Gaia called me into the holographic theatre as soon as I woke up. She prefaced it as a 'critical revision in our strategy to capture Hephaestus'. If it was good news, she would have just told me outright. I prepared for the worst.
Gaia's original estimate on the time it would take to merge Hephaestus using Omega Clearance had proven...overly optimistic. After analysing the data from Thebes, Gaia had run another of Beta's simulations and projected the actual merge time to be closer to 34 hours. That's too long. More than enough time for the Zeniths to visit each of the Cauldron sites, even assuming they weren't splitting up to cover more ground. There had to be something we could do to speed things up.
There were two cores at Cauldron Gemini by necessity. That meant that, technically, both could be authenticated into and used to access Hephaestus at the same time. Two members of the Alpha Registry, elevating their access to Omega simultaneously, doubling the processing power and memory available to the merging process. Plus, with two connections, Hepheastus would have to double its efforts in blocking us out. I asked Gaia about this possibility, and she ran a few calculations based on the simulation parameters. It'd cut the merge time down by a lot—down to around 3 hours. That was doable; we might be able to get in and out without the Zeniths crashing the party. Problem was, Beta would have to come with us. Not only leave her basement room, but the Base itself, and travel all the way across the desert to the Gate of the Vanquished. I had a feeling she wouldn't be enthused about that.
Calling Varl over Focus, I asked him to go give Beta the news. Might be better she heard it from him than Gaia, and certainly better than me. Things never come out the way I want them to, with her.
I wasn't surprised when, only a minute or so later, Varl called me back to say Beta was in bad shape. Having another one of her panic episodes, I gathered. She wouldn't even consider the idea? She knew how important this was. I just couldn't see how she mustered the courage to steal the second Gaia kernel and escape the Zeniths back in the Ninmah lab, but now could do nothing but hide in the dark and wait for all of this to be over. So I marched on down to the basement, finding Varl at the door, placative. Clearly worried I was about to tear Beta to pieces. He didn't think anything could convince Beta to accompany us to Gemini. Well, we'd see about that.
Beta didn't look up when I walked in, didn't even acknowledge me. She just sat there fiddling with one of the pulse generators, even as I crouched down in front of her, trying to get on her level so she'd look me in the eyes. I wasn't here to coddle her; I told her outright. It's only one mission, the most important one of all, and we need her.
No response. She stood up and walked away from me, holding up the pulse generator as if inspecting it. It was pretty obvious she was just trying to make me go away, as if ignoring me would shut me up. Maybe that worked on Varl, but not me. I asked her to just tell me why she refused to come. Finally she put down the generator, turned, bared herself, then began to pace as she always did, head down, muttering.
She named the obvious reason: she was afraid that the Zeniths would find us at Gemini and take her back, keep her as their slave. She tried to appeal to me; she couldn't bear the thought of being trapped in a cell again, alone. I understood that—I couldn't imagine what it had been like for her—but her fears were irrelevant to the mission.
She still couldn’t see past her own problems, as if they could take precedence over the fate of the world. And it made no sense—the only way she would ever be safe from Far Zenith was if we defeated them with Hephaestus. Optimal solution, as she said. This was the only way, and she knew it—understood the tech better than any of us. Was she planning on staying down here while the rest of us went out and risked our lives warding off the Zeniths for thirty-plus hours? If we died, they’d come straight here and take her anyway.
I lost my cool, got up in her face; the Zeniths were a threat to all life on this planet, not just her. It was time for Beta to find her courage and use it to put a stop to them forever.
For a moment it looked like she might have actually been considering my point, but when I tried to offer my assurances, she rounded on me, fuming. She snapped at me, claiming I still had no conception of what the Zeniths were capable of. I get that they were cruel to her, but which one of us faced Erik Visser in single combat again? I knew what we were up against; I knew the odds, and the danger I was putting all of us in with this plan. The images that came into my head when I thought of all the ways it could go wrong weren't worth imagining. I brushed them away because I had to. I'd never for one day had the luxury of accepting defeat; neither had Elisabet. Why did it come so easily to Beta? Why couldn't she put her fears aside?
Beta wouldn't listen to me. No appeal to logic would sway her, that wasn't the problem. She just didn't care. Once more she rounded on me with an explosion of bitterness. Told me to leave, that I couldn't understand, and she was right.
From the moment I saw her at the Proving lab, once I'd recovered from the initial shock, I hadn't understood her. As I'd forged out into the west to carry on Elisabet's legacy, at Gaia's last wish, I'd been so sure of myself. At peace with my purpose, giving all of myself to my mission, just as Elisabet had. Then here was this reflection, warped by Far Zenith's cruelty. And she was nothing like Elisabet; quiet, fearful, arrogant without any kindness or compassion to soften it. Most of all, she was defeated. She'd been defeated a long time ago, and saw the battle ahead of us as if it were already lost.
I couldn't understand that. We shared so much, supposedly even shared the same goal, but Beta couldn't hold herself to it. But she didn't have a choice; this world demanded it of her. She may not have been born to heal it, as I was, but she had an obligation to Elisabet to reject the purpose the Zeniths chose for her. She'd taken the first step toward that when she stole the Gaia kernel and escaped them, but she couldn't go all the way. Couldn't finish this. Expected the rest of us to do it for her.
I couldn't keep hiding what I really thought of Beta. I told her I didn't understand how we could share so much, yet be so different. Why couldn't she find the strength to do what had be done, as Elisabet would? Instantly, her petulant bravado fell away; her expression sunk, and I realised I'd struck a nerve I didn't even know was there.
Her face turned despairing, her voice high and desperate. She'd thought the same; she saw what I saw. Watching through the footage on my Focus, she'd evidently been analysing my life in an attempt to answer that very question. But she'd found no reason to explain the expansive difference between us. Both of us were isolated, looked down upon by those around us as inferior, worthless; ignored, barely hearing a word spoken our way. We were denied answers in the forbidden knowledge we sought. The wilds had taught me as Apollo had taught her. I was wrong to think Beta was ignorant of all this. Every parallel I had examined and resented her for, she saw and traced, lamented.
She knew she was nothing like Elisabet, nothing like me. She hated her own weakness, but couldn't overcome it—she called it a 'defect', one she couldn't name, but it was there.
I'd never considered the fact that Beta probably idolised Elisabet as well. I wasn't sure how much she'd learned about her genetic progenitor on the Odyssey, but down here, the archive I'd collected during my search for Gaia was vast. I didn't think Beta would care whether she measured up to that image, because there was no Nora sense of spirituality in her upbringing. She'd always known what she was. Maybe she hadn't even started comparing herself to Elisabet until I did. Just from the way I came across, I'm sure she noticed—or from my mutterings to myself, conversations with Gaia. It appeared, after all, that she'd been hacking into my Focus to access data beyond what was captured in the archive room. I suppose I couldn't begrudge her that, given her history with the Apollo archive. She'd probably read these journals too—she did say all the data on my Focus. I haven't had many kind things to say. I suppose...she looked up to me. She'd seen a chance for escape in me, the idea of another life. The idea of herself as someone strong and fearless and free. Part of her probably hated me. I certainly felt that way when I came down here and was met with flat, cold irritation. Her hate mixed up with admiration; my pity mixed with frustration. Envy on both sides.
Point was, I'd made her feel defective. All my issues around Elisabet and the unattainable example she set, I’d forced onto Beta, without considering that she might actually feel that weight. The truth was, Beta's existence had shattered an illusion I'd held for a long time, that Elisabet and I were somehow linked across the ages by more than our genetics and our mission. But it wasn't Elisabet's influence, her teachings, that made me the woman I am today.
As Beta lamented the absence of a defining difference between us, I identified it right away. The new clothes helped, I think, along with the charm I pulled from my pocket.
I pulled up an old projection from my Focus, taken when I was just a kid, still figuring out the new functions of my metal 'plaything'. It showed Rost demonstrating the proper stance and grip when wielding a bow. I remember, we were about to go out hunting, beginning my long journey toward winning the Proving. He still carried me on his back sometimes, on trickier climbs.
Somewhere along my grueling, lonely way spent searching for Gaia, I'd forgotten how much Rost had meant to me—or just neglected to remember, willfully pushing painful memories away, just as Varl said. It was Rost who taught me, not the wilds. Not just how to survive, to hunt and move, but he taught me compassion, even for those who shunned me—and selflessness, pride, confidence. Courage, most of all.
I approached Beta, speaking gently. Trying my hand at genuine kindness, this time, without an edge of expectation. She was curled up on the floor, lost in her spiraling thoughts again. I told her what the difference was, and tried to explain how important Rost was in my life. He's been gone barely over a year now. It's hard to believe.
Beta rebutted my explanation. She'd obviously considered this angle before. Rost raised and trained me, but he was cold, detached, never outwardly affectionate. I guess she'd only seen how parents were meant to act toward children in her holos, for those brief few months accessing Tilda's archive, but outward displays of love could be superficial. It was harder, maybe, for Beta to see all the ways that Rost did love me, treating me as his own daughter despite his grave loss. He spent his days training me to pursue my dream, working alone to provide all I needed to survive in a valley growing in danger, surrounded by people who shunned him. And even though he planned to part ways with me, at the end, it wasn't abandonment, as Beta read it. He wasn't casting me aside, as Tilda did to her. He wanted me to embrace the culture he loved and knew, find my purpose within it, and use my strength to help others.
When Beta asked me what it felt like to be loved, I finally let myself really think about what her life had been before she escaped. She had no one, and that made all the difference between us. Her physical needs were met by servitors who ordered her to acquire knowledge to fulfill her function, to one day be rewarded by the attention of her benefactors, her creators. Her teachers were unintelligent programs with human images, programed to ignore any questions or curiosities beyond her mission. Her only understanding of human relationships and morality came from a brief exposure to Old World media. Honestly, it was a miracle she'd even recognised that the slaughter the Zeniths perpetuated was wrong. I suppose she knew what it was to be hurt by them, and though she saw herself as an instrument, perhaps worthy of it, she saw innocents that were not, and she did something about it. She gathered all the data available to her in the ruins the Zeniths dragged her to, and recontextualised her understanding of herself and her creators. Even now, within that process of reinvention, she continued to undo the harm they'd intended, lending her mind to our mission even though she didn't believe we could win. The Zeniths had absolute power over her all her life—it had to be hard to imagine a world without them. A world where we succeeded.
If I could show it to her, give her hope as I had when she'd first seen me, I knew Beta could find her courage as well.
I told her what Rost's love had done for me; it gave me a strength that I would carry forever. I realised that, in those moments when I felt hopelessness and despair closing in, I wasn't just staying strong because I had to. That resolve hadn't come from nowhere. It was Rost's voice in my head telling me to dig deep, find that slim chance of success and fight for it. When he'd instilled these lessons, I'd always been thinking of the Proving—that ultimate, all-encompassing victory. But I used them everyday. I knew I could win, and I made it happen. Elisabet's genetic code had nothing to do with it.
Dawn shone over Thornmarsh, reaching in smooth golds and searing pinks across the ocean and to the shore where I rested with Attah and her machine riding crew. I set off as the sun hit the beach, returning to the marshes.
Just outside the city, I came to a collection of watchtowers monitoring the surrounding territory. Hoping to get the lay of the land (in the absence of a Tallneck) I prepared for the climb.
It was a long way up, and the day grew scorching fast, but it was worth the view, and not just for its own sake. I spotted a Survey Drone drifting around the blighted ruins, close to where I fought that Fireclaw.
Making the breathtaking glide down, I returned to my mount and headed for the ruins, hoping Hephaestus hadn't already repopulated the area.
Fortunately, the place was quiet, apart from the thick red blight sizzling the air and soil. I climbed the tall, dry husk of a nearby tree and brought the drone down to salvage its data. Maybe once I get this back to Gaia she'll be able to analyse this 'Blood Choke' infecting the region, and figure out what makes it so resistant to Poseidon's powers of restoration.
My Focus picked up on something else in the drone's recent recordings—a small deviation from its baseline visual noise. An anomaly in bright Carja armour traveling alone, far from the road. The rumour I'd heard was right.
So, Talanah had made the journey after all, and without running into any of the local patrols. Hanging around the gates of Thornmarsh, that wouldn't stay true for long. Before she could draw any attention from the lookouts, I met her in hiding. My lowlander garb shocked her for half a moment, but then Talanah got right to business, as if our conversation at Camp Nowhere had just concluded.
I reminded her of what she'd promsied me there: the truth about Amadis and her reasons for chasing him this far. When he'd saved her from machines deep in the Jewel, they'd made a poor first impression both ways. A proud, stuck-up trophy hunter of the Lodge, and a weird jungle hermit. But when they got to talking, and Talanah saw just how much the Red Raids had stolen from him, her perspective began to change. They bonded over their grief over the lives they had lost—Talanah's father and brother, and Amadis' lover, a woman called Nessa.
I asked her outright what was obvious in her voice, and she admitted it. She loved him. A little sheepish about it, maybe a tad embarrassed, but she was earnest. I'd never seen her like that before. I don't know why her admission made me recoil so much—made me want to sink into the mud or turn and walk away. Not-envy, like I said. More like a complete inability to understand. Because this love of hers had driven her from her greatest goal in life, recently achieved and clung to since childhood. It had made her journey all the way here through incalculable danger, just in case Amadis needed her. That said, I could see in her face what his safety meant to her. Something just shy of everything, it seemed. And she was my friend. Of course I would help her see this foolish thing through.
Love was only part of the reason she'd come so far. In speaking of the closure and clarity she'd gained upon honouring her family's legacy at the Lodge, Amadis had been so taken by the idea that he'd resolved to discover Nessa's fate. She was the fellow soldier he'd lost at the battle of Burning Blooms, who'd been carted off to the Rot as prisoner and likely died there years ago. She disguised herself as a man so she'd be able to join the Carja military. Awful keen to fight for the mad Sun King, I thought, though according to Talanah she and Amadis had spent most of their time out west disobeying orders and trying to deescalate the situation. Though just their being there was escalation enough, I'm sure.
So it was guilt as well as love. Now that, I could understand. Talanah blamed herself, in a way, for Amadis coming all the way out here. She'd planted the seed of closure and healing in his head. And before he could get to any of that, he needed to discover Nessa's final fate. I didn't imagine it could've been anything good. Talanah agreed.
Knowing only that the Rot was on the coast, and that Amadis was likely to have reached it recently, if at all, Talanah led the way through the jungle.
We took a north-west road, narrow and hopefully lesser travelled. I'd like to think I could have dissuaded any local patrols from attacking a trespassing Carja noble on sight, but my reputation could only do so much. Talanah was utterly focused on the journey, and as we approached the edge of the marshes, where rusted, uniform structures sat sunk in the shallows, we found what she was searching for.
Trouble, and of course Amadis along with it. I first spotted his traps; an impressive array of shock wire strung across the path of a pursuing Fireclaw. He taunted the beast, luring it into his traps. I took the ensuing opportunity to add some shock ammo of my own, overloading one of its sparkers with my warrior bow. Talanah and Amadis closed in to hack at the Fireclaw while it was down.
Amadis hadn't done much damage to the machine yet—had he been hoping to take it down by himself? Bold, and probably idiotic—it's not like he'd have faced machines this fearsome in the Jewel—but his adeptness in traps and bombs of all types showed him to be a master hunter. Not the showy kind that frequented the Lodge, but a survivalist that would use any edge afforded to him. I still did all the work, of course, but Amadis was no amateur.
I set off the Fireclaw's sparkers whenever respite was needed—too much magma stirred up, setting the shallows to a boil—letting Talanah and Amadis get in close and wrench apart its central components. Outside of that I stuck to a proven strategy, using my new Nora-touched bow to brittle its armour before riddling it with bolts and explosive sharshots, cracking it to pieces. When we finally put it down, I stripped the kill while Amadis and Talanah stepped away to speak in private.
Conversing turned to arguing—I only caught the edge of it. As Talanah told it, Amadis had promised before setting off to send word back with the trading caravan he traveled with, and his plan had only ever been to go as far as No Man's Land. When the tunnel collapsed, he said, he had no choice but to press on, and no means to send word. He'd never wanted to worry her, never thought she'd follow. I guess he didn't know how much he meant to her. I sorely hoped he saw it now.
I butted in and introduced myself, a little awkwardly, but there was nothing else for it. I was no stranger to Amadis, despite his lone nomad lifestyle back east. Talanah had told him all about me, apparently. He was heading for the Rot, just north up the coast, but I didn't go running after him right away. Not so fast.
I asked him about Nessa, I guess wanting to get a sense of what he was really after here. From where I was standing, it might've just been suicide. I wasn't about to let him drag Talanah down with him.
Amadis explained what had happened right before the battle of Burning Blooms, when he and Nessa had been separated. He knew that the Tenakth outnumbered them greatly, they all did. They were walking into sure slaughter, yet their drunken, foolhardy commander ordered them to press on into their territory. Amadis threatened to expose his incompetence, and the commander threatened his life. When the fight was over, Amadis stood beside a very high-ranking, wealthy, and well-connected corpse.
Ever since that day, Amadis was pursued by loyalists to the Mad King—first other soldiers, then Shadow Carja, and even now, Carja bounty hunters hired by nobles who escaped persecution. The commander's family remained powerful even now, and not even Avad could stop them from carrying out justice as they saw fit. A royal pardon would certainly do him no good. He'd been a fugitive all this time. An outcast, even. Not that he looked like one, in his silks and all that ornamentation. Didn't even look particularly strong—not the formidable sort I'd pictured when Talanah described his feats. I suppose he was living in the jungle all that time, just trying to survive...I tried not to be too judgemental. Talanah made her own choice to follow him into danger, nonsensical as I found it. I couldn't blame him—I could even help him get the answers he craved without pissing off the entire Lowland clan. I don't think he'd taken survival into account before coming here. The way he told it he didn't have much left to lose.
Talanah led the way to the coast, continuing to bicker occasionally with Amadis as we went. Travelling north, we passed through a wooded stretch of land populated by Old World ruins. The sort I might not have been able to ignore had I been travelling alone. Large and well-preserved, glinting with loot and data points picked up by my Focus. Something for the return trip.
At the western edge of the ruins, we faced the Rot. Ragurt's rumours were true: the place was huge, stretching out of sight along the coastline with Tenkath structures woven above and around ancient stone walls. I had been hoping to make a good-faith approach and negotiate entry for Amadis and Talanah, but the guards at the battlements were not Lowlanders, they were rebels.
Regalla had taken the Rot. It seemed a strange strategic choice, but no doubt the place was rich in resources and ammunition. Maybe they were carting it between here and Fenrise? And now they were stranded out here on the coast. Not for much longer. Though that still left us with the question of Nessa's fate. We could only hope that the rebels hadn't killed the only Tenakth who might have remembered her.
I told Amadis and Talanah to stay put while I snuck into the compound and found a way to open the front gates. I'd be quieter alone, then we could take down the remaining rebels together. Amadis seemed unsure, but Talanah urged him to trust me. She knew I wouldn't let her down.
The Quen brought me to who I at first assumed was their leader—a serious-looking man they called Overseer Bohai. Avla had mentioned Overseers—the highest rank among the Diviners, curators and arbiters of the Legacy. Bohai wasn't as enthusiastic about my presence as I'd hoped. He recognised that I resembled Sobeck greatly, yes, but wondered if I was a threat to them, rather than an ally. After all, why would a great Ancestor be reborn among the barbarians, and not the 'Chosen People'. And there was the little fact that I'd killed a bunch of Quen soldiers back at the Greenhouse.
But they'd fired upon me without warning, giving me no choice but to fight my way through. I'd helped Alva retrieve the data she needed to save her tribe, hadn't I? Came across a little more heated than I'd intended, and Bohai's soldiers replied in turn. I was beginning to worry things were heading for a fight, when a horn sounded from the pavilion behind the Overseer. The soldiers fell silent, bowing their heads and stepping aside. Even the Overseer fell in line. I'd misjudged who was really in charge here.
Out from the profligate shelter marched a young man in a shawl adorned with beads and pearlescent shells. He came out beaming, gesticulating broadly, presenting himself to the crowd...and locking eyes with me. Too late; I couldn't stop the scowl from forming. Before the guy even opened his mouth I could tell he was going to an ordeal to endure. Bohai introduced him as the honoured 'Ceo'. I guess he meant CEO, the Old World corporate acronym, but once again the Quen's knowledge of the ancients proved patchy. The 'Ceo' asked his Overseer—positioned as some sort of royal advisor, maybe—what he had divined of this 'great mystery'. He meant me, the 'Living Ancestor.'
Finally, Bohai gave me the floor, so I told the truth. Our goals were the same: to heal the world of its current ails, the Quen included. I decided to come right out with it, just in case: I was searching for Thebes.
This sent a ripple across all faces in session, the Ceo most obviously. His painfully blue eyes widened, thin smirk curling. He had this halted, high-voiced way of speaking. Airy and false. It was just as he suspected, he said, directing Bohai to fill me in.
The Overseer led me away from the soldiers, and I joined him atop the pavilion. Months ago, long before their voyage to the Greenhouse, Alva had discovered some old data pointing to Thebes' location. They'd rigged up an excavation site, tunneling into the depths of the sand to the old city's stone foundations, and further beyond. They'd uncovered a door scored with Faro's sigil, but could find no means to open it. With my updated Focus, I figured I could find a way inside, but that wasn't the only problem. The soldiers had barred the road to the dig site for fear of a Thunderjaw stalking the beach. It was no ordinary machine either—I finished the Overseer's sentence for him. It was stronger, deadlier, and armoured in black and gold. Apex Thunderjaw. It'd be a tough fight, but I could do it. Seeming satisfied, Bohai escorted me to an audience with the Ceo. How could I refuse the honour?
The Ceo even had a sad little portable throne to sit on when he had guests. I tried to calm myself, give him the benefit of the doubt. I remembered how wrong I'd been about Avad when first meeting him, coming in hot with ridicule of the whole royal spectacle, but the Ceo seemed to relish in it. As Bohai hastened to remind me, I was addressing the cousin of the Emperor himself. Whoever that is.
The Ceo had been eagerly awaiting my arrival, so he said, and had admonished his soldiers for not escorting me back to Landfall personally when they'd encountered me on the mainland. When Bohai relayed that I'd promised to take care of the troublesome Thunderjaw, the Ceo was ecstatic. Just as Sobeck did in legend, I would cast aside all obstacles and make way for greatness. Sure, dude.
He seemed really fixated on Thebes. When I asked if the data Alva had recovered from the Greenhouse wasn't enough to take back home, the Ceo was adamant that Thebes would hold greater knowledge than even that trove. He would not leave before uncovering Faro's secrets—he actually got a little heated, a bit petulant. The Overseer had to step in to calm him down.
That put a punctuated end to the conversation. The Overseer directed me to a pair of servants who would apply ceremonial paint fit for an imperial ally. Really didn't want to, but Bohai insisted they would keep it light—glanced sideways at the Ceo. I heard his unsaid message; it'll keep the boss from throwing a fit. Meanwhile, I tried to look everywhere but the Ceo's creepy blue eyes. He kept staring at me, I could feel it. Staring and wearing a thin, gleeful smile.
Legacy's Landfall was open to me, Bohai said, though he wanted me to join them here again soon for a bountiful dinner with the Ceo. This is worse than worship, honestly. Just one evening spent gritting my teeth, and I'll be rewarded with a fight against an Apex Thunderjaw. With the way the servants flinched and bowed at the Ceo's every word, and with Bohai's not-so-hidden hinting, this was a ruler wont to turn and tantrum if things didn't go his way. I'd just have to play along, unless I wanted every soldier on the Isle after me.
In the end, the ceremonial paint stuff wasn't too bad. Just some spots of shiny, pearly green around the eyes. Something about seeing through the eyes of the ancients. Sort of went nicely with my Carja silks, to be honest.
With the Ceo sated, for now, I took a wander around the settlement, finding it stocked with all the usual amenities, including a few merchants and a weapons workshop. Should serve me well enough.
I couldn't resist a walk up on decks of the Quen's ships. Now this is more like what I was picturing when I heard they crossed an entire ocean. Wave motifs adorned the vessels in fluidly carved wood cast in bright teal, along with glittering mosaics and rich, woven curtains.
Everywhere I went, the workers gave me a wide berth, bowing their heads and greeting me as 'ancestor'. The herbalist on the ship even handed over some Quen remedies for free. I wasn't about to turn them down; I'd need them when facing the Thunderjaw.
The settlement had its classes of resident pretty well marked out. On the far side, the drabbest shelters and most meager of firepits housed the labourers, with a slightly better-stocked area closer to the Ceo's domain for the merchants and higher-ranking workers.
Closer still were the soldiers, each with a personal shelter and larger, thicker beds. One of them beckoned me to sit with her by the fire, introducing herself as Sonkai. She was a scout for the Quen—one of those who'd frequented the mainland and explored the shores of the city. She told me about a Tallneck she'd spotted to the south just off the coast, its head sticking up out of the water on a tilt. Glinthawks picked at it, but there was some life in the broken machine. They'd considered raiding it themselves for machine salvage. I was more interested in the data I could scrape from its head, though if I could get it walking again in the process, that'd be ideal. Might be something to look into while I'm out here, if it doesn't take too long.
I went to the cook—situated right behind the Ceo's pavilion, of course—hoping the Ceo had forgotten about his dinner invitation. No such luck. The cook directed me to the table beside the pavilion when I attempted to grab a humble meal of my own. There I found a long table piled high with all manner of seafood served on crisp green leaves, along with steaming bread rolls, gourds, salads, stuffed pastries...excess to the extreme, after seeing what the servants were scraping together on the other side of the camp.
I didn't turn down the feast, but didn't indulge too much either. The Ceo tried to make small talk. Something about the great burden of an Ancestor's legacy, that sacred yet forbidden knowledge that we alone must bear. We? Maybe Quen royalty believed themselves to carry the spirits of the Old Ones, like the Sun King supposedly held the spirit of a giant flaming star in the sky. I guess it made slightly more sense than that. I ate quickly then left with an excuse of weariness, but not before the Ceo offered me a place beside him in his imperial quarters. I almost hurled up my crayfish at his feet.
Pushing down that queasiness, I poked around the settlement a little more, finding an interesting data fragment left by one of the Diviners. It was some kind of scripture shaped around their worship of the Ancestors. Partially corrupted, I could only read the first few passages, naming the Ancestors associated with particular virtues. I recognised two names—the first, Peter Tshivumbe, founder of Far Zenith. The Quen idolised him for his commitment to human transcendence, seeing beyond the self and the petty trappings of envy and hate. Probably easy to do when you're one of the wealthiest and most powerful people on the planet. The second was Erik Visser. Thinking of him worshiped in any kind of way put a bad taste in my mouth, but the Quen heralded him as the 'Protector', for his military might and success in conquest. So, he was the same kind of person back in the Old World, too. I can only imagine how the Quen would react if they came face to face with Erik today. They probably wouldn't have much time to react, given the speed at which he'd massacre them, but still.
Needing a breather from all this Ancestor stuff, I left Legacy's Landfall just after dusk, gunning for a Survey Drone I'd spotted hovering by the roadside on the way in.
The drone sped around one of the ancient skyscrapers. With a bit of climbing and pull-casting, I managed to get up high enough to intercept the drone, but before I did so, I found another interesting datapoint. This one was from the Old World—a chat log between two users discussing the nature of Vast Silver. Namely, whether it might still exist. I'd heard about the AI in a couple of data points back east, but only knew that whatever disaster had accompanied its breach of containment had led to the Turing Act, which both Anita Sandoval and Elisabet had to breach in turn to create Cyan and Gaia. Anita had been involved in Vast Silver's development, somewhere along the line. When the Old Ones saw what machine intelligence was truly capable of, they quashed it, and outlawed anything like it being replicated again. Even Far Zenith, with their advanced technology, still relied on rudimentary systems like the Julius. Whatever Vast Silver had done really scared the Old Ones, and though the public were told that VS was nullified, some apparently believed it had been kept alive, imprisoned somewhere in an isolated network, made to solve the problems of whatever corporate or national entity held it prisoner.
I could see the logic in their thinking. Why would that organisation, having captured the most intelligent being in existence—maybe to ever exist, if the new laws held back the competition—destroy it when they could keep it under guard, enslaved? It wasn't like the Faro types of the Old World to shy away from dangerous tech just because it could blow up in their faces.
Bringing down the Survey Drone, I downloaded its data for safe keeping. It'll be good to have Gaia monitor this area—if not for the blight, which seems clear in these parts, then at least to keep an eye on the Quen.
I returned to Landfall after that, managing to dodge another encounter with the Ceo. Bohai offered me a personal shelter right behind the pavilion, otherwise reserved for the Ceo's closest attendants. I'd have been happier in the labourer's campsite, or the floor, but the Overseer insisted. The bed was comfortable at least. I slept well knowing how close I was to Thebes, and to getting out of this place.
I sat down beside Beta while the projection of Rost played out. Not too close, just to show I was there beside her in a moment of silence. Every time I'd come down here, I'd been in a rush—uncomfortable, annoyed, wanting to get a quick progress update and leave as soon as possible. Using her for her unique knowledge and abilities, just as the Zeniths had, and in the back of my mind cataloguing all the ways she failed to measure up to the impossible, unfair standard I set for myself. I wasn't going to do that anymore.
Beta reciprocated the gesture, sidling up next to me, closing the distance. For once, she didn't have a retort for me; I think she understood what I was trying to tell her. I'd answered that lingering question between us. Allayed her fears, at least where they concerned Elisabet and her qualities.
After all that—a revelation for both of us, in different ways—I couldn't bring myself to insist she come on the mission to Gemini. Zeniths aside, there would be machines—even the world outside was new to her and would be strange and terrifying in ways I couldn't comprehend. Beta had already done so much to help us save the planet, a world she didn't even know. We'd be nowhere close to catching Hephaestus without her. Honestly, I doubt we would ever have made it to this point. Gaia's not the all-powerful force I imagined her as when I set out searching. Not yet. She was, once, and she will be again, and together, we'd be able to figure something out that wouldn't put Beta at risk.
When I told Beta she was off the hook, she surprised me. After a moment, a bracing intake of breath, she said she'd go after all. Her panic subsided, she admitted that I was right. The only way she would ever be safe from Far Zenith was if we captured Hephaestus and put our plan into action. She would ensure that plan the highest possibility of success.
Beta had one condition for her agreement, which I granted, perhaps prematurely, because she cowered down, hands to the metal, voice low and desperate. If the Zeniths found us at Gemini, she would not be their slave again. I knew what she meant, of course. I suppose...I would want the same thing, if it were me. They wouldn't give her another chance to escape. And if they got Gaia and Hephaestus both, they'd push forward with their plan to annihilate all life, forcing Beta to administer the grisly process by whatever means of neuro-computational compulsion they possessed. Beta insisted upon my promise, so I gave it to her, not wishing to consider the possibility any further.
That seemed enough to satisfy Beta. I helped her up onto her feet, leaving the intensity of that moment behind us. She said she’d need a little more time to put the merging software together, incorporating Omega Clearance and, most importantly now, allowing two operators to execute the process in parallel. It wasn’t a trivial change, even with Gaia’s assistance, but she assured me they were close.
Once again, I wished I possessed the technical knowledge to help speed things along, but I’d have to stick to my strengths and let the pair of them work. Now that Beta and I have reconciled our obstinate little misunderstanding, I’m sure she’d be willing to help me through my studies once the Zeniths are defeated. I’d be glad to exchange my own education, if Beta felt ready to brave the outdoors.
Feeling a kindred sense of peace grow between us, I left Beta to her important work and returned upstairs. Varl was where I'd left him, trying to act like he couldn't see me coming. Mine and Beta's conversation hadn't exactly been quiet.
He was amazed to hear that I convinced Beta to come with us, maybe even more so that we'd managed to hash out our differences in that brief, audible spat. Over the months it'd taken me to see Beta clearly, as a person outside of my identity issues and suppressed grief, Varl had been here by her side. He'd earned Beta's trust when she'd first arrived, encouraging her to open up about her experiences at the hands of the Zeniths. Acclimatising her to human kindness. I couldn't think of anyone better to shoulder the task.
I even volunteered my feelings about Rost, which not too long ago I couldn't have imagined doing. Varl was right about my tendency to ignore my grief, using our fight against the Zeniths as a convenient shield. But it wasn't something that could be shelved and left for later. It had been weighing on me, all this time, hurting me in ways I couldn't understand, causing me to hurt Beta. I had, despite my assurances in one of my last conversations with Rost, pretended he never raised me. Pushed him out of my mind for a long time.
I felt I owed him a little of it back. Sat with him a while in my room, by his treasured weapons, as I would at his grave back east. The last time I spoke to him this way...everything was still raw. I'd just come out of All-Mother mountain and discovered what I really was. Who I was—I need to stop phrasing it like that, but back then that's how I felt. I was an instrument fashioned by a machine to carry on Elisabet's dream. I gave all of myself to that purpose, just as I told Rost I would. Maybe too much. I thought that's what he wanted for me—to look past my single-minded, selfish desire to win the Proving and help others. To me, that meant embracing my identity as a piece of Elisabet, splintered off. Leaning into the whole 'Deathseeker' thing, and exchanging myself for the mission. I used to think that's what Rost's final lesson meant, but now...I'm not so sure.
He never spoke of it, but I have to wonder what peace his journey of revenge really brought him. Whether it was worth trading his metaphorical soul and exiling himself from his own people. Even if it was, for him, he wouldn't have wanted the same for me. What he wanted for me just as much as a sense of purpose was to embrace the tribe; discover the community I was denied in my childhood. I think I've found it. At least, I'm starting to.
I stopped by Gaia in the theatre once I'd given myself the space to think things through. Knowing she would've heard my conversation with Beta, I felt the need to address it. To explain myself, I guess. I'd asked her rather pointedly about her opinions on Beta before, making my own perfectly clear. I admitted to Gaia that I'd misunderstood Beta from the start. Now, putting my own feelings aside, I realised just how much she'd been through, entirely alone.
Gaia gave me a little grace—we'd both endured hardships, she said, though they were different in almost every way. A lack of mutual understanding was to be expected. She said she thought of us as two miracles, born of Elisabet. I liked that; not pieces, not warped copies, but phenomena by our own rights.
I loaded up the Survey Drone module from the Isle of Spires, looking out into that distant daylight. All that talking and thinking and feeling—and it wasn't even noon. I'd found it more exhausting than any fight.
Fortunately, an important task soon presented itself, so I wouldn't have to struggle along trying to help Beta complete the merging software. Zo contacted me over Focus—she'd administered the reboot code to the first of the Land Gods at Plainsong, to great success. She sent through the coordinates of the other three Land Gods, currently stranded on the edges of Utaru Lands. Administering the reboot code would wake the faulty machines and send them marching back to Plainsong. Once all six remaining Land Gods were gathered, Zo would be able to kick off the final stage of the reboot process, returning the machines to their original, life-giving programming.
Standing outside the eastern entrance to the Base for the first time in many weeks, I was impressed by the little garden Zo had continued to cultivate on the cliff's edge. An archway, lanterns, mats and fencing all woven by hand, the stone outcrop stocked with pots and baskets full of flowers flourishing in the light snowfall. It made for a welcoming entrance, and a peaceful place to escape from the metal within the mountain.
With no overridden Chargers stowed on this side of the mountain range, I took the road down on foot, taking in the views of Plainsong and its surrounding ruins. The blight infecting its fields looked no worse than it had, but not much better either. Demeter's acquisition had done little to curtail the Land Gods' incessant seeding of the rot.
Walking toward the city, the sounds of fighting caught my attention; next, the amber glow of rebels in the distance, trying to wrangle a Charger. Incredible that they were still in the region—all that time spent rooting out their busy centres of operation out west, and they were circling back here to torment the Utaru again. I couldn't let them regain a foothold, assuming they hadn't already.
I snuck up on the rebels—thankfully there weren't many. I took the final two in direct combat, quickly ending the threat. Couldn't track where they'd come from, but their light weaponry spoke to a lack of preparation. They were wanderers, trying to revive their old operation. Hopefully nothing more than that.
Overriding the Charger that the group had been trying to claim for themselves, I rode the rest of the way south, through the blighted fields to Plainsong.
I reached the city in the late afternoon, seeking out Zo. There was a certain buzz in the air; gossip, but not only because of me. As I gathered from the locals, Zo's interference with the Land Gods (the reboot code had caused them to go dull and still) had alarmed the Chorus. They'd summoned her for an emergency session, without the usual city-wide choral fanfare, thankfully. I'm sure my presence would only worsen matters...best to let Zo deal with the Chorus. Hopefully, by the time the other three Land Gods get here, she'll have convinced them to let her continue the healing process. If not...I trust Zo to know when the time for permission is over, as she once said.
I rested briefly in Sky's Sentry before calling my newly-overridden Clawstrider and continuing down the mountain road to the east.
The machine was far slower than a Charger, but its large claws let it navigate the steep, rocky terrain with far more precision. Kept the ride smooth as well. I passed an abandoned rebel outpost on the way down. I've infiltrated so many of them at this point that I couldn't even tell whether it was one of them.
Descending further, I ditched the road in favour of a direct path, approaching that abrupt fade from forest to tropics that marked the domain of the Grove.
Dusk was fast approaching as I passed by the rear of the arena, soon reaching the campsite out front. I'd ridden hard for the past few hours, and with the long stretch of desert between here and the RCC, I was just about ready to call it a day.
The Maw of the Arena was as busy as ever. Many recognised me, hoping I'd returned to fight again. Not today... and maybe not again, I realised. Once Gaia absorbs Hephaestus, she'll reverse the Derangement and likely retire Hephaestus' original creations, built only to kill. The Arena will be a tame shadow of itself. It'll be a shame to lose it. A shame for me, personally, to say goodbye to the one thing I'm best at above all others. I'll have to, of course. Countless lives will be saved. And who knows, maybe Gaia will be able to continue a few custom units, switch on some faux aggression.
It won't be the same.
I stopped by Dukkah's stall to hand over more reclaimed Tenakth tags, eyeing her wares greedily with all the hunting medals I didn't have. To the kitchens, then, for a night time meal.
Too restless to wind down just yet, I took out my new Tripcaster from Tide's Reach, as yet untested, and left the Arena, riding my Clawstrider across the river to try my new weapon on the Bristleback herd that grazed there.
Staggerbeams first. When crossed, they stunned the machines for a moment, ripping into their limbs, but it didn't take much for them to wrest themselves free. The weapon would be better suited to larger machines, or those already trapped stationary by ropes or shock blasts. The Glowblast wires saw better results, scoring the ground with white hot indents of explosive impact when crossed.
Satisfied with my recent purchase, I returned to the Arena, walking through the stands. The crowds were sparse at this time of night, but small groups of spectators milled around watching an understated fight below between Watchers and shielded, sword-wielding champions.
A couple of Strike players trying to psyche each other out with insults, more focused on each other than the fight below.
Back outside the Arena, I found a warm, sheltered spot by the herbalist's station to rest for the night.
Still seething, I changed out of my Carja armour and into the Quen's ridiculous Raiment. Kept my belt for my pouches and quiver, obviously. I wasn't going anywhere with the Ceo unarmed. I tried not to look down at myself. They really had got the likeness of Elisabet's clothing down, from the blue undershirt to the ballooned trouser legs. It might have even been comfortable, if it held no particular meaning, and if I wasn't so used to armour.
The Ceo took his time to gloat at getting his way, as I suspect he always did. Even Alva's eyes lit up upon seeing my authentic Sobeck getup. She could've tried a little harder to warn me about all this, just saying.
Walking down through the expansive entrance chamber, the Ceo was predictably enthralled at the grandeur—all befitting Faro's status, of course. The Ceo had brought a whole lot of soldiers in with him. Not sure what they were meant to be protecting him from down here. Maybe just me. They certainly made it impossible for me to slink off alone, guarding every door with their flamethrowers and Deathbringer guns.
The next chamber was even larger than the last, centring a statue to tower over all others...of Faro himself, depicted with his arms crossed over this chest, palms down. A burial pose? Even after everything I’ve learned of him, the lengths of his greed and self-obsession still surprise me the higher they climb. A statue of himself in the centre of a golden ampitheatre buried beneath the world he killed. The Ceo was enamoured. This was his statue, his temple. Through the centuries, the overhead lights shone their dusty beams on Faro’s stoic, stony frown, putting the deep thermal energy of the Earth to dismal use.
I found more datapoints along the way, recordings left by the girl, Kanya. After Grigori’s death, she’d confided in the only one of Ted’s ‘harem’ she actually liked, a singer named Brianna. The others competed for Ted’s affection, trying to please him in every action. How sick, that even if they’d willed otherwise, Ted held their lives in his hands. Did they feel indebted, I wondered? They shouldn’t have. It was only as I explored further that I realised just how much control Faro really had over his prisoners. That was one of his key requirements when ordering the construction of Thebes: control. Not just over the environment and its properties, but the people, too. Kanya discovered the truth, on that ancient, parallel time track, just as I did. She suspected that Brianna knew something about Grigori’s death, that she was attempting to learn more without raising Ted’s suspicions…until Brianna, too, went to sleep one night and did not wake up.
It was becoming clear to both of us what Ted must have done. Although Kanya’s father confirmed no physical markings or sign of violence on either body, there were untraceable ways to kill someone, especially in the time of the Old Ones. Alva and the Ceo were curious about the data I’d found; further testament to Faro’s greatness, I lied. I’d share the data with Alva later.
While the Ceo was distracted, I managed to catch Alva alone, pulling ahead. Confronted her, just a little, for inadvertently getting me into this mess. She was unaffected by the threat of death; giddy with wonder at the facility, the history. I’d have been impressed if I wasn’t so annoyed. So uncomfortable in these legacy-laden clothes.
The next room grabbed the Ceo’s attention once more, snatched my horror for the same reason—two Corrupters stood beside the door to the deeper ruin, but they weren’t mere statues, weren’t just there for morbid decoration. No, Faro had brought fully-functional Scarabs from his world-ending Chariot line down underground with him. Machines that’d terrorised and molecularly dismantled, digested all life on the surface, and here they were, his guards. It’s like he relished the influence he had over the fate of the world. These machines were still his pride, and like the swarm itself, before Minerva deactivated it, the Corrupters were only dormant, waiting for a sign of life before pouncing.
As the Corruptors woke, red eyes flashing, the soldiers hurried the Ceo out of the chamber, sealing the bunker door behind them and leaving Alva and I alone to face the two machines. How noble of them, to leave their cherished Diviner behind.
They were different to the Corrupters I’d fought en masse back east—maybe an updated model to the ones the Eclipse unearthed from the days of the Swarm. Not weak to frost, so there went strategy number one. I pulled out my Wildfire bow to blast them with fire arrows instead, setting each aflame while dodging the whips of their tails and missile spits of their launchers. They leapt around the chamber, slicing through solid pillars, turning Ted’s stonework to dust. With Alva’s help, targeting their weak points in their vulnerable state, we took care of them before they could send the ceiling caving in.
Once the danger was dealt with, the Ceo graced us with his irritating presence once again. Sans Overseer Bohai, which was odd. I'd have thought he'd be keenly interested in exploring the place, but the Ceo claimed he'd returned to the entrance with some of the soldiers. Maybe they feared further machine attacks within.
The Ceo led the way into the next room, sure to be important, given the security. Gone were the gold-cast stonework chambers; the room was dark, low-ceilinged, illuminated by stark triangular spotlights forming a path to the far side where a metal bed sat in focus, the pride of this grey and grimy laboratory.
The Ceo gravitated toward the ‘reclining throne’ demanding I scan it for the data Alva was unable to recover. Not so fast; gruesome revelations awaited. First, Kanya’s final message. She’d confronted her father about Brianna’s fate and discovered the truth: Somptow had installed ‘kill switches’ in each resident—implants in the brain capable of tracelessly stopping one’s heart at Faro’s command. All of this, the doctor had done to secure a place for himself and his daughter in Thebes, outliving the end of the world. But Kanya asked the crucial question: why? What were they meant to be living for down here, trapped with that monster? From the way their conversation ended, it was clear what the father and daughter were about to do. It was their last right to exercise against Faro.
I explored the rest of the lab. Each side held alcoves stocked with beds wired up to machines I found worryingly familiar. They were similar to the prototypes I’d seen in the Ninmah Lab, where Far Zenith had perfected their gene treatments to render themselves immortal. In particular, a sort of booth or cubical resembling an ectogenic chamber, but lined with needles and traces meant to hold some sort of fluid. Datapoints I found corroborated the conclusion that Faro, like the Zeniths, had attempted to make himself immortal. What if he succeeded? I figured we would have heard from him by now if he had—not just here in Thebes, but up on the surface. He would have left this place as soon as Gaia’s third attempt at building the biosphere had found success.
Scanning the central apparatus, sating the Ceo’s curiosity, I was greeted by a hologram recorded by Somptow. Neither the Ceo nor Alva could see it, so they looked to me for answers. The recording seemed to have been captured through regular surveillance. Yeah, no such thing as a private moment down here in Ted’s domain. Somptow muttered idly to himself about the gene treatments he’d been administering—lamented the inconsistency of results and absence of his old lab and colleagues. Another datapoint I found discussed…mutations. Somptow had made great strides in the field of cell preservation (at least in the realm accessible to science at large, outside Far Zenith's private labs). But novel mutations kept cropping up; Faro’s cells weren’t aging, but they weren’t static either. Somptow combated the mutations as they appeared in what he called ‘whack-a-mole’, which didn’t sound the most professional of methods. But if Somptow really did end his life just a couple years after Thebes was sealed, what happened to Faro? Could the treatments have been enough to keep him alive?
I summarised what I’d seen to Alva, and she reached the same awful conclusion, though actually seemed excited at the prospect of meeting Faro. I guess she did still think of him as the ‘Renewer’, even if her research into the Greenhouse archives might have clued her into the truth. The Ceo was livid at the mere suggestion. How could Faro be alive if he stood here before us, carrying his immortal essence? For once, I hoped he was right.
Moving deeper and downward, the next rooms were sealed off, triggering another tantrum from the Ceo. I used my Pullcaster to reach the overhead ventilation ducts, making my way through. Behind the sealed door, I found the entrance to the reactor, and the core servers of the facility. Keeping the door shut while I searched, I scanned all available data and quickly found what I’d come for: Omega clearance. The credentials were right there for the taking—encrypted, so I scraped all I could from the system in case it would help Gaia and Beta crack the code. As I waited for my Focus to pull down the data, I leafed through the bunker’s systems and found a recording from Faro himself, made shortly after the final message from Kanya.
He lamented the deaths of the girl and her father, even though it was his decision to start killing off dissenters that drove them to it. He left a lot unsaid, but there in the silence was another terrifying revelation: he’d killed the rest of them, too. I suppose, after Kanya’s death, the women had turned on him. Ted couldn’t control them anymore, couldn’t trust them. So he killed them all.
Then he was alone. He allowed himself to wallow in the misfortune of being alone. His fault, but that didn’t matter to him. He had always been alone; apart, above. The visionary, signularly blessed with the power and intellect and now the responsibility to build a better world for the innocents that would be born into it. Lis’ children. I shivered when he said her name. Felt like he could see me, the clothes on me; her silhouette as she faced him in the conference room and told him just how bad he’d fucked up this time. But it was worse than that. I found Faro’s biometrics, gathered by whatever embedded devices he wore, the implants inserted by Somptow’s treatments. And they were live; updating in real time. Elevated heart rate, astronomical blood pressure. Minimal brain activity. My Focus collected the same metrics, so I knew the numbers were so far off baseline that whatever organism those devices were stuffed into should have been on the brink of death. I traced the origin of the signals to the reactor core, activating an infrared scan to isolate its components and I saw, clinging to the hot mass of metal in its cylindrical shield, something living. It was huge, lumped, sprawling, tendrils like veins or blight reaching in all directions and spreading, pulsing against the heat shield and strangling the pipes. The horror of what I was looking at dawned on me as Ted’s voice from long ago droned on.
He wanted to guide us. He’d led the Old World to ruin and thought himself qualified, honour-bound to lead the new one. To redeem himself? I didn’t think so; it was always about power, to him. He wanted to control the narrative, his legacy. Become ‘the Man Who Saved the World’ again. More, to be a deity. He stole the knowledge of the ancients from us and wanted to put himself in its place, probably hijack the terraforming system with Omega clearance, bend Gaia to his will. I remembered that argument between Elisabet and Faro back at the Zero Dawn headquarters, where Faro pushed for an 'off switch', a back door. Zero Dawn staff settled on Hades, but this is what Faro had in mind. What he wanted more than anything was control.
But Faro didn't get what he wanted. He doomed himself to fester here underground, leeching from the reactor for the warmth and energy his mutated cells craved to grow, multiply and twist stranger. The way he talked about it in that final recording, it sounded like Somptow had found a way to use the reactor's energy to sustain Faro in place of organic nutrients. If any part of him was alive in there, still thinking, still aware, it didn't show up in the data. In a way, it was a good thing he was still alive, because according to the reactor controls, Faro had one final safeguard in place. The systems were tied to his biometrics. If he died, the reactor was set to self-destruct.
Before I could get out of there, Ceo's soldiers finally managed to open the door. He barged past me, standing awed and receptive at the door to the reactor. I told him not to, but that just made him more intent—certain that I was trying to keep Faro's secrets from him. I was. I most definitely was—but these were not the secrets he came searching for. There was nothing I could do to dissuade him as the Ceo rounded the corner, as the open door let through the groans, squeals, thumps, and dripping roars of that cancerous mass that was once a man.
The Ceo only faced it for a few moments, enough for some part of it to come squelching around the corner, shrieking, then he returned, pale. Looked like he was about to throw up. I confirmed his fears; that was indeed all that remained of Ted Faro. Alive, if you could call it that, and what most concerned the Ceo about this was what it meant for his own fictitious identity. I could see it on his face, a quick mental calculation. No one could know about this, not just because of his claim to Faro's legacy, but because it would sully the worshiped image of the Renewer.
With a flippant gesture, the Ceo ordered his solders to burn the creature. They acted swiftly, unfalteringly, even as I tried to warn them of the fail safe that would send Thebes down around us. They didn't listen. Then the Ceo ordered his soldiers to kill Alva and I, too. No witnesses, he said. A couple of his soldiers escorted him out as the chamber began to shudder, the alarms began to sound.
After all I'd done to play along with the Ceo's little fantasy, I was still left to face down a contingent of angry Quen. Now the only difference was I had no armour and very few weapons at hand. At first I was worried for Alva's safety, but she quickly ducked out of the way of the two heavy gunners. I then set off a smoke bomb to hide us for a moment. The two gunners stayed in the centre, advancing as the sword-wielders rushed us around the sides. With bombs and my spear I overwhelmed the soldier with the Deathbringer gun and took up his weapon, arming myself against the rest. All the while, as bullets flew and blades swung, the facility continued to tremble, springing fiery leaks as the core ruptured, magma rising. Molten lava spurted in through holes bored through the metal walls, pooling in huge, viscous puddles that eked from white hot to crusted violet.
As Alva and I ran back through the chambers of Thebes, the Quen soldiers pursued us, attacking relentlessly as the walls caved in around them. They were dedicated, I'd give them that. I dodged them where I could, engaging only when necessary. At this rate, the reactor collapse was more likely to kill us than the Quen.
We finally caught up to the Ceo in the main chamber housing Ted's awful statue. It had fallen at a lean, forming a bridge to the upper walkways and out of the rising lava pit. The Ceo scaled it behind a soldier, who pulled the Ceo up alongside him, only for the Ceo to wrench the man aside, tossing him into the lava below. Alone now, walking on the back of Ted's crumbling stone neck, he tried to leap to the balcony, but was thrown down onto an outcrop of stone as Faro's head gave way.
The Ceo looked up just in time to watch Ted Faro's impassive expression hurtling toward him before it squashed him with a sickening crunch. A gruesome end, even for him, though I wouldn't shed a tear. Would have evaporated if I'd tried.
No further soldiers pursued us. All those who'd stayed behind to heed the Ceo's orders were left to the rising heat, the falling slabs of stone, as Alva and I jumped between scant, sinking platforms. My Raiment briefly caught alight—much as I hated it, I did need to keep my skin. Racing up toward the Identi-scan door, those flames extinguished. For a moment I worried Alva wasn't going to make it, as she stumbled behind me; I doubled back a moment to help her to the exit. We were thrown out into the exterior cavern as the ceiling piled up behind us, propelling us forward. Dust spurting with us, stone wedging itself into every available gap; there would be no returning to Thebes, and no exit for any still trapped within. But I had what I needed—had even managed to get Alva out of there alive as well. All I had to do now was get past the Quen up in the dig site, eagerly awaiting the return of their honoured Ceo.
Up early, I joined Varl and Zo in the main room, studying our Focuses in a joint session. We went over the data I'd gathered on the Zenith base together this time, and I explained what I understood of the test Beta had designed to figure out how to capture Hephaestus.
Before heading out, I visited Gaia and uploaded the two Survey Drone modules I'd picked up at the Raintrace and the Stand of the Sentinels, checking out the spectacular views from both. Gaia was still busy calibrating her merge with Demeter, drafting the instructions she would soon send out to her machines to begin undoing the blight.
Back in my room, I prepared for the journey south, trying on the Carja armour the others had left for me in their stockpile of gifts. Fit perfectly, and it was both light enough for the desert sturdy enough for battle with its boots and armour plating.
I had to brave the snow for a short trek down the mountain, and in the rain as well, but I was soon safely in the warmth of Desert Clan territory.
At the base of the mountain road, I overrode a Charger from a herd, racing away before the rest could attack.
As I wound around to the southern road, I passed a metal flower. Now equipped with my vine-cutter module, I couldn't resist destroying the vines to get at the ancient salvage it had been protecting all this time.
I guess the Adamantine Wreaths were only deployed in the immediate region—test trials for global deployments that never came. This one held a nasty surprise alongside its salvage: an Apex Ravager.
I tied it down first, tearing off its cannon and striking deep with my spear. Then I set off one of its blaze canisters, the ensuing explosion stunning it down long enough for me to get a few more strikes in.
I picked up the torn cannon and used it myself, exhausting its ammo to down the Ravager for a third time, finally landing the final blow with my spear.
Inside the cave, I claimed the salvage, along with a nice chunk of Greenshine. The narrow gap in the stony ceiling showed the Ravager's accidental entrance route. It could have been trapped in there for months.
Riding onward, I stopped at the ruins just north of Arrowhand, remembering the metal flower that had blocked my path on my last visit. Now I'd be able to get at the Ember inside and take it with me to Hidden Ember.
Dissolving the vines with my new module, using a crate stuck behind, I was able to reach the controls on the upper walkway, opening the huge vault door sealing off the rest of the ruin.
Most of the tunnel was lost to a collapse, but I was able to free a cart with my Pullcaster, using it to prop open the door once I'd climbed back around to the entrance. With that I was able to climb up and reach the opposite walkway, claiming the Ember. Jagged orange shapes floated up from the holographic projector. Couldn't really figure what they were meant to be.
Speeding on south now, I passed the spot of the first Gauntlet Run I'd come across. Attah and her ex-rebels had long ago moved on to The Long Coast, but one rider and his Charger remained there with some equipment, keeping the track warm. I stopped to greet a fellow machine-rider before continuing on.
Passing Arrowhand, I rode on across the Shining Wastes. A squad of soldiers from the settlement hunted a herd of Fanghorns from up on their cordon. They were picking the machines off without issue, and I actually managed to keep on riding without trying to get in on the fun. It was good to see that the soldiers had driven the rebels out of the region, at least for the time being.
Further south still, as the wastes lightened from salt to sand and ruins thickened toward the city, I rode on toward Camp Nowhere as the evening drew close.
Curious about Porguf's possible metal flower sighting, I hopped on my Bristleback once the storm had cleared and rode toward the Spinebreak. The delvers had been hard at work since I'd taken down the Rockbreaker within. The rubble had been cleared away, the path widened and set with lanterns. There was plenty of room for my Bristleback to barge on through—and thankfully there were no trading caravans coming the other way.
Out in the clearing, I found the vines Porguf had described on an overlook to the south. It was a metal flower alright, and behind it were caches of ancient salvage and a huge cluster of Greenshine.
Riding back through the Spinebreak, I continued north as evening blazed bright.
Riding past the base of the mountain that housed the Hive, I took a quick Focus scan to make sure rebels hadn't repopulated the compound. That seemed to be true, but a little further up the road, they had a surprise waiting for me. I spotted their rock traps set either side of the valley first, their lookouts second. Third, the trio of unsuspecting Oseram marching up toward their firing line. I pulled my Britleback to a hard stop, diving behind cover and setting off a smoke bomb to buy myself some time.
From the smoke, I took two of the rebels by surprise; by that time the others had already killed two of the three wandering Oseram.
The lone survivor joined me in fighting the rest, sticking to cover where we could and taking them down from a distance. I set off a blaze barrel near the last rebel, leaving them easy pickings in the patch of flames.
When the battle was through, the Oseram was in surprisingly high spirits, thanking me for me for saving his life and gifting me a few shards for the trouble.
Thankfully, my Bristleback managed to stay out of the line of fire, quietly churning up salvage during the scuffle. Mounting it once more, I rode west as the sun set, passing the fields of flowers around the Shining Wastes' Tallneck, still un-overridden.
Further still, over the rise and then down by the cairns and dry shrubs, and finally to the misty tropics of the Grove.
Entering the Maw of the Arena, I was recognised and well-regarded despite my outlander garb. I went straight to Dukkah, carrying a pouch worryingly-hefty with the weight of many dead soldiers' tags.
I returned them to her, collecting my guilty but much-anticipated reward. I once again eyed her Arena Medal wares eagerly, woefully out of pocket. Dukkah said that she and Kalla had been hoping I'd return soon. Right, I did say last time I was here that I'd fight upon my return. It's settled, then.
Apparently, Kalla had been stirring up the crowds—or 'boosting morale' as she would say—by telling them that Hekarro's Champion was soon to face her third battle in the Arena. She had something big planned and waiting for me in the Arena cages. Bigger than a Slitherfang? This should be good. Dukkah had armour of her own make to give me for the fight, courtesy of the Sky Clan. How could I refuse?
I stopped by the Arena stands to watch the place's equivalent to background noise. Whenever there were no challenges scheduled, they had a bunch of Champions out there fighting red-eye Watchers. For background noise, it was pretty damn loud.
I took up my usual spot for the night by the herbalist's station, under shelter with soft vegetation and thin, woven bed-mats for comfort.
