EXILE COG: OMEGA PROTOCOL

Chapter 7: Harbingers of Distant Ruin

Zenith's massive feet sank almost ankle-deep into the gray ash covering the expanse of the Ashfall Desert. Every movement of his hydraulic joints triggered a faint squeak that clashed with the whistle of the dry wind carrying metallic particles. Behind him, Prince Elara struggled to catch his breath, covering his nose and mouth with a piece of silk that had faded to a dull color. Marcus brought up the rear, his hand never far from his sword hilt, his eyes constantly sweeping the horizon that shimmered with heat mirages.

“Damn, this desert seriously has no manners,” Zenith grumbled, his head rotating one hundred eighty degrees backward to ensure his two companions were still breathing. “If these air filters clog up because of this dust, I’m sending the service bill straight to your royal budget, Prince.”

Elara coughed softly, his eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun reflecting off the silica and iron particles. “Keep the receipt, Zenith. If we survive this, you can take the entire parts warehouse at the palace.”

“Now that’s what I call work motivation,” Zenith replied. He turned back around, his optical lenses automatically zooming in. “Wait, there’s something ahead more interesting than just sand and despair.”

About five hundred meters ahead, a thin plume of black smoke rose into the pale yellow sky. It wasn’t natural smoke from subterranean heat vents. It was the smoke of burning synthetic materials. As they drew closer, the sight that greeted them brought Marcus to an immediate halt.

It was the remains of a small Magitek village, an outpost typically used by energy crystal miners. Now, the village was nothing more than a pile of charcoal and twisted metal. Prefabricated homes were ripped apart as if struck by an invisible giant hand. Most horrifying were the carcasses of worker automatons scattered across the streets, all severed with a precision only achievable by high-level sorcery or dark Magitek weaponry.

“This wasn’t just an attack,” Marcus whispered, his voice hoarse as he knelt beside a destroyed transport unit. He touched the metal edge, which still held traces of a faint, pulsing purple energy. “This is total annihilation. They didn’t take the crystals. They just wanted to destroy everything.”

Elara walked slowly through the debris, his face pale. He spotted a small, half-burned rag doll near a ruined doorway. “Why would they do this, Marcus? The people here have nothing to do with palace politics.”

Zenith stood motionless in the center of the dead village. His Omega combat sensor pulsed beneath his Exile consciousness layer, feeding him cold, tactical data. “Valerius isn’t playing hide-and-seek anymore, Kid,” Zenith said, his tone losing some of its sarcasm. “He’s clearing the chessboard. He’s not just hunting you. He’s conducting a mass extermination campaign against all elements still using standard Magitek technology. He wants to replace everything with his own version of Dark Magitek.”

“But that’s insane!” Elara exclaimed. “Without the standard energy grid, the economy of the outer territories will completely collapse.”

“Madmen usually don’t care about financial reports, Your Highness,” Zenith retorted, crouching down. He jabbed his metal finger into the scorched earth, then pulled it back. “Uh oh, this is worse than I thought. There are traces of active tracking frequencies here. Levels far above standard radar.”

Marcus stood up, instantly alert. “You mean they know we’re here?”

“They should,” Zenith said, his head twitching like a searching radar. “Valerius’s dark sorcery is like black ink poured into clear water. It disrupts the Magitek energy network across this entire region. Ironically, because I’m ancient scrap metal with rusted communication systems, that interference makes me harder for them to track. I’m like a ghost in a static storm.”

Elara watched Zenith closely. He realized something. During this day-long journey, Zenith had never truly relaxed. Though his mouth constantly spewed ridiculous jokes, the robot’s optical lenses were always moving, scanning angles humans ignored. Elara began to mimic the movement; he watched the wind direction, the shadows behind the dunes, and the patterns of wild mechanoid tracks in the distance.

“Zenith,” Elara called softly. “On that hill to the left, there’s a reflection of light. Is that the enemy?”

Zenith paused for a moment, visually zooming in on the spot Elara indicated. “No, that’s just a Scavenger Drone carcass baking in the sun. But good job, Prince. Your eyes are getting sharp. If you keep this up, maybe I won’t have to bother babysitting you while we sleep.”

“I don’t want to just be a burden, Zenith,” Elara stated firmly. “If Valerius really intends to destroy everything, then I have to learn how to see what he sees.”

Marcus looked at Elara with a mixture of pride and sadness. The heir to the throne was being forced into adulthood by the fires of war. “We have to keep moving, Prince. We can’t stay here too long. The stench of death will attract hungry wild mechanoids.”

They continued their journey as the sun began to slip toward the western horizon, turning the Ashfall Desert into a vast, frightening ocean of long shadows. The air temperature dropped drastically, from scorching heat to a bone-chilling cold. Zenith led them toward a crevice beneath a steep rock face to shelter from the sharp night wind.

“Alright, we stop here,” Zenith commanded. “Don’t light a campfire unless you want Vesperus hunter units dropping by for dinner.”

“How are we supposed to eat in the dark?” Marcus complained, though he followed the instructions.

“With your mouth, Uncle. Not your ears,” Zenith retorted, tossing dry rations toward Marcus. “I’m activating Silent Watch mode. My passive sensors will cover a two-kilometer radius. If someone farts a mile away, I’ll know.”

Zenith stood at the edge of the crevice, his back to Elara and Marcus, who were trying to arrange bedding from worn cloths. He stared out at the vast desert expanse under the pale moonlight. Internally, Zenith was wrestling with himself. Fragments of Omega mode memory tried to warn him about Valerius’s usual siege tactics.

“My circuits are running hot,” Zenith whispered to himself. “This guilt is seriously damaging my power efficiency. Why should I care about that destroyed village? It’s just a pile of scrap.”

Yet, in his deepest logic circuits, he knew it wasn't scrap. It was a warning. Valerius wouldn't stop until the entire kingdom was enslaved by Dark Magitek.

“Zenith?” Elara’s voice broke his mechanical reverie.

Zenith turned slightly. “What is it now, Your Highness? Can’t sleep because the bed isn’t soft enough?”

Elara approached, sitting beside Zenith’s large metal foot. “Thank you for telling me about the village. I mean, about the harsh reality. Marcus always tries to shield me from the bad things, but you’re always honest, even if your honesty is annoying.”

Zenith was silent for a moment. His optical lenses blinked softly. “Honesty is free, Prince. Lying requires extra computational power, and my battery life is limited. Better save it for something else.”

Elara smiled faintly, then rested his head on his knees, gazing at the silent horizon. “I promise, Zenith. I will be a King worthy of your protection.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go to sleep,” Zenith replied, turning away again.

The night deepened over the Ashfall Desert. The silence was broken only by the roar of the wind and the occasional mechanical growl of wild predators in the distance. Zenith remained standing still, like a forgotten iron monument.

Suddenly, Zenith’s acoustic sensors picked up an unfamiliar frequency. A subtle, high-frequency vibration, propagating through the sand grains beneath his feet. It wasn't the footsteps of wild mechanoids. It was an encrypted data transmission pattern.

“Damn it,” Zenith hissed, his eyes flashing red for a moment.

He rotated his head, scanning the cliff face above them. There, in the darkness of the night, a slender shadow with glowing purple sensor eyes stood motionless, staring directly at their camp. The shadow didn't move, as if it were merely part of the rock, yet Zenith knew exactly what it was.

It was a high-level Shadow Tracker, Valerius's deadliest reconnaissance unit. And if one was there, the main force was only a few hours behind.

Zenith slowly clenched his fist, cables in his arm sparking faintly from the sudden increase in electrical tension. The cliffhanger was real; they were no longer merely on the run. They were silently surrounded, and dawn might never come for the three of them if Zenith didn't make a brutal decision within seconds.

“Prince, Marcus ... wake up,” Zenith whispered, his voice suddenly shifting to the cold baritone of Omega. “The guests have arrived, and they didn’t bring presents.”