Chapter 48: Protocol Zero
"Gather up!" I shouted, vaulting over the gantry railing. The Tempest's Requiem instantly woke up in my chest, beating a heavy, dread-song rhythm against my ribs that drowned out the wailing of the city horns.
The Pack poured out of the residential ramp, their faces pale, sleep instantly banished. Mistress Vael and Master Elias emerged fully armed.
I dropped to one knee on the hangar floor, my pristine white Founder's Hyperweave stretching effortlessly with the motion. The glowing sapphire mana-lines threaded through my flight jacket pulsed in time with my racing heart. Beside me, Aria stood in her sleek black, silver-threaded half-jacket, her dual hammers magnetically locked to her utility belt.
We pulled Kaelen, Elara, and Jax into a tight embrace. The teenagers looked like an elite strike force in their matte-charcoal ArcVeil Aegis flight suits. Double X-belts rested on their hips, and the Guild insignias on their right chests glowed with their elemental affinities—Kaelen's a fierce ruby red, Elara's a sharp emerald green. The younger Claws and Cubs piled in around them, Little Pip crying softly as he gripped Aria's sleeve.
"You are the masters of this ship now," I said, looking the First Fangs in the eye. "Keep them inside. Nobody plays hero. Understand?"
"We protect the Pack," Elara said, her chin high, though her fingerless gloves shook as she gripped her weapons.
"We're coming back," Aria whispered, kissing Pip's head. "I promise."
I. The First Word
"Angel, execute Protocol Zero," I commanded through the seamless comms built into my jacket's collar.
Bee marched to the front of the ramp. His massive Virtue Beetle frame settled into a heavy standby stance. His hydraulic legs slammed into the concrete, deploying spiked anchors that shattered the floor and locked him directly into the bedrock. His optics shifted to a solid, tactical red, and his massive GM-Bazooka locked directly into his chest.
I walked up to Bee and placed my hand on his massive, cold leg-guard. "Bee... I'm leaving my heart in this room. You don't let anyone through that door. Not a cultist, not a Dragon-kin, not a god. You hold this line."
The warehouse went deathly silent. Even the city horns seemed to fade into the background. Then, a voice emerged from the giant—deep, resonant, and vibrating through the floorboards and into our very souls.
"THE. CUBS. ARE. SAFE."
I staggered back, the visceral shock of it hitting me like a physical blow to the chest. My breath hitched, my hand flying to my mouth as I looked up into Bee's optics. I was searching for the logic gates, searching for the AI code—but all I saw was the unwavering, protective gaze of a father.
Behind me, Aria let out a small, broken sob. The First Fangs froze, their pale faces turning upward in pure, unadulterated awe. To hear the giant speak—to hear the machine they had lived beside for years finally claim them as his own—was the benediction we all needed.
Beside him, Exia gave a single, sharp nod, acknowledging the heavy-siege Anima as a brother-in-arms. Lyric, already seated in his Guardian Mech, let out a low chirrup of confirmation as his gatling cannons spun up.
II. The Launch
"Enough weeping," Mistress Vael barked, her violet eyes flashing as she deployed her Obsidian-Reaper skates. Beside her, Nightfall, her massive black panther Anima, let out a terrifying roar. "Try to keep up, Architect!"
She blurred into motion, her matte-black Aegis suit completely absorbing the light as she blasted out of the warehouse doors. Basalt glided right behind her on gravity-null vents, Master Elias standing tall on the tortoise's back with his staff alight.
I ran to the Liger Zero Jager, pausing to look at the unfinished 00-Titan Frame one last time. "Figure out what I missed," I whispered toward the kids watching from the ramp, hoping someone would see what I couldn't.
I turned my back on the Titan and vaulted into the Liger's cockpit. Aria swung into the Shadow Fox Mirage.
LAUNCH.
The Large Ion Turbo Boosters ignited, blasting a crater into the concrete. We tore out of Warehouse 4, leaving our family and the unfinished god-machine behind as the heavy iron doors groaned shut, sealing them in darkness.
III. The View from the Wall
We rode through the chaotic streets like a thunderbolt, catching Vael and Elias at the North Gate. The Liger and Shadow Fox leaped onto the primary wall, landing heavily on the stone ramparts beside the city's trembling militia.
I looked out over the valley, and the breath caught in my throat.
The valley was a sea of scales. Beast-Type Dragon-kin—massive feral drakes the size of siege towers—clawed at the earth, roaring at the city's shimmering Resonant Canopy. Behind them marched thousands of Humanoid Dragon-kin warriors, their armor glinting in the pale morning light.
But far in the back, looming over the tree line like a dark, jagged mountain, was the True-Blood.
Its scales were the color of dried blood and obsidian. It didn't roar. It didn't thrash. It sat perfectly still, its glowing, ancient reptilian eyes watching Oakhaven with a terrifying, calculating intelligence.
"By the Gods..." Elias whispered over the comm-network, his voice trembling as he gripped his staff.
I gripped the Jager's controls, feeling the massive surge of sapphire particles bleeding from my Thunderheart core into the Liger's frame.
"Hold the line," I commanded, the Tempest's Requiem drowning out my fear. "Nothing gets past this wall."