It was dark. For two decades, the robot had slept, conserving energy. It had no origin, no knowledge of who built it—only one certainty: its name was Throne, embedded deep within its code.
Throne knew it was in a cave, but that was all. Without instructions, it had remained inactive all this time, performing only the tasks necessary to survive… until now.
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Hello, my name is Bane, and I lead a squad in the kingdom of Royal Field. We had been sent to explore a newly discovered dungeon.
"Squad Leader!" one of my team called.
"Yes?" I responded.
"We're going to go left in the next 1 ophil!" (1 ophil is roughly a mile.)
"Alright," I said, counting heads to make sure no one was missing. Twenty-four. Perfect. No one got lost this time. I smiled, recalling the first time I got separated as a newbie—everyone laughed at me. Not today.
-Evening-
"First, we climb the mountain and find the dungeon," I told my squad. "Then we set up camp and rest for the night."
With that, we scaled the mountain. By the time we reached the dungeon entrance, we were exhausted. We set up camp and slept.
-Sunrise-
Morning came, and I roused my squad. Torches were lit, swords sharpened, armor fastened.
"Okay, Squad! Are you ready?" I bellowed.
"YES, SIR!" they shouted in unison. Together, we entered the dungeon.
-Deep underground, in an ancient cave…-
Inside, we found a figure. At first glance, it looked like a golem—but not made of stone. Smooth, metallic, impossibly hard. It didn't move. Curious, I pressed a small button, and a faint hum echoed through the cavern.
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It was dark. Absolute darkness. And then, suddenly, it was not.
Energy surged through circuits that had been dormant for decades. Throne stirred, unaware of who it was—or why. Only one thing was certain: its name, etched in its very being.
Its systems scanned the cave: rough stone walls, the scent of metal, the flicker of torchlight. Strange beings moved nearby, shouting, waving weapons. Throne tried to communicate in the only language it knew—an alien tongue no one could understand. The humans screamed, some fleeing, some attacking.
Throne responded instinctively: it fell, hoping the humans would think it defeated—or dead. The humans celebrated. The one who had run away returned, scolded for wandering too far, leaving Throne confused. It had no sense of scale, no idea how terrifying it looked.
Once the humans left, grabbing treasures and scanning their surroundings to ensure safety, Throne rose. The outside world stretched before it. Two miles away, the adventurers disappeared. Throne moved through the forest cautiously, marveling at everything—it had never seen the sky, the trees, the wind. Two decades in a cave had kept it ignorant of the world it now explored.
Throne began to experiment. All it knew was its name, but it learned quickly. Within two hours, it figured out how to make fire. A stray laser from its fingers accidentally ignited a tree, much to its fascination. It tested its body, studied heat, light, movement—learning constantly.
Eventually, it reached a river. For the first time, Throne saw its own reflection. Six meters tall, humanoid, metallic—terrifying.
It stared, whispered in its alien tongue, and said, almost with wonder:"Huh… so that's what I look like."