At the base of the Sakhen Mountains—cold, steep, and towering—the landscape appeared still, yet it was riddled with deadly traps. Despite their limited resources, the Mobreti robots had transformed the rocky crevices into hidden minefields. These primitive traps were nearly impossible to detect, even with advanced scanners. Across from them stretched the Gorki Strait, its waves crashing against stone, daring anyone to cross.
Meanwhile, two key human figures, Zereka and Zoldic, shot through the sky in a W2 fighter jet. Their destination: the Brossin Mine. As they arrived, their radar lit up with massive movement. Part of the Protem Bexxton forces appeared to be preparing to withdraw from the mine.
"Is this a good sign... or will it make things harder for us?" murmured Zereka from the cockpit, eyes fixed on the holographic screen.
"Both," Zoldic replied quickly. "Their forces are overwhelming. I doubt Mobreti can withstand them all. But if we let them go now, they'll become a threat we'll have to deal with later."
Zereka nodded. "We don't have to wipe them out now. Our top priority is rescuing Charles... and uncovering the truth behind Mr. Blorry's death."
A brief silence fell before Zereka added quietly, "I have to be honest with you, Zoldic. Charles betrayed his own father."
Zoldic turned sharply. "What?! Then why are we trying to save him?"
"Because he's the only one who can expose the deepest secrets inside Global's elite headquarters. They once trusted him—he was promoted to a high position after his betrayal. But... it seems he's beginning to doubt his choice. Taking down Lore in Mobreti territory wasn't random. Something's wrong with their master plan."
Zoldic exhaled. "As long as he's still the key to sending me back in time and saving humanity, I'll follow through with this plan."
The W2 hovered above the mine. The digital screen blinked on, projecting a 3D map of Brossin's underground structure.
"Lekox, locate Charles," ordered Zereka.
"Affirmative. According to Protem Bexxton data, the mine has 17 layers. Human workers are stored on level 10, near the Green Life Pod chamber. Those forced to work are assigned to layers 14 through 16. The 17th layer is operated by drilling robots. Control rooms are located between layers 4 and 6. Layers 0 to 3 are heavily guarded."
"I need intel on artillery towers and sensors," Zoldic added.
"There are 30 towers on the surface—15 are artillery, 8 are sensors, the rest are watchtowers," Lekox responded.
"That means we need to destroy 23 towers. Not easy," said Zoldic, adjusting the map.
"I'll descend from the north side, but if the jet lands, we'll be spotted. I need a diversion," said Zereka.
"What if I strike from the west and loop toward the north?" suggested Zoldic.
"Perfect. Take out the western artillery towers first. That'll shift their focus," Lekox advised.
"In ten seconds... we'll be on enemy radar," said Zoldic, hand ready on the control lever.
The W2 dove sharply. Explosions rocked the ground as lasers blasted the western artillery towers and radars. Shrapnel flew. Tower after tower collapsed. The W2 then maneuvered swiftly northward, annihilating more towers along its flight path.
Zereka leapt from the jet's open hull, landing deftly on the mine's surface. He planted explosive charges on the main system tower. When they detonated, the mine's entire defense grid collapsed. Surveillance screens flickered, sensors went dark, and radar feeds vanished from the network.
"This... is human instinct. Strategy fueled by intuition," muttered Lekox 127 from Mobreti's observation post.
Meanwhile, the Protem Bexxton forces had begun pursuing the W2. A fierce aerial battle erupted above the mine.
"I've infiltrated the mine. Begin phase two," said Zereka through comms.
"Understood," replied Zoldic.
At the foot of the Sakhen Mountains, a unit of survivors—humans disguised in robotic masks—stood ready. Their leader, Kokel, gave the signal.
"Remember, you're just bait. Don't fight them. Just lure them to the cliff walls."
Zoldic lured enemy jets into a narrow corridor between sheer cliffs. Some of the survivors opened fire to disrupt the enemy's radar.
"Commander, we've detected energy—weak, likely human," reported one of the troops.
"Location?" asked Zobbel 432, head of the assault squad.
"Eastern and western cliffs. Thousands of them."
"Don't destroy them. Capture them alive," ordered Zobbel. Suddenly, the control screen lit up.
"What's happening down there?" Movock's voice thundered.
"The W2 is attacking, but we're in pursuit. We've also discovered the survivors' base," Zobbel reported.
"Is that so?" Movock asked suspiciously.
"Confirmed. There are thousands."
"Don't let a single one escape. Take them all. Alive!"
As the screen went dark, Zobbel issued commands. The full force of Protem Bexxton was mobilized. War jets launched from the mine, streaking toward the foot of the Sakhen Mountains.
"Everything's going according to plan," said Zoldic, still being pursued by two supersonic jets.
Meanwhile, on the edge of a steep cliff, Commander Kortez 089 was ready. The battlefield Zereka had chosen was no accident—the jagged terrain made it nearly impossible for enemy aircraft to maneuver. Forced to land on narrow plains, they were now without full air support.
The trap was set. The bait had been cast. And the war—had only just begun.
The sky above the foothills of the Sakhen Mountains burned crimson—not from the sun, but from the flames of the machines of death. Protem Bexxton's forces, composed of the latest Z-Class combat units, stormed forward like an iron hurricane. They swept across land and air with merciless precision—lasers shrieked, low-flying recon drones buzzed through the wind, and hover tanks rumbled across the rocky valleys.
But they didn't know one thing—they were walking straight into the dragon's maw.
From behind craggy hills and frozen caverns, the old robots of Mobreti began to rise. Their bodies were rusted, their movements heavy with time, but in their eyes burned the blue fire of honor. These were no ordinary machines. They were veterans—damaged relics from the first robotic era, warriors from the early days of the Machine Revolution. Not just algorithms—they were ancient souls that remembered pain.
"Now rise... and reclaim your pride! For what they did to the city of Mobreti!" Zoldic roared from the cliff, pointing toward the battlefield.
Kortez 089 charged from the front lines. His body patched with scrap metal, but a battle insignia from ancient Mobreti hung over his chest. Beside him stood six frontline robots, once living legends: Bronk-7, Eliax-4, Harken, Motz, the war giant Vargo-88, and the recently repaired Kox-567—rebuilt after being destroyed by Zereka.
As the Protem Bexxton forces crossed the rocky plateau, the ground beneath them suddenly gave way. Hundreds of electromagnetic mines detonated in unison, unleashing a shockwave that scrambled their sensors.
"ATTACK!!!" shouted Kortez 089.
From behind boulders and collapsed mine shafts, thousands of old robots charged. They weren't as fast as their enemies, but every strike they delivered was fueled by fury. They punched, tore, and drove electromagnetic spears into the enemy machines. Their blood was fire. Their cries were the roar of steel.
The Protem Bexxton forces were caught off guard. Their tactical systems had never faced enemies like this—foes who defied combat logic, who fought with ancient guerrilla tactics, mechanical traps, and raw, hand-to-hand ferocity.
Zoldic leapt from the cliff, diving straight into the heart of the enemy. Both his arms morphed into plasma blades. One sweep—three enemy robots split apart. He danced between laser blasts, leaping, spinning, slashing. His voice roared across all comms:
"For Mobreti! For the last of the old machines!"
In the skies, three Protem Bexxton jets tried to retreat and launch an aerial bombardment—but that was a mistake.
"Vargo, time to fly again!" Kortez shouted.
The giant Vargo-88, five meters tall, hoisted a massive electromagnetic launcher from the ground. With a thunderous thrust, he launched himself into the sky—soaring like a living missile—slamming into the first jet. His body pierced its hull, and then detonated. The explosion rocked the heavens.
One jet fell. The other two fled—but not far. From behind the cliffs, nine Mobreti jet robots—secretly restored over the years by Lekox 127—emerged like ghosts. They chased, then shot down the remaining Protem Bexxton aircraft one by one.
Kortez 089 and Harken broke through the enemy's ground defense—right into the heart of their command center. Kortez jammed a data cable directly into the enemy's control system. Within three seconds, Protem Bexxton's communications were sabotaged. They were blind, deaf, and cut off.
Across the battlefield, Bexxton troops began to falter. No commands. Radars destroyed. Aircraft downed. And from every direction, the old robots surged like a tide.
Zoldic approached a downed jet that hadn't yet exploded. Inside, two half-shattered pilot bots tried to crawl away. He kicked the door open, dragged out the main pilot, and growled:
"This your jet? It's ours now."
With one thrust, he drove his plasma blade into the control system."Lekox, reboot the nav systems. Change its ID—this jet now belongs to Mobreti."
"Confirmed... aircraft identity successfully overridden. Full control is yours," laughed Robot Lekox 127.
The Mobreti forces roared in victory. For the first time in decades, they had captured and seized control of Protem Bexxton's war tech.
The skies over the Sakhen Mountains now belonged to them.
Standing atop the wreckage of a fallen enemy robot, Kortez 089 gazed north—toward the Brossin Mine.
"Next is Brossin Mine—the old machines can still shake the world!"