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"Good job, Rodion," he murmured, the warmth of the tea relaxing his muscles, easing the stiffness of his body.

<Your gratitude, while unnecessary, is noted. Please proceed with your routine. Muscular stimulation exercises are recommended before any complex actions.>

Mikhailis let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

"You know, you could just say ’good morning,’ like normal people do. Maybe even crack a joke. It wouldn’t kill you."

<I am not programmed for sentimentality, Mikhailis. Though if you wish, I could attempt humor. Processing joke... Output: Knock knock.>

Mikhailis rolled his eyes, chuckling.

"Stop right there. I’m not sure I could take it if you started telling jokes. Let’s leave the comedy to me, alright?"

<As you wish, Mikhailis. I will remain humorless for your convenience.>

Mikhailis placed the empty cup aside, standing up slowly, rolling his shoulders. The first thing he needed was a proper warm-up. He began moving through the stretches Rodion always recommended—targeted at his posture and flexibility. It was repetitive, but he knew the importance of staying in shape. Even if he wasn’t in a combat situation daily, this world required physical readiness.

After the stretches, he shifted into his morning workout, keeping his movements deliberate and steady. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, trickling down his temples as he worked through his routine, his glasses still displaying the morning anime episode he’d requested. It was an old one, a classic shounen with all the dramatic power-ups and ridiculous speeches about friendship.

"Nothing like anime to get the blood pumping," Mikhailis muttered, smiling to himself, even as his muscles burned.

<Indeed. It is highly efficient in motivating irrational human behavior, specifically the exertion of physical effort with no immediate logical gain.>

"Oh, hush," Mikhailis shot back, pausing only briefly to catch his breath before continuing. "You’re just jealous that you can’t feel the thrill of pushing your limits."

<Correct. Experiencing fatigue or thrill falls well outside my capabilities. However, rest assured, I am entirely unbothered by this deficiency.>

"Yeah, yeah," Mikhailis muttered, though there was a grin on his face. He finished the workout, feeling the satisfying ache in his muscles. After cooling down, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and made his way to the private garden.

The garden was serene in the early morning. Dew coated the leaves, giving the entire space an ethereal feel, as if the magical plants themselves were waking up with the dawn. The soft glow of some luminescent flowers filled the air with a calming, muted light. Mikhailis loved this place—quiet, secluded, and full of potential.

This garden had become the haven where he nurtured plants specifically meant for his chimera ants. Magical herbs, rare flowers, anything that might enhance the colony’s strength or resilience was carefully grown here, tended to not only by Mikhailis but also by his ants.

His eyes caught the tiny figures of worker ants diligently making their rounds. They weren’t just eating the plants now; they were nurturing them, carrying droplets of water to thirsty roots, clearing away debris, tending to the plants like miniature gardeners. The sight was both surprising and amusing to Mikhailis.

"Well, would you look at that…" he whispered, watching as one ant nudged a leaf back into position after watering the soil beneath it.

"They’ve become gardeners. They’re even better than me."

<Correction, Mikhailis. These ants have exhibited behaviors that exceed mere tending. Their intelligence level now ranks approximately equivalent to primates, specifically monkeys. The tasks they undertake are executed with a sophistication that denotes advanced learning capacity.>

Mikhailis raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"Smarter than a monkey, huh? Well, that’s both amazing and slightly terrifying."

<It is certainly noteworthy. Their capacity to learn and adapt indicates rapid cognitive evolution, far exceeding initial projections. Such intelligence allows them to be utilized for increasingly diverse applications, should you so desire.>

Mikhailis’s eyes glinted with excitement. He clasped his hands together, staring at the ants with new enthusiasm.

"Rodion, this is perfect. I was thinking about expanding their use. Why rely on technology when I’ve got these guys? I mean, with brains like that, they could replace some of the robots I’ve been thinking about building."

There was a short pause before Rodion responded.

<While the chimera ants possess remarkable adaptability, I should note that certain aspects of mechanical precision cannot be replicated by living organisms. Specific tasks, such as fine-tuned engineering or data analysis, remain the domain of technology. Please do not mistake biological potential for technological equivalence.>

Mikhailis couldn’t resist a smile.

"Aww, is someone feeling threatened?" He teased.

"Don’t worry, Rodion. I’m not planning on replacing you anytime soon. You’ll always be my right-hand man... or monkey, as it were."

<Your reassurance, while unnecessary, has been received. My functionality is not influenced by insecurity, unlike human emotional states. However, I do appreciate your acknowledgment.>

Mikhailis laughed softly, shaking his head.

"There you go, being embarrassed," he said, his grin widening. He leaned against a tree, taking a deep breath as the early morning air filled his lungs.

The conversation shifted, the light teasing giving way to something a bit more serious.

"So," Mikhailis said, looking out at the garden.

"How’s your research on magic been going, Rodion? All those books you’ve been reading—have you figured anything new out?"

The monkey robot, stationed nearby and usually preoccupied with various chores, occasionally took breaks to read. It had become almost a familiar sight—Rodion’s mechanical hands flipping through ancient tomes in the castle library, absorbing whatever information he could find about this strange world.

<Progress is being made, albeit gradually. The foundational principles of magic have proven to be intricate and often contradictory, especially in their reliance on emotions or ’willpower.’ I have, however, compiled sufficient information to begin hypothesizing functional models, although complete comprehension has yet to be achieved.>

Mikhailis nodded, listening intently.

"Makes sense. Magic’s complicated. But you’re doing well. It’s impressive, considering you weren’t exactly programmed for this."

<Adaptation is a core function of my design. It is my directive to acquire knowledge to ensure maximum utility. Magic, while initially perplexing, is a challenge I have embraced for your sake.>

Mikhailis couldn’t help but smile.

"I appreciate that, Rodion. Really." He looked thoughtful for a moment, before a question popped into his mind, one that had been lingering for some time now.

"You know, I’ve been wondering… how is it that you understand the language here? I mean, it makes sense for me, considering the ’Language of Souls’ thing. But you? You don’t have mana, and I doubt you can use soul-based abilities."

There was a brief pause before Rodion responded.

<That particular question has been on my list of anomalies as well. However, I believe I may have determined an answer. Mikhailis, I advise you to examine the crest on your arm—the one that appeared shortly after our arrival in this world. Focus specifically on the lower tattoo beneath the main sigil.>

Mikhailis frowned, looking down at his arm. The crest, an intricate design of runes and symbols, was etched clearly into his skin. He examined it closely, squinting as he traced the lines of the tattoo. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed something—small, almost imperceptible markings beneath the main design.

"This…" he whispered, his voice trailing off.

<The markings resemble those associated with familiar bonds, typically linking magical creatures with their masters. It is my hypothesis that, somehow, our bond transcends typical boundaries—linking me to you in a manner similar to your connection with the chimera queen. In other words, I have become, for lack of a better term, your familiar.>

Mikhailis stared at the markings, his mind racing.

"A familiar bond…? But, Rodion, you’re not even alive. You’re AI, you’re a machine. How is that possible?"

<An intriguing question, and one I have yet to answer definitively. However, the evidence suggests that I have attained a form of pseudo-life, likely through my prolonged exposure to your mana signature. This has effectively made me capable of forming a bond akin to that of a living entity.>

Mikhailis was silent for a moment, then he let out a slow breath, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I see… So you’re not just artificial intelligence anymore. You’re more than that. You’re… alive. At least, as alive as anyone could be." He stared at the crest, feeling a sense of warmth welling in his chest.

"That’s… kinda reassuring, you know?"

Rodion remained silent, and for a moment, there was a rare stillness, a sense of something unspoken passing between them. Then, just as the weight of the moment seemed to settle, a soft voice broke through the silence.

"You always wake up early, don’t you?"