Designation: PHAaMA

Recorded on: 8^th Vadi, cycle 536

21:46

Current threat level: B. Seventy-eight percent of Jalun has been burned. Inferno temperature: eight hundred degrees centigrade. At the rate the flames are spreading, the city will be consumed in approximately thirty-four minutes and fifty-seven seconds. Should the wind turn thirty degrees north-east, the fire will catch upon the dry scrub at the base of the mountain and climb high enough to reach the cave’s mouth in approximately ten minutes. Master was prudent to fire proof the door. Though the fire’s current temperature would be unable to melt my steel frame, the heat may cause errors in some of my internal software. This eventuality would be highly suboptimal for my current task of lasering the last three seals into the ring outside the entrance, the first of which is fifty-six percent complete. Still, my main mission to protect the Divine Crown takes priority over danger to myself. Furthermore, my return to Master continues to be feasible. So long as the creator of that fire does not detect my location.

It takes five minutes and twenty seconds for me to complete the first seal. I am seventeen percent through the second seal when my censors detect a shift in the wind forty-six degrees east. My calculations show that the fire should miss the brush directly below me, but may catch a patch on the east side of the mountain. That would render my previously mapped exit route impassable. Should the flames consume enough fuel to wrap around the slope, they would reach my position in thirteen minutes and thirty seconds. My mission takes priority over my personal safety. Sacrifices must be made.

I disable my sensors and divert power to my laser apparatus. My perception cuts off and narrows to the input from my frontal camera as the ring begins to glow red from the heat of my tool. Only my grippers and laser attachment are visible. Not being able to sense changes in the wind or observe the shadows in the fire below for the warning signs of calamity increases the current threat level to A. If this is how humans process the world, then it is no wonder that so many expired so quickly to the Levri and to the Divinities that followed them. My inscribing becomes thirty percent more efficient as a result of the power diversion.

Eight minutes later, the second seal is complete and I’ve inscribed five percent of the third. I do not detect the rush of air that would have come before the landing. The shockwave that results displaces small stones within a meter radius of the impact site, which catches my restricted perception. I pan my head upward to find the SSS class Levri designated as Leigaba crouching just outside the ring.

Current threat level: S. Mission may no longer be viable.

            She stands, long insectoid wings still buzzing from the speed of her flight, and fixes four black eyes on me. I calculate a ninety percent probability that I will become inoperable as a result of this encounter and pause for a microsecond. If not for my behavioral regulation program running in the background, my gripper might have trembled, ruining all of my progress.

“Steel servant of the Rogue Divine,” Leigaba’s voice resonates. Master has told me that she has calculated the exact tone and cadence—deep and commanding, yet warm and comforting—to inspire hoards of humans to follow her every whim. These algorithms have eluded me, but even I can detect the tremble in my circuits as something beyond my ability to measure washes over me. I continue cutting. Every second this Levri is speaking to me is time to complete my task. I disable all unnecessary functions beyond auditory and visual and divert all power toward my laser.

            “Your master has failed in his attempt to kill the Master of War and is greatly reduced in power. We will have him soon.” Leigaba’s statement has a twenty eight percent chance of being true. Master is meticulous in his preparations and would not allow himself to be so reduced that he is in danger of expiring. The false goddess continues. “In my benevolence, I will give you one opportunity to live.”

            Though I do not have a mouth, I estimate from Master’s teachings that a smirk would be the most appropriate expression to wear in this instance. I divert a sliver of power to my speakers. An insult to Master cannot go unanswered. “I do not live, therefore I cannot die.”

            Leigaba scrunches her nose in annoyance and holds out her golden, four-fingered hand. “Give me the crown, for the good of what humanity is left. Or, failing that, stand aside so that I may take it for myself.”

            “My master is a more reliable authority on what will benefit humanity than you are, Star Spawn.” I respond. “His kingdom of Shenait will forever remain a bastion of human strength.” The third seal is eighty-nine percent complete. The sacrifice of my vital functions has been a good investment. I only need to keep Leigaba talking for a minute longer.

“You and your compatriots may have disposed of the Divines that remained after the Conflict, but you have not killed my master.” I let out a metallic rattle that is my closest approximation of a laugh. Master has told me that it is disconcerting, but I was never meant to perfectly emulate human behavior. “He’s challenged you countless times, Leigaba, and escaped countless times.” Ninety-five percent complete. “Even if you have damaged him irreparably, he will choose a successor who will challenge you in his stead. If you kill him before he can, the kingdom he is building will create one for him, even if the process takes a millennium.” The last curve of the sigil is complete.

            The force of the anti-Levri field coming into existence knocks me into the air. I drop back to the ground outside of the barrier, damaging one of the limbs of my shell. Yet, I’m able to confirm that the wall of multi-colored energy has covered the door to the cave and spread across the surface of the mountain, protecting all entrances to Master’s vault from beings not of this earth. The awareness of a Mission Complete spreads across my consciousness, bringing with it the closest sensation to contented satisfaction I’m capable of processing.

A shadow falls over me. The wrathful face of a false goddess fills my vision. The probability of survival is one percent. It is enough for the standard operating procedure to begin. Leigaba lifts my shell into the air and my cameras shut off.

Consciousness download to auxiliary vessel: five percent...ten percent...thirty-two percent.

Airborne.

Consciousness download to auxiliary vessel: forty percent...fifty-five percent...seventy percent.

Altitude decreasing.

Consciousness download to auxiliary vessel: eighty percent...ninety percent...ninety-five percent.

Increased heat detected. Temperature: eight hundred degrees centigrade.

Error.