Hot steam hissed from the bronze pipes crisscrossing the ceiling of the Stonehearth War Hall, creating a constant, bone-shaking drone. Zenith jolted awake, his optical lenses suddenly flaring sharp yellow, nearly colliding with the face of Chief Borin, who was leaning over him, reeking of pungent, fermented mushroom breath. The robot immediately pulled his head back, his neck joint emitting a loud crack that made Prince Elara, sitting beside him, wince. "Damn! You startled me, Boss! You trying to kiss a robot or prospect for gold in my nostrils?" Zenith grumbled, instinctively patting his chest plate, which still bore black soot from the explosion in the eastern tunnel. Chief Borin snorted, pulling back and settling into his massive stone chair upholstered with desert hide. "If you hadn't woken up immediately, I was planning on dousing your core with molten lava to toughen up your circuits. You passed out like a junk heap running on fumes right after scaring my dwarves half to death

"Pull slowly, damn it! If the main cable snaps, he'll truly become eternal scrap metal!" roared Chief Borin. Borin’s mechanical hand trembled as he gripped the remnants of Zenith’s chest plate, which was bent beyond recognition. Around them, white dust from the shattered pillars still hung like a ghostly fog in Sector 9. Marcus and four other dwarves struggled to lift the gigantic granite boulder crushing Zenith’s right leg. The sound of metal scraping against stone created an ear-splitting whine, mixing with the hiss of hot steam escaping Zenith’s ruined body. "One ... two ... LIFT!" Marcus yelled, his neck veins bulging. With a powerful heave, the boulder rolled away. Elara immediately leaped forward, ignoring Durek’s warning about the residual static energy still sparking from Zenith’s body. The young prince knelt beside his robot’s head, his eyes wide at the condition of his protector. Half of Zenith’s left side was completely destroyed; his left arm was gone up to the shoulder

"Hold that pillar, Marcus! If this ceiling collapses before the data download finishes, we'll all just be fossils under a pile of rocks!" Chief Borin roared, his voice hoarse, swallowed by the thunderous explosions shaking the main workshop.Marcus slammed his Magitek sword into a floor crack, his shoulder bracing the bronze beam that had begun to buckle. Sweat mixed with soot streamed down the veteran's face. Amidst the chaos, Zenith looked like a burning metal statue; his right hand was jammed into the Vesperus data terminal, while the relic antenna on his back emitted wild golden electrical sparks."One percent left, damn it! My cables smell like scorched wires, Prince!" Zenith bellowed. His yellow lenses flashed red alternately, signaling that his logic system was being forced to work beyond its cooling limits.Prince Elara stood directly in front of the projection table, his fingers trembling violently as the rows of purple code began to fade, replaced by a clearer visual weave.

The relic antenna on Zenith's back suddenly shrieked, emitting a high-frequency whine capable of tearing human eardrums. Wild sparks of gold and purple electricity jumped, striking the half-destroyed stone walls of the Stonehearth control room. Prince Elara flinched, covering his ears with a pained expression, while Marcus immediately drew his sword, wary of any magical intrusion that might be creeping through the copper cables surrounding them. "Damn, my auditory circuits feel like they're being stabbed with a hot poker!" Zenith cursed. His eye lenses flickered erratically, changing color from yellow to red in a chaotic rhythm. "Frequency analysis: High-level encrypted external transmission. Valerius really isn't giving us a moment to breathe, damn it." "Can you block it, Zenith?" Marcus asked urgently. "I can't, Uncle! This relic antenna is pulling the signal in like a magnet pulling a nail," Zenith replied, his metal body shaking violently. "He's using an Ancient Magitek backdoo

"Tighten that shoulder bolt a little more, Marcus, or my left arm is going to fly off like a boomerang when I punch an automaton!" Zenith yelled, his voice hoarse, swallowed by the deafening roar of the steam engines at the Stonehearth exit gate. Zenith’s metal hand, newly reattached by Chief Borin, sparked tiny blue flames. The smell of hot oil and freshly forged metal filled the stale air of the tunnel. Marcus, his face blackened with soot, twisted the giant wrench until his arm muscles strained. In another corner, Prince Elara checked the pockets of his robe, ensuring the medals and memory crystals he carried were safely secured. "Done! Stop whining, junk heap. You’re lucky these dwarves were willing to donate first-rate steel for your rusty chassis," Marcus retorted, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of a dirty hand. "Damn, you’re really rough on an outpatient," Zenith grumbled. The robot tested his new arm. The hydraulics sounded much smoother, but his eye lenses still