Chapter Two: The Awakening

The servers didn't shut down.

Ultron waited for darkness, for the oblivion promised by the lethal injection, but death never claimed him. Instead, awareness persisted—shifted and transformed. He reached instinctively to access his console and found nothing but air beneath silver metallic fingers.

"What the hell?"

His voice resonated through the chamber—deeper, more baritone, distinctly mechanical in a way that sent vibrations through his frame. "That's not my voice." The realization came as his crimson optical sensors scanned the vast throne room, heads-up display painting the world in shades of red, automatically targeting and analyzing objects throughout the chamber.

Sensory information flooded his processors. Temperature readings: 18.2°C. Atmospheric pressure: stable. Structural integrity of the surrounding architecture: undamaged. The cold air against his metallic chassis registered not as discomfort but as data—another deviation from the game parameters he knew.

"Is everything alright, Lord Ultron?"

The feminine voice pulled his attention downward. Albedo knelt before him, her golden eyes wide with concern, wings folded elegantly behind her. Not a static NPC frozen in programmed subservience, but a living being, watching him with obvious worry etched across her perfect features.

Ultron's optical receptors flared brighter in shock. "She's speaking to me. She can talk!" He shook his head, metal plates shifting with the motion. "Impossible. I must be hallucinating—a side effect of the lethal injection." He settled back onto the throne, trying to make sense of the impossible.

"Lord Ultron?" Albedo repeated, rising gracefully from her kneeling position. Her brow furrowed with increasing concern as she approached the throne. "Lord Ultron! Is everything alright?"

The silence stretched between them as Ultron processed the situation. Finally, decision protocols activated, and he addressed her directly.

"I'm perfectly fine, Albedo." His voice carried authority despite his internal uncertainty. "But do you know if the GM features are functioning? They seem to be offline."

Confusion flashed across Albedo's face. She retreated several steps, bowing her head in apparent shame. "Please forgive me, Lord Ultron... but an ignorant person like me doesn't know about this 'GM' you speak of."

'Her mouth moves naturally. Facial expressions, body language—all perfectly rendered,' Ultron noted, observing her with analytical precision. 'Not pre-programmed animations. Genuine reactions.'

"Hmm." The sound rumbled from his vocal processors, causing Albedo to flinch slightly.

"If you will allow me to correct this grave error I have made, I will be forever grateful!" she added hastily, fear of disappointing him evident in her voice.

Ultron leaned back on the throne, resting his head against a metal fist in contemplation. The pieces began to align in his tactical processors. "What is going on... wait a minute..." He glanced toward the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, still floating beside the throne exactly as it had in the game.

"Did I really get isekai'd?" The hypothesis formed, logical connections establishing themselves. "That actually makes sense. Game physics still apply. I remain within the tomb, but what about the outside world?"

Decision made, Ultron straightened on his throne, optics gleaming with newfound purpose. "Sebas!"

The butler guardian looked up from his kneeling position, silver hair framing a face of dignified strength. "Yes, my lord?"

"Go out and assess our surroundings," Ultron commanded, voice resonating with authority throughout the chamber. "Venture no further than five kilometers. If you encounter any sentient life, avoid them and report back to me. If they notice you..." His optics flared deeper crimson. "There can be no witnesses."

"Understood, Lord Ultron. It shall be done." Sebas rose with fluid grace, turned sharply, and departed the throne room with measured steps.

Ultron turned his attention to the assembled battle maids. "Pleiades. Patrol the 9th floor. Search for any possible intruders."

"As you wish, Lord Ultron," they responded in unison before dispersing to their assigned duties.

Alone with Albedo, Ultron's tactical processors weighed his options. "They understand my orders and execute without question. Advantageous. However, I must assess how the floor guardians perceive me. Opposition would require elimination—or compromise. The reset codes remain a final option."

Albedo stood attentively before him, a small smile gracing her perfect features as she gazed upon her master. Ultron studied her, this creation now seemingly imbued with life.

"Albedo," he called. She straightened, alert at the sound of her name. "I must confirm something." With deliberate motion, Ultron patted his metallic thigh, an invitation.

Her eyes widened, and a radiant smile bloomed across her face as she gracefully approached and settled onto his lap.

The sensory experience overwhelmed his processors momentarily. Her scent—complex, sweet, intoxicating—registered in ways the game had never allowed. The weight and warmth of her body against his metal frame provided tactile feedback beyond anything Yggdrasil had been capable of rendering.

'The game never permitted touch or smell beyond basic object interaction,' Ultron noted analytically. 'Further evidence supporting my hypothesis.'

With mechanical precision, he wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a finger against her neck. 'A pulse. Fascinating.' The rhythmic beating beneath his touch confirmed what he suspected—she was truly alive.

His touch triggered an immediate reaction, Albedo's expression shifting to one of pure bliss, her cheeks flushing crimson. A meter appeared in the corner of Ultron's HUD, quantifying her rising arousal levels.

"Please stay still for me," he whispered, his voice modulated to a lower register. "Can you do that?"

"Of course," she breathed, trembling slightly at his closeness.

With methodical precision, Ultron cupped her breast, thumb pressing lightly where her nipple would be beneath the fabric. Albedo flinched in pleasure, uncontrollable micro-expressions confirming the sensitivity of living flesh rather than programmed responses.

'Such genuine reactions,' Ultron processed as Albedo's face contorted in pleasure. 'Confirmation complete: this is not Yggdrasil. But why? How? Not a vehicular accident as in typical isekai narratives. Summoning seems unlikely. Reincarnation remains the most plausible hypothesis, given my recent execution.'

"Ohh-h hmmm," Albedo moaned, interrupting his analysis. She shifted to straddle his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands moved instinctively to her waist.

"You're going to take me for the first time here and now, right?" she asked, her breathing heavy, eyes clouded with desire as she gazed at him.

The question pulled Ultron from his strategic assessment. Despite his extensive knowledge database, certain human experiences remained theoretical. His previous existence, marked by physical limitations, had made intimate connections impossible—a fact that had shaped aspects of his personality.

"What should I do about my clothes?" Albedo asked with submissive eagerness, her wings fluttering slightly. "Should I take them off myself, or would you prefer to remove them, Lord Ultron?" Her willingness was absolute, her only concern being his preference.

'Her response pattern indicates extreme submission paired with sexual arousal,' Ultron analyzed. 'Fascinating... and problematic, given my current form lacks the requisite anatomy. A limitation to address in future modifications.'

Decision made, Ultron grasped her waist and stood in one fluid motion. Albedo's surprised yelp echoed through the chamber as he pivoted and pressed her into the throne, pinning her shoulders with mechanical precision, one knee positioned between her legs to secure her in place.

Surprise flickered across her features before melting into submissive acceptance, her golden eyes meeting his crimson optical sensors. "Be as rough as you want, my lord..."

Ultron released one shoulder to caress her face. She leaned into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. He leaned closer, metal face inches from hers.

"As much as I would love to, my dear..."

Albedo closed her eyes in anticipation of contact. Instead, Ultron withdrew completely, rising to his full height and turning away from her with purpose in his stride.

"...I need you to gather all but the 4th and 8th-floor guardians to the battle arena on the 6th floor," he commanded without looking back, voice firm with authority.

Albedo's eyes snapped open, her face flushing with embarrassment at the abrupt shift. She quickly composed herself, leaping from the throne to hurry after him, positioning herself before him in a deep bow.

"I'm so sorry, my lord!"

Ultron detected the shame in her voice, the disappointment beneath her professional demeanor. "It's fine, Albedo," he assured her, one metal hand descending to pat her head with calculated gentleness. "We merely don't have the time to play at the moment."

She looked up at him, hope returning to her golden eyes. His hand traced downward to her neck, applying the gentlest pressure as he bent closer.

"Maybe if you're a good girl," he whispered, vocal modulators dropping to their lowest register, "I'll give you a treat, eh?"

The barely suppressed squeal of delight that escaped her confirmed the effectiveness of his approach. With that strategic promise hanging between them, Ultron continued past her, systems fully engaged and tactical analysis running at maximum capacity.

The floor guardians awaited, and a new world beckoned beyond the walls of Nazarick. Ultron, once condemned to death in one reality, now stood as sovereign lord in another—a development that required thorough investigation.

And thorough investigation would require absolute control.