Inside a hidden basement.
An ugly, twisted lump of flesh was soaked in countless gallons of nutrient solution. That deformed thing was called Rudolph Conners—though compared to that name, it had a louder, more acceptable one:
Robot.
Yes. That lump of flesh was Robot's true body—warped beyond recognition, unable to survive in this world without machinery. Pitiful, frail, and grotesque.
Boom!
Just as the flesh-mass, like always, floated in the liquid while controlling its armored body outside, a thunderous crash rang out. A man in a tight suit of white and black tore through the basement ceiling and drifted down into the concealed room.
"Huff…"
"Huff…"
The flesh-mass in the tank reacted to the blast, opening its eyes in the nutrient solution. The moment it saw who had arrived, shock spread across its face.
"Jovian—why are you here? Who told you my real body is down here? Was it Cecil Stedman?"
With a thought, a brownish-yellow Robot drone stepped forward, blocking Jovian's path.
"How I found you isn't important," Jovian said calmly.
"What matters is this…"
"I can help you get rid of the equipment keeping you alive—so you can live in this world like a normal person."
"Jack, you have to trust me. I won't hurt you."
Jovian hovered in midair. Of course he knew the flesh-ball's real name—but he didn't care. He only wanted to call that thing Jack.
"Help me leave this place?"
The flesh-ball's eyes filled with disbelief as it continued to direct the drone.
"Stop wasting your effort. I know my condition better than anyone. With Earth's current technology, it's absolutely impossible for me to get out of this tank."
The brownish-yellow drone spoke on its behalf.
"Earth's technology can't," Jovian replied, "but that doesn't include technology from beyond Earth."
After hearing that, Jovian raised a hand toward the hole in the ceiling.
Boom!
With another deafening roar, a towering "robot" descended—carrying a thin, sharp-faced man in a black suit. The man looked gaunt, but his eyes held a cold, practiced intelligence.
"Let me get a look at my future partner…"
"Wow—disgusting. Ugly. Even more nauseating than I imagined!"
"Lord Jovian, you can't be saying my future teammate is that revolting thing, right?"
The man in the black suit spoke with ruthless venom, openly mocking Robot's true body the moment he saw it.
"…"
The flesh-ball said nothing. It seemed it understood exactly how ugly it was—and had long since stopped caring what anyone thought about it.
"Tch. Not talking?" the man scoffed. "Or do you just not care what you look like?"
"If that's the case… I'll admit, you're a little more interesting than I expected."
Dr. Genus shook his head at the utterly calm flesh-mass.
"Fix him," Jovian ordered.
Jovian didn't care about the relationship between Dr. Genus and Robot—he only needed both of them to obey him.
"Give it up, Jovian. I already know it won't work…"
"Maybe this is fate. God doesn't allow perfect people to exist. He gave me extraordinary intelligence, then stole my right to move."
The flesh-ball lay suspended in the nutrient solution, as if the heavens envied talent—like God simply refused to let anyone become too powerful.
"What God doesn't allow, I allow. What God forbids from existing, I make it exist."
Jovian's voice turned cold as he stared at the tank.
"Dr. Genus—are you confident you can cure him?"
"It's annoying," Dr. Genus said, "but for me, it's not a problem."
For a biological expert—someone who had once created Zombieman through immortality experiments, a being that basically ignored the law of conservation of energy—Robot's condition had never been a "problem."
"What?!"
For the first time, the flesh-ball showed genuine surprise after hearing Dr. Genus's answer.
"Why are you acting so shocked?" Dr. Genus sneered.
"When I said 'annoying,' I meant your appearance is so ugly it's offensive to the eyes."
"But this has never been difficult for me."
He looked down at the flesh-ball with open disdain. His goal was the evolution of all humanity—making everyone powerful enough to walk the skies.
As for congenital illness caused by immune defects? Please. That was the kind of topic he studied when he'd just reached adulthood—child's play. It couldn't possibly stump him.
"This…"
The flesh-ball still couldn't believe it. In Robot's understanding, what Dr. Genus was saying sounded like pure fantasy.
"Jack, let Dr. Genus try," Jovian said.
"Trying is better than not trying. What if it works?"
"…Alright."
Robot thought for a long time. After weighing the risks, it concluded there was a 99.999% chance Dr. Genus would fail—and the remaining 0.001% came entirely from Robot's trust in Jovian.
But… what if Dr. Genus really succeeded?
It decided to gamble on that one-in-ten-thousand chance.
"Lucky you," Dr. Genus muttered.
When he heard Robot agree, boredom crossed his face. Deep down, he didn't want to treat this hideous thing at all—he was only doing it because it was Lord Jovian's order.
He raised a hand toward the Armored Gorilla behind him.
A massive multifunction surgical platform was lowered in front of Dr. Genus.
"Get out of that damn tank," Dr. Genus said lazily.
"Or do you want me to fish you out myself?"
"…"
The flesh-ball didn't respond. It directed its drone body to carefully lift and place its true body onto the multifunction treatment bed.
"Disgusting," Dr. Genus muttered again, shaking his head—then began the operation.
With a scalpel in hand, he cut into the flesh-mass from end to end, filling, implanting, and injecting materials through countless methods—forcing the warped body to become a normal human body.
"…"
Jovian didn't stay to admire the "beautiful scenery." He was afraid he wouldn't be able to eat afterward, so he repaired the ceiling with his powers and waited quietly outside the basement.
He waited a full hour.
Snap.
Dr. Genus emerged at last, wearing surgical scrubs stained deep red with blood, and walked up to Jovian.
"How'd it go?" Jovian asked, even though he already knew.
"A complete success," Dr. Genus said. "And to prevent that kid from running into problems again, I also reinforced his body a bit. He should have the physical stats of a normal A-Class hero now."
He removed his head covering and mask as he spoke.
"Good," Jovian replied.
He stepped forward and patted Dr. Genus on the shoulder.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 10 extra free chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810