Walking through the village hours later, people work alongside their resurrected Warrior servants to reconstruct their homes. The mechanical men and women display immense strength, hauling stacks of logs and supplies with effortless grace. Adam has even taken it upon himself to aid the villagers, his Energy Lance slicing through wood effortlessly, accelerating construction.
Ultron pauses to watch men and Prometheans working in tandem, hoisting planks to a young boy hammering away at a roof. Observing their cooperation, his processors turn inward. 'Hmm, I've been isekai'd into a world where Yggdrasil's game physics are reality. With warring nations, real people, and civilizations. A world where monsters, famine, and political intrigue reign supreme. But where do I fit? Why was I brought here? In most isekai stories—the good ones at least—the protagonist receives some monumental quest. So what's mine?'
His mind searches for answers in the silence that follows.
A bearded man walks past, offering a warm nod to the golden deity and his well-dressed companion with silvery white hair. Ultron waves back, grateful for the distraction from his contemplation. 'Perhaps my mission is exactly this: learning, spreading influence, installing traditions that benefit the world as a whole. Bringing about Peace in Our Time...' Beside him, Albedo watches the humans with undisguised disgust. Noting her disdainful posture, Ultron places his metal hand on her armored shoulder, startling her.
"Ah! Yes, Lord Ultron?" She looks up.
"Do you hate the humans?" he inquires carefully.
"They're weak creatures. Lower life forms. I think of how beautiful it would be to crush them like insects," she responds honestly.
Adam, who had been observing with detached curiosity, adds with a scholarly tone, "Fascinating creatures, these humans. Their capacity for violence is paired with their desperate need for connection. It's quite... contradictory."
Ultron pats Albedo's shoulder and sighs. "Albedo, I cannot argue with the first two points—your opinion is your own. However, I believe your view of humans is skewed with ignorance and prejudice."
"What do you mean?" She turns, curious rather than offended.
"What do you know of humans beyond their lesser power compared to us?"
The succubus commander considers before responding, "Not very much, my lord."
With an amused chuckle, Ultron continues, "Exactly. Understand that humanity's strength doesn't come from magic, swords, arrows, or olive branches, but from here..." He points to his head. "Intelligence. Millions of years of evolution have instilled a fundamental drive to survive by any means necessary. Their weapons, tribes, laws, and wars all serve one essential purpose: to live another day. They use their intelligence to build tools of survival. I know of humans who've created weapons capable of leveling entire cities, killing millions, and leaving countless others wishing for death—all in a single strike..."
Albedo's eyes widen beneath her helmet.
"Indeed," Adam interjects, adjusting his glasses with scholarly precision. Humans are remarkably creative in their methods of destruction. One might say it's their defining characteristic."
Ultron nods. "I cannot ask you to change your opinion, but heed my warning: never underestimate the human drive for survival."
Albedo looks down, processing his words, nearly lost in thought as her master's wisdom confounds her.
Ultron pats her shoulder affectionately before striding to a group of villagers surrounding their chief, worry etched on their faces. "Is there an issue?" he asks, hands clasped behind his back.
"Ah, Lord Ultron!" the chief exclaims in relief. "Knight-like people are approaching the village."
Adam arrives, having overheard. "What would you have us do, my lord?" he asks with refined eloquence, his posture impeccable despite the situation.
Ultron hums thoughtfully, fingers to his chin, before noticing the chief's elevated house on the hill. "Have your people gather at your house—it's protected and elevated. The chief and I, along with my associates, will await these knights in the village square to determine friend from foe." Turning to the Prometheans, "Should worst come to worst, use your new bodies in defense of your families and homes."
One warrior servant nods, the villagers looking even more reverent at Ultron's leadership.
Half an hour later, Ultron stands dignified, back straight, hands clasped behind him. His stance radiates power and prestige—his golden form already proclaiming authority. Adam stands to his right, immaculate in his suit, the fidgeting chief between them, Albedo to his left, all prepared for potential attack.
Approaching hooves rumble the ground. Armored men approach on steeds, led by a gruff, bearded man in steel armor with red leather straps. The design puts the chief at ease and intrigues Ultron. The bearded man dismounts.
"I am Gazef Stronoff, Chief Royal Warrior of the Re-Estize Kingdom," he announces, eyeing Ultron warily. "I've received orders from the king to hunt down the knights of the empire wreaking havoc in these villages."
The chief sighs in relief. Noting this, Gazef adds, "You must be the village chief. Who is this... golden man beside you?"
"This is our lord and savior, Ultron."
Gazef looks confused. "You refer to this man like some kind of god."
"Well, you see..." the chief begins before Ultron interrupts with a raised hand.
"That's because I am, Sir Gazef. A god. I've been in slumber for millennia, and I doubt your species remembers me. When I awoke, I found this village under attack and decided to assist, purging the sinners who dared spill innocent blood on this land."
Despite chills from Ultron's commanding baritone, Gazef dismounts and stands before him. "Thank you for saving this village. Mere words cannot fully express my gratitude," he says genuinely, respecting the automaton despite not believing in his divinity.
Adam watches with analytical interest, a small smile playing on his lips. "How intriguing—genuine gratitude. Such a rare quality among your kind."
"Your thanks are unnecessary, head warrior. However, I believe you have more important duties to attend to." Ultron nods toward an approaching soldier.
"Head Warrior!" the man calls, slightly winded. "Unknown figures have surrounded the village and are approaching!"
Gazef's eyes widen, but he remains steadfast. Ultron tilts his head, curious to see the warrior's response. Pleasantly surprising him, Gazef positions his men in buildings for better vantage points.
"You're right... They've equally spaced individuals," Gazef observes. Ultron peers over his shoulder.
"Magic casters... I wouldn't have used just them in a full battle without cannon fodder to defend them, but to each their own."
"How crude," Adam comments. "Though I suppose efficiency has its merits."
"Friends of yours?" Ultron jokes.
Chuckling, Gazef responds, "Hardly... These men are of the Slane Theocracy, only they could send this many magic casters at once. Part of the special ops unit directly under the head priest—must be one of the six scriptures."
'So my hypothesis was correct... The Slane Theocracy is setting them up. But why? Why hunt a single man with such losses? It's illogical unless Gazef is either very important, anti-war, or both...'
"They've attacked the village to draw you in," Ultron observes. "You're fairly popular, that or this village has more strategic value than I thought."
Gazef shakes his head. "You were right the first time, Lord Ultron. This is quite the problem—even the Slane Theocracy's after me."
Looking out at the field, Ultron notes the Archangel flame. 'I guess I found their cannon fodder! How can I not laugh at them treating such weak summons as powerful?'
"Lord Ultron..." Gazef begins, pulling his attention. "I would like to hire you. I will reward you as you wish."
With a deep chuckle, Ultron responds, "A kind offer, Sir Gazef, but I'm afraid no earthly reward you could give me would be worth my time."
Gazef sighs, disappointed. "I see. Well then, take care of yourself, and thank you for saving this village." He grabs Ultron's hand firmly. "I am truly grateful. I know this is a selfish request, but please protect them once more. I have nothing to give you nor anything you'd want, but I beg of you." He moves to kneel before Ultron stops him.
"I'm not a selfish deity who requires worship or begging. Simply asking from the heart would have sufficed. I will protect this village as I've already sworn to do." Ultron grips his shoulders, standing him up. "Now hold your head high, chief warrior. For if you die today, you die honorably in defense of innocence. And for that? Heaven awaits."
"I guess I have nothing to worry about—I'll just focus on the enemy before me!" Gazef declares with renewed determination.
Ultron's face seems to smile wider. "Good man. But before you go, take this." He holds out a totem the size of Gazef's thumb, carved like two horns twisted around each other, glowing symbols covering each layer.
"A gift from one such as you? I accept it gratefully." Taking it, Gazef discovers it's a necklace, which he tucks under his chest plate. "Thank you, Lord Ultron, and goodbye."
"Remember this and take heed: When killing a snake, aim for the head!" Ultron advises as Gazef exits.
As Chief Gazef mounts his horse, he and his cavalry charge toward the enemy. Ultron rejoins his subordinates. Adam watches with analytical detachment, adjusting his glasses. "How noble. Though ultimately futile, I expect."
The village chief and his wife rush up. "Why is the head warrior leaving?" he asks, confused.
"Their target is the head warrior. He's dealing with this head-on. But don't worry—your village is under my protection. None of you will die today."
Away from the village, the cavalry charges. Gazef, at the apex, shouts over thundering hooves, "Break through their lines and lead them away from the village, then retreat!" His men respond with a unified "OORAH!"
"Don't miss the timing! Now go! Cut open their bowels!"
Gazef loses an arrow, blocked by a magic shield. Growling, he throws the bow aside and draws his sword. A theocracy mage's spell forces him to dismount.
"Head Warrior!" a soldier calls, offering his horse.
An Angel Flame swoops down. Gazef blocks its strike but can't cleave through its thick chassis. In frustrated fury, he slams it into the ground, but it rises again like a puppet on strings.
His men pass, leaving Gazef alone against the theocracy. The Totem of Ultron emerges from his armor as he focuses on the angel. "Martial Art... Focus Battle Aura!" His blade glows red as he cleaves the angel in half, reducing it to yellow particles.
Looking ahead, he sees their angel supply is hydra-like—cut one down, three more appear. "Anything goes with magic. Bastards..." He grins. "But this is all according to plan. Lord Ultron... I'm counting on you." The totem glows brighter in response.
Prepared to fight or die, he hears distant cries and hoofbeats. His men have circled back to fight beside him, screaming valiant war cries.
"I told you to retreat once you had their attention! You're all idiots..." Gazef grins. "Idiots, I'm truly proud to fight beside!"
The mages turn in shock, using disorientation spells on the horses. Several men dismount and are skewered by the Angels' swords of light.
"We're at a complete military disadvantage..." Gazef observes, then eyes the black-robed commander. "...When killing a snake... aim for the head."
With a bellowing war cry, Gazef sprints through the battlefield, weaving between engagements. Six Angels block his path. His sword glows red.
"Martial Arts. Six-Fold Slash of Light!"
Four Angels combust into yellow dust. One charge—"Martial Art. Instant Counter!" He bisects it. "FLOW ACCELERATION!" He jumps, spinning like a helicopter, cutting two more. His men watch in awe, morale boosted by their commander's skill. Panting, he grins at his subordinates.
The Theocracy commander interrupts, "Impressive! But it's not enough. Summon the next set and focus attacks on Stronoff!"
More Angels emerge from the ground. His men watch in fear, but Gazef stands strong.
Meanwhile, Ultron gathers villagers in the storage house, elevated and fortified. Prometheans guard the doors, offering reassurance despite their faith in their god. Nemu grips her sister in fear, Enri stroking her head, whispering comfort. Ultron casts a calming spell while monitoring the battle through Gazef's perspective via the red Marker.
Back on the battlefield, all but Gazef have fallen. He stands amid his men's corpses, hair disheveled, armor dented and burned, left shoulder shattered. Blood drips from his nose and mouth. He's fatigued and shaking, but stands tall.
Theocracy mages launch fireballs. Those he can't dodge, he blocks with sword or armor. The totem offers protection and slight regeneration. He's grateful Ultron still watches over him. Above, a legion of Angels glares down, holy swords gleaming in the fiery dusk.
They charge. One by one, they're blocked or destroyed. Some get through, slashing his shoulder and side. He cuts down two Angels for every wound received until one stabs clean through his abdomen, slicing through his kidney, nicking the other. As the sword withdraws, blood gushes. The Marker glows brighter, slowing the bleeding.
"Finish him!" the Theocracy Commander orders. "But don't attack with just one—ensure his death with multiple angels."
But Gazef won't die lying down. Fueled by rage, gritting his teeth, he grips his sword. Adrenaline gives him strength. Screaming "Do not... UNDERESTIMATE ME!" he stands, exclaiming defiance. The Commander looks unamused.
Holding his sword forward, he locks eyes with the commander, determination burning behind grey eyes. "I am this kingdom's head warrior! I love and protect this country! There's no way I'd die to bastards who want to dirty this kingdom!"
The Commander chuckles darkly. "You'll die here precisely because you spout such nonsense! Gazef Stronoff, what can you do in that state? Once we kill you, we'll massacre the villagers. Stop this futile resistance and fall quietly." A victorious grin spreads across his face. "As an act of mercy, I'll make your death painless."
Gazef smiles widely and laughs—painful, cough-filled laughter. The commander's grin fades to confusion. "What's so funny?"
"You're a fool. There's one in that village far more powerful than I am. Maybe more powerful than anything you could throw at him."
The commander's grin returns. "A bluff? Ha! Angels, kill him."
Gazef's face hardens to a scowl, muscles poised for battle. The Marker floats before his eyes, glowing red with Ultron's voice: "Looks like it's time for the ol' Switcharoo."
Gazef's vision goes dark. When he opens his eyes, he's in a large house surrounded by villagers.
"Th-this is?" he asks in disbelief. His surviving men lie being tended to by warrior servants. The dead rest respectfully nearby, swords on their chests, hands clasping hilts, symbols on their foreheads, and inert totems around their necks.
His necklace now glows red.
The village chief explains, "This is the storage house. Lord Ultron put a protective barrier here. Your men were brought in minutes before you."
Gazef realizes Ultron used him as a distraction to rescue his men, bringing greater respect. "Where is Lord Ultron?"
The chief shrugs. "He suddenly disappeared when you appeared."
"I see..." Gazef grins before fainting into a Promethean Knight's arms.
On the battlefield, the wind whips through the plains. The Theocracy commander stares at the three newcomers, confused and intimidated.
"Who are you?" he demands.
Ultron steps forward. "A pleasure to meet you, men of the Slane Theocracy! I am Ultron, one of the old gods. I doubt your race remembers me, but I remember you. I have a relationship with this village and don't appreciate innocent blood desecrating it!"
"One of the old gods?! Ha! You're lying. You only came to beg for their lives!"
Ultron chuckles. "No... the only one begging for their lives will be you... mortal." His optics shift from azure to blood red. Thick red miasma leaks from his mouth. "You have a lot of balls, I'll give you that!"
Adam watches with mild amusement, hands clasped behind his back. "Such crude displays. Though I suppose theatrical flair has its uses."
"I heard that little speech you gave Sir Gazef..." Ultron's chassis begins melting, gold flowing like rivers along his silver body, reconstructing into a bladed scepter with a glowing gem. "You announced you'll 'massacre' those villagers, I took time from my VERY busy schedule to save. I cannot imagine anything more offensive."
"OFFENSIVE?! Big words! So what are you going to do about it?" The commander grins maliciously.
"Offer your life to me without resistance. If you do so, you'll die painlessly. It's illogical to refuse a god's ultimatum."
"Angels, attack him!" the commander yells. Two charges, plunging holy swords into Ultron's chest—they shatter like glass. The 4th tier, Nullification and reflection, is passive, proving useful. Ultron grabs both Angels' heads, firing red energy through them. One explodes instantly; the other falls limp. He kicks it onto its stomach, grips its wings, and rips them off, causing it to explode.
"You call these Angels? Pathetic! I gave you a logical choice, yet you defy me. In your hubris, you fly too close to the SUN!"
"All angels attack at once!" the commander shouts.
"Albedo. Adam..." Ultron warns.
"By all means," Adam says smoothly, stepping back with Albedo. "Though I do hope they provide at least some entertainment."
The first Angel is telekinetically swatted into a void. The second, sliced in half by Ultron's blade-like fingers. The next four, blasted by energy projectors. Making an X with his arms, Ultron rises, knuckles opening and charging. Angels surround him but are cut down as he spins, red beams projecting from his knuckles.
Landing unscathed amid raining yellow particles, Ultron watches as more Angels emerge. Though initially entertaining, this becomes tedious.
He feels watched since stepping onto the plains, but keeps quiet, deciding to show off. What better way to spread his name than through religious fervor? Societies have done it for centuries—the Slane Theocracy does it now, bringing poisonous prophets to corrupt with destructive ideals. Ultron plans to change that... and stop the eavesdroppers.
The commander still looks defiant, as if victory's possible. But Ultron declares, "This is getting boring." Snapping his fingers, he shouts, "Negative Pulse!" A wave of black energy erupts, destroying the Angels. Terror etches onto the mage's faces.
"Wha--?! I-impossible..." the Commander mutters. Gazef's words echo: 'There's one in that village far more powerful than I am...'
His men mutter "M-monster..." "Demon..." while one who remembers Ultron's introduction falls to his knees in prayer, repeating "Hail Ultron." Others desperately cast spells: "Holy Ray!" "Poison!" "Shockwave!" All collide uselessly with his automatic shield.
'Interesting... this world hasn't evolved much, especially not to a player's level. But where'd they learn these spells? Perhaps natural evolution and trial and error... that would explain their weakness. The highest attacks being one or two 3rd tier spells... further data required.'
One mage tries slinging a rock, only for it to rebound and explode his head—Albedo intervening, sick of watching attacks bounce off her beloved.
"Albedo, your actions are illogical. Nothing they could do would dent my chassis."
She pleads, "Please wait, Lord Ultron! There's a bare minimum to fight with you, Supreme One. To throw such an insignificant pebble at you..."
Adam comments with scholarly interest, "Fascinating. Such devotion. Though I must agree with her assessment—these creatures hardly warrant your attention, my lord."
Ultron laughs. "Then I suppose none of these insects pass your requirements?"
The commander swells with rage. "Principality of Observation! Attack!"
A larger angel summons a mace, floating over in a slow, choreographed attack. Ultron catches it effortlessly. "Plague of rust!" The angel becomes covered in red and green corrosion, twitching until its joints lock up and it disintegrates.
"One hit?! That's impossible!" The commander screams. "There's no way a high-level angel could be destroyed with one spell!"
A panicked mage asks, "Captain Nigun! What should we do?!"
'So your name is Nigun? That sounds about right.'
Grinning triumphantly, Nigun pulls out a crystal. "We'll summon the highest Level Angel!"
'Where have I seen that before? Based on its glow, it's a sealing crystal. What it's called is beyond me... damn, I should research Yggdrasil items more. That was more Mug's thing.'
Ultron turns to Albedo. "Use your skill to protect us... just in case." She happily jumps forward, spinning her axe, rubbing it in Adam's face that she was called first.
Adam merely adjusts his glasses, looking amused rather than bothered. "How... quaint."
"Look at the shining form of the highest of angels! Dominion Authority!" The crystal reaches critical mass and pops, releasing its power.
'I swear these angel names sound like Halo covenant ships...'
The mages look on in awe, some bowing. Even the man praying to Ultron tears up at the huge winged being.
"This is your trump card?" Ultron asks in disbelief.
Feeling victorious, Nigun boasts, "That's right! I deemed you worthy enough to use this item!"
Ultron's optics blink off and on before he facepalms. "I'm speechless..."
Nigun smiles. "Are you afraid, false god? You're now exposed to the might of the true God above!"
"This is stupid... on so many levels." Adam chuckles, a refined sound that somehow makes the situation seem even more absurd, as Ultron continues, "I was expecting weakness but... seriously?" He points at the angel. "You DARE show that ugly abomination to me! That thing is a disgusting parody of an angel!"
"W-what do you mean?" Nigun deflates.
Chuckling, Ultron faces his palm toward the summoner. "You don't know? Allow me to enlighten you to the true form of Domination Authority! SUBMIT TO PROMETHEUS!"
Energy pulses into the angel, making it writhe. Its body splits, feathers turn to ash, and the platform reshapes into something more angular and mechanical.
"Righteous Authority! The true form of an angel! Where is your god now?" Just for emphasis: "Blackhole!" The angel and loose rubble are instantly sucked in.
"Whatever you throw at me, I can annihilate. That angel I 'reclaimed'? I can make armies of them. Destroying one is no consequence to me."
"What are you?" Nigun asks in horror.
Ultron laughs. "Are you deaf? Or just slow? I already told you—I am Ultron, your one true God."
Shatter!
Looking up, Nigun asks, "Wh-what was that?"
"It appears your masters wished to keep an eye on you, Nigun! That was information magic. My Blackhole must have destabilized it."
Nigun's eyes widen. "My country was watching me?" His fate is sealed.
"Enough playing around. Your entertainment value is exhausted. This farce bores me."
"W-w-wait a second! Ultron! No, Lord Ultron! All of us—no, I alone am enough! If you spare my life, I'll pledge allegiance to you! I'll convert! Spread the good word, Ultron has returned! Please!"
"You are mistaken," Albedo and Adam say in unison, though Adam's tone carries scholarly detachment rather than zealous devotion.
Albedo: "Lower life forms should bow their heads and wait, be grateful for their lives being taken..."
Adam: "For your sins, forgiveness from Ultron is impossible. Repentance is meaningless when the victims are already dead. It's quite simple logic."
Ultron, finger on his jaw: "If I remember correctly... Stop this futile resistance and fall quietly. As an act of mercy, I'll make your death painless?"
"An eye for an eye," Albedo starts.
"A tooth for a tooth," Adam adds with scholarly precision.
"Your words, now used against you," Ultron finishes.
Sweat pours from Nigun's face, his mages frozen in terror. Ultron raises his arm, telekinetically dragging Nigun over. Gripping his neck, Ultron watches him struggle futilely until life drains from his eyes. For good measure, he crushes his spine and windpipe before tossing him aside.
The mages watch in horror—except one still kneeling in worship, praying harder for his life.
Chuckling darkly, Ultron gets an idea. Three obsidian blades rise from the earth. "I'll only allow three of you to live. Decide among yourselves who those three will be."
After a moment's hesitation, they all break for the swords—shoving, kicking, punching, and climbing over each other. One starts choking a fallen man. Another uses a stone to bash in a skull, continuing until his face is mush. It's brutal survival, tooth and nail.
"I think I understand now," Albedo says quietly. "About human survival. I'll never underestimate a human again."
"Good girl," Ultron says, patting her helmet. She basks in the praise until Adam interrupts.
"Fascinating demonstration, my lord. The raw brutality of survival instinct is laid bare. It's quite... educational." Adam adjusts his glasses, watching the carnage with detached interest.
Ultron nods at Adam's observation. "Thank you, Adam. They'll do anything to survive—it's both their greatest strength and weakness." He puts a hand on Adam's shoulder, whispering, "When they're done, give our winners a little prize..."
Adam's lips curve into a cultured smile as he regards the seven still brawling, his Energy Lance materializing with an electrical crackle.
"With pleasure, my lord..."