From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth-Chapter 167: Art Of Waaaghh

Richard leaned back in his private office, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. Lina’s testing on the new tech was completed, the digital blueprints for humanity’s future secured. He decided to share the good news, starting with a familiar face. He activated a holographic projection, and Jack’s image flickered into existence.

Richard blinked, genuinely surprised. Jack, usually stocky and a bit disheveled, now looked... sharp. His shoulders were broader, his jawline more defined, and there was an undeniable alertness in his eyes.

"Dude, I swear you surprised me," Richard said, a genuine laugh escaping him. "What happened to you? You look... good now."

Jack chuckled, running a hand over his trimmed hair. "Heh. You have no idea. It’s different when you’re motivated by something more than just games and snacks. And Scarlet," he sighed dramatically, "she doesn’t hold back in sparring. That woman’s a force of nature."

"That’s good, that’s really good," Richard said, still smiling. "Well, anyway, I’ve got a new present for you. Check your new email."

Jack’s eyes widened as a data packet arrived, his brow furrowing in concentration as he quickly scanned the schematics. Then his jaw dropped.

"No... for real?! You actually cracked it?!" His voice was a mixture of disbelief and fervent excitement.

"Yeah," Richard confirmed, leaning forward conspiratorially. "We’ve cracked it. A commercially viable Deep Dive VR is now possible. Lina made the necessary configurations; it’s fully compatible with our current CNT chips and ByteOS powered. Think of it: a standalone computer, a hyper-realistic world, all in a dream. And yes, it’s Vector Core compatible, so your dreams of visiting those game worlds just got a lot more... immersive. We’re launching with a 1:2 time compression, so you can enjoy playing at twice the speed of real-time."

"Do you have any companies willing to license the production?" Jack stammered, already looking around his office as if measuring space for production lines.

"Do I?" Richard scoffed good-naturedly. "I already have a list of local manufacturing companies. And internationally, I’ve got Chinese companies, major players in the United States, and several from Europe. You have no idea how excited I am for this, bro. This is just the beginning."

"Yeah, dude," Jack said, his voice thick with emotion. "I gotta go. I need to... I need to check something. See you." With a hasty nod, Jack’s projection flickered and vanished, clearly eager to test the new tech himself.

Richard chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "A really impatient guy." He then connected to Lina’s comm link. "Lina."

Her holographic avatar appeared, shimmering. "Yes, sir."

"Is the Chronos-Weave Deep Dive System ready for full implementation?" Richard asked, his tone now serious.

"Yes, sir," Lina replied, her voice calm and precise. "The Quantum Cogitator Globe Matrix and the Quantum Server Arrays are fully calibrated. They can support time compression up to a theoretical maximum of 1:10,000 at peak performance."

Richard’s eyes widened. "Ten thousand?! I thought we’d get at least 1,000 at maximum! That’s a magnitude higher!"

"The Quantum Cogitator, sir, is proving far more superior than initial projections," Lina explained. "With only a single Quantum Server unit, time compression can support up to 1:10. However, with an array of them integrated into the QCM, it maximizes to 1:1,000. The dedicated processing power of the Quantum Cogitator Globe Matrix itself significantly boosts that, supporting an additional 1:9,000, bringing the theoretical maximum to 1:10,000."

"That much difference, huh?" Richard murmured, impressed. "Alright. Configure all Praetoriani training facilities for Chronos-Weave Deep Dive pods. Set the time compression specifically to 1:50. My research indicates there’s a capacity before a human mind can degrade through prolonged exposure to excessive time compression. Six months of real-world training at 1:50 compression translates to approximately twenty-four years of active combat experience. Their enemies will be digital data recreations of the Krill. You’ve recorded their data, their tactics, their weaknesses, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Lina confirmed, her avatar’s eyes glowing faintly with the new data. "I’ve already prepared the pods in advance. Each one is equipped with the neural headset designed to send synchronized signals to their brains, in real-time and digital time. Anything they feel or gain—muscle reflexes, instincts, tactical awareness—is synced to their physical bodies through their neural pathways with microsecond precision. They learn, they adapt, and their physical bodies are updated."

"What about the Phase 1 recruits, or the new ones?" Richard asked. "Are they ready for these pods?"

"Yes, sir, there is no problem," Lina stated. "I have already combined the automated gene therapy pods and the Deep Dive pods into integrated ’training pods.’ So, when the new recruits train inside the digital world, their bodies are automatically configured for the gene-mod combinations. It is a seamless integration of physical and virtual development."

Richard sighed, a deep, satisfied breath. "Okay, Lina. Let’s present this to everyone. It’s time they understood the true scale of their coming challenges."

Later that day, the massive training hall buzzed with an unusual mix of exhaustion and expectation. The 1st Spartan Battalion, still sweating from the morning’s grueling physical exercises, stood in disciplined ranks, their matte-gray training armors streaked with simulated dirt. Behind them, the newer recruits and later Phase 1 trainees gathered, a restless sea of fresh faces, their anticipation almost palpable.

On the main stage, Richard Santamo stood beside Ciano. Ciano, normally a picture of unwavering stoicism, glanced at Richard, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He had been briefed on the ’Deep Dive System’ only moments before, and the sheer audacity of the technology had even the Battle-General slightly baffled.

Richard stepped forward, his presence commanding the room’s attention. "Spartans! Recruits! Look at yourselves! Six months ago, you arrived here, raw and untested. Today, you are forged in the crucible of Phase One. You have shown unwavering will, unbreakable spirit, and a dedication to serve mankind’s liberation that few possess. For your efforts, for your sacrifice, you have been granted a new training program, one designed to accelerate your destiny!"

As he spoke, a sleek, translucent pod, vaguely reminiscent of the gene therapy vats, silently rose from the stage floor. Its interior was dark, with an intricate neural interface built into the headrest. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"What is that?" someone whispered.

"Another torture device?" a low voice joked, quickly stifled by a jab from a neighbor.

Ciano’s brow furrowed, a slight tilt of his head betraying his internal processing. A training device? But... how?

Richard ignored the murmurs, his voice gaining momentum. "This," he declared, gesturing to the pod, "is your new battlefield. This is the Chronos-Weave Deep Dive System."

He paused for dramatic effect, letting the name resonate. "From this day forward, your training will transcend the physical limitations of this facility. You will enter the digital world. Your real bodies will be kept safe, here in these very pods, protected, maintained. For the Phase One trainees, and all new recruits who will join us: when you enter these pods, your bodies will automatically receive the standard Praetoriani gene-modifications. The process will be seamless, integrating your physical and mental development."

A low hum of astonished conversation rippled through the Phase 1 recruits. Gene-mod... while we train?

"Time," Richard continued, his voice now imbued with an almost mystical quality, "will bend to our will. Six months of real-world time, spent inside these pods, will translate to approximately twenty-four years of lived, combat-honed experience within the digital world. Twenty-four years of constant, unyielding warfare against the enemy!"

The hall went silent. Twenty-four years? The implications were staggering. Ciano’s eyes widened, a flicker of profound understanding, and perhaps a hint of awe, passing through them.

"Your enemies will be the Krill," Richard stated, his voice hardening. "Digital manifestations, yes, but accurate down to the last abhorrent detail. Every tactic, every weakness, every brutal capability recorded will be replicated with perfect fidelity. What you fight in these simulations will be as close to the real thing as you can possibly get."

He pointed at the 1st Spartan Battalion. "For you, the Phase Two trainees, you will not merely train in these simulations. You will experience real wars. Ground operations, brutal close-quarters engagements, daring ship boarding actions against Krill vessels, complex starship operations, coordinating entire fleets. You will master combat, tactics, and leadership against a truly ruthless, intelligent foe. The difficulty will scale progressively: stronger enemies, superior tech, larger enemy numbers, an endless tide of Krill to fight."

Then, a small, knowing grin touched Richard’s lips. "But here’s the best part, gentlemen. You cannot truly die. Oh, you will experience the pain, the terror, the loss, as vividly as if it were real. You will feel the kinetic impacts, the heat of plasma, the cold grip of defeat. You will die, over and over again. But then, you will resurrect. You will respawn. Every scenario will be different. Sometimes you will be surrounded by overwhelming odds. Sometimes, you will be tasked with invading a digital Krill home planet, fighting tooth and nail for every inch."

He gestured to the pods. "You can also rest and sleep within the simulation, but even your ’downtime’ will be designed to hone your combat readiness. Expect constant enemy attacks during resting periods, forcing you into immediate, reactive combat. Every moment will be a lesson in survival, in vigilance."

He concluded, a triumphant gleam in his eye, "In my honest opinion, gentlemen, it’s a very realistic game."

A beat of stunned silence. Then, a slow, disbelieving murmur spread through the crowd. "A game?" "Did he say a game?" But this time, the confusion quickly morphed into an almost giddy excitement, particularly among the younger recruits. frёewebnoѵēl.com

Ciano, who had maintained his stoic composure through the detailed explanation of time compression and Krill simulations, finally let a rare, genuine smile touch his lips. "A game," he repeated softly to himself, a new fire in his eyes.

A game they could play until they perfected every move, every strategy, every act of defiance. For the 1st Spartan Battalion, their faces now alight with understanding, the concept of a "game" where every "death" was a lesson, every "respawn" an opportunity, filled them with an electric readiness. The fear of failure was gone; only the hunger for mastery remained. They were about to become the deadliest players the universe had ever seen.

Then, the android officers, with their unnervingly precise movements, guided all of the recruits—Phase 1s and Phase 2s alike—towards a massive, previously unnoticed section of the training hall. As they approached, a colossal door slid open, revealing a vast, dimly lit room bathed in a soft, ethereal blue glow. Rows upon rows of the translucent Chronos-Weave pods stretched into the distance, stacking upwards almost to the distant ceiling, forming a silent, futuristic hive.

A collective intake of breath swept through the ranks.

"Holy... mother of God," Miguel whispered, his eyes wide as he gazed at the sheer scale of the operation. He felt a thrill, a mix of fear and sheer awe. This wasn’t just a training device; this was something out of a science fiction novel.

"Look at this place!" Pedro exclaimed, a nervous laugh escaping him. "It’s like a hospital and a super-prison combined! All for... us?"

"This is insane," another recruit muttered, craning his neck to see the highest tiers of pods. "I always thought this base was big, but this? This is a whole new level."

The android officers moved with serene efficiency, each one taking a small group of recruits. "Please proceed, Spartans. One per pod. The process is automated. Lie back, relax, and connect the neural headset. Do not be alarmed."

Hesitantly, the first recruits stepped forward, guided by the patient androids. The pods hummed softly as they opened. Each Spartan climbed in, the interior surprisingly ergonomic, conforming perfectly to their bodies. A flexible, multi-pronged neural headset descended, its soft pads settling against their temples and the base of their skull.

"Whoa, this feels weird!" a recruit named João muttered, as the headset conformed. "Like a tight swim cap, but... inside my brain!"

"Just breathe, João!" Pedro called out, a nervous grin on his face as he watched his buddy. "Don’t mess it up! I wanna play too!"

As the neural connection stabilized, a jolt, not of pain, but of pure sensory data, rushed through their minds. It was like their senses had suddenly sharpened by a thousandfold, the world outside the pod momentarily flickering before an entirely new, vivid reality began to form. Colors exploded behind their eyelids, sounds became impossibly clear, and a faint, phantom scent of ozone filled their virtual nostrils.

"This is... incredible!" another recruit exclaimed, his voice muffled by the pod’s interior. "It’s like I’m already there! I can feel... everything!"

"This ain’t no game, this is magic!" someone else yelled, a surge of adrenaline already coursing through his simulated veins. The air crackled with a palpable mix of apprehension and exhilaration, the collective hype rising as more and more recruits settled into their pods.

Ciano, who had been standing beside Richard, watching the process, turned to his commander. "Sir, what about me?" he asked, his voice low, a rare note of vulnerability. "Until now, only I have been leading these men directly in their training. But I... I have trouble finding myself worthy of the true Praetoriani title, given what’s to come. I need to lead them into this new challenge."

Richard smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. "Don’t worry, Ciano. You will also get in, of course. It’s time for you to master the art of war on a scale few generals could ever dream of. Don’t worry, rather than that; you’re already modified to think faster, to adapt quicker. You may think like that now, but inside, you will taste what a real war feels like without having to worry about actual loss. It’s also your ultimate test of leadership, Ciano: how you handle every scenario, every impossible challenge given to you and the Order."

Ciano sighed, then a determined smile touched his lips. "Yes, sir. Will I see you inside, sir?"

"Of course," Richard replied, his voice firm. "Lina and I will observe and design your challenges based on the predicted real scenarios. We will be your unseen hand, pushing you to your limits."

Ciano nodded, a renewed sense of purpose filling him. He gave a final, firm salute to Richard, then turned and strode purposefully towards one of the remaining open pods. He hopped in, the translucent lid closing behind him. As Richard watched, every pod, now occupied and sealed, began to hum.

Large, metallic claws, extending from the unseen infrastructure of the room, gently but firmly grasped each pod. One by one, with silent precision, they lifted the pods and slotted them into their designated sections along the towering walls, forming a vast, silent grid of dormant warriors, their minds now plunged into a new, accelerated reality. The forging of the true Praetoriani had begun.

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