Zereka's restoration project was taking far longer than expected—especially for Lekox-127, an early-generation assembly robot with limited memory capacity and painfully slow processing speed. Still, one thing was certain: every task Lekox completed was nearly flawless. That's why Zereka insisted on keeping him as his trusted "doctor."
This time, Zereka handed over a brand-new blueprint—a complete redesign of his shoulders and torso. It wasn't just an upgrade; it was a revolutionary prototype. Lekox-127 had to study every detail and integrate the design into his memory system.
"Alright, I'm ready," said Lekox, accepting the data transfer request.
"Starting the upload now," Zereka replied, activating his transmission module and sending the schematics to Lekox.
But just seconds into the process, the screen on Lekox's chest began flashing red. System error. Transfer failed.
They tried again. Failed. And again. Still nothing.
Zoldic, who had been pacing back and forth the whole time, was rapidly losing his patience. He had already tried helping, even smacked a few panels in frustration—but to no avail.
"Oh come on! Are you guys serious? In an era this advanced, you can't even transfer data like Bluetooth or AirDrop?" he shouted, collapsing into a chair in despair.
"My internal memory is insufficient," Lekox-127 replied flatly.
"What?! Then upgrade it! Add an external drive or at least a CD-ROM! How can a project this massive get stuck on something as basic as data sharing?" Zoldic barked.
"Robots aren't used to imperfection," Zereka responded calmly. "Every detail must be precise. There's no room for improvisation like with humans."
"Oh, for the love of—two days and you're still stuck at the data transfer phase!" Zoldic groaned, slapping his forehead.
Eventually, after dismantling most of Lekox-127's storage system and rebuilding it with additional modules, the transfer finally succeeded. The new design was in.
"Incredible… At last, we can begin!" Lekox exclaimed enthusiastically.
Zereka smiled. His half-mechanical body was now ready for total reconstruction. "Alright. I'm ready. Proceed."
Zoldic just shook his head. "If you guys don't start in the next three days, I might just die of boredom," he muttered, sprawling across the cold floor.
Lekox got to work—day and night—at the speed of an aging robot: slow, meticulous, and maddeningly boring to a half-human, half-machine like Zoldic. Days passed.
"It's been three days and it's still not done?" Zoldic groaned, nearly giving up.
"I need some air. I'm going out for a bit. Do you guys have any security measures? Like an alarm or something if someone breaks in?"
Lekox nodded and handed him a small gray watch.
"This watch will glow red if the door is forced open. If we open it ourselves, it turns yellow. Simple and efficient."
"Can I test it?"
Lekox pressed the large release switch. Zoldic's watch glowed yellow.
"Working. Good. I'm heading out. Maybe… clear my head in this black market," Zoldic said, making his way outside.
He wandered the dingy alleys of Mobreti City, where scrapped robots and rogue tech mingled freely. And yet—something about the place was alive. Street parties, dancing machines, swap meets for spare parts—even simulated emotion deals.
"A human world… in robot form," he mused with a chuckle, flirting playfully with a few feminine bots along the way.
Passing through the gambling district, one building caught his eye: Power Roulette—a casino for robots. Unlike human casinos, bets here were made in energy—portable batteries, the very lifeblood of robotic existence.
At the entrance, a sleek female robot greeted him.
"Care to try your luck, handsome bot?" asked the casino attendant, Maya, with a charming smile.
"Gambling? I've got nothing to bet," Zoldic replied coolly.
"Your first round is free… if you're curious," Maya teased.
"Free? Seriously?" Zoldic narrowed his eyes.
"Here, fun is an investment for the future. As long as you're enjoying the game, everything can be arranged…"
Ah, gambling. No matter the era, it always knew how to make the first spin sound tempting.
"Alright. One spin. Since it's free," Zoldic agreed with a smirk.
"Choose your number, sir?"
Zoldic thought for a moment, then pointed. "Twenty-seven."
The roulette spun with mechanical chimes.
Trrrrrrrrrrr…!
The metal ball clattered to a stop—on twenty-eight.
So close.
Zoldic gritted his teeth. "Annoying."
"How about one more spin? Half the usual price," Maya coaxed sweetly.
"I told you, I've got no energy."
Maya stepped closer, her eyes gleaming. "But you're still alive, aren't you? That means you've still got power. Right?"
Zoldic went silent.
"How do I check my power level? Zereka never showed me how."
Maya pulled out a small device—a handheld scanner with two connection ports.
"This tool can check your remaining energy. It can also… transfer it."
Zoldic stared at the device.
One question flashed in his mind: In a place like this, what's the real cost of a bet? And more importantly… what's the price of a robotic life?
He took the portable scanner Maya handed him. With a hesitant push of the button, a holographic screen flickered to life—displaying a number that made the entire room hold its breath.
20,000,000 Mega Watts.
Maya's smile froze.
Her eyes—twin neon-blue lenses—widened in disbelief.
"That much energy...? This is insane," she whispered, barely audible, as if speaking to no one.
Zoldic stared at her, confused. "Wait, is that a big number?"
Maya turned to him, stunned. "Sir... Most robots who manage to survive in Mobreti's black market carry less than two million. Some only have a few hundred thousand. But you? Twenty million? That's not just big. That's... divine power."
The casino, once filled with laughter and mechanical chimes, fell into utter silence. Like a shockwave rippling through metal and smoke, every eye turned to Zoldic—gamblers, mechanics, rogue fighters—all stunned.
And when realization hit... chaos erupted.
Chairs toppled. Tables flew. Shouts rang out.
"Grab him! He's loaded!"
"I could live a whole month off that energy!"
"He could power the entire district!"
Dozens of robots—rusted skeletons to heavily armed machines—charged like a swarm of predators. But Zoldic didn't want a fight. Not yet. He ducked between tables, slid behind a roulette wheel, leapt over stacks of energy chips—moving like a silver flash through metal and madness.
The alarms screamed.
"BUPPP... BUPPP... BUPPP!"
From behind the back wall, a massive figure emerged—towering, pitch black, as wide as a steel truck. Kortez 089. His voice boomed like thunder crawling through a desert of iron.
"Enough!"
Everything froze.
The frenzied robots stopped mid-step, suddenly as still as statues.
"He is my guest," Kortez growled, eyes glowing blood-red. "And no one touches him."
Tension melted into silence. Slowly, Kortez's enforcers began dragging gamblers out of the hall—some tossed aside like scraps.
Kortez approached Zoldic, who was still alert, fists clenched.
"My apologies for the chaos, sir," he said, voice now smoother, calculated. "The underworld often loses its mind when it smells power like that."
He gestured, and two guards escorted Zoldic to his private suite.
The room was an altar to narcissism.
Walls covered in murals and flickering holograms—all of Kortez himself, captured in dramatic poses. Riding mechanical dragons. Leading armies. Sitting on a flaming throne.
Zoldic said nothing. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
"I am... Kortez 089," the giant declared proudly, motioning toward every inch of the room. "As you can see... everywhere."
"Zoldic," he replied, simply.
"Ah, a strong name," Kortez said, spinning an empty glass as if it held rare liquor. "So, which elite military division are you from, Mister Zoldic?"
Zoldic frowned. "Division?"
Kortez paused, the glass stopping mid-spin. "You don't know?"
Zoldic shook his head. "No idea. I'm just... traveling with Zereka."
A shadow crept into Kortez's eyes.
He raised a hand, and one of his guards handed him a data screen.
Zoldic's image appeared—standing with Zereka atop a cliff overlooking the Lortik Sea—the known base of the Kripton Magnum rebels.
Kortez's face darkened.
"Rebels...!"
His shout roared through the suite.
"Seize him! Drain all his energy before handing him to Protem Bexxton!"
Zoldic moved instantly. His red eyes lit up—his body surged into combat mode.
The first blast threw two guards into the wall.
The floor trembled.
One robot fired a laser—Zoldic deflected it with a single sweep of his arm. Then he leapt, struck, and tore through metal barricades like they were paper.
One by one, Kortez's soldiers fell. None could land a single hit.
Zoldic wasn't just a robot—he was a machine powered by human spirit, driven by Anders' mind, and fueled by a strength that had never been tested.
As he crashed through the mural-filled suite, the casino below burst into chaos.
Every eye followed him.
Every current of energy now bent toward one core:
Zoldic.
Explosions. Screams.
Metal bodies flying like rag dolls.
But none could stop him.