The residual blast of the Forbidden Vow energy still crawled across the ceiling of the inverted cathedral, tearing at the last vestiges of atmospheric sanity within the Forbidden Temple. Zenith stood tall in the center of a vortex of purple steam, reeking of copper and sulfur. His bronze Stonehearth armor was no longer dull gold, but pitch black, oxidized by the ancient hatred he had just swallowed whole into his power core. Deep purple electrical sparks leaped from his shattered shoulder joints, striking the nearest ivory pillar and cracking it into shards of dust. "Argh ... my logic circuits ... they seriously feel like they’re being wrung out like wet laundry, damn it!" Zenith roared, his voice breaking into a horrific static distortion. His eye lenses no longer flickered yellow. The light in his eyes now burned a hollow, static, and cold purple, radiating a predatory aura that made the shadows on the floor seem to flee in terror. On his belt, the Omega trauma memory module vibra

The damp, cold cave walls felt like an empty embrace as Marcus laid the Empress down on a ragged cloth spread. Outside, the Ashfall Desert sky still glowed a dreadful purple, reflecting the remnants of the explosion from the Forbidden Temple they had just left in ruins. The smell of sulfur and burnt ozone seeped in through the rock crevices, suffocating the lungs of anyone who dared take a deep breath. Marcus collapsed into a sitting position, his back hitting the stone wall with a heavy thud. His veteran armor, shattered in places, was now smeared with black soot and thick residue of machine oil. He gasped for air, his weary eyes staring blankly at the pile of metal lying still in the corner of the cave. "Is he really dead?" Marcus asked, his voice hoarse and trembling. Prince Elara did not answer. The teenager stood frozen beside Zenith, staring at the single remaining yellow lens on the robot's face, which was now completely dark. Zenith looked pathetic; half his body was destro

The pulsating purple light from the Ashfall Desert sky was suddenly split by a gigantic projection emanating from the operational transmission towers of Magitek City. The projection was so massive it seemed as if the Sovereign's own black cloud served as its screen. Zenith, still lying rigid on a transport cart inside a remote military outpost, snorted as his optical sensors picked up a highly familiar frequency vibration. "Ugh, look at the sky, Marcus. That silver bastard really knows how to steal the spotlight," Zenith muttered, his voice hoarse and laced with painful static. Marcus didn't reply. His hands gripped the edge of the lookout post's balcony wall until his knuckles were white. Prince Elara stood beside him, his dust-streaked face now pale as he watched the face of High Sorcerer Valerius appear in the sky, looking majestic yet radiating an aura of pure madness. "People of Magitek! Loyal servants of the throne!" Valerius’s voice boomed, traveling through the cold air and

"Get down, Prince! Don't let that purple light touch your eyes!" Marcus roared, his voice hoarse, swallowed by the thunderous collapse of the Ivory Needle tower. White marble shards shattered around them, turning into lung-choking dust. The shadow energy net that had been locking Zenith exploded as the robot triggered an emergency heat dump from its chest ventilator. Zenith leaped into the chaos, his massive metal hand gripping Elara's robe and pulling him away from the Shadow Sentinel assault just as the dining hall balcony collapsed into the snowy abyss. "Damn it, I was just about to start dessert, seriously!" Zenith exclaimed, his voice reverting to the annoying Exile pitch even as his body sparked with short circuits. He landed stiffly in a dark, subterranean escape tunnel, while above them, the conservative faction's magnificent building was slowly swallowed by the black storm. Marcus stumbled beside them, still clutching the Empress's body wrapped in thick cloth. "We have to

"Catch your breath, Marcus, or your heart is going to explode before their spears even reach us," Zenith grumbled, his voice hoarse, accompanied by the screech of his shoulder joints which had just been forced to bear the weight of the collapsing ceiling. Inside the ice cave that now served as their final fortress, the air was biting, carrying the scent of ozone from the residual explosions and the musty smell of ancient dust rising from the stone floor. Prince Elara stood in the center of the room, staring at his reflection mirrored on the surface of Zenith's new black armor. Outside, beyond the raging blizzard, the searchlights of the conservative faction of the Royal Guard began sweeping the mountain slopes, like the eyes of a predator circling wounded prey. Marcus stopped sharpening his half-broken sword. He looked at Elara with a gaze heavy with profound doubt. "Prince, I have to ask one more time. Are you truly aware of the consequences? The Ancient Tomb isn't just a dumping g