Sarah Connor stood watch outside the valley, her heart pounding as she stared at the chaotic bursts of supernatural phenomena erupting within. Flashes of light and tremors shook the air, each one twisting her nerves tighter. Had they succeeded, or had it all gone wrong? Time seemed to stretch endlessly, her anxiety mounting with every second.
Finally, the strange lights in the sky began to fade. A tense silence settled, broken only by the sound of approaching footsteps. Two figures emerged from the valley, their forms growing clearer in the dim light. Sarah's breath caught, and she rushed forward.
"Dad!" she cried, throwing herself at the T-800, her hands frantically checking him for injuries. To her untrained eyes, he looked the same—stoic, unyielding—but there was something different, a subtle shift she couldn't quite place. Relief flooded her. "You're okay. Thank God."
Without thinking, she turned and threw her arms around Balder, the mysterious god who'd orchestrated this transformation. "Thank you, whoever you are!"
The embrace lasted only a moment before Sarah pulled back, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I got carried away," she mumbled, avoiding Balder's gaze.
Balder's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. This girl was bolder than he'd expected, seizing the chance to get close. He saw through her flustered attempt to cover it up, but said nothing, amused by her audacity.
Sarah, eager to shift focus, turned back to her father. "Dad, how strong are you now? Stronger than Skynet?"
The T-800 didn't answer with words. Instead, he glanced at a nearby mountainside, strode toward it, and threw a single punch. The impact echoed like thunder, cracks spiderwebbing from the point of contact. In an instant, the entire mountainside collapsed, reduced to rubble and dust that billowed into the air.
Sarah's jaw dropped, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Dad…" she stammered. Her father had always been strong, capable of lifting small cars with his 1.5-ton strength, but this? This was on another level—beyond anything she'd imagined.
Balder's voice cut through her awe, calm and measured. "Not bad. A casual punch nearing a hundred tons. That's upper-tier superhuman second-class strength."
He explained the hierarchy of power: below ten tons was third-class superhuman, ten to a hundred tons was second-class, and above a hundred tons was first-class. Beyond that, sub-Celestial and higher tiers defied simple metrics, their power too vast for mere numbers.
Sarah's stunned expression softened, her fists clenching with hope. "That kind of strength—it's enough to beat Skynet, right?"
"Not quite," Balder replied, his tone cool. With a wave of his hand, a map of light shimmered into existence, spreading across the air like a living hologram. His finger landed on a vast region in the southern hemisphere. "Go there," he said to the T-800. "It will push you further."
Sarah frowned. There was something in his voice—too measured, too calm—that made her uneasy. "Further," he'd said, but further toward what? The map glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat, and she couldn't shake the feeling that whatever Balder intended, it wouldn't end well for anyone caught in the way. She glanced at him, searching his face for some trace of empathy, but found only distant calculation in his eyes.
To Balder, everything was a matter of energy and consequence. Growth required sacrifice; progress demanded fuel. The strong ascended by standing atop the remnants of the weak—that was the law of gods and worlds alike. If the T-800 was to evolve beyond its design, something of equal magnitude had to be offered in return. To him, it was simple balance. To mortals, it would look like horror.
The T-800 nodded, his mechanical resolve unwavering. Following his master's command was what he was built for. He turned and strode away, purposeful and silent.
"Hey, Dad…" Sarah called after him, uncertainty in her voice. Before she could continue, Balder approached, lifting her effortlessly.
"What are you doing?" she asked, more surprised than alarmed.
"Something to help you rest," Balder replied, his tone gentle. He set her down and offered a reassuring smile, cutting through her tension.
"Something good for the body and soul," Balder said, his voice low and teasing. He silenced her with a kiss, cutting off her words.
Days passed in a quiet blur. Sarah watched Balder move through the room, the morning sunlight catching on his hair and shoulders. There was something undeniably compelling about him—his presence, his calm authority—but it was awe, not desire, that gripped her. Even after seeing him countless times, his aura was impossible to ignore.
But Balder's attention was elsewhere. His gaze pierced the distance, fixed on the region thousands of miles away. The continent was a wasteland of eerie silence, its earth soaked red with blood. At the heart of the carnage the T-800 moved with precise, mechanical determination, absorbing energy from the surrounding environment. With every moment, his power surged, visibly climbing. In mere instants, he shattered the first-class barrier, his strength rocketing toward top-tier status, relentless and unstoppable.
Sarah, unaware of the horror unfolding, felt a flicker of unease. Balder's plan was bearing fruit, but at what cost? The machine's transformation was extraordinary, awe-inspiring even, yet the consequences, though abstracted, weighed heavily on her conscience. She couldn't quite reconcile the necessity of this growth with the cost it demanded from the world around them.