Chapter 11: The Unstoppable Devil Training

Hearing there was another option, Finn perked up. "Wait—what do you mean by 'wait'?"

"The elements in this universe are abundant, but the energy forms are too primitive. Given the severe damage, calculations suggest it will take between ten to one hundred Earth years, with a thirty percent margin of error."

GoldieTron replied with mechanical precision. Finn nearly lost it. Is the universe messing with me?

After asking a few more times and getting the same robotic response, Finn realized he had no choice. He'd have to push through the training. Figures—haven't even started military drills, and I'm already getting schooled by an alien.

But soon, Finn shook off the gloom and dove in, blood pumping. GoldieTron had crafted a program tailored to Finn's body, blending Earth-style combat with advanced Maya tech. No question—it was light-years ahead.

The training was full-immersion simulation, split into two phases: physical conditioning and BS001 mech drills. A solid mobile suit pilot needed a tough body, and GoldieTron had picked up Finn's obsession with the clunky BS001. It kept the model but jacked up the difficulty. Hell mode, engaged.

In the sim, only Finn's mind was active, but GoldieTron's tech synced it seamlessly with his body. For the Maya civilization, this mind-body link was basic stuff—perfected five hundred years ago. Even damaged, GoldieTron's database could handle it no sweat.

The virtual GoldieTron was just a projection; its real body was still repairing, a painfully slow process. It had only activated because it sensed Finn's mental spike—his own freakout had triggered it.

The illusion hardened into a jaw-dropping training ground. Some gear Finn knew, some he'd only heard of, and some were straight-up alien. It was a dream setup—leagues beyond Mark's junk. Finn couldn't resist and charged over, eyes wide.

"Master, phase one begins. This equipment is customized to your body's needs, targeting every key area. Training has two modes: active and passive."

"Wait, what's passive training?"

"Passive training builds your body's tolerance to damage."

Damage tolerance? Finn's gut sank. You mean getting hit?

"I just want to be a mech pilot, not some kung-fu champ!"

But the robot's flat tone didn't budge. It wasn't taking requests—just giving orders. Either its homeworld's tech was garbage, or the space-time jump had wrecked it. Wait—space-time jump?

Finn might've dozed through class, but he knew parallel universes were pure sci-fi—way beyond basic time travel. And this thing had crossed one?

"You really came from a parallel universe?"

"Yes, master. The original masters ascended to godhood, merging with the cosmos. I was cast into the parallel void by the prince. Somehow, the impossible traversal succeeded."

"…And why do you call me master?"

Cool as this is, don't ditch me later, alright?

"Severe damage detected. I sensed a bloodline resonance with the original master. Per protocol, a masterless robot must bond with a host of similar lineage. Upon landing, I found you and initiated the bonding sequence."

Finn pieced it together. That other Earth had hit god-tier tech, and he shared blood with those masters—probably just being human. But Earth had billions of humans. Could it switch teams?

"Can you change masters? Like, if you find someone better?"

Finn probed, half-joking. This was life-or-death stuff.

"Only upon the master's death. Otherwise, the robot cannot rebind. If the robot fails to protect, it must self-destruct."

It had picked Earth because it was stuck here now, per the old master's orders. Crossing universes had a price, but even banged up, this robot was a monster.

"Master, for efficiency, if you have no further questions, please begin training."

"Alright!"

Finn squared his shoulders, pumped. He followed the markers, grabbing the first dumbbell—damn, this thing's heavy! It looked tiny but felt like a boulder.

"Master, all equipment is set to your sub-maximal limits. To ensure focus, slacking will trigger random penalties: electric shock, fire, magnetic blast, sonic wave, laser, etc."

…Awesome.

Finn shrugged it off and started lifting, copying the virtual coach. First set: ten reps. By the eighth, his neck was screaming. He powered through the ninth, gasping—one more.

Zap. Lightning ripped through him. Finn blacked out.

Pain exploded—burning, numbing, crippling—like a real bolt had hit him. It lasted five seconds, but it felt like five years.

"Master, please continue. The system is calibrated to your physical and mental limits. Under peak conditions, you could manage eleven reps. With extreme mental focus, up to thirteen."

GoldieTron's voice was ice-cold. Finn didn't see it as cute anymore—it was a full-on devil.

God, I get physical limits, but mental bursts? Humans could do wild stuff in danger, sure, but training for it? That was new.

He squeezed his eyes shut, praying he'd wake up back in reality.