Alex's secret workshop was not a grand, high-tech laboratory. It was a dusty supply closet in a forgotten corner of the utility sector, a small, windowless room that had been taken off the official campus maps years ago because no one could remember what it was for.
It smelled faintly of rust and old floor wax. This was Alex's sanctuary. Here, surrounded by shelves of expired cleaning chemicals and spare pipes, he had been working on his masterpiece.
His pet project, the sad, broken-down Custodial Golem he had rescued from the incinerator, sat in the center of the small room. For weeks, it had been a patient on an operating table.
Alex, funded by his secret life as Oracle, had been slowly replacing its broken parts and giving it new ones it was never meant to have.
Tonight was the night. The final assembly.
"Alright, Scrappy," Alex said to the inanimate pile of junk. He had started calling it Scrappy, a name that felt fitting for a machine built from literal scrap metal. "Let's see if we can get you on your feet."
To anyone else, the golem looked even worse than before. Its original dented chest plate was now covered in strange new wires.
Its one remaining arm had been reinforced with a piece of metal Alex had "borrowed" from a broken bed frame. He had even attached a small, retractable hook to its wrist, thinking it might be useful for carrying bags.
Bolted onto its back was the unstable [Phase-Shift Drive] he'd bought on The Node, looking completely out of place, like a jet engine strapped to a lawnmower.
The whole thing was a mismatched mess of old and new parts, held together by welding, wires, and a whole lot of hope.
Alex's final task was installing the brain. He held the [Corrupted Logic Core] now a fully functional [Stable Logic Processor] in his hand.
It pulsed with a soft, gentle, blue-green light. He carefully opened a panel on the back of the golem's head and, with the delicate touch of a surgeon, slotted the cube into the empty port. It clicked into place perfectly.
He closed the panel and took a step back, wiping a smudge of grease from his cheek. "Okay, buddy. Moment of truth," he whispered, his voice filled with nervous excitement.
He pulled out his data pad and connected it to a port he had installed on the golem's neck. The screen filled with lines of glowing green code.
This was the golem's new nervous system, a program he had written from scratch. He took a deep breath and typed the first, most important command.
> run: system-boot-sequence.exe
He hit enter.
For a long second, nothing happened. Alex's heart sank. Maybe he had missed something. Maybe a wire was loose. Maybe the whole thing was just a pile of—
Whirrrrr... clunk.
A low humming sound started deep inside the golem's chest. The single, cracked optical sensor on its head flickered once, twice, then lit up with the same steady, blue-green light as the Logic Core.
The light wasn't just on; it seemed to be looking around, focusing on the shelves, the floor, and then, finally, on Alex.
"Activate," Alex said, his voice quiet but firm.
The golem responded. It moved with all the grace of a filing cabinet falling down a flight of stairs. Its metal joints screeched in protest.
It wobbled, its one arm flailing for balance. With a loud clank, it managed to push itself up from a sitting position to a shaky, awkward stand. It was officially online.
Alex couldn't stop the huge grin from spreading across his face. "Yes! It works!"
Scrappy tilted its head, its single glowing eye seeming to look at Alex with a sense of curiosity. The Logic Core, its new brain, was already working, processing its new reality, its new body, and the smiling human in front of it.
"Okay, Scrappy. Time for your first lessons," Alex said, rubbing his hands together. "We've got a lot to cover."
He spent the next few hours programming his new partner. He wasn't just typing in commands; with his [Debugger] ability, he was weaving the code directly into the golem's mind.
First up was stealth.
"Alright, Scrappy. Mission one: Cross the room without making a sound," Alex instructed. He uploaded a stealth routine, a simple program designed to muffle its footsteps.
Scrappy took a step. CLANG. It took another step. SCREEECH. THUD. It tried to walk on its tiptoes, which only made it wobble more, causing it to bump into a shelf. A box of industrial-strength soap bars tumbled to the floor with a loud crash.
Alex sighed. "Okay. Stealth mode needs work. Let's call that 'Distraction Mode' for now and move on."
Next, he taught it basic combat routines. They were less about fighting and more about survival.
"If something big and fast comes at you, raise your arm. Like this," Alex said, demonstrating. Scrappy mimicked the motion perfectly, its arm shooting up to block its face.
"Good. If something small and squishy is on the floor, step on it. Gently."
He tossed a small stuffed animal he'd found a fluffy pink bunny, probably dropped by a student onto the floor. Scrappy looked at it, looked at Alex, then brought its heavy metal foot down with a decisive squish.
"Perfect! You're a natural," Alex cheered.
He programmed it for hours, creating a versatile partner. He knew it would never win a real fight against a high-ranking Striker. It was too slow, too clunky, and it only had one arm. But that wasn't its purpose. Scrappy was designed for two things.
First, it was going to be a pack mule. As Zero, Alex needed to carry extra gear, tools, and maybe even a snack. Scrappy, with its strong frame and newly installed carrying hook, was the perfect robotic caddy.
Second, and more importantly, it was going to be a distraction. Alex programmed a special "Panic Protocol." When activated, Scrappy would do everything it had done wrong during its stealth test.
It would run around, clang into walls, flash its optical light, and make as much noise as physically possible.
While all the enemies were looking at the clumsy, noisy robot, Zero could slip in, complete his objective, and slip out without ever being seen. It was the perfect decoy.
As the night came to an end, Alex ran one final test. He sat on a stool and held out a wrench. "Scrappy, can you hand me that wrench?"
The golem tilted its head. The Logic Core was processing the request, cross-referencing the word "wrench" with the visual data of the object in Alex's hand.
It slowly moved forward, its one arm reaching out. Its metal fingers were clumsy, fumbling with the tool for a moment before it managed to get a solid grip. It then carefully placed the wrench in Alex's outstretched hand.
Alex took the wrench, a real warmth spreading through his chest. It was more than just a machine following orders. It was learning. It was adapting. It was his.
While the rest of the academy chased after powerful, god-like artifacts forged from dead worlds, he had built his own partner from discarded junk, hope, and a little bit of coding genius.
He gave Scrappy's dented shoulder a pat. The golem made a soft, happy-sounding whirrr in response. To anyone else in the world, it was just a pile of garbage held together by wires.
But to Alex, it was his first real ally in this new life. It was a symbol of his power, not the power to destroy, but the power to create.
"Welcome to the team, buddy," Alex said with a smile. The Ghost of Ambassadors now had a sidekick. And it was the clumsiest, most wonderful robot in the world.