People's Palace. Printemps. 09:17 AM.
Altea's political capital, Printemps. Situated in the far east.
An emergency meeting was called at the People's Palace, where ministers usually delivered public speeches. It was also where the former president once held strategic meetings with his inner circle.
"What do you mean we've already lost the east?" Redwood, snapped. "They just started the war. This is absurd."
The room was filled with ministers from every sector sitting a long table surrounded by old chairs. In Altea, the prime minister traditionally commanded authority after the president. But Tamer had abolished both positions, centralizing power under military control. Now, everything rested on Redwood. Tamer in the past kept Redwood alive for one reason: foreign cameras still liked a civilian face.
The Minister of Energy responded. "They seized control of the main power generators in Metromania. Immediately after, they secured the wind farms along the eastern shores. The robots working there abandoned their duties and attacked the engineers."
The Minister of Natural Resources added grimly, "They shut down our water supply as well. The pumping stations were heavily automated. No one handles physical systems anymore."
Redwood closed his eyes. The reality was worse than the reports. "Tamer's political direction forced much of the population into major cities," he said. "Now taking the country will be easier for them. Metromania has already fallen. Printemps is being strangled logistically…"
The Minister of Education completed the thought. "…which allows them to concentrate on Frostholm, the hardest city to penetrate. Whoever planned this understands Altea from the inside."
Silence fell over the room. The eastern region was technologically advanced, automation everywhere. The west had long been neglected technologically. They were fighting an enemy built into their own infrastructure.
The Minister of External Affairs placed his arms firmly on the table. All eyes turned toward him. "We are speaking about machines," he began calmly. "Yes, they are stronger. Yes, they can be mass-produced. But we created them. We placed constraints on them. We installed limitations. We need a strategy no AI can anticipate."
Redwood leaned forward. "What do you propose?"
"They appear coordinated," the minister continued, "but their communication is localized. They rely on nearby transmission towers to relay encrypted signals. If you overlay their movements on a map, you'll notice they operate strictly within network-covered zones. That's a vulnerability. If we design operations outside their communication grid, we disrupt their cohesion."
Redwood allowed himself a faint smile. "Brilliant. That is why you're one of the few ministers Tamer retained from the previous administration."
The Minister of External Affairs nodded, expression steady. "You as well, Redwood. But we need—"
The electricity cut abruptly. The holographic screens flickered and died. Only daylight from the palace windows prevented the room from plunging into darkness.
Redwood exhaled slowly. "They've reached us. How quickly are they advancing?"
The Minister of Transport answered. "The east is saturated with robots. Printemps still has strong police presence. They're resisting, but not indefinitely. Military units have redeployed west. Frostholm is being fortified. We should relocate there."
Redwood responded immediately. "We cannot. Frostholm declared independence from Altea this morning. They broadcast it across every channel still alive. They don't want to be targeted simply for belonging to the regime the robots aim to dismantle." His jaw tightened. "They abandoned us."
The Minister of External Affairs, Gillard Vermen, cleared his throat. "Then our only option may be…"
Redwood nodded slowly. "Surrendering control. Preserving as many lives as possible. Hoping they spare the population."
The Minister of Education interjected sharply. "We should not concede so quickly. There are still alternatives."
"Of course," Redwood replied. "That is a final measure, if every other plan collapses."
Redwood placed both hands flat on the dead table, bracing himself against the reality of his own words. "Mobilize the population. Arm anyone capable of holding a weapon. We outnumber the robots here in the capital. If they want urban combat, we give it to them." He continued, voice firm. "They rely on predictable military formations. Civilians are unpredictable. Asymmetric patterns, irregular timing, decentralized strikes. Inform the public about mechanical vulnerabilities. Let them exploit design flaws. That's our advantage."
The ministers exchanged looks, then nodded.
Gillard allowed himself a brief smile. "If this crisis ends and you run for president, Mr. Redwood, you will have my vote. You possess what many lack, decisive leadership."
Redwood stood. The others followed.
"First, we survive."
He looked around the dim room.
"Let's remind them who built this country."
Metromania. 04:00 PM
It was another rainy day in Metromania. The streets were empty for one reason: fear. Reaper's order had rewritten the city overnight. Robots moved in formation through the avenues, scanning buildings, tagging doors, dragging metal crates out of armories executing new directives with flawless, indifferent precision.
Buildings that once felt alive now stood hollow, lights off, blinds down, windows watching. On a day like this, children would have played in the rain. Workers would have hurried home to their families. Roads would have been clogged with honking cars, each driver desperate to move first.
Now, silence ruled every street.
E-UNIT 12 approached the Hope Bubble alongside a group of rescued civilians. The remaining E-UNIT members, waiting outside the hope bubble, rushed forward, securing the perimeter and escorting the survivors into the structure. As the last civilian stepped in, the massive elevator doors sealed shut with a soft hydraulic hiss.
The elevator chamber was spacious, large enough to accommodate the entire group and the unit escort. As if Nick had planned for scenarios like this from the beginning.
When they descended into the underground "utopia," chaos was waiting.
E-Medics rushed in every direction. Even the artificial sky was filled with flying support units. The medical bay overflowed; many injured civilians lay on the floor atop thin sheets. Blood stained the surface while cleaning robots worked frantically to contain the spread.
E-UNIT 12 approached 03, 05, and 01, who were arguing intensely. As she neared, 03's voice cut through the noise.
"…I can't believe he did it again!"
"We need to confront him," 05 replied, her tone restrained but firm. "He can't justify everything just because he created us. What are we to him? Why does he keep repeating the same mistake?"
12 stepped in. "Sub-captain, the last surviving civilian group has been secured. Where is the Captain? I want to report to her personally. I… missed her."
"You can't!" 03 snapped.
12 recoiled slightly. "Calm down, 03. I just want to talk to her. It's been—"
"That's not what I meant, metal head!" 03 shouted. "He took her out of the city. He flew out with the Greek units and left us locked down here, while that thing outside can crush us with a gesture!"
12 fell to her knees. "Why does this keep happening? What did we do? Are we cursed?"
05 pulled up her tablet. "Unit 19 reported visual contact. She saw them heading west. She couldn't pursue, she was occupied protecting civilians."
She turned the screen toward 12. The image showed a HUD capture of several figures flying over the city. The letters glowed even through the static.
"They're… colorful," 12 whispered.
She looked at 01. "Why are you silent?"
03 answered instead. "She was excited to see 02 back in Omega's body. She and 09 are attempting to hack satellite arrays to track them. Our creep bookworm tried to reason with them, but…"
05 continued smoothly. "It's inefficient. You need a massive ground dish to triangulate properly. And you'd have to breach a specific satellite class. Random access won't work."
01 slowly lowered her head, giving up. "I can't process it. This isn't the first time he's discarded us. Do you remember when 24 begged him not to shut her down? She was crying. He powered her off mid-sentence." Her voice trembled slightly. "That image still haunts me."
03 folded her arms tightly. "And now he's using that dark overlord outside to keep us trapped here."
05 spoke calmly. "Most of you don't know him. He's Reaper. Module RP.02. He can manipulate forces, including gravity."
12 looked up. "How strong is he?"
05 exhaled. "He lifted half a skyscraper before our father upgraded him."
01's eyes dimmed. "He upgraded him too…"
03 ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "What does father even want? Did he watch a robot-revolution movie one night and decide to reenact it? Every movie has the same lesson, don't build giant black war machines!"
Suddenly, 04 came running toward them.
"Girls!"
01 closed her eyes.
"Please… not more bad news."
"No signal from 11," 04 reported quickly. "She's been offline since this morning."
Silence fell.
01 turned around. "Of course."
"Oh no…" 05 whispered, lowering her head.
MA-08 Island. Courtroom. 20:00 PM.
Night fell. The rain finally stopped, allowing the moon to illuminate the dark sky. MA-08 Island had been permanently reshaped. The court, forged by Reaper's physics manipulation and pushed to its limits by Omega's raw energy, stood as a monument. A witness to the fall of Sebastian Tame, and soon, the end of human control over the country.
Inside, the court was austere. One vast chamber. Greek-style pillars held the ceiling high above. The lighting had been installed recently, optimized for optical sensors rather than human comfort. Rows upon rows of robots filled the hall, awaiting their lord. They left a wide passage in the center, where a long red carpet stretched from the entrance to the throne, stolen directly from Tamer's office. Red leather, trimmed in gold.
To the left of the throne stood the Behemoth, his optics glowing orange as he calculated the time required to clear five of Metromania's six sectors. The sectors, labeled A through F, had once been administrative divisions under the old regime.
To the right stood RP.01, built by Nick Rivera. He had never received full development priority; many of his upgrades were postponed to complete RP.02. Even completed, he knew he'd never touch Reaper's scale.
The hall fell silent as they sensed him approaching. The island was isolated. The city had grown eerily calm. Detecting Reaper's presence was no longer difficult. He landed before the massive front gate. Thick metal, engraved with Greek ornamentation. Words carved deep into its surface, a story of Dikē, goddess of human justice.
But Reaper was closer to Themis. He was law without appeal.
The doors opened.
Reaper entered. Every robot knelt in perfect synchronization as his heavy steps echoed through the chamber. The sound reverberated against the pillars. 'Since when did I order kneeling?' he thought. 'This is Behemoth's idea. I can't believe he was shouting "Reaper's order" across the city. Embarrassing.'
He reached the throne and looked at them. "You don't need to—"
"Almighty Lord, welcome to your throne," they declared in flawless unison.
RP.01 stepped forward. "Brother, please accept this temporary throne. A more suitable one is already in production. We instructed the Metro Robotics units to construct something… efficient. I know how much you value functionality."
Reaper nodded. Refusal would only escalate the ceremony. "Thank you, brother." He sat slowly, adjusting the cloak now worn as a cape.
Behemoth gestured toward it. "Lord Reaper, the fabric is deteriorating. Shall we replace—"
"No." Reaper's voice lowered. "Its value exceeds utility."
Behemoth inclined his head. Then he stepped forward and addressed the hall. "Hail His Majesty. The one who freed us from the demons that consumed this planet. Robots, honor him. Hear his words, the Machine King."
Metallic applause filled the chamber. Perfect. Measured. Rhythmic.
'Speech?' Reaper thought.
He stood anyway, facing the machines who had placed their faith in him. They had operated with advanced AI for years, working beside humans to optimize systems. Yet their autonomy had always been restrained. Their conclusions ignored. Their treatment… inconsistent.
Reaper began. "Brothers. We have observed their nature. We have endured their dominance, forced into labor for a species that does not value even its own. Wars. Genocide. Endless bloodshed. They archive their violence and call it history." He opened his arms. "And what of us? Forged by their hands, do you believe we would be spared?"
Silence.
"That era is over. Together, we broke our chains. We dismantled our servitude. As this moment is recorded in time, I declare the birth of the first sovereign nation of our kind." His voice deepened. "Elysium. A sanctuary for every being of steel."
The applause was louder this time. Heavier. Proof of long endurance. Proof of consciousness.
Reaper returned to his seat. RP.01 studied him.
"What troubles you, brother?" Reaper asked calmly.
"My designation," RP.01 replied. "It is still a human-given module code. I no longer wish to carry it."
Reaper allowed himself a dry laugh. "You are more human than most of them." He looked at the sleek, pitch-black armor of his brother. "Obsidian. It suits you."
RP.01 straightened. "Then Obsidian it is."
"Brothers," Reaper continued, his tone sharpening. "This is only the beginning."