"Where's Zero?" X asked Undyne, seemingly out of the blue.
"Hmm… if my timetable's still up-to-date, I'd guess he's either on his way back or coming to meet you," Undyne said, scrolling through his updates. "Why? Feeling anything... shifty, Master?"
Instead of answering, X got up from his desk. For a bot who claimed he wanted to stay away from politics, he had far too many fingers in too many pots. But considering his very pregnant spouse, it made sense for the Blue Legend to keep an ear to the ground and a finger in the air.
"Something happened… I can feel it. Something's happening in my Neo's domain. But something is blocking me. I'm part-elf, the master of this place, practically a god, and yet…" X mumbled as he paced, then shook his head. "What am I saying? I'm not a god. I make mistakes, and I can't account for others' mistakes either. Only Krishna can... Dammit, God, I know I shouldn't be mad at You, and I'm not envious, but..."
X huffed, dragging his hands down his face. "I care too much. I'm attached… I know attachment will cause pain. I know our luck sucks. I know our karma's a terrible one. Despite taking shelter of Bhagavan, He's still the one calling the shots, but..." He gave a disjointed giggle as he slumped back into his seat. "Oh, Rock… You have it easy as a ghost."
"X, don't say dumb things like that," the original Blue Bomber said with a scowl. "You know how it is to be a powerless elf!"
"Yeah… Not that part. I mean the part about you not having anyone in your life. No romance. Ahh, to have a simple life again." The youngest of the two lamented as he plopped down in his throne-like office chair.
He hated the throne aspect, but it was a damn good chair to sleep in, and it spun like a dream.
(meanwhile Undyne watched as X's legendary Madness took control of the once sober and respectable Robot Master, following the Half-elf whit his eyes, recording the whole thing so that him and Kage could try to divine what the heck triggered him this time.)
"But you know what, Rock? I'll take it. I'll take all the drama that comes with my Zero and his baby. Zero's worth it. They're all worth it." he declared, and it took everything in Undyne's repertoire not to roll his eyes at the dramatic.
(a Crazy X was a Dramatic X, as they'd all come to learn.)
In a few weeks, hopefully, Zero would give birth to the first-ever reploid neonates. X had elected to call them Carbons—not carbon copies, but still more carbon-based than humans. so. Obliviously, everyone where on pins and needles at this point, unsure about how those miraculous babies would come out of their Kiln- Zero's contribution to this whole adventure in gestation. But Ciel and Cerveau had studdied reproduction and Zero more then anyone would be confortable wiht, and where relatively sure that Zero's belly would split open to spill out it's precious content, and that Zero would Ultimatly be fine...
But, really, what did they knew about normal reploid birth? everyone was going in blind.
and yet...
The Blue Bomber could already imagine the sound of youthful laughter filling their small cottage as Zero chased after their babes—both of them looking like his beloved with a bit of X mixed in.
He didn't notice when Rock left, but it didn't matter. X had never known his father or siblings. They were so different from him. The "elf" his father left behind was no better than pre-recorded messages tied to an advanced AI... for its time.
No, the only ones who truly understood X (Alegedly)were Undyne, Kazekage (or "Weaboo" as X teasingly called him), France, Necro, Ciel, and, of course, his Zero.
Once again, X frowned. Something felt wrong in Neo Arcadia, but his Neo-Neo seemed oblivious.
"Well, it was nice while it lasted," X said in a rare moment of melancholy. ("Ah... Master's mood crashed again... now, where did I put this Krishna book. For shame, he sound's nearly sane now.")
And on cue, the city's panic confirmed his dread.
"There you go," X said with a sigh of relief. Something had happened, then. It wasn't just an old war vet's paranoia boring a hole in his tank.
Before long, Neo Arcadia's avatar appeared in the office. The angelic being's face was pale, their eyes wild with fear and dread.
X's heart sank... Despite knowing what was the probable news. it was just like that feeling you had when learning of an elder in Palliative care passing away. you knew it would happen, but the news was still devastating.
"Neo... Something happened to my Zero and children, hasn't it?"
Neo tried to speak, but it seemed their voice program had crashed under the weight of fear and grief.
The door to X's office flew open, admitting a pair of frantic guardians: France and Kazekage. Both looked shaken and pale. Startling Undyne hard enough that He'd reflectively called the name of Govinda before realizing that X's prescience had warned them of an unavoidable tragedy.
A strange calm flooded X—a calm that came with knowing the worst had finally arrived.
"Master X—"
"We were sent back. We thought they would be safe," France stammered, her whole body trembling. "He should've been safe. He should've been safe! Neo! What the glitch happened?" she demanded, jumping to his feet. "I thought you had eyes and ears everywhere. I thought you had every single reploid tagged and tracked! So, where is he?"
"I sometimes have to shut down..." Neo Arcadia revealed, their voice flat. "I ensure I never do my maintenance at the same time or on the same day. Nobody but me knows when I do it..."
The personification of humanity's last bastion raised their head, their dull eyes sharpening with anger and betrayal.
"The only ones who could possibly figure out my schedule are the Eight Gentle Judges... They left when I was down."
"So, it was them... Why am I not surprised?" Undyne sneered, flipping his hair out of his eyes. "Neo Arcadia is filled with rotten leaders… No offense, X."
"None taken. So, Zero is gone, taken by the Eight Gentle Judges. And there's no way to track them? Zero had the world's most powerful beacon, you know."
If he were human, X's heart would have been hammering in his chest. Yet he felt calm. Serene.
And with a burning desire to visit the nearest Hare Krishna temple.
"Nothing… Zero's already out of my range," Neo-Arcadia said flatly. " And their beacon... I don;t know how, but it has been disabled, none of my satelites can reach them. I'm sorry Master."
X made a noise at the back of his throat. "I see…" The Master—no, the useless leader of Neo-Arcadia—hummed as he got up, feeling detached from everything.
He knew nothing could possibly happen to him. And yet, the copy of the Gita residing on Zero's bedside table only confirmed what he already suspected:
This was all his fault.
No, X wasn't victimizing himself, nor was he blaming his current self entirely. Instead, he placed the blame on his past self—on the shoulders of his karma.
There were a few sayings to explain karma: You reap what you sow. You dig your own grave. You make your bed...
What the general public didn't understand about karma was that it wasn't limited to a single lifetime. Karma was the accumulation of deeds across countless lifetimes, stretching back into eternity, mixed in wth time and space and fished out with the thongs of decisions held on the ropes of the three modes of material nature.
The spirit within X had performed actions in the past—over innumerable lifetimes—that had led him to this exact moment. His body, his position, the color of his eyes, his life, and even the endless drama surrounding Zero… all of it was shaped by his karma and his use of free will.
And right now, as part of that karmic debt, X (and Zero) had to face the bitter fruits of their actions.
This rule applied universally: from the tiniest bacteria to the gods above, the demons below, and even the celestial Devatas. No one was exempt from the consequences of karma. Not even devotees.
Of course, those who served Krishna had less to worry about. As Varoru Mataji had explained, a devotee's karma was personally overseen by Krishna. He would only give them a fraction of what they deserved, and even then, if it led to their physical death?
Well, one couldn't enter the spiritual world with a gross material body made of mundane energy. Such a body would be unable to withstand the pure bliss of the spiritual plane.
Just as no one could step onto the fiery surface of the sun without a body made of fire, it was impossible to enter an anti-material world in a body of matter. It was plain logic.
And now, with the logical conclusion unfolding before him—Zero and their unborn children taken—X did the only rational thing left:
He detached himself from the situation and surrendered to the only one who could save Zero.
"Let's go to the temple. Grab Ciel too. She'll need the support," X said as he commended his windows to open, and flew to the Vaishnava district.
Zero… had no idea how long he had been in this tiny, dark cell.
There were no windows. Nothing he could siphon energy from. Even the door was purely mechanical, devoid of any electronic components.
The only thing keeping Zero online was the energy he'd managed to store from his charging bed and breakfast earlier. No external power sources were available here, and Zero knew better than to trust whatever energy they might offer.
At worst, he and his unborn twins would enter hibernation mode. He could last weeks that way.
But the twins inside him? He had no idea what would happen to them if he powered down. Would his body reject them and let their half-formed batteries die? Would an emergency shutdown irreparably damage the components his nanites were painstakingly building for them? or... would their soft body congeal, turning them into dead limps of cold alloy to be sadly extracted from his coffin like guts?
Thankfully, the earlier electric surge hadn't harmed the twins. The charge had been routed safely to Zero's feet, and any damage had been swiftly repaired.
But in this darkened room, with no electricity to sustain him and barely enough reserves to last a week, Zero's system had slowed its maintenance functions to prioritize his babies.
It was terrifying—Zero's worst nightmare.
Had he not been burdened with his twins, Zero would have been actively planning an escape. He would have ambushed anyone who came to check on him or entered hibernation and waited them out.
But no. He had to protect his babies.
And yet…
Perhaps it made him a terrible parent, but Zero couldn't stop himself from feeling a surge of hatred.
He hated the twins for forcing this upon him without his consent. For taking up precious space and resources. For making him vulnerable.
But then, his rational mind would take over, reminding him that this situation was an act of God.
After all, while Zero had the software and hardware to analyze Reploid blueprints or DNA, only X carried the unique traits that allowed reproduction. There was no way Zero could have predicted that kissing his comatose spouse would lead to… this.
Two impossible beings growing inside him.
Ciel had been insistent that Zero learn about consent and why it wasn't okay to make out with a comatose person, even if their body responded. It was wrong, no matter what. And no, X hadn't been in any condition to offer input. First, because his mind wasn't stable, and second, because he was Ciel's father, and she didn't want her dad's body to be used like that.
Even so…
Even if Zero had been an organic male, mystical pregnancies were possible. One such story from the Srimad-Bhagavatam's ninth canto involved a king whose son became the sole progenitor of the Pandava's dynasty.
But Zero wasn't organic. His body was mechanical. He was more material than any other material being. In the 200-plus years since his manufacture, no one had ever managed to create a self-replicating android, let alone one capable of… this.
So why him?
Why now?
"Krishna? Krishna?!" Zero called out into the darkness. "I… I don't know what I did to deserve this. Hell, my whole life—what the hell did I do in my past life?!"
His voice echoed hollowly in the concrete cell as he lowered his head in humility.
"You know… you don't have to answer that. I've made my bed, Lord. I don't remember how or why. But this… this is my karma. Some weird-ass karma, but it's mine.
"I pushed you out of my life for so long… Heh, no wonder you don't want to talk to us. We've been ghosting you for eternity."
Zero paused, taking a shaky breath as inspiration struck him.
He recalled the recent readings at the temple—the first canto of the Srimad-Bhagavatam, Chapter 8. Krishna saving King Parikshit in the womb.
Uttara's prayer as she begged for her unborn child's life.
"Uttarā uvacha:'
"pāhi pāhi mahā-yogin
deva-deva jagat-pate
nānyaṁ tvad abhayaṁ paśye
yatra mṛtyuḥ parasparam."
Uttarā said: O Lord of lords, Lord of the universe! You are the greatest of mystics. Please protect me, protect me, for there is no one else who can save me from the clutches of death in this world of duality.
"abhidravati mām īśa
śaras taptāyaso vibho
kāmaṁ dahatu māṁ nātha
mā me garbho nipātyatām."
O my Lord, You are all-powerful. A fiery iron arrow is coming towards me fast. My Lord, let it burn me personally, if You so desire, but please do not let it burn and abort my embryo. Please do me this favor, my Lord.
Zero prayed, and had he been human, he would have been sobbing.
But he wasn't human, of course, and he wasn't… he was a warrior, a warrior in a horrible situation, in the custody of dangerous enemies. He would not show vulnerability.
He would not give them this satisfaction, not as long as he resided in this shell.
He repeated Uttara's prayers over and over again, perhaps the Lord would take away his embryo's soul from their little body, giving them to a better mother than him. A proper human mother, a vaishnavi, and not the absolute mess that was Zero.
Perhaps the Lord would also remove him( her?) from Zero's body, with the same result, or better yet, take him back home, back to Godhead.
Where nobody grows old, nobody gets sick, nobody takes birth, and nobody dies, and time is conspicuous by its absence.
Where every step is a dance, every word a song, where wish-fulfilling cows flood the ground of wish-fulfilling stones with unlimited milk, where the desire trees grant whatever fruits you desire, and where Krishna, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, plays among his tiny souls as one of them, having traded his fearsome weapons and precious golden ornaments for a simple bamboo flute and the wealth of the forest.
Perhaps it seemed… out there. But at the same time…
At the same time, it was a better alternative than just fading into nothing, to just die and… that's it!
It gave everything a reason to be. Krishna-Bhakti gave hope to the most fallen and hopeless. And unlike other so-called religions or cults, there was nothing inherently wrong or harmful about it.
No humans partook in drugs or other mind-altering substances; their sacred plant was Holy Basil, an aromatic herb with medicinal value. Sex outside of marriage was frowned upon, and everyone was seen as a person. Vaishnavas never started wars, though wars were often waged against them. And while some wolves occasionally entered the shepherd's house, once ousted, their crimes were exposed, and efforts were made to prevent others from sneaking in.
It was old—in a way, Krishna-Bhakti was the first and foremost path toward God… and it was the truest.
Zero remembered—there was nothing but remembrance now in his damned shoebox—what an elder Vaishnava had once told him. Not as old as Vava… (what was his name again? Right, Vandanam. He was Vandanam Das, the uncle to his two unborn babies.)
he'd said that all religions had the same root: Bhakti-Yoga, the oldest of all spiritual paths. For while the Srimad Bhagavatam and the Bhagavad-Gita were written over 5,000 years ago, predating the Bible and Judaism, Krishna had referenced in the Bhagavad-Gita that he had first imparted the Bhakti knowledge to the Sun God.
In other words, this science (because it was a science, though it somehow passed as a cult) was older than any carbon dating could indicate, for it had started orally and only recently—if one could call 5,000 years (closer to six nowadays) recent—been put into written form.
But yes, Zero had faith in the path of Bhakti, for everything felt… in place. Their sermons were not about stirring fanatics but about dissecting the nature of the human psyche, understanding divine and demoniac nature not to hate but to comprehend.
In Bhakti-Yoga, it was common knowledge that all started off with demoniac propensities. But it wasn't about how they started; it was about how they ended.
If even the worst of criminals, low-caste dog-eaters, drunkards, or rapists could repent and remember Krishna at the time of death—or even before—then they were seen as saints.
Bhakti was all about the love of the Divine, the love for Krishna. Not lip service. Not a self-aggrandizing "Look at me, I'm perfect" type of so-called devotion. It was a cultivation of truthfulness, cleanliness, compassion, and wisdom—a sane, loving devotion…
Until love overwhelmed the practitioner and turned them mad for Krishna's lotus feet. Something Zero didn't even dare to start processing.
"Krishna… I… I guess it's just you and me, huh? So… right… Jaya Sri Krishna Chaitanya—"
Time passed, and Zero grew weaker. His babies stopped growing and began to... coll, and soon, he didn't have enough power even to remember Krishna.
He knew his end was near. There was no question about it, and yet… he was serene.
During one of his longer bouts of lucidity, Zero half-remembered something Vava—no, Vandanam—had once shared with him.
One of Vandanam's self-appointed duties was to accompany departing souls through their last exams, giving them comfort, reading their favorite devotional books, answering their questions, and chanting when they could not.
He was part of Les Brigadier de L'aube, a group of devotees, most of them Reploids. They were the ones who accompanied departing Vaishnavas. The legendary Vaishnava palliative care team.
It didn't matter their age or how long those souls had been on the Krishna Consciousness path; Les Brigadier would be there, ensuring that even if they were in a deep coma or brain-dead, they would still remember Krishna.
Zero sighed. He was all alone, and his mental functions were struggling. but he'd still somehow managed to grasp this whips of tough before succumbing to darkness again.
Vava had told him during one of his gloomier moods that Krishna—the Supreme Personality of Godhead—had said that whatever your state of mind is at the time of death, and whatever you remember when you leave the body, determines your next birth.
To remember Krishna meant you didn't have to take another birth. You would reach Krishna's eternal abode of Sri-Goloka Dham in your eternal identity—whether as Krishna's servant, friend, parent, or lover.
And if the devotee could not remember Krishna at the time of death, Krishna would remember them, just as he had assured Daruka, his chariot driver.
It wasn't cold comfort—not at this point. No, it warmed Zero's heart that, despite not being formally initiated into Bhakti-Yoga and Harinama, Krishna always cared for him… and his unborn twins.
For yogis who failed to reach back home, back to Godhead, Krishna would arrange for them to take birth again—either in a family of Vaishnavas or among pious, wealthy people. There, they could restart their devotional path from where they'd left off, with interest.
Vandanam had shared stories of such souls, some returning twice, others even thrice. There was one rascal who, in his first life, despised the devotees so much he almost burned down a temple. In his second life, he returned as a fringe devotee, torn between skepticism and faith. By his third incarnation, he walked straight into the ashram, shaved his head, donned saffron robes, and declared, "This time, I won't mess it up."
And he didn't.
Zero thought about these stories often. Despite his hopeless situation, he still clung to hope. If the worst happened—if he and his unborn children perished—they could be reborn, away from war, away from suffering. Perhaps into a family of Vaishnavas, where Krishna Consciousness would greet them like the sunrise.
Where Krishna would catch his long time friends and never letting them go.
X would be heartbroken, mad with grief… but there was nothing Zero could do.
Nothing but chant, remember Krishna, and pray. Pray like Draupadi had, when Duryodhana and Dushasana tried to disrobe her during the disastrous gambling match.
'Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare, Hare Rama Hare Rama, Rama Rama Hare Hare.'
Time lost all meaning to Zero. The Maha-Mantra became his anchor, his solace, his shelter.
But death didn't come. Instead, something worse crept into his cell.
At first, it was subtle—his energy levels spiking randomly, giving him fleeting clarity and brief surges of strength. Enough to sense the magnetic fields of two powerful elves, lurking at the edges of his awareness.
Then it became undeniable.
Zero woke from power-saving mode to the sight of a figure standing in the doorway. His own image, distorted into a grotesque mockery, with glowing red eyes and a twisted, demented smile.
Omega.
Zero's systems screamed at him to move, to fight, but his body was too weak. His gaze fell to the two glowing forms hovering behind Omega—his baby elves, helpless and exposed.
And Omega's gaze wasn't on him.
It was fixed on his belly, now taut and heavy, fit to burst.
Zero's mind raced, a thousand fragmented prayers colliding in desperation.
"Oh Krishna, help me..."
Omega stepped closer, his smile widening, his eyes never leaving the the ripened