CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Supermarket Showdown
The three of them stepped into a maze of moss-covered shelves. Most lay tipped over and broken, creating jagged paths through the aisles. A dozen dead monsters littered the floor, their bodies sprawled at grotesque angles. Marcus’s eyes fixed on two that still lived, maimed and hunched over something. A moment later he realized they were chewing on a torn-off robotic leg. ‘That’s promising,’ Marcus thought sarcastically, noticing claw and teeth marks scraped over the thick plastic.
Bastion and Specter darted past him, weapons in hand. Within seconds, their knives and axes sank into the startled monsters, hacking them apart with brutal efficiency. Marcus stood still, peering deeper into the building’s twisted layout that made his head throb. Thick vines ran up the walls and across the floor, weaving through shelves and tightening the already cramped spaces. ‘We’ll have to either hack them apart or crawl through,’ he thought grimly, not trusting the old shelves to support his weight. ‘Bastion’s bulky frame is going to be an issue.’
“Shit,” Bastion muttered while pointing its axe upwards, snapping Marcus out of his thoughts.
He followed its gaze and froze. Hundreds of sac-like objects lined the ceiling, fastened to the walls and filled with monsters in various stages of development. He could see some of them wriggling inside, claws pressing against the thin membrane, ready to burst free. As they watched, several creatures clawed their way out, dropping to the floor with a splash of viscous, foul-smelling liquid.
Two landed close to their position, their grotesque bodies twitching as they adjusted to their surroundings. Before they could even blink, Bastion’s steel foot came down hard, crushing their skulls one after the other with a sickening crunch.
The large robot shifted its gaze towards Marcus before speaking up in a whisper, “We need to hurry this—”
The ground shook beneath Marcus’s feet, a low rumble that sent shivers up his spine. Suddenly, the hissing and screaming inside the building intensified, reaching a feverish pitch. Whatever chaos had been stirring now reached a new level of frenzy, but above all that madness, the sound of maniacal laughter cut through the air, dwarfing the noise.
“What the hell?” Specter said, its lenses shifting through various modes as it scanned the area. “They’re dying.”
Marcus didn’t answer, his legs already carrying him out of the building. He stepped outside just in time to witness the light blue dome overhead shatter into countless fragments, each piece disintegrating as it fell.
‘Did it actually just solo a Sphere?’ Marcus thought, a confused smile tugging at his lips. He shook his head, still in disbelief as he caught sight of two groups of monsters spilling from nearby houses. They charged desperately toward the supermarket, driven to madness by their Mana-starved bodies. Most didn’t make it far, collapsing dead after just a few steps.
Three stragglers managed to stumble toward him, sluggish but still dangerous. Marcus met them head-on. His knife cut through the first one’s neck in a clean horizontal swipe. The second had no time to react before the knife pierced its chest, blood spurting as it collapsed.
The last one lunged at him, causing Marcus to let go of the knife, his right fist shooting forward. As he did, a sharp, deep roar erupted from his elbow, like a whirlwind tearing through a narrow tunnel. His arm moved faster than he anticipated, fist slamming into the monster’s chest with a thunderous crack. The force sent the creature flying backward at great speed; wind roaring as dust and debris whipped around in its wake.
The monster crashed into the ground, rolling over and over until it smashed through the brick wall of a nearby ruined house. The building collapsed on top of it seconds later, crushing the beast beneath the rubble.
Marcus stared at his throbbing fist, then glanced at the wreckage. ‘Guess the Ability kicked in there,’ he thought, realizing the raw power behind that punch and feeling just how much it had hurt his already injured hand. ‘I’ll need to figure out how to control it in the future. I can’t just let it activate on its own when I’m fighting or stressed out.’ He then retrieved his knife and made sure all the monsters were actually dead, stabbing each one in the throat just to be sure.
Specter joined him moments later, drawn by the commotion. It drew up beside him, staring up at the sky where the Sphere had once been. “Plastic-boy actually pulled it off, huh?” it muttered.
“Guess so,” Marcus replied, crouching down to finish off the last monster. He could still feel the sting of raw Mana, coursing through his arm, slowly ebbing away. He wanted to discuss it with his companion, to explain what had just happened, yet kept it to himself for now. ‘Focus on the prototype and Orb first. We’ll deal with my Ability later,’ Marcus reminded himself and motioned for Specter to follow him back inside.
Together, they re-entered the building, now eerily quiet, save for occasional creepy laughter. Bastion was up ahead, hacking apart thick vines with its axe, carving a path deeper into the structure. The overgrown shelves showed signs of destruction—claw marks raked along the vines and shelving units. Scattered bits of broken plastic lay amongst the carnage, along with the occasional bent piston or motor.
“Not much left of it,” Bastion commented as it swung its axe again, clearing another section of vines.
They moved forward cautiously, occasionally killing monsters that dropped from the ceiling, their bodies convulsing from the sudden lack of Mana. All the while, the echo of laughter faded, but the sense of unease remained, hanging thick in the air.
Marcus and Specter moved deeper into the building, gathering Glass along the way, while the aftermath of the prototype’s rampage grew more apparent. Corpses littered the floor, each one bearing savage slash wounds across their faces and throats, the violence brutal enough to resemble the work of a wild animal. Broken parts of the robot lay scattered among the bodies—plastic fingers, pieces of its face, and even one of its feet jammed through a monster’s throat.
‘This isn’t good,’ Marcus thought, tugging the robot’s foot free from the corpse to examine it. Despite the damage, some pistons and motors inside still seemed salvageable, and he shoved it into Bastion’s backpack with a grunt. “Let’s keep going.”
Rounding a corner, Marcus spotted a small hole in the ground where cracked tiles gave way to dirt, exposing a tangled network of thick vines that branched out in every direction along with a dozen of torn sacs. At the center lay a pile of dead monsters, their lifeless forms draped across the vines like discarded puppets. A few still hung suspended, their bodies twisted and torn, lifeless eyes staring blankly into the void.
And there, at the top of the grotesque heap, lay the prototype—or what remained of it.
Its lower half had been completely ripped apart, chunks of its torso missing, exposing jagged plastic pieces and ruined parts. Most of its left arm was gone, leaving only a sharpened stump, slick with blood, that it had clearly used as a weapon. What remained of its right arm cradled a pulsating light blue Orb, its plastic fingers worn down into jagged fragments.
“Took you long enough,” the prototype said, noticing their approach. It tried to prop itself up, but barely managed a shift before collapsing again. “You missed all the fun.”
“Fun?” Bastion’s voice boomed as it jumped down into the hole, landing with a heavy thud. It marched toward the shattered robot, axe raised. “You call nearly dying fun? What if Specter or I needed you? What if Marcus needed you?” The broken machine didn’t respond, it just stared blankly at Bastion while Specter and Marcus slid down the hole to join them. “No response, prototype?”
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“Grow a pair,” the prototype muttered, leaning forward to reveal that large sections of its head had been torn off, including one of its lenses. The light blue Orb inside its skull shone through the jagged holes, hinting at how dangerously close the monsters had gotten to ripping it out. “And don’t call me prototype.” The words came out cold, like a threat.
Bastion took another step forward, but froze as Marcus placed a hand on its shoulder. The connection formed instantly, calming the machine as they moved closer to the wrecked figure.
“This was too risky,” Marcus said, his voice even and controlled as he stared at the plastic robot while letting go of Bastion.
“For you, perhaps,” the prototype replied, its remaining camera locking onto Marcus. “I know what I am capable of, even without steel or flesh.”
“Which is?” Marcus asked, not liking the prototype’s attitude.
“Getting shit done.”
“That’s cute,” Marcus said, his voice tight as a surge of annoyance rose within him. “Bastion is right. Violence and aggression have their uses, but only when combined with strategy, with us working together. Sure, you succeeded here, but how would you take advantage of your pyrrhic victory? You’re a wreck, unable to move... the cost you paid was too great.”
The robot didn’t respond. Instead, it tossed the pulsating Orb onto the ground in front of Marcus, as if that action alone justified everything it had done.
“Brother,” Marcus said again, his tone softening as he stepped closer. “The others have been without Mana before, so we know what happens then. But if your main Orb was ripped out? What happens then? You could’ve died—and with you, a part of my consciousness.”
A silence hung between them, heavy and lingering, before Specter broke it. “Gentlemen... might I remind you that we’re still in a dangerous location that looks like it could collapse at any moment? Perhaps it’s wise to collect what Glass we can find, and recover what’s left of ourselves, before anyone gets curious about why a Sphere inside a dead zone was suddenly cleared.” Specter moved forward, grabbing the Orb off the ground and sliding it into its chassis, slowly wiggling it in place.
Marcus nodded, briefly grabbing hold of his largest companion and pouring the rest of his Mana within its frames. “Bastion, take care of our broken friend,” he said, turning away. “Specter and I will gather as much Glass as we can before we head out. We’ll meet up at my dad’s gym in three hours.”
He made his way toward the edge of the slope, when a soft chuckle drifted from the ruined robot behind him. He stopped and glanced back. The broken machine struggled to sit up straighter, flexing its damaged fingers. “Impressive speech before, truly,” it said, cocking its mangled head sideways to glance at Marcus. “I’d clap, but...” It held up its shattered limbs and shrugged, as if to say, ‘oh well.’ It leaned back a bit, its voice laced with mockery. “But let’s not forget how you made me, what part of yourself you really poured in to forge my personality. I’m you... the real you.” It chuckled again, the sound harsh and disturbing because of its damaged speaker. “I’m what our father saw inside of us, now without the chains of morality holding you back.”
Bastion’s two lenses locked onto the plastic wreck. “What you are, douchebag, is broken,” it said coldly. “And I’m not talking about your ruined body.”
The robot leaned forward, its voice hissing with anger. “I’m a destroyer, willing to do what you lack the bolts to try.”
“Try? Like what… prototype?” Bastion spat the word like an insult, its tone icy cold, knowing exactly how much it would sting.
“To embrace death,” the broken robot said, suddenly slamming its remaining plastic fingers through the hole in its head. A finger snapped off, bits of it shattering across the ground. The robot gripped the Orb inside its head, pulling at it. The light blue veins stretched taut, some tearing under the strain and dripping a blue liquid.
“Don’t,” Marcus shouted, rushing forward, but the robot let out another broken chuckle.
“I’m not a prototype. The name is Reaper,” the robot said before yanking its Orb out in one violent motion. The veins snapped, spraying dissipating blue fluid as the prototype’s frame went still. Immediately, Marcus hit the ground hard, landing on his hands and knees, feeling his strength leave him.
Pain tore through Marcus like a wildfire. His body screamed, his head burned as though it had split open. For a split second, he felt both alive and dead at once, like something inside him had been ripped away. A part of him—the part that was Reaper—had died. The agony dwarfed anything he had ever experienced, a thousand times worse than any upgrade he’d endured. The closest thing to it was the day Oscar had died in his arms.
In that same instant, a surge of consciousness expanded his mind. He reclaimed what he had given the robot, his thoughts stretching in ways that made him feel whole again. And then, the pain was gone, leaving only a faint echo of loss, buried deep within his mind.
“It’s dead,” Marcus muttered, a wave of fatigue crashing over him. Bastion helped him back to his feet as he steadied his breathing. “I... felt it die... its last moments... its screams as it broke apart. It was in pain when it happened.”
“What about your mind?” Bastion asked hesitantly. “Scratch that. What about you in general?”
“I’m all here, I think,” Marcus said, rubbing the spot on his head where the prototype had ripped its Orb out, feeling a lingering fantom pain. “But that was the most harrowing experience of my life. I think I actually experienced what it’s like to die… or got a damn good taste of it. The moment the prototype ripped out its Orb, pieces of its mind slammed back into mine, all cracked and torn. I don’t know how else to say it… the robot’s gone, like, really dead, but my mind’s all there.”
“But you can remake it, right?” Specter asked, gaze locked on Marcus.
“I’m not sure… at least not how it was,” Marcus said, struggling to process what he’d just been through. “I think I can redo the process, maybe even make a perfect copy, but it wouldn’t be the original.” He searched for the right words to explain the feeling.
Specter grabbed Marcus’s arm and formed a connection, sifting through the shattered memories of their dead companion. “Damm, that is unpleasant to relive. I see what you mean,” it said, stepping back before shifting its gaze to Bastion. “If we’re sticking with the water-in-the-glass analogy, then the water Marcus shares with us holds our unique nature—stained or dyed by it. Take your pick. Even if he removed us from our Orbs by using his Ability, we’d still remain within the shared water, just now inside of Marcus again. Reaper didn’t return to him. Its water did… but it got recycled, wiped clean. Marcus was right when he said Reaper’s properly dead.”
Specter made a nervous clicking sound and turned back to Marcus. “I mean, it’s good we’re figuring this out, but holy shit. Honestly, I didn’t expect we robots could actually die. I figured that was just your department and problem. Makes me nervous,” it said, looking down at its own steel fingers, as if expecting them to tremble. “Guess Reaper’s sacrifice—or suicide, whatever you want to call it—wasn’t in vain.”
“Reaper,” Bastion muttered, its voice thick with disgust. “Arrogant little shit. And it got the last laugh in the end.” It pointed at Reaper’s broken shell. Marcus and Specter followed its gesture to the shattered plastic frame still clutching the Orb in its ruined hand, the middle finger raised—a final act of defiance. “That thing was a psychopath,” Bastion added coldly, stepping forward to retrieve the Orb, crushing the plastic hand in the process. Moments later, it slid the Orb into its own chassis.
“Yes, it was,” Specter agreed, its gaze lingering on the remnants of Reaper. “But I have to admit, it was effective in its own way, and brave.”
“Brave?” Bastion asked in a irritated tone. “Don’t mistake stupidity for bravery.”
“We don’t have to like what it did,” Marcus said, still rattled from experiencing death so intimately. “But let’s not waste what we learned here today, or what it’s given us in return.” He nodded to his companions, signaling that it was time to gather as much Glass as possible from the monster corpses.
Marcus moved toward the shattered remains of Reaper, squatting down until he was level with its lens, staring at the dozens of claw and bite marks scarring its frame. ‘Reaper, huh?’ he thought, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He grabbed what was left of the robot, deciding not to leave it behind.
Marcus climbed out of the hole, carrying the broken robot on his shoulder. Specter reached out near the edge, helping to pull him up. Without a word, Marcus made his way out of the supermarket, the sounds of Bastion and Specter hacking apart monsters echoing behind him, along with the occasional thud of a dead creature falling from the decaying sacs on the ceiling. Once outside, Marcus set the robot down near the entrance, adjusting its head so that it looked up at the night sky, now clear and free from the light blue dome that once covered it.
‘It’s the least I can do for you,’ he thought, gently double-tapping the robot’s chest in acknowledgment of its short and violent existence.
“Still, this changes everything,” Marcus muttered, shifting his gaze to his right hand. ‘The batteries are a success, the prototype worked, we’ve got a fourth Orb, and I’ve got a new Ability.’ He let out an odd chuckle, still coming to terms with all the recent developments. He then pushed up his sleeve, exposing his biceps, fingers tracing the two small grey notches etched into his skin, each representing a Sphere they had cleared. ‘I’ll have to ask my uncle to add a third notch,’ he thought with a grin as he clenched his fist.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the new Mark just above his elbow. His arm still felt raw there, his knuckles bruised. ‘Let’s try this again,’ he thought as he focused on the new Mark. A surge of energy exploded through him a moment later, burning through the bit of Mana he had regained. Instantly, he threw his fist toward the nearby wall, the sound of wind rushing past his ears. He stopped just before his knuckles hit the brick, but the energy continued through, blasting out as pure air pressure from the Marks on his knuckles. When the dust cleared, he saw that the wind attack had cracked several bricks.
His jaw tightened from the pain that shot through his already wounded arm, but he his satisfaction dwarfed any discomfort. ‘This changes everything,’ he thought as he opened his HUD, checking the Mana drain and making a few mental notes about the new Ability. He’d need to run more tests, but for now, he settled on giving it a proper name.
‘Gale’