Despite my serious intention to rescue Claptrap, there was no rush from me this time. Considering how many owners this robot had managed to change while staying on the move (and I highly doubt that no one tried to shoot it), it should be able to "survive".

  Though, of course, my logic only applies if this world even existed before I appeared in it. There's no certainty that this is actually the case.

  But either way, a "story character" shouldn't be able to die so easily.

  ...Hopefully.

  That last thought made me add a step though. It would be a shame if I put too much trust in an assumption that turns out to be wrong. It's hard to tell what kind of restrictions and conventions are actually in place in this world.

  - Boss, save me!

  Well, at least he's still in one piece if he keeps yelling.

  I peeked out from around the corner of the building for a split second and immediately ducked back down, catching a glimpse of a figure flying through the sky and a ball of lightning flashing in my direction and smashing into the wall. It was bad, really. Judging by the marks on the wall, these volleys are noticeably more powerful than the Eridian cannon I've been dealing with, plus the enemy is fast and flying. And don't forget that shields don't like electric attacks.

  I thought about that last thought while rolling across the floor inside the building, where I had jumped through a broken window. The ball lightning that flew through the window left another scorch mark on the floor; I slid under the thick table in the center of the room and knocked it over, closing one of the windows.

  - Boss, I'm kind of in danger here! - Claptrap kept yelling, which made me use my leveled-up robot-ignorance skill. And then my digitalization skills. The firstly sealed another window with a temporary patch, and the then began to create a turret behind another window, outside the building, selecting the active weapon as a SG. It's low damage, sure, but i still need something able to hit - whatever that flying thing is, it's fast.

  - Boss, know this: you were the best of my Vladoff engineer bosses! But if I die through your fault, my undead electronic spirit will haunt you in your accounts!

  Claptrap's continued rambling only confirmed that the actual threat to the robot, if any, was small.

  A section of the table blackened and began to crumble; I digitally built the patch again. And then took up the next turret.

  ...And immediately bounced, interrupting the process, barely noticing a movement in the sky. Just in time - the shell of the Eridian weapon glittered again, crashing to the floor.

  The already mounted turret rattled, and immediately caught a personal projectile. Fortunately, the theoretical vulnerability of technology to electrical discharges is so obvious that it was taken into account by designers long ago, and all "tender parts" are covered with dielectrics, so that in practice modern technology does not have such vulnerability.

  Unfortunately, "does not have such vulnerability" does not mean "invulnerable". The salvos were powerful enough to do noticeable damage to my flimsy turret, overheating it and melting the metal; at the same time, it seemed to be misfiring. The enemy clearly outclasses me in quality; I'll try to take quantity over quality.

  While the unknown flying thing was firing at the helpless (alone) turret, I climbed up on the beam next to the window overlooking the "visor" in front of the house and started the digital construction of the second turret again.

  Barely made it in time. The turret was just about to materialize when it flashed in my direction again; I jumped off the beam, and another ball of lightning came within a couple of centimeters of my cheek. The turrets clattered at double the pace... oops. One went silent, and with a glance in its direction, I made sure it was out of action.

  Claptrap's background noise continued his "aria" - does he ever shut up? - But I continued to ignore him. At this rate, this flying thing is going to take out my turrets as fast as I set them up, and my turrets aren't infinite. I need something... Oh.

  This time I started digitally constructing not a turret, but a barrier covering the area in front of the window on the outside of the house. The electric ball flashed again, but this time the enemy was unable to interrupt the construction; this direction of fire was covered by a wall capable of withstanding a sufficient portion of hits.

  And now... Turret, another turret, another turret, and even another turret. Deconstruct the remains of the first one, of course. And only after that, deconstruct the barrier.

  The enemy seemed to expect it. A hit in the shoulder area blew away my shield, and I got a jolt of electric shock... if I survive, I'll add dielectrics and something fireproof to my armor. I need armor ceramics.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  My arm stiffened and twitched painfully, but the auto-medikit started doing its job while I was still in motion. Four turrets equipped with two pistols, an assault rifle, and a Maliwan SG were doing their job, too.

  I waited for the shield to reset and stabilize, and then, picking up the Dahl machine gun I'd recently trophied from an abandoned farm, I ventured out the window again.

  This time I managed not only to notice the enemy, but also to fire a volley in his direction. More than that, I even hit it. Unfortunately, the result was that I got hit again, but this time I wasn't paralyzed; probably because of the drugs left in my blood.

  Alas, there was one big, fat disadvantage in this mix of positives and negatives: I managed to notice that this flying thing, which looked like a stick man, had a shield. And with the flyer's maneuverability, it's extremely difficult to shoot down that shield, even with four turrets working together.

  Something has to be done about it.

  There are few options, however. I can't put turrets indefinitely; I don't have so much material, ammunition or guns. If I could somehow immobilize it.....

  Shit. I see two options: either hole up in the building and hope this thing flies away on its own, or take the risk.

  I've always been a normal, cautious person.

  I've always been a normal, cautious person. So what the fuck am I doing?

  I leapt out of the building, covering myself with a digitally constructed tower shield made from wood and pottery shards found in the building. To remember Mordecai's lessons, to pull myself together, to channel adrenaline into useful targets instead of shaking hands. Wait for a volley of flying crap, stop for a second, peek out from behind the shield....

  I see the target, I don't see the obstacles.

  I open fire.

  To hit a fast-moving target with a sniper, you either have to be a real master or you have to be foolishly lucky.

  Beginner's luck. Yes, beginner's luck, and I will insist on that wording.

  My mediocre sniper shot couldn't knock out a third of the shield of the Eridian Guardian, as the ECHO labeled the thing. But it was enough to make the Guardian flying towards the bullet jerk backwards and twist slightly, which had two consequences at once:

  First, his return shot went far into the milk.

  Secondly, he caught the volleys of two turrets at once, one of which was equipped with an electric gun from Maliwan.

  And thirdly, the shield of the "guardian" was nullified, and he began to fall, sparking with discharges.

  ...And then the three turrets went silent: out of ammo.

  I assumed my idiocy quota was exceeded for many months to come. I was wrong.

  - For the stroibat! - I shouted, and rushed at the falling enemy with a shield in one hand and a shovel in the other. The edge of the shield was charred from a particularly powerful hit, and began to crumble into ash, but in a second I was already close to the target; one more hit taken on the shield, and I with the fury of a berserker (stroibat-version) hack the slender limb of the "guardian" who had not had time to restore the shield with a shovel.

  The thing proved to be fragile. The blade sliced off the cannon like a tree branch, and I started hitting the remaining limbs, then "neck"... If the "guardian" had any other weapons, he couldn't use them.

  A few seconds later, I poked the immobile remains of the "guardian" with my shield; there was no reaction. The ECHO was no longer displaying the "health" bar either, and given that this device of mine seems to be a divine artifact, I suppose it can be trusted even with alien tech from aliens... although, technically, it's us humans who are the "aliens" here. Either way, this thing is definitely "dead".

  ...Hmm. I think I found my third Eridian artifact. Albeit somewhat damaged.

  In fact, upon closer inspection, I concluded that it had been damaged before my time - at least one leg was definitely broken off, and the body was showing signs of damage.

  Shit. If it hadn't been for that, I'm afraid I'd have had a harder time. Perhaps fatally harder.

  I need a shield and a bigger weapon.

  - And shame on you for not doing everything you could to save that poor, helpless robot!

  The bigmouth, as it turned out, hadn't stopped his rant the whole time. However, upon seeing me, the unscrupulous electronic bastard immediately switched gears.

  - Oh! Boss! You're okay! I'm so happy for you! I've been strategically positioned and preparing to support you in battle! Morally. Moral support is the most important thing!

  ...I think I have another purpose in this world. To find whoever made these robots and have a good talk with him.