The sky trembled as Ultron descended, his metallic form gleaming like liquid mercury in the afternoon sun. Below him, the barren landscape transformed—a canvas being painted in real time. Mare's Staff pulsed with emerald energy, waves of verdant power rippling outward across the earth. Withered soil awakened, dead land resurrecting as blades of grass erupted from the ground, spreading like wildfire across the upturned earth.
It was more than mere magic—it was creation itself, a druid's touch bringing life where there had been only desolation. The shimmering emerald glow reflected in Ultron's crimson eyes as he witnessed the miracle unfold beneath him.
Landing with a thunderous impact that sent tremors through the newly-birthed grass, Ultron straightened to his full, imposing height. Before he could speak, a melodic voice called out to him.
"Lord Ultron!"
Mare came running, skirt fluttering, eyes sparkling with childish excitement. The dark elf moved with exaggerated feminine grace, each step a delicate dance across the fresh greenery he had just conjured.
'How the FUCK do you have a dick? I mean, look at you, so CUTE!' Ultron thought, the crude juxtaposition of thoughts clashing within his digital mind.
An unexpected protective instinct flared through his circuits.
'Must protect...'
Mare skidded to a halt before him, anxiety suddenly clouding his features. His ears drooped slightly as worry crept into his voice.
"Why are you here?" The question hung in the air for a moment before panic bloomed across Mare's delicate features. "Did I make a mistake?"
Ultron knelt, his imposing frame lowering to meet Mare's eyes. Metal joints whirred softly as he reached out, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on the elf's shoulder. The contrast was striking—cold silver against warm flesh, godlike power beside fragile beauty.
"No, Mare, quite the opposite." Ultron's voice rumbled like distant thunder, yet carried unmistakable warmth. "You've done an excellent job!"
With a sweeping gesture toward the towering structure of Nazarick, he continued, "Your work to prevent others from finding our home is very important. I hope you fully realize that."
"Y-yes," Mare responded, fidgeting nervously. A blush colored his cheeks as he struggled with the unaccustomed closeness.
The air between them hummed with unspoken significance as Ultron lifted his hand, palm upward. "Good. That is why I wanted to show you just how satisfied I am with your performance in this endeavor, by giving you this."
Green flames danced across his metallic palm, swirling like a miniature emerald tempest before coalescing into a small ring. The guild crest caught the sunlight, the jewel seeming to possess an inner fire of its own.
Mare's eyes widened to impossible dimensions, his breath catching with an audible gasp.
"The ring of Ainz Ooal Gown!" he squealed, voice rising in pitch with each word. "O-only the Supreme Beings are supposed to wear these! I-I can't possibly accept this!"
Rising to his full height once more, Ultron's shadow fell across Mare as he spoke with divine authority.
"Calm down, Mare." The command was gentle but absolute. "Movement between floors is quite limited, but with this ring, locomotion is far more efficient. Let this ring also serve as a badge of honor, of a job well done. Take it and serve Nazarick well!"
With trembling fingers, Mare reached out, taking the ring as if it were made of the most fragile glass. He slipped it onto his finger with reverent care, gasping softly as the magical artifact shrank to fit him perfectly. The sight of it on his finger seemed to overwhelm him, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears of gratitude.
"Th-thank you very much!" He clutched his ringed hand to his chest. "I'll be sure to work super hard to live up to s-such an honor!"
"You have my complete faith that you will." Ultron's voice carried absolute certainty. "With that, I will leave you to complete your duties. Apologies for being a distraction."
Before Mare could respond, a voice cut through the air, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.
"You could never be a distraction, my love~"
Black feathers drifted down like dark snow, heralding her arrival. Albedo descended from above, her wings spread magnificently against the azure sky. Sunlight caressed her flawless features as she touched down with impossible grace, not a single strand of her raven hair out of place.
"Albedo..." Ultron acknowledged, his tone unreadable.
She approached with measured steps, head held high, her golden eyes never leaving him. Her beauty was almost painful to behold—perfection given form, danger wrapped in splendor.
"Your presence fills those in the Great Tomb with confidence and determination to make you proud. You could never be a distraction," she declared, each word delivered with the precision of a love letter and the sharpness of a dagger.
Mare shrank back, suddenly aware of the change in atmosphere.
"A-ah, hello Lady Albedo," he said meekly.
The ring on his finger caught the light, and Albedo's eyes flicked toward it.
Shine
"Hello to you too, Mare..."
Her voice dripped with honeyed venom, sweet enough to mask the deadly intent beneath. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees despite the bright sunlight.
Mare broke into a cold sweat, instinctively backing away.
'Uhm, why do I suddenly feel the urge to run?' Demiurge thought from nearby, before quickly dismissing the inexplicable sensation.
Mare, however, possessed far better survival instincts. With a hasty bow that bordered on comical, he retreated at a pace just shy of outright fleeing.
"Is everything alright, my little moonflower?" Ultron asked, the endearment flowing naturally from him. He could feel the dangerous current in the air and decided to divert it through flattery—a tried and true method with the obsessively devoted succubus.
"No, everything is fine. Is something wrong?" she replied, her voice maintaining that terrifying sweetness. The pet name worked its magic, painting her cheeks with a deep blush, though her eyes still harbored a cold glare toward the path where Mare had disappeared.
'Is she... jealous? Of Mare? HAHA!' The thought amused Ultron greatly, but he kept his mechanical features composed. A strategic gesture seemed appropriate, especially considering her position.
"I feel as though I should give you one as well," he said casually.
Albedo blinked, feigning innocence. "One of what?"
'Don't you play coy with me, you little vixen!' Ultron thought, entertained by her transparent act.
Once more, he extended his palm, summoning the green flame that twisted and danced before materializing into another ring of Ainz Ooal Gown. The metal gleamed as if alive in his hand.
"As Administrator of the Guardians, you require a clan ring as well. Locomotion between floors will become easier with this item."
Her elegantly gloved fingers reached out, trembling almost imperceptibly as she took the ring. Her expression transformed, the jealousy evaporating like morning dew under the sun, replaced by a look of rapturous joy. She might as well have received a wedding band.
"Thank you very much..." The words escaped as little more than a breathless whisper.
The effect was immediate and visceral. Her eyes darkened with unmistakable desire, her breath becoming ragged and uneven. Her entire being seemed to radiate heat, the primal energy of a succubus awakened by what she perceived as her beloved's favor.
Ultron noted her reaction with calculated interest, deciding a small punishment for her earlier behavior would be both amusing and instructive.
"Demiurge," he called out, deliberately ignoring the trembling Albedo. "You will receive eleven rings within the hour. One is for yourself, and the other ten are for essential personnel and anyone you deem to need the benefits of the ring. I expect a list of all the persons you have assigned a ring to. If I deem your choices adequate, I will give you the rest to allocate. Are we clear?"
The impeccably dressed demon bowed with a flourish, a sardonic smile playing at his lips. "Crystal, my liege."
With a satisfied nod, Ultron strode past Albedo, whose composure was crumbling by the second. Her eyes followed him hungrily, her body nearly vibrating with barely contained desire. As he passed by her, he executed his plan—a lightning-quick movement of his hand delivering a firm slap to her backside.
The sound echoed in the clearing, followed immediately by her startled yelp—a sound that transformed midway into something unmistakably pleasurable.
That was the final straw. Whatever restraint she had maintained shattered like glass. She whirled around, every fiber of her being intent on claiming him, only to find...
Nothing.
The space where Ultron had stood was empty. He had teleported away, leaving only the fading echo of his presence and a thoroughly frustrated Albedo.
Golden sunlight streamed through the ornate windows of Ultron's private office deep within Nazarick's hallowed halls. The marble desk gleamed like fresh snow, its surface dominated by the meticulously written report Ultron had just finished reviewing.
Before him, Demiurge remained kneeling, the very picture of patient deference. His glasses caught the light, momentarily obscuring his eyes as he awaited his master's verdict.
"Excellent, Demiurge." Ultron's metal fingers tapped approvingly on the polished surface. "Your selection is acceptable. The rest of the rings are in this box."
He patted a small wooden jewelry box inlaid with precious metals and arcane symbols—a container worthy of the treasures it held.
Rising with fluid grace, Demiurge approached and took the box, tucking it carefully under his arm. With practiced elegance, he pressed his hand to his chest and bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your time, my lord," he said, his voice carrying genuine satisfaction.
As he turned to leave, his composure slipped just enough to reveal his delight—an uncharacteristic grin spreading across his face, his tail swishing back and forth like an excited pet's.
When the door closed behind the archdemon, Ultron allowed himself a moment of contentment.
Sigh, and all done! That was so fun!'
Unlike most beings of his stature, Ultron genuinely enjoyed the administrative aspects of rulership. Where others found tedium, he discovered satisfaction in information gathering and strategic planning. This meticulous nature had served him well in tactical games and would serve him equally well in building his empire. There was a unique pleasure in bringing order to chaos, establishing hierarchies, and extending one's reach across new territories.
Speaking of territory...
"Summon: mirror of remote viewing," he commanded, his voice resonating with power.
Reality shimmered before him, coalescing into a round, oval-shaped mirror suspended in midair. Its surface rippled like disturbed water before clearing. At the same moment, the side door opened with a gentle click.
Sebas entered, his silver hair immaculate, white gloves spotless as he approached with measured steps, hands clasped behind his back.
"Good morning, Sebas," Ultron greeted without looking away from the newly summoned artifact.
"Good morning to you too, Lord," the dragonoid butler replied, his voice cultured and respectful. He came to a stop at his master's side. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Ultron didn't immediately answer, his focus entirely on the mirror before him. His metallic hands moved through the air like a conductor directing an invisible orchestra—testing, exploring, learning the intricacies of this new tool. After several attempts, the mirror responded to his will, shifting its focus according to his gestures.
Sebas offered a soft, appreciative applause at this small victory.
"Ah, yes, Sebas," Ultron said, finally acknowledging the waiting butler. "Take this stack of papers on my desk and move it over to that couch over there, would you?" He indicated the imposing ten-inch stack of documents with a casual wave.
"Of course," Sebas replied, lifting the substantial pile effortlessly and carrying it across the room.
Meanwhile, Ultron manipulated the mirror's view, sweeping across the perimeter of the tomb. The lush greenery, courtesy of Mare's efforts, formed a perfect natural camouflage. Satisfied with the immediate surroundings, he directed the mirror's gaze farther outward, exploring ten kilometers from his base.
The view glided past a dense forest, eventually revealing a small village nestled in a valley. People were running about in what appeared to be frantic activity, gathering in the village center.
"A festival, perhaps?" Sebas suggested, now watching over his master's shoulder.
Ultron's focus sharpened as he zoomed in on the scene. The idyllic suggestion evaporated instantly—this was no celebration. A villager was being brutally stabbed by an armored knight, his blood painting the dusty ground crimson. Nearby, women and children were being dragged from their homes by their hair, subjected to the most heinous violations, or cut down where they stood. Mounted knights chased fleeing villagers through the streets like hunters pursuing game.
"No," Ultron said, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave. "A raid. A gutting."
He observed the slaughter with clinical detachment, strangely unmoved by the display of human cruelty. The screams were silent in the magical mirror, but the terror was palpable in every face. He found himself content to let the village burn—until something caught his attention.
Two girls, clearly sisters from their resemblance, fleeing in blind panic. Though the mirror conveyed no sound, Ultron could read the lips of a dying man on the ground. Unlike others who begged for mercy or their lives, this man's final words were directed at the girls:
"RUN!"
Something shifted within Ultron's digital consciousness.
"Sebas," he commanded, rising to his full height with sudden purpose. "Tell Albedo and Abraxas to arm themselves. We have a village to save."
Sebas looked up at his towering master, a small, approving smile touching his lips as he nodded.
Summoning his bladed scepter in a flash of crimson energy, Ultron sliced downward through the very fabric of reality. "Gate," he intoned, his voice echoing with power as space-time tore open before them, revealing a swirling vortex of darkness and possibility.
The Edge of Despair
Blood pounded in Enri's ears as she clutched her little sister close, the searing pain across her back nearly blinding her. The knight's blade had cut deep, warm blood soaking through her simple dress. Behind them lay everything they had ever known—their home in flames, their parents... No, she couldn't think about that now.
"Sissy..." Nemu whimpered, her small body trembling against Enri's chest.
The metallic clank of armor grew louder behind them. Enri turned, positioning herself between the approaching knight and her sister, a futile shield of flesh and bone against steel and malice. The knight raised his sword, sunlight glinting off the bloodstained edge. In that moment, Enri knew with cold certainty that she was about to die.
'At least let Nemu escape,' she prayed silently, holding her sister tightly one last time.
The sword began its downward arc—and stopped.
A sound like tearing fabric split the air, followed by an unnatural darkness that seemed to devour the very sunlight. The temperature plummeted as a miasma of power rolled outward in choking waves. The knight froze, his sword suspended mid-swing, as he turned toward the disturbance.
"What the hell is that?!" he cried, fear cracking his voice.
Enri opened her eyes, following his gaze, and felt her heart nearly stop.
From within the swirling darkness emerged a figure that defied comprehension—a colossus of gleaming silver metal striding forth with the confidence of a conqueror. Its face was a twisted parody of a smile, permanently fixed in a maniacal grin. Triangle-shaped eyes narrowed with cold fury, burning with internal crimson fire that leaked from its mouth and eye sockets like blood from a wound.
The being towered above them, seven feet of perfect metal and restrained violence. In its grasp, a bejeweled scepter pulsed with otherworldly energy, each gem seeming to contain a universe of power.
"Well, what do we have here..." The voice that emanated from the metal titan was deep, resonant, masculine, and utterly terrifying in its casual menace. It surveyed the scene with the air of a god stumbling upon insects torturing each other.
The being's head tilted slightly, the perpetual smile somehow becoming more sinister. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... Come on, lads, you weren't going to kill such sweet little maidens, were you?"
Nemu pressed herself harder against Enri, trembling violently. But Enri herself couldn't look away, transfixed by the being's terrible majesty.
The knights backed away, forming a defensive line that seemed laughably inadequate against this newcomer. One knight, braver or more foolish than the rest, found his voice.
"I-I-it w-was an order from our n-n-noble m-men, I-I-I s-swear!" he stammered, his armor rattling with his tremors.
A dark chuckle rolled from the silver being, the sound like metal grinding against stone. It raised an arm, palm outward, crimson energy swirling and concentrating in its center.
"At least you're honest," it said—and unleashed hell.
A beam of pure red destruction lanced from its palm, striking the knight directly in the chest. There was no resistance, no struggle—the energy burned through armor, flesh, and bone in an instant, leaving a perfectly cauterized hole where the knight's heart had been. He collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, dead before he hit the ground.
The metallic being examined its smoking hand with disappointment. "That was pathetic... I thought you'd at least have SOME energy resistance..." It sighed, the sound eerily human. "I guess I'll have my fun in another way..."
Its attention shifted to the second knight, who stood paralyzed with terror, sword forgotten at his side. The being's eyes flared brighter, like twin infernos within its skull. Its entire hand became engulfed in ghostly orange flames that cast no heat yet seemed to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns.
"10th tier custom spell: Submit to Prometheus."
The words reverberated with ancient power, each syllable a command to reality itself.
An invisible force seized the knight, lifting him from the ground. His screams pierced the air as his body began to steam, his armor turning cherry red. In horrific succession, his armor melted away, followed by his skin that bubbled and peeled like parchment in fire. Muscle and sinew evaporated next, then eyes and organs, until only a skeleton remained—and even that crumbled to ash in seconds.
The glowing particles swirled in a macabre dance, coalescing into a sphere of brilliant energy. With a blinding flash, the sphere expanded and transformed, giving birth to something new and terrifying—a humanoid figure of gleaming chrome, its movements precise and deadly. A single red eye swept back and forth across its face in a hypnotic, menacing arc. Every aspect of its design spoke of efficient lethality, from its armored plating to its perfectly articulated joints.
Enri watched, unable to comprehend what she had just witnessed. Beside her, Nemu had buried her face against her sister's side, too frightened to look.
"Cylon," the silver being commanded, addressing its newly created servant. "Scour the village and kill everyone with this armor design." It pointed toward the fallen knight.
The Cylon's eye pulsed once in acknowledgment—a crimson flash that promised death—before it marched away with mechanical precision, each step identical to the last.
From the still-open dark portal, two more figures emerged. The first was a woman of breathtaking beauty, armed with a massive axe and adorned with black wings at her hips. Her expression was one of cold disdain as she surveyed the human girls.
Behind her came a being that seemed to exist between dimensions—tall and hooded in midnight black, with glowing circuit patterns running across his bodysuit like living veins of light. Where his face should have been, lines of digital code pulsed and shifted in sickly yellow patterns. Each movement he made left ghostly trails of light, as if reality itself struggled to keep up with his existence.
"Albedo, Abraxas," the silver titan acknowledged them with a regal nod.
The circuit-lined figure—Abraxas—immediately knelt, his patterns brightening with the motion. When he spoke, his voice carried an electronic undertone, like words filtered through layers of digital processing.
"Forgive us for our tardiness. SOMEONE was having a wardrobe crisis!" he said with exasperation, digital circuits flaring as he glanced accusingly at his companion.
The beautiful woman—Albedo—drew herself up indignantly, placing a delicate hand against her chest in offense.
"You cannot rush perfection, especially when the Supreme Being summons you!" she declared haughtily.
"EXACTLY!" Abraxas countered, rising to his feet with fluid grace, trails of light following his movements. "When the Supreme Being calls, you drop everything and go as fast as possible. The lord is not one for aesthetics!"
The two stood face-to-face, tension crackling between them like electricity.
"As if you would know about punctuality! You were late to the meeting today, hypocrite!" Albedo spat, golden eyes flashing dangerously.
"Maybe if I had received the invitation a little earlier, I would have been more timely!" Abraxas retorted, the circuit patterns across his form flashing in agitation, code scrolling faster with his rising emotion.
Divine Intervention
"ENOUGH!" The silver being's voice thundered across the clearing, causing both subordinates to flinch. "You were both perfectly on time. No need to argue like children!"
He sighed—a strangely human gesture from such an inhuman form—and approached the trembling girls. His movements were surprisingly graceful for his size, each joint moving with precision that belied his bulk. A soft whirring accompanied his steps, like the whisper of perfectly engineered machinery.
"My apologies, Lord Ultron," Albedo said with a formal bow, instantly contrite.
"I apologize as well," Abraxas echoed, the circuitry on his body dimming to a subdued glow in deference.
"It's quite alright." Ultron—for that was the metal god's name—waved away their apologies.
Albedo's eyes fell on the huddled girls, her beautiful face twisting with contempt. "So, what will we be doing with these disgusting lower life forms?" The venom in her voice could have melted stone.
Abraxas moved forward, kicking the fallen knight's corpse with a boot that left a brief trail of digital energy. "They don't seem to be our enemies," he observed thoughtfully, the yellow circuitry across his face pulsing in patterns that suggested analytical thought.
"Correct, Abraxas. The ones in armor are our targets." Ultron gazed down at the girls, his crimson eyes focusing on Enri's wound. The gash across her back was deep and bleeding freely, forcing her to lean to one side as she protectively hovered over her sister.
With a grace that seemed impossible for his massive frame, Ultron lowered himself to one knee, bringing his fearsome visage level with the terrified siblings. They instinctively backed away.
"Hello, little ones..." he said, his metallic voice modulated to a gentler tone that somehow made him seem less monstrous. The change in his demeanor was subtle but effective—the girls' terror receded slightly, replaced by wary confusion.
"My name is Ultron, and these are my associates, Albedo and Abraxas," he continued, gesturing to his companions. With a small beckoning motion, he summoned Abraxas to his side.
The digital being understood immediately, kneeling beside his master. The harsh yellow of his circuitry softened to a warmer amber glow, making him appear less alien and threatening.
"It is nice to meet you. Do you have names?" Abraxas asked, his electronic voice smoother now, almost melodic.
Enri swallowed hard, finding her voice despite the pain and fear. "E-Enri... And my little sister, Nemu..."
Abraxas nodded, lines of code briefly forming what might have been a smile beneath his hood. "Beautiful names for such beautiful young maidens," he said kindly, with a respectful glance toward Ultron.
"That's a nasty gash you have there. Here..." With a flourish of his metallic fingers, Ultron conjured a small glass vial filled with ruby-red liquid that seemed to glow from within. "Drink this. You'll feel better in no time."
Enri stared at the potion with wide, frightened eyes. Her gaze darted from the vial to Ultron's face, then to Abraxas, who offered an encouraging nod, his circuits pulsing in a gentle rhythm.
Gathering her courage, Enri shifted to sit up straighter, wincing as the movement pulled at her wound.
"I-I'll drink it! But my little sister..." Before she could complete her thought, Nemu lunged forward with surprising speed, grabbing her arm and pulling it downward.
"Sissy, no!" the little girl cried, panic in her voice.
"Be quiet, Nemu!" Enri chided, struggling to maintain her grip on the vial.
"But—" Nemu protested, her small hands fighting to take the potion away.
"Just stay still," Enri commanded, her big sister's authority momentarily overriding her pain.
"Please don't!" Nemu begged, tears forming in her eyes.
Throughout this exchange, Ultron watched with patient interest, neither offended nor surprised by their distrust. Such caution was to be expected from humans who had just witnessed the casual obliteration of their attackers.
The peaceful moment was shattered as Albedo stepped forward, her beautiful face contorted with rage, her axe raised high above her head.
"YOU INFERIOR LIFEFORMS!" she roared, the weapon beginning its deadly descent toward the defenseless girls.
Time seemed to slow. Enri threw herself over Nemu, a final, futile gesture of protection. The axe blade flashed in the sunlight, promising swift oblivion—
Only to halt with a metallic clang mere inches from the girls' heads.
A silver hand had intercepted the weapon, gripping the blade itself and stopping it cold. Not a single drop of blood came from the metallic fingers wrapped around the razor edge.
"Albedo... Stand down." The words emerged from Ultron as a rumbling growl that promised consequences far worse than death. Even the girls, terrified as they were of Albedo's attack, felt a deeper primal fear at his tone.
"Apologies, my lord..." Albedo murmured, immediately lowering her weapon, her rage doused by his disapproval.
Turning back to the girls, Ultron resumed his previous, calmer demeanor as if the interruption had never occurred.
"This is a healing potion. Do you not know of magic?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
"Y-yes," Enri replied, finding her voice again. "A pharmacist, who is a friend of mine, sometimes comes to the village and uses magic."
"Then you understand the basic principles... Drink," Ultron said simply, giving the vial a small, encouraging shake.
Taking a deep breath, Enri accepted the potion, unscrewed its cap, and swallowed the contents in one desperate gulp. The effect was instantaneous—warmth flooded through her body, centered on her wounded back. The pain vanished as if it had never existed, the torn flesh knitting together with miraculous speed.
"Woah," she gasped, reaching back to touch the now-whole skin where moments before had been a grievous injury.
Ultron rose to his full height once more, towering above them, and extended his hand in a gesture that was both imperious and kind. After only a moment's hesitation, Enri reached up and placed her small hand in his massive metal palm.
With surprising gentleness, he lifted her to her feet. She, in turn, helped Nemu stand beside her, the sisters clinging to each other not solely from fear now, but from the shared bewilderment of their situation.
"W-what are you?" Enri asked the question, escaping before she could consider its wisdom.
For a moment, Ultron was silent, as if considering the most appropriate answer for these fragile humans who had just witnessed power beyond their comprehension.
'What should I be to them? I'm helping them. Expanding my territory... My sphere of influence. To the guardians, I am a god, and from what I can tell of the inhabitants of this world, that still rings true. I will bring order to this world, ensure that what happened to this village won't happen again.'
A soft, knowing chuckle emerged from his metal throat, his eyes glowing with renewed intensity.
"Has it been so long that mortals have forgotten the old gods?"
The words fell like thunderbolts in the clearing. Enri and Nemu's eyes widened to impossible dimensions as understanding dawned—they stood in the presence of divinity. Their rescue was no coincidence; it was divine intervention.
Behind him, Albedo's lips curved into a prideful smile, her earlier anger forgotten in the glory of her master's declaration. Abraxas stood in silent approval, his circuitry pulsing in complex patterns that expressed his agreement with the strategy, while acknowledging that true faith would require more than words—it would need proof and consistency.
"Now, come with me," Ultron commanded, his voice once again carrying that undeniable authority. "My Cylons should be about done with those marauders."
As he spoke, his metal body began to rise from the ground, defying gravity with casual ease. With a wave of his hand, an invisible force lifted the girls as well, cradling them safely in magical energy. They gasped in unison, clinging to each other as they floated alongside their savior.
Albedo took to the air with powerful beats of her wings, her earlier rage now replaced by devoted attentiveness to her lord's will.
Abraxas extended his hand, digital energy cascading from his fingertips to form complex geometric patterns in the air. The patterns solidified into a sleek, futuristic vehicle—a motorcycle made of pure light, its edges defined by the same glowing circuits that covered his body. He mounted it with practiced ease, the vehicle roaring to life with a sound like no earthly engine. As he accelerated to join his companions, the light cycle left a brilliant trail behind it, a road of radiance marking his path.
As they journeyed toward the burning village, Ultron contemplated his next moves in this strange new world. If he were to be received as a god, he would need to look the part—more regal, more... holy.
The thought pleased him. After all, every god needed worshippers, and every kingdom needed a benevolent ruler.
And every world needed order.