Snap!
Caesar was lucky Frankenstein's petite frame and short reach sent her hammer crashing into his abdomen, not his head. A blunt strike to the skull could be fatal, even in a world where people shrugged off heavy blows. Without a rubbery body or Kin'emon's freakish durability—surviving Kaido's Thunder Bagua after decades of training—Caesar would've been done for.
The blow likely shattered ribs. Only the fading pressure field from Frankenstein's hammer, which briefly blocked his elementalization, spared him worse. Gasping, he clutched his side.
"No seastone," he muttered. "What is that hammer? Another of Orlan's monsters?"
Caesar's knowledge held up—he felt no seastone-induced weakness. But Orlan's research was beyond him, and the pain was excruciating. Even reverting to gas couldn't erase prior damage, and a graver threat loomed.
"Wanted to break me?" Frankenstein loomed, her glowing warhammer inches from his face. Her last strike had shattered his void world. Elementalizing now risked ignition; staying solid was no better. Cornered, Caesar's only hope was flight.
"Who's the monster?" she taunted.
Orlan's Hex Core granted machines souls, a feat riddled with chance. Ensuring their loyalty was his limit; their personalities and quirks were beyond his control. Yet Orlan relished this unpredictability—it fueled his research. Guiding his creations, watching them grow, brought him fulfillment. Missteps, though, could twist the saplings he nurtured.
From tests and this fight, Orlan glimpsed Frankenstein's nature: fiercely frugal, hoarding her core's abundant energy; quiet, often speaking through actions; craving approval despite her emotional immaturity, quick to anger. Caesar had struck every nerve, and her fury found a voice.
Boom!
The sky darkened, clouds churning with impending thunder. Blitzcrank, hating rain's threat to his gears despite Orlan's rust-proof upgrades, draped a tarp over himself, carving out a dry nook.
"Blitzcrank hates rain. Gears rust," he grumbled.
Frankenstein, born later, reveled in the storm. Boom! Thunder roared as she raised her hammer, firing a lightning bolt into the clouds. Moments later, the sky answered, a strike surging toward her.
"Listen to me," she declared.
Caesar, sensing doom, raised his hands in surrender. Too late. Thunder drowned his pleas as Frankenstein, brimming with absorbed energy, swung her hammer.
"Sidilir! Stop this thing! I give up!" Caesar wailed, his elemental invincibility shattered, his takeoff thwarted, leaving him defenseless.
"Sidilir! I said I surrender!" he screamed.
Vegapunk, hands behind his back, glanced at Orlan. "Won't you stop her? He's done."
"I sent her to fight," Orlan replied. "She's furious. Stopping her now would be worse. She knows her limits—won't kill him. Let him take a few hits. He asked for it."
Caesar's punishment mattered less than Frankenstein's growth. Orlan ignored his cries until she readied a riskier move.
"Testing limits. Crucifixion," she intoned.
"Enough, Fran," Orlan interjected. "He's not worth your energy."
"Um?"
"Great job. Dry off, then review today's progress. You'll get another chance to shine."
"Um!" Nodding, Frankenstein stepped over Caesar's crumpled form, heading for the cabin, ending his self-inflicted farce. The fight sparked new ideas among onlookers.
Emotions sway combat too much. A machine without them would be steadier, Judge mused. He saw Frankenstein's rage-fueled surge as her limit, not her emotions' strength. To him, giving robots minds dulled their edge of cold precision. He missed the truth: on this sea, true strength required a heart.
Caesar lay groaning, awaiting medics, when Orlan's voice cut through like a devil's whisper.
"Oh, by the way, MADS rules: you aimed for 50% of my funds and lost. So, you forfeit a chunk of yours. I don't need it—my funds are fine. Quinn! For the next few months, part of Caesar's budget is yours."
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