EXILE COG: OMEGA PROTOCOL

Chapter 2: Dust and Blood: The Elite Cog Rises

The rusty iron pipe slammed into the gaseous skull of one of the Shadow Constructs with a deafening metallic clang. Black dust exploded, obscuring the view of Marcus, who was still sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. Amidst the plumes of pollution smoke in the Lower District, the old robot moved, no longer a scrap scavenger, but an efficient killing machine. Zenith, or the Omega entity possessing him, spun his body with military precision, evading the enemy's shadow claw attack by mere millimeters before driving the sharp end of the pipe directly into the opponent's energy core.

"Anomaly detected. Absolute elimination required," Zenith growled in a cold, metallic baritone, far removed from his usual humorous tone.

Marcus could only stare. He was a war veteran, the Head of the Royal Guard who had seen thousands of soldiers fight, but he had never witnessed horror like this. The robot that had moments ago looked like a walking pile of junk was now dancing with death. Every swing of his pipe destroyed an enemy. There were no wasted movements, no hesitation, only mathematical calculation on the fastest way to annihilate. Within seconds, the last three Shadow Constructs shattered into fragments of darkness that evaporated before they could touch the filthy alley floor.

As soon as the last enemy vanished, Zenith’s body suddenly stiffened. The cooling fan in his chest roared loudly, venting hot steam that smelled of burnt oil. His eye lenses, which had been glowing blood red, began to flicker unstably, slowly dimming back to a dull, shaky yellow.

"System cooling. Deactivating Omega protocol. Re-engaging power-saving mode ... a.k.a. hobo mode," Zenith muttered. His voice returned, raspy and full of irritating cynicism.

He stumbled, almost falling if he hadn't balanced himself with his iron pipe. A pain that didn't originate from cables or circuits, but from the remnants of corrupted memory, struck his core. The pale face of the Empress and the scent of the poison he had failed to detect centuries ago flashed across his visual sensors. That guilt was like rust corroding his soul from within, more painful than the magical projectile that had struck his back moments ago.

"Damn, my head feels like it got hit by a compressor," Zenith complained, clutching his dented head. "Why did I even bother using serious mode just now? It’s genuinely inefficient for a robot’s mental health."

Marcus slowly stood up, holding his ribs, which were likely cracked. He approached Zenith with a sharp, scrutinizing, and slightly fearful gaze. He no longer cared about the silly jokes. He had just witnessed combat techniques taught to only one specialized unit in the kingdom's history.

"That movement ... Elite level combat precision," Marcus said in a heavy voice. "Only one mechanoid possesses the 'Crescent Strike' attack protocol using a blunt weapon."

Zenith pretended to be busy examining the circuits in his hand, trying to ignore Marcus’s stare. "Old man, you should worry about your ribs instead of the fighting style of a junk robot like me. I was just swinging wildly. Lucky the enemies were already weak."

"Don't lie to me!" Marcus yelled. He stepped forward, blocking Zenith's view. "I know that posture. I know how you scan for enemy weaknesses before attacking. You are Zenith! The Elite Cog who was punished and exiled after the Empress’s poisoning incident!"

The atmosphere suddenly went silent. Prince Elara, who had been hiding behind a stack of wooden crates, emerged with hesitant steps. His teenage face, streaked with dust, looked at Zenith with an unreadable glint, a mix of gratitude and intense curiosity.

"Elite Cog?" Prince Elara asked softly. "Father used to tell me about you. He said you were the most loyal protectors the throne ever had."

Zenith let out a dry laugh, the sound like sandpaper scraping steel. "Oh, Miss, I mean, Little Prince, don't believe your father's fairy tales. Elite Cog is just a fancy term for obsolete equipment. As soon as it breaks a little, it gets tossed in the trash. Like me now."

"But you saved me," Elara countered. He stepped closer, looking at the large hole in Zenith's back from the projectile. "You were hurt protecting me. Ordinary robots wouldn't do that unless they had loyalty in their core."

Zenith sighed, his metal shoulders slumping. He was deeply uncomfortable with this serious conversation. "Listen, Prince. I didn't help you because of loyalty. I just don't want the Lower District getting louder because some noble corpse attracts more of Valerius's soldiers here. It's a hassle, you know? Scrap prices might drop drastically."

Marcus gripped Zenith's rusty shoulder, forcing him to make eye contact. "Why are you hiding your identity, Zenith? With your power, you could help us reclaim the throne. Valerius controls the palace. He is looking for the Prince to complete that Blood Oath!"

"Enough, Old Man!" Zenith snapped, this time without a trace of humor. His yellow lenses flashed briefly. "The name Zenith died with the Empress that day. The one standing in front of you now is just a nihilistic mechanic who likes collecting rusty bolts. The Blood Oath, the throne, the kingdom ... none of that matters to a robot that no longer has a function."

"But you still have that protection protocol," Marcus whispered, releasing his grip. "Omega mode just now ... that's proof you still care."

Zenith turned away, cursing his internal system which automatically activated Omega mode whenever a royal descendant was in critical danger. "That was just a system glitch, honestly. Like an old computer that suddenly opens a heavy program right before shutting down. Next time we meet enemies, I'd rather play dead. It's simpler."

Prince Elara touched Zenith's cold arm. "Zenith, I don't know what happened back then. But now, I only have the two of you. If you leave, I won't last long."

Zenith looked at the prince's small hand, then at Marcus, who looked pitiful despite his fierce expression. He felt trapped. He hated responsibility. He hated hope. To him, hope was the most wicked kind of magic that could corrupt any machine's logic.

"Damn, I really got the full package today. One stubborn veteran, one prince who’s an expert at triggering robot guilt," Zenith grumbled, tapping his forehead. "Fine, fine. But remember this: I'm not your protector. I'm just a guide so you don't die quickly in this junkyard. As soon as you're safe, I'm out."

"Thank you, Zenith," Elara said with a genuine, faint smile.

Marcus nodded, though he knew Zenith was lying to himself. He knew the robot before him was carrying an immense burden of the past, heavier than all the steel armor he once wore.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the upper part of the alley. Purple magical light began reflecting off the damp brick walls. The danger signal in Zenith's head pulsed again, this time more intensely.

"Ugh, uninvited guests again," Zenith whispered. He immediately dimmed the lights in his eyes until only minimal light remained.

"Is that them?" Elara asked, his voice trembling.

"The Vesperus Unit," Marcus said, preparing his sword again. "They’re faster than I thought. We can’t fight them in the open like this."

Zenith scanned the area quickly. His acoustic sensors picked up the clatter of Magitek weapons being charged. Enemies were approaching from the main stairs and the north alley entrance. They were cornered.

"Alright, listen to my instructions if you want to keep breathing," Zenith commanded. He walked quickly toward a heavy iron manhole cover, filthy with moss and oil.

"We're going through there?" Marcus asked with a look of disgust. "That’s the Lower District’s main sewer line!"

Zenith pried open the manhole cover with his iron pipe without much difficulty. A terrible stench immediately wafted out, a mixture of chemical waste, sewage water, and rotting organic matter.

"If you want something fragrant, you should go back to the palace and ask Valerius for perfume," Zenith sneered. "This hole is the only path they can't track using thermal sensors. Only a crazy robot like me would go through here, so they won't expect it."

The sound of enemy footsteps grew closer, now only a few meters beyond the alley corner. The enemy commander's shouts began to be heard, ordering his troops to spread out.

"Come on, hurry up and get in! Stop being such pampered humans!" Zenith shoved Prince Elara into the dark hole, followed by Marcus, who hissed, holding his breath against the smell.

Zenith stood at the edge of the hole, watching the shadows of the enemies beginning to appear at the end of the alley. He offered one last comment before jumping down.

"Welcome to the foulest underground tour in the history of the Magitek Kingdom. Don't forget to hold your breath, damn it!"

Zenith leaped into the darkness of the manhole just as a purple projectile struck the spot where he had been standing. He pulled the iron cover shut from the inside, sealing their escape route. On the surface, the Vesperus hunters found only an empty alley smelling of oil and dust, while underground, the mad escape of the Elite Cog and the Banished Prince had just begun. Amidst the darkness of the sewer line, which vibrated from the explosion above, Zenith could sense Elara’s terrified heartbeat, and for the first time in a long time, his circuits didn't feel nihilistic. He felt hungry for vengeance.

But the calm was only momentary, because from the darkness of the pipe ahead, a mechanical growl sounded, far more terrifying than any Shadow Construct. Something was waiting for them inside that sewage darkness. Zenith prepared his iron pipe, his combat sensors screaming about a new threat approaching in the chilling silence.

"Of course," Zenith muttered in the dark, "today really wasn't going to end easily, was it?”