Chapter 3: The Dark Edge of Space
The vast emptiness of space stretched in all directions, a sea of endless stars glimmering in the distance. Bowser's Kingdom, once a fortress of terror, now floated aimlessly in a remote corner of the galaxy, far from any world, any life. Its once-glorious spires were cracked and scorched, its power long faded since it had been flung into exile by Peach and her allies. Weeks had passed since that moment, but to Dr. Robotnik, time had blurred into one long, bitter grind.
Inside the darkened halls of the floating kingdom, past broken machinery and the remnants of Bowser's failed reign, a single lab flickered with dim, sputtering light. A distant echo, like metal scraping, reverberated through the corridors, and the air smelled of stale, burnt metal and cold stone. Flickers of fading power blinked erratically along the walls, casting shifting shadows that seemed to watch his every move. The remnants of Bowser's minions shuffled in the distance, their loyalty to Robotnik shaky at best, while the captured Yoshis huddled in fear, forced to labor under Robotnik's watchful eye. But none of them dared to enter his lab.
More ominously, the kingdom housed a few dozen Robot Masters—mechanical creations originally built by Dr. Wily, but modified and enhanced by Robotnik using Yoshi DNA. These strange hybrid creations were powerful, but even their energy cores, designed to sustain tremendous power, had failed to provide Robotnik with the means to escape.
Robotnik paced back and forth, his face twisted in concentration as he worked feverishly over a console. His once-pristine lab coat was frayed at the edges, his usually impeccable appearance now reflecting the weeks of isolation and growing frustration. His mind raced as he fought against the constraints of this desolate fortress, which, despite its size, lacked the vital resources he needed to escape.
"This…" he muttered, his voice low and seething, "shouldn't be happening."
He turned toward the nearest console, addressing a small recording device perched on the table beside him. It had become his only consistent companion.
"Log Entry 253: No significant progress. Weeks of work, and still, I'm no closer to generating the power I need to open a stable portal back to my world. I've already siphoned the energy from nearly half of Wily's Robot Masters. The weaker models have been… retired, their cores repurposed to keep the rest functional. These machines—and the Yoshi workers—they're just a means to an end now. Resources are all that matter." He glanced over the shuffling figures in the distance, his lip curling with disdain. If he had to sacrifice every last one of them to extend his power a few more hours, he would.
Robotnik's fists clenched at the thought. He glared at the golden rings scattered across the table, his only remaining lifeline. But the number was dwindling.
"These rings…" he growled, his voice darkening, "combine with my technology to open portals. I've used too many already. Only a handful remain, and without sufficient energy to power them… I'll never get off this wretched rock."
He slammed a fist onto the console. "I need more power. If I don't find a way to harness the energy necessary to open a portal back to my world, I'll be trapped here. And with each failed attempt, I edge closer to losing everything."
Robotnik paused, his sharp eyes narrowing as they scanned the room. The equipment was operational, but barely. He'd been able to salvage some of Bowser's old tech, but it was primitive compared to the tools he was used to. And without access to his larger facilities, his options were rapidly dwindling. Even the Robot Masters, once so promising, had yielded nothing but failure.
"I need to get home," he muttered, pacing again. "My world, my technology—that's where the true power lies. Once I'm back, I can return here with everything I need. But time… time is running out."
As if the universe was listening to his muttering, the lights in the lab flickered. A chill filled the air, and Robotnik froze, his senses heightened. Something wasn't right.
He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as the shadows in the corner of the lab seemed to thicken, twisting unnaturally. The air felt colder, and a creeping unease settled over him. For a moment, all was silent, save for the faint hum of his machines. Then, a voice, smooth and cold as ice, cut through the air.
"You've tampered with the balance of light and dark too many times, Doctor."
Robotnik's blood ran cold, but he forced himself to stand tall, spinning toward the source of the voice. His sharp gaze scanned the darkened corner of the lab.
"Who's there?" he demanded, his voice as commanding as ever, despite the creeping unease. "Show yourself! I don't have time for games, and you don't want to test me."
The shadows twisted again, coalescing into a figure that moved with deliberate grace. A woman stepped forward from the darkness, her form barely illuminated by the flickering lights. Her eyes glowed faintly, cold and calculating, as her serpentine hair shimmered in the dimness.
Robotnik's breath hitched for a moment, but his arrogance flared up immediately.
"What do you want?" he snapped. "And who do you think you are, invading my lab?"
The woman's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Who am I?" Her voice was like a hiss, dark and ancient. "You think yourself a conqueror, Doctor, but you're just another mortal who overreaches. Your little machines and crude modifications… did you really believe they would bend the universe to your will?"
Robotnik stiffened, glaring at her, but the chill in the air seemed to seep into his bones. "Who I am doesn't concern you," he retorted, trying to mask the tremor in his voice. "And if you think your theatrics will intimidate me, think again."
Medusa's smile didn't fade. "You will care, Doctor. You've meddled with the delicate balance of power—between light and dark, life and death—for far too long. You think your golden rings and machines can bend the universe to your will, but Hades, the Lord of the Underworld, is intrigued by your arrogance."
Robotnik scoffed, though he couldn't fully hide his apprehension. "Hades? I don't have time for underworld politics. If you're here to deliver some kind of message, tell your lord to find a less occupied genius to bother."
Medusa stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Even your machines have their limits, Doctor. They may have served you well in the mortal realm, but in the face of true power—the kind my lord commands—they're nothing more than toys. Power that exists beyond your comprehension. Beyond your science."
Robotnik's fists clenched, his bravado wavering as he looked into Medusa's eyes, sensing the dark promise there. "I don't answer to anyone," he growled, but there was a tremor in his voice. For the first time in years, Robotnik felt a chill of helplessness creep into his mind, clawing at his usual bravado. He realized, just for a moment, how small he was against the forces he'd toyed with.
Medusa's smile turned cold, predatory. "You've already been judged. Hades is not amused by your meddling. He wants to see you… in his realm. The Underworld is where you belong now—your punishment, Doctor."
Robotnik's eyes widened, and for the first time in weeks, a flicker of fear crossed his face. The Underworld—punishment. He was above them, above whatever punishment a so-called deity would deliver.
"No!" Robotnik barked, stepping back, but Medusa's eyes glowed brighter as she moved swiftly.
"Whether you care or not is irrelevant," Medusa hissed, her voice laced with finality. "Hades awaits."
Medusa's eyes flashed as she moved with unnatural speed, her hand clamping onto his arm like a vice. Robotnik's heart raced, his usual bluster evaporating as he thrashed against her grip, but it was futile. For the first time, his mechanical brilliance felt… insignificant.
The air around them grew thick with dark energy, and suddenly, cold, decayed hands erupted from the shadows at their feet. They clawed upward, skeletal and rotting, their icy grip seizing his legs and arms with bone-chilling force. The touch was like frozen death itself, numbing him as more hands emerged, grasping and pulling him downward with relentless strength.
The lights flickered wildly, casting erratic shadows as the decayed hands dragged him toward a swirling vortex of darkness that opened beneath them. He thrashed, but the hands only tightened, their cold seeping into his bones, draining his strength.
"You can't do this!" Robotnik shouted, desperation breaking through his arrogance. "I'm Dr. Robotnik! You can't—"
His words were choked off as the decayed hands pulled him down into the darkness, consuming him and silencing his cries. Medusa's eyes gleamed with triumph as she watched him vanish into the abyss, the remnants of his voice lost in the chilling silence that followed.
In seconds, the room fell still, the faint crackle of broken machinery and the hum of the kingdom's empty corridors the only sounds that remained. Bowser's Kingdom continued its aimless drift through space, cold and lifeless.
But Robotnik was gone, pulled into the Underworld for judgment.