84 Pick Up

(Author's note: Only a half-chapter this week due to a rough period with limited writing time. I wanted to get something out and avoid a longer delay, even if it ended up a bit abbreviated.)

The mechanics of recovering spiritual energy created a situation that I was having trouble wrapping my mind around. Spiritual energy stood as the only form of energy that I couldn't trivialize. Mana duplication was dead easy and I could accomplish the same with Chi. I had converters for Mantic energy and even powers that ran on my own stamina could be supplemented with healing magic and medical nanites. Spiritual energy didn't have any convenient exploit, meaning I needed to be conservative with my use of it and prioritize its recovery and development.

That was the part that was so incongruous for me. I was no stranger to the need to buckle down and grind through a difficult situation. It was pretty much my default way of dealing with a problem. The flaws in that approach had become readily apparent over the past two weeks, but it did have its value. Except when it came to spiritual energy.

There was no way to build up your spiritual reserves through blind determination. No amount of suffering through monotonous tasks was going to help you recover or grow spiritually. To recover spiritual energy, much less to actually grow your reserve, you needed to engage with the world. You needed fulfilling actions, connections, and emotional investment. Basically, you actually needed to be a functional person, rather than a cog in a machine.

It was easy to see why the concept was so alien to me.

The consequence was that in order to recover from what I had expended to upgrade the Glove of the East and prepare for the next rounds of improvements I needed to do something more fulfilling than just sit in my workshop and try to optimize my latest set of powers and equipment. I needed to go out, talk to people, engage with the world, and make connections that I was invested in. I effectively needed frivolous bullshit to cover the gap in my energy needs.

To say it was a weird dichotomy would be an understatement. With everything I was dealing with, with Coil, the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Undersiders' problems, Taylor's mission, the state of the city, upcoming conflicts between the local gangs and the Teeth, Dragon's mastering, and national level attention on me and my team hanging out at the gym and checking on a charity event seemed like the last things I should be concerned with, but that couldn't be further from the case. Just like with Spiral Energy, the Lambda Driver, and even my magic Wand, there were tangible benefits to getting into a better headspace.

I mean, there always were, it's just that they had never been a priority for me. A healthy emotional state or social life was always seen as secondary to the more important things. It was an outlook that completely ignored any link between your mental condition and your ability to function, but given the mindset of my family that really wasn't that surprising. It was something that had been ingrained into me from a very young age and even now was hard to shake.

The knowledge that there was a tangible benefit to 'frivolous' actions helped justify them, but it added another concerning element to the equation. There was now a need to make sure I conducted these social events in an optimal manner. As if I could somehow speedrun social interactions, maximize emotional investment, and optimize my catharsis. On a conscious level I could recognize how ludicrous that was, but it was still sitting there, under the surface. The little voice that would have been saying that this was a waste of time was now commenting on whether I was going about this the right way, if there was some better way of recovering energy and growing as a person.

God, but it was a good thing I was seeing Dr. Campbell again tonight. If we gave it another full week I'd probably need to hold the session within the Spiritron computer's time dilation just to cover everything.

On that note, I mentally reached out to check on the computer. It had been fully integrated with the Workshop's Computer Hub, all without interfering with the development of the simulation. The virtual environment inside was really just a representation of the system's ability to emulate reality, starting with foundational principles and building up to more exotic applications. Basic physical principles were the easiest to recreate, while more exotic aspects needed longer to properly simulate.

Right now, the system had fully emulated conventional physics and was working its way through the array of forces that my power classified as 'magic'. That was a fairly broad category, including everything from basic martial arts chi techniques to the full complexities of parahuman powers. At the moment it was at the lower end, meaning it could handle full emulations of the kinds of martial arts techniques that were technically supernatural, but could generally pass as some high-level technique. More the 'shatter steel with a punch' than 'flight and energy blasts'.

Even that low level of emulation carried a lot of potential. It was enough to cover the high levels of martial arts bullshit made possible by my Sei Ki, Master's Body, and Martial Arts Ninjutsu, as well as some high-level applications for Single Style: T'ai Chi Chuan. With the level of acceleration possible in the computer, I could achieve years of training in the span of hours, letting me achieve actual mastery of those arts rather than the ambiguous novice status I'd been puttering along with since getting the powers.

That was the real potential of the Spiritron System. More than just being able to work and process information at an accelerated pace, but granting the ability to fully utilize abilities I'd been putting off without devoting months of my life to the training. The more aspects of reality that were fully processed by the system the greater the variety of power I'd be able to refine. Not just me, but everyone in the Forge. Everything from biotics to psychic powers to Mantra arts.

Even structuring the training wouldn't be a problem. Tybalt was more than capable of taking care of that and was actually chomping at the bit to begin high level martial arts training for anyone he could get into the system. Basically, if the person could generate chi or something close to it he had a personalized training plan ready for them. That included Tetra, even if he was putting a pin in those particular plans until after the Kamui conversion.

That was another reason I needed to get out and recover my spiritual energy. I was going all out with Tetra's conversion, which meant the third level of Elven Enchantment. Singing to the Unseen was serious magic and took a significant amount of spiritual energy. I mean, you were essentially binding a portion of the spirit realm into an object. It didn't get much more significant than that. Once again, there was the weird sensation of knowing that if I wanted to do what was best for Tetra I needed to get out and socialize properly. This wasn't a problem that I could address with more time in my workshop.

Still accessing the Workshop's intranet, I skimmed through the preparations for the charity event. News had circulated and most of the coverage was positive, but there was a bit of confusion over the exact nature of the event.

The definition had been a lot more straightforward when Garment had been planning to host a few people in her studio to watch the New York auction, possibly with a bit of online coverage to try to motivate additional donations. The objective hadn't really changed, but the scale and venue weren't really matched to that kind of gathering. People were trying to slot it into the typical structure of events, despite the fact that it wasn't really a gala or a charity fashion show, or even really an auction. The best definition was probably a donation drive, but once again, that was an imprecise match.

The combined efforts of Survey and my duplicates had managed to turn the ambiguity into an asset. Dropping labels meant they kept the focus on the objectives of the event, rather than the nature of it. It also helped build buzz for Garment's New York auction, helped by some particularly stunning photo sessions from the models who had volunteered, then furthermore by them showing off Garment's 'thank you' gifts. Estimates for the Auction's proceeds had been revised upwards several times as news and publicity spread.

The local event was being managed down to the finest detail. The level of oversight was attracting some attention, but there was a split between attributing it to Survey's civilian identity, Garment's rumored 'party planning' power, or just the massive outpouring of support from the community. It helped that said outpouring had allowed us to conceal some additional donations.

Every piece of equipment necessary to set up the filming and streaming had been anonymously donated and covertly delivered to the Regency Center. It was all perfectly accounted for with no gaps in paperwork, but that was the benefit of Shipping the Product. It also meant that a major expense could be completely sidestepped while allowing higher grade equipment, apparently name brand but actually fabricated by the Matrix, for the event.

The rest of the expenses were being very carefully managed. As many items as we could hide in anonymous donations had been sent, but there were going to be costs to an event this size that no quantity of free stuff or volunteer workers could eliminate. Even with the Regency center waving all non-essential fees, there were some costs that we needed to address. Download sales of Garment's Extended theme from the Boundless Music channel were fairly good, particularly considering the complete lack of DRM on the track. That, combined with early donations, had the event well in the black, rather than trying to make up for costs after the fact.

In fact, most of the donations were being directed directly to Brockton shelters, charities, or community organizations. The idea being to get them the resources they needed as soon as possible, rather than after an extended accounting process that would conclude after a week or two. It was fairly simple to just direct people's donations directly to the groups in question.

Well, simple for us. Managing over a hundred volunteers, the complexities of a major event, and the individual needs of dozens of local groups might have been a challenge for someone who wasn't supernaturally talented in everything related to clothing work, blessed by Hera with immaculate administrative skills, and capable of impossible logistical feats. The kind of power that could have trivially managed the Manhattan Project was being used to handle a volunteer driven charity event.

Skimming through the list of staff I found something surprising. Completely facilitated by my duplicates, but no doubt left for me to find.

"Seriously?" I asked Tybalt as the Time constellation passed by.

He meowed out an explanation of the event's security needs, specifically how they had expanded in response to the presence of both confirmed and pending cape appearances.

Uppercrust had shifted from 'pending' to 'confirmed with offer to act a presenter', which was either a result of his new state of health or an attempt to convince the rest of the Elite that he was too occupied to pursue any matters with the Celestial Forge. Or possibly both.

The presence of capes didn't actually simplify security concerns. You'd figure the presence of multiple members of the Protectorate, potentially, as Director Piggot hadn't officially responded to invitations yet, would help make an event more secure. Unfortunately, there was a big difference between a cape on active duty and a cape doing PR. Even if heroes could potentially respond to any incidents, preventing such incidents would fall to the location's security and any attached police forces. The presence of capes just increased the need for management of the other aspects of the event.

Normally that would be a bit of a nightmare. This event was already being put together on impossibly short notice and now required coordination between Regency Center security, the local police, and a range of borderline unvetted volunteers. It was something that either my duplicates or I would be able to manage, but we weren't specialized in that kind of thing. Not in the way a demigod of conflict was.

Enter Tybalt Kittson, a civilian identity prepared for Tybalt with the same level of thoroughness that was applied to Delphine Mertens or Jake Clark. Well, not exactly the same. Tybalt Kittson had a background in private security, but unlike with Fleet or Survey's civilian identities where every aspect of their history had been meticulously filled out, Tybalt's had several notable gaps that were more telling than any level of artificial detail could be.

One of the obvious tells when it comes to cover identities is a lack of questions. If every answer about a person's past is clearly accessible it's probably because they wanted it to be. Fleet and Survey's identities had the normal levels of gaps you'd find in any typical person's collection of electronic records. Tybalt's had the much more significant gaps that suggested parts of a past that weren't in the public eye.

Anyone who cared enough to dig would be free to theorize what the cause was, but it added up to the kind of picture where Tybalt's particular set of skills wouldn't be seen as being out of place. And his 'legitimate' credentials were more than enough to qualify him to handle security coordination for Garment.

It was also his first venture out of the Workshop in his 'civilian' identity. If not for the absolute confidence in his obscurement effect I would be fairly concerned about blowing both his and my cover, but thanks to his power there was no reason for anyone to connect the bipedal talking cat in the Celestial Forge with the bipedal talking cat that happened to be helping out with a local charity drive.

"Alright." I said. It still felt a bit weird diving into something like this, even though I knew there was no way for anyone to see through it. "Are you ready to go?"

Garment had already supplied Tybalt with a wide range of civilian wear. He quickly donned a jacket and a pair of kitty-sized jeans. I pulled up an obscurement effect for my more obvious features, shifted out of my cape costume, and slipped into a set of civilian wear. My lantern shield collapsed fully down to a wrist watch and my costume boots were switched out for a more mundane looking pair, though still with the same level of craftsmanship and threat as my full combat boots. Two items that were both weapons and defensive, ensuring perfect protection even out of costume. Then with one final check on the Zaber Fang, who was napping in kitten-form on top of a pile of fabric in Garment's workshop, and we were ready to depart.

My scattering of door access points around the city had given me plenty of options, including the pair of doors inside the gym that I had used at Garment's debut. I picked out a location a couple of blocks from the gym in a seldom used alley. Cracking the door was enough for a full scanner sweep of the area to ensure no observers as we slipped out into the city proper.

This section of the Docks was never a high traffic area, but it seemed to be returning to something close to the level of activity it had before the series of disasters that hit the city. More people on the street meant more eyes on the pair of us, but it turned out I really didn't need to be worried about Tybalt's 'cover', such as it was. Walking down the street I actually attracted more second looks than he did. Normally I'd be concerned about whether I overlooked some aspect of my appearance that the illusion effects were supposed to conceal, but I could tell that wasn't the case. Specifically, Aphrodite's blessing was good enough to confirm for me the precise reason for the attention I was getting.

I set that aside as we finished the short walk to the gym. Now five days after the mess of the ABB's attack things were calming down to the point where you could start to see the place as an actual gym rather than a community center and aid dispensary. There were still areas clearly set out for the management of people and supplies, but the boxing equipment was slowly starting to creep back into prominence. Not to the point where anyone was practicing, but it did feel like there was at least a preparation for things returning to normal, which was a very good sign.

Looking around, I could see the organizational system I had nudged into place was still holding strong and had actually seen a bit of refinement in a few places. I suppose when they weren't trying to get a quarter ton of baking supplies into hungry mouths as quickly as possible a level of sanity was able to reassert itself. I was willing to bet the conscripted kitchens that had been set up were probably largely stood down, leaving only places actually intended for that kind of work.

You still had pallets of food present, but it was being handled more on a local scale then rushed out as soon as possible. Likewise, you still had social areas set up, places where people were congregating, eating or talking or watching children. That was a sign of how badly the city's common spaces had been hit. Even people who didn't lose their homes might have lost power or gas, or had schools shut down, or access to parks closed off. I never would have thought about the gym as that kind of a social area, even if it had effectively fit that role for me.

I was able to pick my way through the bustle once again without any serious attention being paid to Tybalt. Not even a reaction to his height. Knowing about the effect, it was fascinating to see it in action, especially when I finally tracked down Doug.

"Joe!" The big man bellowed when he spotted me. Doug was never subtle in his interactions, but there was something refreshing about that.

"Hi Doug." I called back as he closed the distance through the crowd. "I wanted to introduce you to Tybalt." I gestured to the Palico next to me. "He's volunteering at Garment's event as well."

"Glad to hear it." He said without missing a beat. He reached down and grabbed one of Tybalt's paws in a meaty handshake. "She's done a world of good already, so it's good to see people stepping up for this." Despite Doug being ten times Tybalt's size the Felyne didn't have any trouble managing the man's enthusiastic handshake. Doug also didn't seem to find anything strange about someone who was barely over three feet tall managing to hold his own in that department. The fact that Tybalt was a cat seemed to be a detail of even more distant relevance.

"I've heard some of the donations are already starting to go through." I said. Doug grinned in response.

"Oh yeah. That lady Mertens knows her stuff. Didn't just get info for financial donations. Had people put up lists of anything they needed. From what I heard a whole bunch of the orders are already filled. Overnight shipping or trickled in during the day." He explained.

"Really?" I said in well concealed surprise. With the combined actions of my duplicates and the Matrix pretty much anything that could be fabricated and delivered covertly had been seen to, though at least with enough of a delay to make it reasonable to have been filled by someone out of the state.

"Yeah. It's like a second wave of the donations that came through after that bloody mess last Thursday. Thankfully no one sent hundreds of pounds of flour this time." He muttered, then his eyes lit up as he looked at me. "Even got the parts you listed for those appliances."

"Seriously?" I said. Hopefully we would get past this fairly quickly. I was losing faith in my ability to continue to manage convincing levels of mock surprise.

"Seriously. Need to thank you for that. The stuff you got running is already making a difference. Got an electrician I know handling the parts, so we should be able to salvage a lot more, and you're clear to focus on Garments thing." He explained. "Glad you were able to sign up for that. Been a lot of buzz about it. Seems like a good opportunity for someone like you."

"Maybe." I said noncommittally. "I actually need to get down there, so I was just coming to pick up my car. Giving Tybalt a ride as well."

"You got room for a couple more?" He asked. "We've been trying to coordinate ferrying people around, but between the state of the roads, the buses not running, and all the other recovery work things have been a bit sparse."

"Shouldn't be a problem." I said. "Who needs a ride?"

"Vince has been meaning to get down there as well as that new kid, Theo." Doug grunted. "Bit doughy when he signed up, but he's been toughening up fast."

"He'd have to." I said in good humor.

"Ha. Hold up and I track them down for you. Tybalt, good meeting you." Doug said. He pushed back into the bustle of the gym as the Forge missed another connection to the Time constellation.

Tybalt waved back and called out something close to 'You too'. The 'Oi!' power that we shared meant he could manage any accent he wanted, but it seemed he preferred to maintain a fairly heavy tinge of cat sound to his voice, though substantially more articulate than he had been before he got that power.

The chasing down of Vince and Theo proved to be a longer task than Doug let on, which left Tybalt and me to occupy ourselves. I slipped back into my handyman role easily enough, doing a circuit of the gym and checking on anything that might need fixing. I mean, I already knew what needed fixing. Divine sense of technology coupled with advanced scanners and psionic deconstruction of anything I touched meant I knew about problems before they showed up.

I may have nudged a few potential problems to make themselves known, just the slightest divine influence of technology to make sure I could deal with things while I was here, rather than let them go wrong in my absence. It also meant that I could be the one to check on the malfunction, meaning I could easily downplay the severity of the issue. Something that definitely couldn't be fixed with a single screwdriver or by thumping the right location on a machine's casing was dismissed as a minor hiccup, rather than a critical failure that had been years in the making.

Meanwhile, Tybalt set about a social circuit of the gym, introducing himself to everyone he could and offering a helping paw wherever it was needed. It was interesting to watch. People clearly knew he was a cat; they just weren't placing any importance on it. He was able to completely ingratiate himself despite all of his feline traits. In fact, in cases where they would be an asset they seemed to come through even stronger. That was probably most impressive when he managed to get pets and chin scritches from an otherwise occupied Mrs. Gartenberg. The elderly woman fell into the motions with an instinctual ease that suggested she had a lifetime of happy cats behind her.

Finally, Doug returned with Vince and Theo trailing behind him. The two couldn't have been more different, but that was to be expected from the gym's top boxer and someone with less than a week of training under his belt. Still, Theo had clearly been working his ass off in the aftermath of the attacks and I'm sure that was appreciated. Just as I'm sure he got more than his share of the worst jobs available. Gotta love being on the bottom of the totem pole.

"Hey Joe." Vince called out, then looked me over again. "You do something with your hair?"

"Uh, yeah." I said, reaching up to adjust my hair slightly. There was a knowing grin from Doug, but just confusion on Theo's part.

I hadn't seen Vince since before Aphrodite's blessing and now had my Perfect Hair power piled on top of that. Between the illusion effects I used and my conscious restraint of my posing and efficient movement powers I was able to downplay most of my appearance powers, but something still leaked through. Not enough to give me away or make me look like a different person, but there was clearly a sense I was putting myself together with a lot more care than I had previously exercised. Luckily most people seemed happy to dismiss any appearance changes as 'he cleans up good' and then launch into theorizing about who precisely I was cleaning up for. That was probably a meatier subject of gossip than the possibility of appearance altering parahuman powers.

"Works for you." He said. "So, Doug says you can give us a lift down to the Regency Center?"

"Yeah." I said. "I'm helping out with the setup for the streaming. What about you guys?"

Vince gave me a tired grin. "More lifting and toting. It never seems to stop."

"Yeah." Theo said in a tired voice. Despite the weariness in his voice, he definitely seemed less stressed than the last time I'd seen him. Maybe he had been able to burn off his frustrations through his work, or the gym had provided enough separation from his issues for him to get some relief. Or he was just too tired to care anymore. Any of them were possibilities.

"Great, let's just grab Tybalt and we can go." I waved at the Felyne in question and he reluctantly extricated himself from Mrs. Gartenberg's attentions. He came bounding over for a set of introductions to Vince and Theo, with no meaningful reaction in their part despite the fact that Tybalt covered a good portion of the distance on all fours.

With a quick goodbye to Doug, we headed out to the parking lot to where my completely normal Ford Pinto was parked. As expected, the completely unimpressive vehicle completely failed to impress any prospective passenger, including Tybalt. I took that as a minor betrayal.

"Hey, whatever happened to that bike of yours?" Vince asked, taking the front passenger seat on the grounds of leg length.

"Lost it in the Ungodly Hour." I explained, taking the driver's seat as Theo and Tybalt piled into the back. Technically, it wasn't a lie, and it's not like it was exactly accessible at the moment. Not without virtual presence projection through a quantum entanglement communicator.

"Damn." Vince said. "Sorry to hear about that."

I sighed. "Considering everything else, can't really complain, right?" as we pulled out I gestured to the bustle around the gym, then to some of the damage to the city that was visible even from this relatively sheltered part of the Docks.

"Oh, you can definitely complain." He said, injecting some levity into his voice. "It's every Brocktonite's God given right, especially after the last two weeks."

"If nothing else we're united in how much things suck?" I offered.

"Exactly." Vince replied. "Anyone is free to bitch about losing a sweet ride like that."

"It was a good bike?" Theo asked, pulling his attention from Tybalt who may have been making an attempt to secure more pets.

"It was a Suzuki." I said. "A GSX-R 750." I remembered getting the beat-up machine from the used car dealership. The perfect cover for civilian transport, until my crafting powers took things too far and I ended up with an iconic Japanese racing bike.

Theo looked confused. "I thought, with Japanese bikes…"

"They're hell to keep running or to find decent parts." Vince explained. "But they're iconic for a reason. Just end up eating your life in maintenance if you let them."

"Yeah." I said, taking a corner to avoid a pile of rubble that was still being cleared. "It was something of a long-term project. Finally got it together, then…" I let out a sigh.

"Did you build it yourself?" Theo asked.

I shook my head. "Got an old model and fixed it up. But Vince is right, it was hell to get it working properly."

"Should have gone with a Yamaha." He said, then glanced back at Theo. "After Kyushu they moved to Korea. Suzuki set up mostly in… what was it, Indonesia?"

"Malaysia, at least for the headquarters." I said.

"Yeah." Vince said. "Early work after the move was really rough, but Yamaha managed to step up their quality. Suzuki not so much." He turned back to me. "Still, sucks that you lost it."

I nodded. "Still, not like I'm without transport." I said, tapping the wheel of my car.

"Yeah…" Vince said in a less than certain tone of voice. The look he exchanged with Theo and Tybalt seemed to indicate he felt I was in some level of denial.

The rest of the drive shifted into less contentious topics, specifically chosen to avoid references to recent events. That wasn't the easiest thing in the world, considering the tour of damage we were passing on the way to the Regency Center, or the numerous detours we needed to take to avoid impassable roads or just Dust-wrought trails of destruction that had torn through the city. The active effects had died down, but that did nothing for places where the earth had been split open or torn into a mess of concrete shards.

Seeing the damage from ground level really drove home the scale of the arsenal I had been packing in terms of Dust weaving. I may have joked about strategic weapons bound in cloth, but that was exactly what we were looking at here. For anything less than March's cluster attack there would be no chance of breaching them, but tearing a line of destruction halfway through a city was the least of what that level of Dust weaving could accomplish.

It really put some of Garment's battle gowns in perspective. Even more so now that she was gearing up for the Slaughterhouse Nine. I wasn't exactly short on ways to bring down hell on that group of murderers, but Garment seemed determined to do her part in the preparations.

I was saved from further ruminations on the upcoming conflict by Tybalt taking the lead in the conversation. Despite still leaning into his Felyne accent, which was yet another thing his power caused to be overlooked, he was as quick to engage Vince and Theo as he had been with the people at the gym. I had to wonder, did demigod status normally come with a charisma boost that I missed out on from being related to the notorious loner of the pantheon? Or maybe it was just that people tended to like cats.

Still, we ran through our fabricated history of having recently met through coordination of volunteers for the charity event. It was easy to sell that idea considering how meticulously everything had been managed. It was pretty much necessary, considering the timescale we were working under, but there was a trick to utilizing people without coming across as taking advantage of them. That went double for volunteers, where shedding staff at any critical point could doom the event. Things were being tightly managed, but it was being done in a way that made sure nobody was overwhelmed.

It also helped that key positions were being dealt with directly by members of the team. Survey, Fleet, Tybalt, myself, and even Aisha were pitching in to ensure that there weren't any critical gaps that needed to be filled. The whole enterprise went a lot easier when you could just supply the expertise yourself, rather than hoping someone with the relevant skills would sign up, or trying to hire someone on short notice with tight funds.

Tybalt continued to expound upon a history that was probably completely fabricated on the spot as I felt the Forge move again. For the third time in a row, it reached out to the Time constellation, only now with enough reach to secure one of the massive motes. The rest of the constellation flew away as the nova descended on me, all while I focused on keeping my car on the road.

Time is a luxury, and one we can seldom afford. If necessity was the mother of invention then desperation was an unstable helicopter parent with no sense of personal boundaries. The holy trinity of construction was cheap, good, and fast, but there were levels of priority that couldn't be purchased with any level of money or quality compromises.

Until now.

This power, it grew from desperate circumstances, but it rose above that mindset. Other people would demand a project be done yesterday, or insist that the fault of delays lay only with the person tasked to carry out the work, irrespective of any adverse conditions. They would froth, they would rage, and they would level accusations. And I would laugh, because I was a One-Man Assembly Line and I was beyond their petty concerns.

That was what this power granted. Complete irreverence for the practical limits of project work. Deadlines could be approaching, supply lines could be backed up, and help could be nonexistent and none of it would matter. With One-Man Assembly Line the world was my playground. I had unprecedented knowledge of construction and engineering. A precision jet engine built in a weekend from spare parts was a vacation to me. People would rant about schedules, materials, and the impossibility of the work. I would smile and nod, and then do it anyway.

Of all the impossible construction powers I'd received I don't think I'd ever encountered one this light hearted. The lightheartedness grew from a place of deadly seriousness, but that's what made it all the more precious. The ability to rise above stress, above limits, above constraints. To carry the day in the face of all opposition. That was the essence of this power.

Practically, it massively accelerated the speed of my work while broadening the materials I could use to accomplish it. Substitutions, substandard equipment, and non-precision parts were all possibilities and held no risk of negatively impacting the final product. In terms of construction speed, it nicely matched up with the boost I received from Build Rome, but was much more comprehensive.

Build Rome accelerated my work by roughly a factor of a hundred, but it was focused on technical work. With all my other time-based powers, with Machinist, Savvy Sultan, Do One Thing At A Time, and both iterations of Manufacturing Line I had been able to complete technical work at a hundred and twenty-eight thousand times normal speed. One second of work was equivalent to thirty-five hours of construction time, conducted by a hundred people thanks to the combined effects of Don't Need A Team and Most Holy Order of the Socket Wrench.

Now that was a hundred times faster. One second was the equivalent to three thousand five hundred hours of construction. For scale, a forty-hour work week equates to about two thousand work hours in a year. Before this power my construction speed was insane. Now, that didn't even come close to describing it. Madmen didn't work as fast as I did. I had completely left the scale.

What really hit was the fact that this power had a much broader scope than Build Rome. Build Rome, like most of my crafting speed powers, was specific to technology. I could build machines, electronics, and other technical devices blindingly fast, but other forms of crafting were much slower. It was why I tended to build technical systems into all my work whenever possible. A statue that was also a sensor node or forcefield projector could be completed much faster than one that was just a piece of art.

Non-technology based smithing and similar crafts had been accelerated by a factor of ninety-six, while general crafting, everything from alchemy to cooking, was only twenty-four times faster. Considering some work, like the Arcane Craft, operated at that slower rate there were still hurdles to overcome.

Or there had been. Smithing was now nearly nine thousand six hundred times faster while any other crafting functioned two thousand four hundred times faster. I could make two-minute noodles in a twentieth of a second. A potion that would take a day to simmer would be done in barely thirty seconds.

It was an exciting concept, but really it just drove home the fact that I could never risk making anything in public while in my civilian identity. In my cape identity, well, crafting speed hadn't been a bottleneck for some time, but there was still one area where it would make a difference. Ironically, it was with the one ability that had made crafting time irrelevant.

My Noble Phantasm, the Mystic Forge. It might seem like it was instant crafting, but really it was the suspension of time. That suspension needed to be paid for with the reserves of mana I had available when I activated my Noble Phantasm. The three elements that factored into the cost were the time, the complexity, and the size of the work. Now time didn't matter, and the complexity scaled with time, meaning it was largely wiped out as well. That only left size.

With One-Man Assembly Line when I activated my Noble Phantasm I could focus all my mana on the size of the bounded field. I would be able to complete works that were orders of magnitude larger than what I had been able to before. Vehicles and buildings rather than weapons and armor.

It was the most direct tactical benefit from the power, but it wasn't the most important one. That fundamentally came back to that mindset. The freedom from the burdens that this power facilitated. The speed boost was incredible and the versatility of the crafting was useful, but it was what the power represented that was important. The world would scream and stress and make demands and I would laugh, because to me their desperation meant nothing. Their demands were a vacation, and the world was my playground.

I smiled as I took the turn towards the Regency Center, causing the conversation to drop off. I realized Tybalt may have picked it up to distract from my reaction to the power's arrival. I thanked him with a subtle nod before I announced our arrival to the rest of the car.

"Looks like we're here. Everyone ready?"

I knew I was.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

One-Man Assembly Line (XCOM) 600:

You really liked playing with building blocks as a kid. Now that you're all grown up, the world is your playground. Your knowledge of construction and engineering is unprecedented, and making a jet engine from spare parts over a weekend is your idea of fun.