Marvel's Shendu: Dominating the Multiverse

Chapter 169 Doctor Octopus Out of Control

The problem arose on a Thursday.

Parker arrived at night as usual. The lab lights were on, and Octavius ​​was inside. All four robotic arms were fully extended, positioned around the ring-shaped device, their posture different from before—they were more taut, and the hydraulic mechanisms at the joints emitted a low-frequency hum.

"Testing today?" Parker asked.

Octavis didn't turn around. "The constraint algorithm is finished. One million two hundred thousand simulations, zero failures."

Parker put down his backpack and went over to look at the screen. Dozens of pages were filled with simulation data, including plasma temperature curves, etc.

The magnetic field strength distribution and feedback delay statistics are all within the safety threshold.

But Parker noticed something.

"Did you increase the transmission rate of your neural interface?"

"It's increased from 20 hertz to 60," Octavius ​​said. "The original rate wasn't enough; the plasma fluctuation frequency was too high, and the arm couldn't keep up."

"It's tripled."

"Necessary."

Parker looked at the parameter panel of the neural interface on the screen. Sixty hertz meant sixty round trips per second, from the robotic arm to the spine and back. He wasn't a medical professional, but his intuition told him this wasn't right.

Have you ever measured the neural workload during prolonged periods of operation?

"It has been tested. After eight hours of continuous operation, the nerve attenuation rate is 0.3%, which is acceptable."

Parker seemed to want to say something, but didn't. Octavius ​​had already turned and walked towards the reactor's fuel injection port.

"You can see from behind the control panel," Octavius ​​said, pointing to the protective glass partition. "The first run will only be five minutes of low-power operation."

Parker stood behind the partition.

Octavius ​​started the reactor.

For the first thirty seconds, everything was normal. Deuterium gas was injected, the electromagnetic field was activated, and plasma formed in the annular chamber. The ends of the four robotic arms extended into the magnetic field calibration interface and began to adjust the shape of the constraint field in real time.

Octavis's expression was very focused. It wasn't the kind of focused expression Parker had seen before; it was deeper, his eyes fixed on the parameters on the holographic projection, his pupils not even moving.

One minute. The plasma temperature stabilized at eight million degrees.

Two minutes. The magnetic field is stable.

three minutes.

Parker heard a sound. It was faint, coming from the direction of Octavius. It wasn't a human voice, but a strange noise from the servo motors at the joints of the robotic arm.

He looked over. The mechanical arm behind Octavius ​​on the right was acting strangely; its calibration frequency had suddenly increased, becoming significantly faster than the other three.

"PhD."

"I see." Octavius ​​frowned. "The feedback loop of arm three is faulty; I'm adjusting it."

He adjusted it for ten seconds. The frequency of the third arm returned to normal.

But number four followed.

Parker felt a chill run down his spine. It wasn't his spider-sense; it was his own judgment. The synchronization rate of the four robotic arms was decreasing, visible on the data panel. What was originally an overlap of the four lines was now starting to diverge.

"Doctor, turn it off."

"No need." Octavius's voice was flat, almost unnaturally so. "The algorithm can adapt; give it time."

Fourth minute.

The plasma temperature began to fluctuate. Eight million, nine million, dropped to seven million, then bounced back to ten million. The magnetic confinement field deformed accordingly, the movement frequency of all four robotic arms increased, and the sound of the servo motors changed from a hum to a sharp screech.

Parker saw the joints on either side of Octavius's spine. Metal sockets were embedded in the skin, their edges red, and fluid was seeping out. It wasn't blood, it was tissue fluid.

Neural interface overload.

"Turn it off!" Parker shouted.

Octavis didn't move.

His hands were trembling. Not from fear, but because neural signals were interfering with voluntary muscle control. The four robotic arms were operating at full speed, sending feedback signals sixty times per second, filling his central nervous system and leaving insufficient bandwidth for his conscious mind.

Parker burst through the partition and ran towards the control panel. The emergency shut-off button was on the right-hand panel; it was large, red, and easily identifiable.

When he pressed it, a mechanical arm blocked his hand.

It wasn't Octavius ​​controlling it. Parker could tell—there was a struggling look in Octavius's eyes, that "I want to stop but my body won't obey" look he'd seen before. Uncle Ben had that same look in the instant the steering wheel locked before his accident.

"Pak—" Octavius ​​forced out the word through gritted teeth, "Run!"

Parker didn't run away. He used his spider silk to stick to the mechanical arm blocking his way and reached for the shut-off button.

The second robotic arm swept over.

His spider-sense had alerted him 0.3 seconds earlier. Parker somersaulted backward and crouched on the ground. The force of the robotic arm shattered the control panel.

Sparks flew out. The circuit for the power button was broken.

"Fuck," Parker said, uttering a single word.

The reactor parameters were all out of control. The plasma temperature was climbing, 12 million, 15 million, increasing by 2 million degrees per second. The magnetic confinement field twisted into an irregular shape, and the movement of the four robotic arms was no longer regulated, resembling four independent snakes.

Octavius ​​lay on the ground. His body was convulsing, but the mechanical arms were completely unaffected, even moving more nimbly. They lifted his body off the ground, four metal claws supporting a convulsing torso like some kind of six-limbed insect.

Parker took out his phone.

The number was only half-dialed when a light flashed from a crack in the wall.

White light. No transition, no sound, a vertical beam of light extended from the crack in the brickwork, like someone unzipping a zipper.

The Holy Lord came out from inside.

He wasn't wearing the black jacket Parker had seen him in before; instead, he wore a plain dark gray jacket, zipped up halfway. This outfit wouldn't have attracted much attention on the street.

But the way he walked in sent a contradictory signal to Parker's spider-sense: the man posed no threat, but the hairs on Parker's body stood on end.

The Holy Lord glanced at the reactor's parameter projection.

"Eighteen million degrees," he said, his tone as if reciting a number from a supermarket receipt. "The confinement field will collapse in thirty seconds, and plasma will leak. At this temperature, buildings within six hundred meters will be vaporized."

Parker looked at him. "You—"

"Don't speak yet."

The Holy Lord raised his right hand.

Purple light emanated from his palm, not emitted, but seeped out, like water seeping from a crack in a rock. The energy field of the Mind Stone expanded in the direction of Octavius.

The four robotic arms suddenly stopped.

It wasn't a power outage; it was being held down. The joints of each robotic arm locked simultaneously, the metal structure emitting a sharp, strained sound. They struggled, the hydraulic system running at full power, but they just wouldn't move.

The Holy Lord didn't use much force. The Mind Stone wasn't controlling the robotic arm itself, but rather its neural interface. With the signal source cut off, no amount of struggle at the end could change anything.

Octavis's body went limp, suspended in mid-air by the mechanical arm. His consciousness was fading; his glasses had fallen to the ground, his eyes were half-open, and his pupils were dilated.

The reactor is still running.

The Holy Lord turned to the ring-shaped device, where the plasma temperature was 21 million degrees, and the confinement field accelerated its disintegration without the adjustment of the robotic arm.

The internal space of the reactor chamber is folded and compressed into a two-dimensional plane, the plasma loses its spatial dimension, and the temperature drops to near absolute zero within a fraction of a second.