The System Mecha is so unscientific

The air hung heavy with the scent of decay as Da approached the perimeter of the old junkyard. Twisted metal sculptures clawed at the sky, remnants of a past where machinery reigned supreme. The gate, long rusted and overgrown with vines, lay half-open, as if beckoning those daring enough to enter. He cautiously stepped past it, his senses on high alert.

The first thing that struck him was the eerie silence. Only the wind whistled through the labyrinthine piles of scrap, creating phantom noises that sent shivers down his spine. He unslung his lantern, casting a dim glow that illuminated a small circle around him.

"System, any initial scans of immediate threats?" he whispered, his voice barely audible above the wind.

"Scanning...No active threats detected within a 50-meter radius. However, several discarded metal fragments emit residual energy signatures, proceed with caution," the system responded.

Da nodded, drawing his wrench. "Energy signatures, huh? Sounds like the training robots might still be kicking around." He took his first steps into the junkyard, the crunch of broken glass and metal shards beneath his boots echoing in the oppressive quiet.

The landscape was a chaotic jumble of discarded technology. Carcasses of vehicles lay overturned, their skeletal frames picked clean of anything valuable. Twisted pipes, broken machinery, and mangled wires created a surreal and dangerous maze. He hugged the edges of the path, using the larger debris as cover.

After cautiously navigating through the initial wreckage, Da noticed a cluster of rusted metal plates stacked haphazardly against an old container. "Looks promising," he murmured. "Might be some useful material hidden beneath all that rust."

He cautiously approached the stack, wrench in hand, ready to defend himself if necessary. As he began to pry away the top layer, a mechanical groan echoed from nearby. He froze, every nerve on edge.

A hulking, rusted form emerged from behind a mountain of tires. Its joints creaked and sparked as it lumbered forward, red lights flickering erratically in its vacant eyes. A training robot, its programming corrupted by years of neglect, was now lumbering toward him, its metallic claws twitching menacingly.

"Damn, spoke too soon," Da muttered, adrenaline surging through his veins. "System, assessment of the robot?"

"Model: XR-7 Training Bot. Threat level: Low. Recommended strategy: Utilize agility to avoid direct confrontation. Aim for joints and weak points," the system advised.

Da grinned, a surge of excitement masking his fear. "Agility it is." He dropped the metal plate and sprinted to the side, dodging the robot's clumsy swipe. The XR-7 was slow and cumbersome, but its powerful blows could easily crush bone.

He circled the robot, looking for an opening. Its movements were predictable, and its joints were rusted and exposed. "Time to get to work," he muttered. He dashed forward, aiming a precise blow with his wrench at the robot's knee joint.

The wrench connected with a satisfying clang, and the robot staggered, its leg buckling slightly. "Gotcha!" Da exclaimed, pumping his fist. He dodged another clumsy swipe and aimed another blow, this time targeting the robot's elbow joint.

With another clang, the robot's arm spasmed, its metallic fingers clenching uselessly. Da grinned, realizing he had the upper hand. He continued to circle the robot, peppering its joints with precise blows, each strike further weakening the machine.

Finally, after a flurry of blows, the robot collapsed in a heap of rusted metal, its lights flickering and dying. Da stood panting, his wrench dripping with oil and rust. He grinned, adrenaline still coursing through him.

"Not bad for my first robot fight," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "System, scan for salvageable parts."

"Scanning...Numerous components deemed salvageable. Primary materials include low-grade iron, copper wiring, and a partially functional energy core," the system reported.

"Jackpot," Da said, his eyes lighting up. He spent the next few minutes scavenging the remains of the robot, carefully extracting the valuable components and stowing them in his rucksack.

As he worked, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He had faced his first real challenge in the junkyard and emerged victorious. He was proving to himself that he had what it took to survive and thrive in this harsh new world.@@novelbin@@

With his rucksack now noticeably heavier, Da continued his exploration, moving deeper into the heart of the junkyard. The shadows grew longer as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an even more eerie atmosphere over the wasteland. He activated his lantern, its beam cutting through the darkness.

He carefully navigated through the twisted maze, avoiding piles of unstable debris and listening for any signs of danger. The junkyard seemed to stretch on forever, a testament to the endless cycle of creation and destruction.

Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal pierced the silence. Da froze, his hand instinctively gripping his wrench. The squeal came again, closer this time. He pointed his lantern towards the sound, his heart pounding in his chest.

Two pairs of glowing eyes emerged from the darkness, followed by the twitching whiskers and razor-sharp teeth of what he thought was the mutated rats he read about from the System. The rats, their bodies bloated and scarred, bared their fangs and charged towards him, their squeals growing louder and more menacing.

"Here we go again," Da muttered, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The junkyard had more in store for him, and he was ready to face it head-on. The exploration would continue, one challenge at a time, one step closer to his goal of creating the Fire Boy.