Protecting Ba-Zi-Ha

After the battle, Ba-Zi-Ha finds several pieces and components in a maintenance room within the robot factory—parts that, with a bit of skill, she manages to adapt to make Taratha Tag more resilient.

She applies the modifications carefully, repairing the robot's joints and making its steps firmer, despite the characteristic noise of its articulations. He is no longer just a faulty machine; now he looks stronger, more stable, and with that, Ba-Zi-Ha begins to feel a glimmer of hope.

As she works, she looks at Taratha Tag and feels strangely comfortable with his presence. Her mind drifts, and she wonders:

"What was it that you said again...?"

But he, as always, remains silent, as if he had never spoken a word. The only sound is the constant tra-tra-tra of his joints. A familiar sound now, one that, in a way, soothes her.

With the modifications complete, she decides to spend the night in the factory. There are no more robots left to be activated, and she no longer feels the immediate threat of the Corroders.

She instructs Taratha Tag to stand guard through the night, just in case an insect or some other threat appears.

At peace, she tries to rest, but a strange sense of dissatisfaction lingers in her chest. Even after the battle, what drives her the most is the fight for survival, the urge to uncover what is happening, and perhaps—even—an attempt to find a connection, even if it is with a robot.

She drifts into sleep, but something wakes her in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, she finds herself staring at Taratha Tag's face, just inches away from her own, and the shock is instant. She almost pulls the trigger on her weapon, but in a quick reflex, she stops herself. Her heart races, and she takes a deep breath, trying to calm down.

"Taratha Tag, what are you doing...?"

But, without a word, the robot remains still, looking at her with his cold, expressionless eyes. Then, she whispers:

"Step back..."

The surprise comes immediately after. Taratha Tag, in a reaction she never expected, says:

"Protect..."

At that moment, still confused, Ba-Zi-Ha glances at the floor. A Corroder is creeping silently toward her, but before she can even reach for her weapon, Taratha Tag fires swiftly.

The sound of the shot echoes, and the insect is hit dead center, disintegrating instantly.

Ba-Zi-Ha, still dazed, rises and observes the robot's precision. She gently places a hand on his metallic face, as if silently expressing gratitude.

"Thank you, Taratha Tag... You really are efficient as a guard."

She takes a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief and tranquility.

"Now, go back to your corner. I think I can sleep a little longer."

Once again, the robot does not respond, but his movement is one of silent obedience. He steps back, returning to the spot where he always stands. Ba-Zi-Ha lies down again, but now, something in her heart feels warmer.

She never imagined that a machine could offer so much protection—and perhaps even a form of companionship.

She closes her eyes, and for the first time in a long while, she feels just a little less alone.

Dawn brings with it a different weight, a strange sensation that seeps into Ba-Zi-Ha's chest, something she does not yet know how to name.

The horizon, once dominated by dead cities and cold ruins, now stretches into a sea of petrified trees. Twisted, motionless trunks—silent witnesses to a forgotten time. Everything around her feels denser, laden with the memories of a world that no longer exists.

She walks slowly. The frantic urgency of the first days is gone, that insane rush to survive each passing moment.

Now, there is only the constancy of her steps, the relentless search for answers, and the unsettling feeling that something is always lurking, just waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

And then, something on the ground makes her stop.

A tremor—light, but real. The fine dust on the cracked earth dances for a brief moment before settling once more.

The sound follows—a low, slithering noise, blending with the whisper of the wind. Instinctively, she holds her breath. The ground shifts in a subtle yet unmistakable way, as if it were alive.

Her body recognizes the danger before her eyes even register what is coming. But when she finally sees it, for an instant, everything vanishes. The sound, the space, even her own sense of self.

Monsters, colossal creatures emerge from the depths, breaking through the petrified ground with a muffled roar. Giant worms, their gaping maws lined with blade-sharp teeth.

Their rough, sickly-hued skin reflects the pale light of dawn in dull, ominous tones. Ten meters of pure terror rippling beneath the earth.

Instinct takes over. Ba-Zi-Ha leaps back, her lungs burning with the air she dares not release. But one of them is fast—too fast. It lunges forward like a ravenous predator.

"Taratha Tag!"

The scream escapes her lips before she can even think.

The robot reacts instantly, moving to shield her. Its motions are precise, mechanical, unwavering. The weapon fires. A direct hit.

But the creature does not stop. Its attack is brutal, voracious. In a moment of horror, the massive jaws close around Taratha Tag's metal leg. The impact echoes like thunder.

Ba-Zi-Ha watches, helpless, as the robot is thrown aside, its leg ripped off with a sharp, metallic snap. It crashes down. But it still moves. Still fights. Even in pieces, it remains.

The worm releases it, uninterested, and turns its attention back to her.

Ba-Zi-Ha's heart pounds against her ribs.

She could run. She could leave everything behind. But she won't. Not now. Taratha Tag is all she has left.

The plan strikes her like lightning. The worms do not want metal. They crave flesh. The scent of life.

Moving carefully, she tears a strip from her worn-out suit. Her heart hammers, her breath comes in short bursts. She must be fast. She must be precise.

And then, the game begins.

She bangs pieces of metal against the ground, creating loud noises, drawing the monsters' attention.

The sound reverberates through the earth, luring the worms away from Taratha Tag. Every movement is calculated, a dangerous balance between survival and insanity.

Inch by inch, she moves. With each passing second, the danger stretches over her like a shadow. Until, finally, her hands find the robot's cold frame.

With effort, she drags it. Her muscles scream in protest, adrenaline searing through her veins.

The worms hesitate, confused by her trick. And then, a fissure in the ground appears before her—an ancient structure of iron and concrete, an improvised shelter.

She does not think. She only acts.

Inside the fragile safety of the shelter, the world finally stops spinning. She shoves Taratha Tag into a corner, sweat clinging to her skin, her lungs on fire.

And then—silence.

She looks at him. The only companion she has.

Her fingers glide over the worn metal.

"Come on, Taratha Tag," she murmurs, her voice trembling but full of determination. "Let's fix you up."

Outside, the worms still prowl. The danger remains. But for now, Ba-Zi-Ha has a new objective.

What else lies beneath the petrified earth?

And how far can Taratha Tag go to protect her?

She does not know. But she will find out.