"Metal required for upgrade detected."
Upon arriving at the phone store, the detector quickly emitted a sound that delighted the Cube.
"Gahaha~ Metal is still the best, feels so familiar."
After transforming, its mechanical arm punched a hole large enough to crawl through in the glass door at the bottom. It ducked and slipped inside.
In a flash, it leaped onto the counter, eyeing a phone that appeared to have a high metal content. With a fierce punch, it shattered the glass. Amid the crashing noise, the Cube fell into the display case along with the shards. Its two small mechanical hands stripped away the useless plastic casing of the phone.
*"Ding! Metal absorption initiated."* A stream of liquid surged from the Cube's body, enveloping the phone. *"Absorption complete. Upgrade progress remains 0.1% short."*
"Ugh…" The Cube groaned at the mechanical voice. A single phone barely made a dent. *0.1%? How far is that?* This was just a minor upgrade, not building a starship!
"Whatever, at least there's a number now. Keep collecting." It tossed aside the plastic debris and continued searching.
Electronics stores were mostly intact. In the apocalypse, power systems had shut down. Carrying gadgets was dead weight compared to food. Nearby bakeries and grocery stores lay in ruins, while these tech shops remained untouched. "Hmph. Pre-apocalypse, these phones were all the rage. Can't believe humans paid such absurd prices for mere communication tools. Now? They're worthless next to a cabbage."
Mumbling, the Cube ripped off plastic casings, indifferent to "trends." Soon, every phone in the store—even warehouse stock—was dismantled.
*"Upgrade progress: 87% remaining. Continue absorption."*
"I swear, once I'm free, I'll replace this annoying voice with something flattering!" Transforming into a toy car, the Cube zipped through zombie crowds toward the computer mall across the street. Smashing the automatic glass doors, it jumped onto a display counter andgrabbed a tablet.
Metal ratios varied. By the third tablet, the mechanical voice chimed:
*"Upgrade initiated."*
*Could've saved time if I came here first!*
*Clang-clang-clang!* The Cube's arm components morphed rapidly. In seconds, its left forearm transformed into a compact machine gun—no small feat for its 30cm frame.
Data flooded the Cube's mind: *Compact machine gun, semi/full-auto modes, basic targeting system, 40m effective range, 60-round capacity. Bullets self-generated via energy absorption (1 round/10min). Metal absorption accelerates production. Upgradeable.* The right arm became a razor-sharp blade, far deadlier than any kitchen knife.
"Pathetic range," it grumbled, nostalgic of starship artillery. *But better than nothing.*
At the entrance, it tested the weapon. Targeting locks appeared in its vision. The gun auto-adjusted.*Fire.*
*Rat-tat-tat!* Minimal recoil. Three zombies dropped, bullets piercing their neural hubs.
"Gahaha! Weapons *are* glorious!" the Cube cackled in metallic glee.
"Now, to get that fool of a woman a proper blade." Transforming back into a toy jeep—now with a roof-mounted gun—it sped toward a military surplus store. Earth's satellite maps marked it as a likely source for combat knives.
*Screech!* The Cube halted, scanning the store.
*"No life signs detected."*
It shape-shifted, parkoured through an open window, and landed inside. Scans revealed knockoff gear on display. "Trash," it spat, locating a reinforced door. Behind it: a collector's trove of military gear—no guns, but tactical gear from global armies. The owner probably dreamed of owning a tank.
The door's heavy lock posed no challenge. Climbing with spike-formed hands, it jammed a claw into the lock. *Click.*
"This isn't theft. Survival protocol: resource recovery." It gathered gear:
- Stab-resistant camouflage uniform (proper size—no more battling zombies in skirts).
- Military boots (women's size).
- Tactical vest (protection + utility).
- Gloves, helmet, knee pads.
- Flashlight (self-rechargeable).
Blades were too short for zombie combat. Merging three daggers via molecular restructuring, it forged a short sword, sharpened to lethal perfection. Energy drained, it sheathed the blade, packed everything, and hurled the bag out the window.
"Scram, you rotting meatbags!" The noise drew zombies, now idly staring as the Cube escaped with its haul.