EXILE COG: OMEGA PROTOCOL

Chapter 5: Critical Oversight and False Self-Control

"Pull your hand back now if you want to keep all your fingers, Marcus!" Zenith snapped.

Blue electrical sparks flashed from the exposed circuits on Zenith’s metal arm, narrowly missing the nose of Marcus, who was leaning in with a suspicious gaze. In the silence of the Magitek train station, dead for decades, the unstable hum of energy sounded like the groan of an ancient creature. The smell of burnt oil and ozone gas filled the stale, dusty air. Prince Elara sat on an old wooden crate nearby, watching the two with tired eyes red from lack of sleep.

"I just want to make sure you aren't installing something that could kill us when you turn into a monster again," Marcus retorted coldly, his hand resting warily on the hilt of his cracked sword. "What are you doing with those wires?"

Zenith snorted, the ventilator in his chest grating harshly. His rusted metal hand moved with frightening precision, twisting delicate fiber optics as if they were sewing thread. "I'm trying to keep my core from exploding, Old Man. Damn, you have low standards if you think I'd install a bomb in my own body. It's a hassle cleaning up the mess afterward, you know."

"You know what I mean," Marcus countered, his voice low and threatening. "I saw you out there, Zenith. I saw Omega. That wasn't the usual junk bot that mocks me. That was a soulless slaughter machine. How can I know you won't lose control and snap Prince Elara's neck while we sleep?"

The atmosphere on the dark station platform suddenly chilled. The portable Magitek lamp on the floor flickered, casting giant, distorted shadows on the cracked cement wall. Zenith stopped moving. His dull optical lenses stared straight at Marcus. Deep within his core, a thermal warning began to pulse, a sign that the Omega personality was attempting to crawl out from behind the layers of trauma.

"Listen up, Old Veteran," Zenith said, his tone turning flat and heavy, an indication of danger that made Marcus draw his sword slightly from its sheath. "That Warlord Mode ... it's just an automatic system protocol. Emergency Override. It surfaces because my damage has reached a critical limit. I have no more control over it than you have over the gray hairs on your head."

"Don't lie to me!" Marcus yelled, his voice echoing off the arched station ceiling. "I know Elite Cog models like you! You aren't damaged, you're fractured! There is madness in your system, Zenith. You are a mechanical time bomb!"

Zenith gave a dry laugh, the sound like metal scraping across a tombstone. "Damn, you get poetic when you panic. If I'm a time bomb, why am I still here? Why didn't I just let those hunters tear you both apart earlier? My logic dictates that saving you is unprofitable, yet I did it anyway. So shut your mouth and let the mechanic work."

"Enough!"

The voice was small, yet possessed the authority to halt the confrontation. Prince Elara stood up from his crate, stepping toward the two figures arguing beneath the dim light. His youthful face was pale, but his eyes radiated a firmness that reminded Marcus of King Aethelred.

"Sir Marcus, sheath your sword," Elara commanded softly but firmly.

"But Prince, he is extremely dangerous, "

"I know he is dangerous, Marcus," Elara cut in, his eyes now shifting to Zenith, who was still holding the wires pulled from his own abdomen. "But I also know that without him, we would already be ash in the Lower District. My father once told me about the Elite Cogs. He said they were created not just to fight, but to remain loyal until their very last circuit burned out."

Zenith turned his head away, trying to avoid the Prince's gaze. The long-standing guilt, the pain of failing to save the Empress, suddenly felt like a short circuit burning out his emotional sensors.

"Prince, don't listen to those old fairy tales," Zenith muttered cynically. "Elite Cogs are just expensive junk labeled as heroes."

Elara shook his head, stepping closer until his small hand touched the cold, dented surface of Zenith's shoulder armor. "Perhaps you feel like junk, Zenith. But you saved me. My father chose you as the kingdom's chief mechanic for a reason. And now, in this place, I choose you too. I am placing my personal trust in you."

Marcus was stunned, his jaw hardening, but he slowly released the hilt of his sword. The Prince's words were an absolute command, but more than that, there was an honesty that crippled his prejudice.

Zenith felt his internal sensors churn. He wanted to crack a crude joke to destroy the sentimental atmosphere, but the words caught in his mechanical throat. Trust was the last thing he wanted. Trust was a burden that made his Warlord Mode hungrier for brutal protection.

"Damn ... you're really good at giving a robot a headache, Your Highness," Zenith finally said, his voice returning to his usual Exile tone, though slightly shaky. "Fine, since you put it that way, I'll try to keep the 'Crazy Warlord' mode from coming out for dinner. But don't blame me if he only comes out to stomp on enemies, okay?"

Elara smiled faintly, relief radiating from his face. "Thank you, Zenith."

"That's enough, Prince, you should rest," Marcus said in a softer tone, though his eyes remained fixed on Zenith. "We will be entering the Ashfall Desert in a few hours. The journey there will be ten times harder than this."

Prince Elara nodded and returned to his crate, trying to find a sleeping position amidst the hard wood and cold concrete. Marcus sat leaning against a pillar, closing his eyes but keeping his ears alert for every metallic sound coming from Zenith.

For the next few hours, the station was filled only with the monotonous ticking of machinery. Zenith worked silently, dismantling non-functional modules in his chest cavity. His optical lenses scanned the pile of components scattered on the floor, the remnants of his past glory.

Suddenly, his hand stopped on a small chip that glowed a faint purple. It was the Emotion Detection Module, a comfort component installed in Elite Cogs to make them more 'human' when interacting with royalty. Zenith stared at the component for a long time. Emotion was what made him suffer. Emotion was why past failures continued to haunt him.

"Don't need it," he whispered into the darkness.

With a rough movement, Zenith ripped the chip out. His circuits screamed momentarily, sending a wave of virtual pain throughout his system. He tossed the expensive chip onto the pile of dust as if it were just a rusted bolt. In its place, he rerouted the remaining power to his energy shield generator and tactical scanning protocols.

He sacrificed his ability to 'feel' in order to strengthen his ability to 'protect.'

As the sun began to cast a pale light at the station tunnel entrance, Zenith stood up. His body looked leaner, but the aura he projected was now colder and sharper. He woke Marcus and Elara with a gentle kick to their feet.

"Wake up, you burdens on the state! The sightseeing starts now," Zenith called out, his nihilistic tone fully restored. "The Ashfall Desert is waiting to roast your soft flesh."

They packed their remaining belongings. Marcus stared at Zenith for a moment, realizing something was different about the robot's gaze, something that seemed more ... focused, yet empty.

As they stepped out of the station's shadows toward the vast expanse of gray desert ahead, Zenith's long-range sensors suddenly picked up a high-frequency signal he knew intimately. It wasn't a signal from a wild robot, nor was it from a common hunter.

"Stop," Zenith commanded, his voice instantly shifting to Omega's.

On the horizon, beyond the plumes of hot Ashfall Desert dust, the silhouettes of five giant Shadow Constructs stood motionless, as if they had been waiting there for a long time. But what nearly froze Zenith's logic core wasn't their number, but the silver-robed figure standing in the center of the monsters.

High Sorcerer Valerius was staring directly at them through his magical mirror projection, and he was smiling.

"Run toward the dunes now!" Zenith yelled, shoving Elara forward, just as a dark energy projectile struck the station pillar behind them, shattering it into cosmic dust.

The real fight in the land of exile had just begun, and this time, Zenith wasn't sure if his protection protocols would be enough to withstand the coming storm. The cliffhanger peaked as the ground beneath their feet began to shake violently, signaling that something buried beneath the desert sand was rising to greet the blood of the heir to the throne.