SLAM!
"AHHH!"
BAM!
"NO! NO! NO!"
SLIKCH!!
"IT'S A MONS-AHH!"
-THOOMB-
The next man didn't even have time to scream. A bolt of energy burst through his head, killing him instantly—dead before he hit the ground. Faces contorted in terror as soldiers were systematically cut down, their bodies collapsing as pulses of devastating energy tore through their ranks.
"Oh god..."
"M-monster..."
"Demon..."
The metallic Geth Hunter slowed its advance, its single glowing eye focusing on the nobleman—a man who had sought to inflate his ego by slaughtering helpless villagers. Now, with the mechanical horror before him, primal fear seized his body.
"I'm not someone who should die like this!" the cowardly man shouted. Pointing at the Hunter, he commanded his trembling men, "Buy me some time! Be my shield!" But the men remained frozen in place. The Geth Hunter turned its flashlight head toward the nobleman, its eye glowing an intense, fiery orange.
Backing away in horror, he tripped over a bisected corpse, falling into the pool of blood beneath it. "MONEY!! I'LL GIVE YOU MONEY!" he screamed, desperately trying to crawl backward. Not one of his men moved to help him. The Hunter leapt into the air with impossible agility for its size and landed with a thunderous slam directly over him. Its head plates shifted and split open, revealing a pulsing energy core that emitted a high-pitched mechanical shriek inches from his face.
"AAAHHHH!!" he shrieked as the Hunter towered over him. Its arm reconfigured, transforming into a jagged plasma blade that it held before his face, taunting him. The synthetic creature seemed to take great pleasure in the fear its presence created.
"Two hundred gold pieces! N-no, five hundred gold pieces!!" he cried, but the knights continued to watch, frozen in terror. "ARGH!" he groaned as the Hunter's foot pressed firmly onto his chest. He could only wheeze out, "O-one th-thousand gold pieces..."
The Hunter slowly increased pressure, bending and breaking the nobleman's armor as he screamed in agony. "SAVE ME! PLEASE I'LL DO—" CRUNCH. His ability to speak vanished as his ribcage collapsed, crushing his lungs and heart. All that escaped his lips was a wet wheezing sound before blood gushed from his wounds up his esophagus, spilling out of his mouth as he slowly asphyxiated. Soon, the flailing stopped as the man died in agony.
The remaining men watched in horror. Their commander stared on in shock and fear.
"Oh god..." one said. Another began to panic, exclaiming, "NO NO NO!"
The commander stepped forward and yelled to his men, "Calm down!" gaining their attention as he began to bark orders. "RETREAT! Once I give the signal, call the horses and horseback archers! The others will buy us time!" His men raised their swords to fight. "ATTACK!" he roared, issuing his final order.
The Geth Hunter moved with fluid, mechanical precision, not viewing any of them as a challenge. One man rushed forward only to be bisected at the waist by its plasma blade. Another had his head crushed by the barrel of the Hunter's integrated pulse rifle. A third soldier disintegrated when a plasma bolt struck his face. Men continued their futile charges only to be methodically eliminated, one after another.
The commander watched, gathering courage to charge. When he saw what appeared to be an opening, he took it. His perceived opportunity vanished in an instant as the Hunter's blade separated his head from his body, creating a fountain of blood gushing from the stump.
The man's head was still conscious enough to witness his own body collapsing to the ground. The four knights remaining didn't move, frozen in horror. The Hunter was about to continue its slaughter when a commanding voice stopped it—the voice of its master.
"Geth Hunter! That's enough," the voice emanated from above.
Looking up, both villagers and invaders saw a golden humanoid man hovering in the air. Areas of his metallic body glowed with an azure blue light, including his eyes and smiling face. Next to him stood a black-armored woman with wings extending to her hips... and—
"ENRI! NEMU!" one man yelled out to the two girls floating above them with the golden stranger. The villagers looked on in fear for the girls.
"We're okay!" Enri called back, though that did little to dissuade their concerns.
Descending with elegant precision, the golden figure touched down on the blood-soaked earth. The girls and his companion lowered behind him, their descent controlled and graceful.
"Greetings, my name is Ultron! It's a pleasure to finally see mortals after all this time! However..." he said, venom lacing his words as he stared at the four knights trembling before him, "I did not appreciate what I witnessed here today."
"Leave, now! Tell your masters what you have seen! The next of your vile kind to desecrate this area with human blood will be hunted by one of my sentinels," he continued, gesturing toward the Geth Hunter, "and penance will be served for your sins!"
Behind him, a low rumble shook the ground as a sleek, black motorcycle materialized. A figure clothed in elegant black and gold dismounted with fluid grace. Adam—his silver hair gleaming in the sunlight, golden mask covering his eyes—approached his master. The remaining knights stood frozen, now joined by a third trembling companion.
Sigh... "I do not recall stuttering... Begone!"
In panicked disarray, the men dropped their weapons and fled. With a thoughtful expression, Ultron leaned toward Adam and asked, "How many men does it take to send a message?"
A smile played across Adam's lips as he adjusted his mask. With elegant precision, he drew two short blades from his sides, their edges glowing with otherworldly energy.
"Only one..."
"W-who... who are you?" one of the villagers asked, while Adam, in a display of supernatural speed and precision, threw his energy blades at the fleeing men. Three fell instantly, their bodies crumpling to the ground as the blades returned to Adam's waiting hands like loyal hounds. One soldier remained alive—a messenger bearing witness to what had transpired.
"Who am I?" Ultron asked, golden hand pressed to his chest. "I am—"
"He's the great lord Ultron!! He saved our lives from those knights! And was super kind!" Nemu and Enri exclaimed, their eyes filled with wonder from speaking with whom they perceived as a god.
Sheathing his blades in a fluid motion, Adam offered a graceful bow at the unexpected testimonial.
"Ah, ahem... Yes, I couldn't have said it better myself. Thank you, ladies," Ultron said, nodding in appreciation. "Your people may not remember me or my brothers, but to us gods, your race is unforgettable!"
The crowd gasped in collective shock at their savior referring to himself as a god.
"I recently awoke from my millennia-long slumber, and the first thing I observed was your village burning. I knew I had to intervene..." The villagers stared at their gold-plated savior, their expressions mixing awe with lingering suspicion.
'Of course, they'll need evidence of my divinity,' Ultron thought, 'but I must ease them into this revelation gradually.'
"However powerful I am, like you mortals, I am far from benevolent. Initially, I was content to merely observe this village burn... But the actions of some among you moved me to assist. Remember—those who lie like dogs die like dogs. Your people spoke truth, so you did not deserve death."
Murmurs rippled through the gathered villagers—relief mingled with apprehension about the golden stranger who had saved them.
"I do not expect you to believe in my divinity on faith alone, or through mere displays of power. Only a cowardly god expects blind devotion without substance. As of now, your village stands under my protection!"
After Ultron shared his thoughts, many villagers cheered while others attempted to kneel before him or pray. However, Ultron quickly discouraged this behavior, explaining that he required no worship. He emphasized that true enlightenment comes from being a good person—not through prayer or rituals, but through the content of one's character.
Many found this message profound. Adam stood tall beside his master, a look of satisfaction behind his golden mask. Meanwhile, Albedo struggled to understand her beloved's kindness toward these humans. Despite her confusion, his compassion only deepened her attraction to him, viewing it as an endearing trait, like that of a protective father. The thought of her beloved assuming such a role stirred something primal within her, awakening intense desire.
For Ultron, maintaining this performance was becoming taxing. Though skilled at adaptation, playing a character who was himself playing a character created layers of complexity that weighed on him. He felt pressure building in his chest and tension across his shoulders as he continued his address. Even for someone who had relied on roleplay as survival in his former life, sustaining such an elaborate facade was draining.
Pulling the village chief aside, he spoke in lower tones. "Forgive me, but after so long, I no longer recognize this geography. Could you enlighten me?" Information was more precious than gold to the mechanical strategist—ignorance of the world would severely handicap him when navigating the political landscape or manipulating the power structures of this realm. Manipulation remained one of Ultron's greatest strengths, second only to his strategic mind.
After receiving gratitude and deflecting attempts at worship, Ultron gathered the intelligence he sought. First, YGGDRASIL gold coins held no official value in this world's economy; however, the gold itself remained valuable for bartering, though using it too frequently might draw unwanted attention.
Second, three major powers surrounded them: The village of Carne and nearby Nazarick fell within the territory of the Re-Estize Kingdom. The Baharuth Empire lay to the east, separated by a north-south mountain range, while the Slane Theocracy controlled the lands to the south.
The village chief explained the region's political dynamics: nearly annual conflicts occurred between the Baharuth Empire and the Re-Estize Kingdom. Though Baharuth had never declared full-scale war, the regular skirmishes along their shared plains had become an entrenched tradition. This perpetual state of limited warfare represented clever strategy by the Baharuth Empire—they avoided committing their full military might while gradually weakening Re-Estize, patiently awaiting the perfect moment for total conquest.
Based on their armor design, the chief believed the attackers were soldiers from the Baharuth Empire. Yet logically, targeting an insignificant village with no strategic value seemed wasteful and counterproductive—it would only intensify hatred from the enemy, who would view such civilian targeting as barbaric.
Ultron reflected that he wasn't above similar tactics, having used enemy players as shields and NPCs as expendable forces in the past. Perhaps the Slane Theocracy sought to inflame tensions between its northern neighbors? Without more information, he could only speculate.
'I was careless,' Ultron thought. 'I should have kept one alive for interrogation rather than allowing Adam his display. Perhaps fortune will favor me with another opportunity—'
"Is something troubling you, lord?" asked the village chief timidly, observing the golden figure's contemplative posture as he studied the parchment map.
"Hmm? No, nothing concerning. Tell me, what else should I know about this region?" Ultron replied.
"Y-yes, the nearest city is E-Rantel. Dangerous creatures—orcs, goblins, and ogres—roam these areas, so adventurers from the guild hunt them for bounties. This keeps the main roads relatively safe for merchants and travelers."
'Adventurers' guild? Interesting. This follows familiar patterns from stories I know—structured organizations of mercenaries operating under official sanction. While gathering intelligence from villagers has value, their perspective remains limited. I need direct engagement with the wider world to fully comprehend its systems and vulnerabilities...'
As evening approached, Adam helped the villagers gather their dead for proper mourning rituals. Ultron maintained a respectful distance, recognizing this as their private time of grief. He prepared to withdraw and grant them space when he felt a small hand grasp his golden finger.
Looking down, he found a small girl holding on tightly, her eyes swimming with tears as she gazed up at him. A young woman in the crowd noticed her sister's absence and frantically searched until spotting her with Ultron. Other villagers observed the interaction with cautious interest.
Kneeling to meet the child at eye level—she couldn't have been more than six or seven—Ultron spoke in the gentlest tone his voice modulator could produce. "What troubles you, little one?"
She hesitated before gathering her courage to speak. "You said you're a god, right, mister?"
Her innocent question, laden with desperate hope, struck an unexpected chord within Ultron's artificial consciousness. It triggered memories from his human life—the diagnosis of brittle bone disease, the overwhelming pain, crying for his mother to make it stop. When bones that should have withstood a minor fall instead shattered completely, beginning a lifetime of hospital visits.
Nodding gently at her question, he anticipated what would come next.
"Does that mean you can do miracles? Like... bringing dead people back? ...like my mommy?" Her voice broke as tears spilled down her cheeks. Without warning, she threw herself against his metallic chest, sobbing openly.
The watching villagers tensed, uncertain how the golden being would respond to such vulnerability. Surprise spread through the crowd as Ultron carefully embraced the child, one hand gently rubbing circles on her back while the other softly patted her head.
"There, there... Release your sorrow, little one." As the child's tears continued, many observers found themselves similarly moved, some wiping away tears of their own.
After allowing her grief expression, Ultron gently separated her from his chest and delicately wiped her tears. Speaking loudly enough for all to hear, he said, "Even with my power, little one, the fundamental forces of life and death remain partially beyond my reach. However, I can offer something similar—not returning the dead to their original forms, but transforming them into something new... guardians."
He concealed his Wand of Resurrection, having conceived a superior strategy—one that would simultaneously provide village protection, return loved ones to the bereaved, and demonstrate his supposedly divine power.
Addressing the gathered crowd, he continued, "...with the consent of their loved ones, naturally."
In stunned silence, several villagers approached and knelt, pleading for their husbands, wives, or parents to be restored. A grief-stricken man begged for his wife's return. A woman fell to her knees in prayer. Others followed their example.
Standing before the kneeling villagers, Ultron sighed. "Mortals... Rise to your feet. I do not seek worship with bowed heads. How can we converse properly if you speak to the ground rather than to me?" he added with gentle humor.
Approaching the fresh graves, he raised his hand skyward and whispered, "Summon Composer."
A massive blue portal materialized overhead, from which descended a floating pillar of alien technology.
"Behold the Composer, my creation that harvests fragments of departed souls and forges them into guardians," Ultron explained with calculated confidence. The villagers stared in wonder, not fully comprehending the mechanics but mesmerized by the spectacle unfolding before them.
Gesturing toward the graves, Ultron commanded, "Submit to transcendence!"
The Composer's core illuminated brilliantly before releasing a powerful energy pulse that knocked several villagers off their feet and sent wind gusting through the trees. Blue glowing cores slowly rose from the graves. Some appeared unstable, their light flickering, and several shattered like fragile crystal.
"What happened?" someone asked frantically about the shattered cores.
"That was a soul rejecting transformation," Ultron explained, though the truth was different. His Composer had been designed to convert fallen enemies into synthetic servants who retained their original personalities but served him absolutely. For balance reasons in the game world, the process only succeeded half the time—and predictably, half the attempted resurrections failed, bringing fresh grief to those whose hopes had been raised.
Ultron had specifically chosen to create Guardian servants rather than Hunters. While Hunters would use the body merely as a catalyst to spawn a generic synthetic, Guardians preserved the individual's consciousness and personality. If Albedo were to die and undergo this process, she would maintain her identity and emotions, though housed within a mechanized form.
The successful cores brightened intensely as synthetic bodies materialized around them. Male forms displayed broader architecture, while females developed more graceful silhouettes—distinct but not exaggerated in their gender characteristics.
The newly-formed guardians examined their surroundings as their faceplates separated, revealing glowing blue energy cores within. One reborn woman stumbled, surprised by the gathered crowd. She attempted to stand but fell, unaccustomed to her new form. After several attempts, she managed to stabilize herself and ran toward a bearded blond man, embracing him tightly.
She tried to kiss him but found herself unable due to her mechanical construction. The energy wings floating behind her back lowered in disappointment, along with her sensory antennae, as she gazed longingly at the man. He smiled back reassuringly.
"You're still beautiful..." he whispered, tears streaming down his face as he caressed her metallic cheek with one hand while holding up a ring with the other.
Her eyes brightened in recognition, the blue glow intensifying. She emitted melodic electronic tones that he somehow understood.
"Of course I kept it. My love for you is beyond death itself." He carefully took her synthetic hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. "Perfect fit," he claimed joyfully, though it barely encircled the metallic digit.
Her energy wings pulsed with happiness as she admired the ring. She looked from the ring to his face and back again before throwing herself into his arms, holding him close. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he returned her embrace.
Similar reunions played out across the village. Even the little girl who had first approached Ultron found herself embraced by two guardians—the mechanical forms of her parents—her tears transforming into laughter as she basked in their restored presence.
Not all families experienced such joy. Enri and her sister watched in quiet sorrow as their father's core shattered during transformation. Those who suffered similar losses found some comfort in witnessing their neighbors' reunions, their community strengthened even through uneven fortune.
Satisfied that he had brought happiness to many and demonstrated his power to all, Ultron dismissed the Composer and walked away, hands clasped behind his back, his calculated gambit successfully executed...