloy.

His mission was already a failure.

With a heavy, annoyed breath, Trevor picked up his long rectangular rusty iron briefcase.

He adjusted his gear, turned his back on the wreck, and began the long trek down the mountain toward the towering skyline of Solheim.

As they approached the city gates, Eelon shifted, slithering off the briefcase and slipping discreetly behind Trevor's futuristic backpack, coiling out of sight.

From his hidden perch, the AI snake bot could still whisper directly into Trevor's ear via his cybernetic comms.

“Eelon, what is the currency in this timeline?” Trevor asked.

“Gold, Silver, and Copper coins,” Eelon replied.

“Oh, great... Now I'm doomed and broke. What is the job for quick coins?”

“Adventurers Guild, bounty hunting, or army enlisting. A bodyguard job will pay you in advance, or you could work as a mercenary.”

“Tch! Oh boy... Welcome to the 15th fucking century.”

Entering the bustling, steam-choked streets of Solheim, Trevor navigated through the crowd of gear-clockwork machinery and horse-drawn carriages until he reached a public bulletin board filled with posted notices.

His sharp eyes scanned the crumpled parchment papers listing available hiring jobs in the city.

One particular notice caught his attention: a contract for Bandit Hunting in the northern part of the Eternal Forest, located just south of Solheim's border control.

“Well, I need this one. I gotta go to the town hall.”

Trevor went straight to the town hall, accepted the job contract, and gathered the necessary information and operational rules for hunting down the bandits.

Night fell over the northern edge of the Eternal Forest.

Darkness blanketed the tall trees, broken only by the dim glow of a bandit encampment in the distance.

Trevor crouched in the shadows of the high canopy. He set his rusted briefcase down, pressing a concealed trigger on the handle.

Metallic locks clicked and hissed as the case transformed, expanding into his sniper mode—an advanced piece of high-tech weaponry vastly out of place in this Industrial era, fitted with an integrated suppressor.

He brought the scope to his eye.

Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.

Three muffled shots cut through the quiet night air.

Three bandits dropped dead before the rest of the camp even realized they were under attack. Deadly, silent, and efficient.

“Now I need a place to stay,” Trevor muttered.

“Check in at the local tavern,” Eelon advised.

With three bandit heads collected for a bounty of 20 silver coins each, Trevor returned to the city and checked into a room at the local tavern, settling in for the night with a pouch of silver and a new adventure waiting ahead.

Full novel: Cyber-Commando is an S-Rank Adventurer — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠
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