"Now everyone..." Albedo starts, pulling Ultron from his thoughts. With all but one guardian present, she continues, "To our new Supreme Leader. The ritual of fidelity." They all kneel before Ultron, who looks around, noting one seems to be missing.
"Albedo, dear?"
Albedo looks up at Ultron with a hard blush and a questioning gaze. "Yes, my lord?"
"I had asked you to gather all but the fourth and eighth-floor guardians, correct?"
"Yes, you did, my lord. Is something the matter?"
"Albedo, there are 12 floors in Nazarick. You guard the 9th floor, while Victim watches over the 8th floor. Demiurge is in charge of the 7th floor, and Aura and Mare guard the 6th. Cocytus oversees the 5th floor, Gargantua is responsible for the 4th, and Shalltear controls the 3rd to 1st floors. The 12th floor does not have a guardian, but the 11th floor, which is mine, does."
Albedo's eyes widen as she understands her mistake.
"So Albedo..." he says her name with a tone a father would use when disciplining his child. All the Guardians feel chills from the aura he's emanating. It's not one of anger but disappointment. "...Where is Abraxas?"
She's at a loss for words, overwhelmed by fear and shame for failing her new lord. Immediately, she kneels on both knees in a pleading gesture. "My deepest apologies, my lord. I did not mean to make such a blunder. I only wished to gather them as quickly as possible."
She's cut off when she feels a cold mechanical hand on her head, rubbing it gently. "No need to apologize. I'm not mad. I merely want to know where he is..."
"END OF LINE. Did someone say my name? Here, my lord!" A distorted, digitized voice calls from the other side of the arena. The figure materializes in a cascade of blue-white pixels, as though teleporting through a digital portal.
Abraxas is the guardian of the 11th floor, known as The Grid, which is Ultron's personal floor and metropolis. His form glows with circuitry-like patterns of electric blue light running across his midnight-black armor, pulsing in time with his movements. He, along with most of Ultron's forces, is inspired by the decades-old movie and later animated show, Tron. Although Ultron had been concerned that the developers of Yggdrasil might take action against him for copyright issues or ban him because it detracted from the "fantasy" aesthetic, they did not seem to mind. They valued the players' freedom to manipulate the game world according to their preferences. Ultron was grateful for this, as the early 2000s movie had always been a favorite of his, even if it is now considered ancient.
"Ah, there you are, Abraxas." Ultron greets his creation with a subtle note of pride.
Picking up the pace to a skip that leaves trails of light in his wake, Abraxas dramatically drops to one knee, his arms flailing out to the sides as circuits along his limbs flare brightly. Ultron finds this amusing and chuckles lightly. Looking up, Abraxas's featureless helmet face displays a pixelated smile as he laughs at his own silliness and says, "Greetings, programs! Hehehe, I wouldn't miss this moment for all the memory units in The Grid! And dare I say, the title of Guild Leader looks quite STRAPPING on you, my USER! Congratulations on the promotion! Your runtime permissions have been officially upgraded."
"Thank you, Abraxas. You are too kind." While designing Abraxas' personality, Ultron was inspired by his own mindset, particularly the phrase, "Violence is never the answer; it is the question. And the answer is yes." However, where Ultron was calculating and methodical, Abraxas operates with chaotic energy, running multiple processing threads at once, as though he had a few more screws loose than his creator. His consciousness was built to mirror the digital landscape of The Grid itself—vast, complex, and occasionally glitching into nonlinear thoughts. Ultron feels a sense of happiness seeing his creation come to life, and unbeknownst to him, his joyful mood radiates outward. His positive aura envelops the area, making his subjects feel content as well. But like all good things, this moment must come to an end as Ultron turns to address the rest of the group.
"Thank you all for coming. You've done well to arrive promptly and on time," he says, gaining everyone's attention. They look at him with smiles on their faces, or at least their own version of smiles, pleased to have satisfied their new master.
"Your thanks are unnecessary. We have all dedicated ourselves to you," Albedo says, looking up at him. "You may find us lacking; however, we vow to work hard and meet the expectations of the supreme beings who created us—and to you, the Great War Machine of Nazarick!"
"THIS WE PLEDGE!" They all proclaim in unison. Abraxas's voice has a distinct electronic reverberation that echoes longer than the others, like digital feedback in an amplifier. The title of 'Great War Machine' evokes pleasant memories of crushing opposing armies of players with his strategies and overwhelming force. His experience with RTS games before Yggdrasil, such as StarCraft, Warhammer 40K, and Age of Empires, had prepared him well for strategic gameplay and warfare tactics. Additionally, it didn't hurt that Sun Tzu's The Art of War was always on his hospital bed table.
"Excellent, Floor Guardians!" he exclaims, opening his arms wide as if basking in the sun. "Every one of you has my confidence that you will complete your duties without faltering! I am proud to be your leader! Though I am not Momonga, I will lead fairly and justly, just as he would have! That is my pledge to you!" The happy, smiling faces of the guardians shine as they look up at their master, their awe evident. However, their expressions shift when he speaks again. His aura transforms into a thick red miasma, seeping from his mouth and eyes, which weighs heavily on those in the room.
Abraxas's circuitry flashes from blue to red, resonating with his master's change in demeanor. "System alert: Power surge detected," he whispers to himself, admiring the display.
"Now then, the great tomb of Nazarick has found itself in a peculiar situation. Earlier, I had Sebas survey the surroundings of our grand fortress," Ultron says, turning his head to the left to acknowledge the presence of a new figure in the arena. Sebas approaches the group and bows respectfully to his master before beginning to explain his findings.
"Grasslands?" Ultron mutters, adopting a thoughtful posture with his arm crossed over his abdomen and fingers resting on his mouth as he considers.
"Yes, lord, the outside is completely different from the swamps that used to surround The Great Tomb of Nazarick. I could not confirm any structure, human or otherwise, within the 5-kilometer distance you set, sir," Sebas confirms, finishing his report from his kneeling position.
"Excellent work, Sebas," Ultron begins, moving over to the others. "It has come to my attention that our home has been transported to an unknown location by unknown motives or means. The swamps that once surrounded us have been replaced by a vast grassland."
Upon hearing this, Abraxas's helmet tilts to one side, and he chuckles electronically. "Identity disc shows we've been relocated to sector 7. Good riddance to that biodigital swamp eyesore... The Grid's crystalline spires could use some actual sunlight rather than that putrid mist. Perhaps we can now initiate the expansion protocol I've been developing, User?" He rubs his glowing hands together eagerly, circuitry pulsing with excitement.
"Floor guardian leader: Albedo, and Defensive Director: Demiurge," Ultron calls.
"Yes, Lord!" they say in unison, Demiurge liking the sound of the title Director.
"Establish a more robust system for exchanging goods and information between floors, and strengthen our defenses. Additionally, I need a report on our forces, from the weakest undead to the Reaper Leviathans, on my desk by tomorrow morning."
"Yes, sir!"
"Permission to integrate Grid security protocols into the defensive matrix?" Abraxas asks, raising a finger. "My Recognizers are standing by for patrol duty, and the Light Cycle squads could establish rapid-response perimeters at 200% efficiency compared to conventional units."
Ultron gives a brief nod of approval. "Work with Albedo to integrate your security forces into the overall defense plan."
"Mare, is there a way to camouflage the tomb and hide it in plain sight?" Mare looks thoughtful for a moment before replying.
"I-It would be difficult to rely on just magic alone. However, if we covered the walls with dirt, it could help us blend in with the surrounding vegetation." This suggestion seems appealing to Ultron, but Albedo does not approve.
"You dare to tarnish the magnificent walls of Nazarick?" she asks in a tone laced with anger and venom.
"Albedo, I've taken note of your concerns, but they are unnecessary. Mare, please address this immediately. Understand that in war, sacrifices must be made for the greater good, and the appearance of our fortress is one of those sacrifices." Ultron says, mostly directing that last part towards Albedo.
"Your wisdom knows no bounds, my Lord," she says, bowing her head. "I am truly sorry."
"However, a random mound would seem unnatural and attract attention. Sebas, are there any natural hills nearby that would help us blend in?" Ultron asks, turning his attention to his white-haired butler.
"Unfortunately, no. We are surrounded only by flatlands," Sebas replies.
'Hmm, there is no human activity within a 5-kilometer radius of here. So, I don't think anyone would notice a little terraforming,' he thinks with a giddy tone.
"Could we create dummy hills to make us look less conspicuous?"
Sebas thinks for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I believe that would help us blend in well."
"If I may interject," Abraxas's digitized voice cuts in, "The Grid's topographical rendering systems were designed for urban landscapes, but I could reprogram them to generate simulated terrain projections—a camouflage subroutine, if you will. It would use considerably less energy than maintaining continuous illusion magic, and my sentries could monitor for security breaches simultaneously." His helmet projects a small holographic display showing a 3D model of Nazarick seamlessly integrated into a hilly landscape.
"Excellent suggestions all around! Mare, work on the physical camouflage. Abraxas, implement your projections for the more difficult areas. Together we'll create the perfect disguise." Ultron says with approval.
"Y-yes, Lord Ultron," Mare replies timidly.
"Processing request. Command acknowledged," Abraxas responds with a small bow, his circuits flickering in what appears to be excitement.
"Lastly, I want your honest opinion of me. I have been a Guild leader for no more than an hour, but you have known me for a long time. Do you believe I am worthy of such a title?"
Ultron turns to Shalltear. "Shalltear, you first."
"You are beauty incarnate! A stunning red ruby enraptured in glorious silver! The most beautiful in all the world!" she exclaims, her cheeks flushed and shining.
"Cocytus?"
"Stronger than all of the floor guardians, you are a man worthy of being the absolute leader of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Your combat prowess and warrior's heart have earned you my allegiance, oh Great War Machine."
"Aura,"
"Kind and merciful leader who excels in planning and foresight!"
"Mare?"
"A-a very kind person..."
"Demiurge,"
"A man whose tenacity, intellect, and analytical mind allow him to make decisions and act upon them with ruthless efficiency. I see no one better suited to lead us than the Commander-in-Chief of the Promethean Knights. To sum it up in a single word, my lord: inscrutable."
"Abraxas."
The digital guardian rises to his feet, circuits pulsing brighter as he speaks. "You are the perfect User! The Master Control Program we've all been waiting for! You wrote my code line by line, breathed life into The Grid, and gave us all purpose. Your command sequences execute with perfect precision, and your processing power outclasses any system I've encountered." He taps his chest where a circular identity disc glows bright blue. "Your digital signature is imprinted in every cycle of my runtime. You are my Creator Program, my User, my progenitor—and my loyalty subroutine is hardcoded to serve you until my final system shutdown."
"Sebas,"
"The head of the supreme beings, our merciful leader, stayed with us until the end, even after The Great Momonga left."
Cringing a little on the inside from Sebas' answer, Ultron moves on. "And lastly, Albedo,"
"The highest-ranking of the Supreme Beings, our Lord and Master! Your accomplishments as our military general, along with your mercy in remaining with us, have earned you your esteemed position above us. So do not worry, my lord; you are not only worthy of the throne but also of my love and devotion!"
Ultron smiles in satisfaction, the worry from earlier dying a slow, painful death on the floor in a puddle of its own blood, the words of his friend's creations—and now his subordinates—having slaughtered the beast that tormented his thoughts. His body feels lighter with every assessment and compliment. He is happy.
"I have heard your words, and they have made me very happy. Please continue to complete the tasks I have assigned to you. If I haven't given you an assignment, join someone who has and ensure that their tasks are finished quickly, or return to your own duties." Ultron says, quickly activating Nazarick's ring and teleporting to the 11th floor of his personal suite.
As he materializes within The Grid, Ultron is greeted by the magnificent vista of his digital metropolis. Towering crystalline spires rise into a permanently night sky, crisscrossed with streams of data that flow like rivers of light. The city pulses with energy, buildings illuminated by electric blue and white circuits. In the distance, geometrically perfect mountains frame the cityscape, their surfaces reflecting the ambient glow of The Grid itself. Programs—digital beings of his own creation—move about their business, maintaining the systems that keep this floor functioning at optimal efficiency.
Ultron walks through a gateway that recognizes his signature automatically, opening into his personal quarters. Unlike the medieval fantasy aesthetic that dominates most of Nazarick, his domain embraces clean lines, minimalist design, and surfaces that emit their own gentle illumination.
Kitchen and Dining Room.
Bedroom.
"Sigh... I'm tired. Although I don't think my body needs sleep, I'll be damned if I don't try..." Ultron says to himself as he trudges over to his big, soft bed. His metal footfalls clank against the hard polymer floor, leaving momentary glowing footprints that fade seconds later—a subtle touch Abraxas had programmed into The Grid's user interface specifically for him. He plops down on his mattress for a quick power nap. To his surprise and delight, he discovers that he can, in fact, fall... asleep...
Back in the Arena, shortly after Ultron left
All eight guardians, still in their kneeling positions, feel a sense of relief when the powerful pressure exerted by their lord and master lifts. Albedo is the first to rise, feeling a bit disheartened that she would not experience that overwhelming sensation again, and finds herself subconsciously craving more. Mare, the second to dare to stand, uses his staff for support.
"T-that w-w-was really scary, sis..." he says shakily.
"I know, right? I thought we were gonna be squashed from the pressure!" his sister responds excitedly.
Cocytus rises, his voice tinged with awe. "To think the War Machine would be this incredible in person..." he marvels, the sheer magnitude of it leaving him spellbound.
"So that is Lord Ultron as a leader... Amazing..." Albedo says in awe, holding her hands clasped together in a praying motion, pressed against her bosom, trying to quell her love-struck beating heart.
"So it would seem," Demiurge says, standing and adjusting his glasses.
"It seems he has honored our vow of fidelity," Cocytus says, turning to those standing beside him.
"He was so different when he was with us," Aura says. "Super kind and laid-back!" That comment makes Albedo's heart hitch in her chest as she listens to all the wonderful things about her beloved. Her breathing begins to quicken as her longing for him deepens.
"He even gave us advice and water when we were thirsty! He's the best!" Aura continues.
"S-so that was just Lord Ultron when he is standing as a ruler...?" Mare asks, somewhat relieved that the pressure he felt won't be constant, just when Ultron is standing as a leader. "... Amazing!"
"It was AMAZING!" Albedo exclaims with a wide, somewhat perverse smile on her face. "He responded to our feelings and acted just as an absolute ruler should! As expected from our creator!" She squeals in delight. "Among the 42 supreme beings, he stands at the top! He is the merciful man who stayed behind in this land until the very end!" She finishes by wrapping herself in her wings and hugging herself tightly in glee. The others just watch her go off on her little tangent.
Abraxas's circuits pulse in an irregular pattern, like a digital eye-roll. "Her emotional subroutines are running at 178% capacity. Somebody needs to debug that firmware," he mutters, his digitized voice low enough that only those nearby could hear.
"Well, with that, I shall return first," Sebas says, drawing everyone's attention. "I do not know where Lord Ultron has gone, but I should be there by his side should he need me."
"Sebas, do inform me immediately if anything happens..." she asks before grinning, hugging herself tighter, and rubbing her legs together, with a blush. "Should he call for me, tell him I will rush to his side! No matter what I have to sacrifice in exchange!!" Demiurge massages his temples, feeling a headache coming on, and Abraxas just raises his hands a little and backs away from her, his helmet displaying pixelated exclamation marks where eyes would be.
"Warning: Corrupted data detected. Don't interface with unstable programs... as the Users say, 'Don't stick your processing unit in corrupted code.'" The others just look at her strangely while Abraxas takes another step back. "ERROR: Logic circuits overloading from excessive emotional input."
Albedo continues, "BUT tell Lord Ultron that I will need time if he were to call me to his bedchamber! I would need time to bathe, of course... Unless he wants me to go without bathing...hmnn naughty boy..."
Before she can continue her tirade, Sebas interrupts her. "I understand. Now, I shall take my leave. Good day to you, floor guardians." Bowing, he turns on his heels in search of his master.
"Try The Grid! He has a suite there in the central tower of the Digital Citadel! Look for the highest spire with cascading light patterns—can't miss it!" Abraxas calls after him, his voice modulating through different electronic tones. "The System always knows where the User is."
"Thank you, Sir Abraxas," Sebas calls back.
For a moment, there is silence until Demiurge notices that a certain vampire has yet to stand, and she looks to be in pain. "Shalltear... Is something the matter?" he asks, with Cocytus echoing the question, "What is it, Shalltear?"
Looking up with her blushing, innocent face, she confesses shakily, "His amazing presence has excited me so much... I've had a little crisis with my underwear."
"You BITCH..." Albedo snarls.
Shalltear, offended, stands to her feet. "What!? We just received Lord Ultron's presence! We got such a GIFT! Any girl who doesn't get sopping wet from something like that is crazy! You wide-mouthed gorilla!"
"You lamprey!" Albedo retorts, both Guardians flaring their power in a showdown.
"I was made to look this way by the Supreme Beings!"
"That's the same for me, you know!?"
As the succubus and vampire showdown continues, Demiurge pats Aura on the shoulder and says, "Aura, I'll leave the issues between the women to another woman."
"HEY! You can't expect me to take care of this!" she exclaims, exasperated.
"If something happens, I'll intervene," he says, casually walking away.
Abraxas's helmet visor flashes red warning symbols as he steps back. "Runtime conflict detected between incompatible programs. Initiating emergency quarantine protocol. Abort, retry, fail?" He moves next to Demiurge, his circuits dimming slightly as if trying to make himself less noticeable. "The Grid has superior conflict resolution algorithms, but I didn't bring my disc with admin privileges. This is what happens when you let emotions corrupt your base code."
"Goodness. Is this something really worth fighting over? It's ridiculous..." Cocytus says, walking over, much to the horror of Aura.
"COCYTUS NO! Don't leave me with them!" She yells out in vain, before turning to the catfight before her.
As the boys converse with each other, Demiurge observes the scene and remarks to the group, "Personally, I find the outcome of such a union quite intriguing." Mare turns to him, looking confused and waiting for him to elaborate. Demiurge continues, "It would be a valuable addition to our forces and beneficial for the future of Nazarick." The sweet, innocent Mare still doesn't understand and asks for clarification.
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"Processing hypothesis: A great User ought to have a successor program, correct?" Abraxas answers, binary code briefly flashing across his visor as he processes the concept. Demiurge nods in agreement.
"Lord Ultron has remained with us until now, but one day he may follow the path of other supreme beings. It would be nice if he left someone behind for us to pledge our loyalty to in his stead, wouldn't it?" Demiurge asks.
"Uh, s-so what you're saying is... One of them should give birth to Lord Ultron's heir?" Mare asks, unsure.
"Precisely."
"What kind of blasphemy is this!?" Cocytus exclaims angrily, not entirely understanding.
"But wouldn't it be nice to pledge ourselves to Lord Ultron's descendants, too?" Demiurge asks.
"C'mon, my frozen executable! Think of the system upgrades!" Abraxas's voice modulates to a more enthusiastic pitch as his circuitry pulses brighter. "You'd be Uncle Cocytus—Administrator access to the next-gen program! Just imagine the little User running the debug routine on your combat modules!"
"Uncle... Cocytus? What a wonderful idea! Ah, to be called 'Uncle!' Sometimes, the child would ride on my shoulders! Or..." He continues rambling on, lost in his little fantasy world. Abraxas laughs heartily, his digitized chuckle sounding like electronic music. Demiurge, allowing Cocytus some time to enjoy his imagination, looks down at Mare and asks a pressing question.
"By the way, Mare. Why are you dressed like a girl?"
"Th-this is just what Bukubukuchagama chose for me... She said I was an 'Otoko no ko,' but I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be a boy."
"Hmm," Demiurge hums. "Then perhaps, all young boys in Nazarick are supposed to be dressed like that..."
"File format mismatch detected!" Abraxas interrupts, his helmet projecting a small holographic dictionary. "'Otoko no ko' in the user language translates to 'male daughter' or what The Grid's entertainment sector calls a 'crossdresser.' Your programmer just wanted you to run in compatibility mode with feminine appearance parameters, that's all."
"And how do you know this?" Demiurge asks curiously. Mare nods, also wanting an answer.
Abraxas's circuits pulse in a pattern reminiscent of a shrug. "The Grid has many entertainment hubs and social interface zones for programs to utilize during system idle time. Some are specialized virtual environments called 'drag clubs,' where the interface protocols involve binary gender-swap subroutines—in User terms, men dressed as women. My primary function includes administrating ALL sectors of The Grid, including recreational ones."
"Enlightening..." says Demiurge. "Cocytus! Back to reality, please!"
"What a wonderful scene. Truly one to wish for!" Cocytus says, delighted.
"Good for you," the well-dressed demon says, adjusting his glasses before checking on the fight. "Aura, are they done fighting?"
"Done fighting, they're just... debating, I think," she says.
"We are deciding who will be the head wife," Shalltear says, out of breath from their argument. "It would be strange if the Absolute Ruler had only one wife," Albedo adds. "However, it has yet to be determined who will hold the title of his official wife."
"That is a very interesting matter, but will you give us our orders first?" Demiurge asks with disinterest.
"Right, you're right. Shalltear, we shall discuss this at length at another time," the succubus says, fixing her hair.
"I have no problem with that," the fun-sized vampire responds.
"END OF LINE," Abraxas mutters, visibly relieved that the conflict resolution protocols had engaged successfully.
"Now then, let's begin with the plans."