Balder stepped into the wooden cabin. It wasn't small, but everything about it screamed simplicity — plain square tables, square chairs, square windows. Everything was square.
"This style…" He paused. "Hard to describe."
Well, it did make sense. It was clearly built by a Terminator — neat, functional, and completely devoid of human warmth.
"Still," he smiled faintly, "having a roof over your head isn't bad."
Sarah Connor poured a glass of water and handed it to him.
"There's no alcohol or soda here. You'll have to make do."
Balder glanced at the cup. "So, you're not suspicious of me anymore? Don't think I'm a Terminator?"
Sarah pouted, saying nothing — though in truth, her doubts had mostly vanished.
She had seen real Terminators before, from the time she was eight years old — cold, relentless machines that would stop at nothing to kill her. There was no way someone like Balder was one of them.
Well… not exactly.
Her "dad" didn't try to kill her either, and he was a Terminator too.
She sneaked a glance at Balder's perfectly sculpted profile — handsome beyond belief, almost divine in its perfection.
He didn't look like her father.
He looked more like… someone trying to seduce her.
Seriously, could someone even be this handsome?
Was it possible that Skynet, unable to kill her, had switched tactics — sending this impossibly good-looking man to seduce her instead?
Was this their plan? Turn Sarah Connor, the future mother of humanity's savior, into one of their own?
Her eyes flicked back to Balder's face again.
If that were true… well… she couldn't exactly say it was a bad plan.
As soon as that thought crossed her mind, her cheeks turned bright red.
She pinched herself hard.
"Get it together, Sarah Connor! You're not some lovestruck idiot!"
Balder watched her expressions shift — red-faced one moment, baring her little teeth the next — like a one-woman comedy act. It was quite a show.
Suddenly, the roar of an engine echoed from outside.
Sarah's eyes lit up. "It's Dad! He's back!"
She leapt to her feet and ran for the door.
But just as she reached it—
BOOM!
The entire door blew off its hinges and crashed into the wall.
A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped through, blocking out the sunlight.
Every movement radiated cold, calculated menace.
In his hands was a SPAS-12 shotgun, fully loaded and ready to fire.
Sarah froze.
Her father — the T-800 — was standing there, colder and more machine-like than she'd seen him in years.
"Dad?" she asked hesitantly. "What's wrong?"
The T-800's eyes didn't even flicker.
"Sarah Connor. Move away from that man. Come to me."
Sarah blinked in confusion. "Wait, Dad, he's not—"
"He is not human," the Terminator interrupted flatly.
"Uh…" Sarah turned to Balder, who was still calmly sitting in his chair. "You're… really not a Terminator?"
So Skynet's aesthetic had evolved that far, huh?
She had to admit — if they were going to take over the world with an army of guys who looked like this, she might not even mind.
Still, she trusted her father. Carefully, she edged toward him.
As soon as she reached his side, the T-800 acted.
The shotgun roared — BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! — shell after shell lighting up the cabin in a hail of fire.
Then, still firing, he pulled Sarah backward out of the house.
Once outside, he hit a detonator.
A massive explosion engulfed the cabin, sending fire and debris high into the air.
"Dad," Sarah shouted over the blast, "what the hell was that thing?"
"He is not a Terminator," the T-800 said in his usual flat tone. "A Terminator's energy level does not reach that magnitude."
Sarah blinked, wide-eyed.
"Not human, not a Terminator — then what is he? And what do you mean 'energy level'?"
For once, the T-800 hesitated — like his processors had hit an error.
"I cannot accurately quantify his energy output," he finally said. "It exceeds my analytical capacity."
Sarah gawked at him.
Her dad — the same machine who once built a nuclear warhead out of spare parts — couldn't analyze this guy?
"Sarah Connor," he said sharply. "We need to leave. Now."
He grabbed her like a cat, threw her into the passenger seat, and jumped behind the wheel.
"We are retreating."
Sarah, still dazed, looked back at the flames.
"What about him? We're just… leaving him there?"
"Nuclear-level or lower weapons," said the T-800, "will have no effect on that entity."
Sarah's mouth fell open.
Her father — a literal killing machine — just admitted there was nothing he could do.
"What… what the hell is he?" she whispered.
The T-800 went silent again, his processors humming as he searched for a label.
Finally, he spoke — and for the first time, there was something almost uncertain in his voice.
"If one must categorize that entity…"
He paused.
"…a god disguised as a human?"
Sarah slumped back in her seat.
Perfect. Just perfect.
Terminator machines weren't bad enough — now there were gods running around.
The world was truly going insane.
Their car sped off into the distance.
Back at the wreckage, a brilliant light erupted, consuming the flames.
Balder stepped out unscathed, bathed in divine radiance, and watched the fleeing vehicle.
"What a perfect warrior form," he murmured.
That tall, cold, unyielding machine — truly a work of art for battle.
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