The carriers sailed silently through the clouds. Under the cover of darkness, the Mechons' eyes were like constellations of red stars. Xord flew beneath them, scouting the land below.

Colony 6 was surrounded by a massive metal wall that appeared to have broken off of the Mechonis. The fortifications, along with the Defence Force soldiers posted outside, were good at keeping out monsters—but Colony 6 lacked protection from above. Xord dove headlong toward the colony, signaling for the carriers to follow.

He let out a laugh as he circled an inactive anti-air battery. "Ha! They don't suspect a thing," he said, pretending the Mechon were listening. "I bet they're all nice and cozy in their beds. Won't stay like that for long!"

Xord scanned the streets for signs of life. He locked onto a pair of Defence Force officers standing close to the anti-air battery and came in for a landing behind them.

"—something in the sky. We've got to—" The officers turned to stone when the earth shook and a towering shadow fell over them. Xord leaned in and peeled open the panels on his chest. He wanted his presence to be acknowledged, and he could afford to wait. This time, Xord was a predator of his own volition.

One of the officers looked over his shoulder, followed by the other. Xord gave them enough time to scream; then, in a flash of gold teeth, both of them were gone.

A window opened. "What on Bionis was that?"

"Mechon! We're under attack!"

Once he had finished feeding, Xord straightened his spine and stuck out his chest. He could've snapped the officers up without causing a disturbance, but that wouldn't have been as fun. Soon, all eyes would be on him. It was just what he wanted.

The carriers descended upon the residential district, dispatching their passengers into the mostly empty streets. Xord assumed the Mechon would do their job free of his command. They were drawn to movement, and appeared to have a similar attraction to life-based ether. Some units were even equipped with the same serrated grates Xord used to break down food.

The colony was minutes from erupting into chaos. The tension was palpable; Xord could almost taste it. He cupped his hand around the head of his hammer as he deliberated on what to do. It was too quiet. He needed to make some noise.

Xord charged his hammer and swung, busting through the plaster of a nearby building. The foundation caught fire from a stray spark, and it didn't take long for the flames to spread. The Homs wouldn't be safe sheltering inside their homes.

Xord lifted his head when a siren split the air. It was showtime. People burst outside, only to meet their doom in Mechons' greedy claws. Xord watched a horde of tiny units gang up on a man, knocking him over and pecking at him like a school of Piranhax. Mechon with flamethrowers for limbs set fire to buildings, forcing out any occupants who had chosen to remain inside. Xord could smell fresh ether through the smoke. He wasn't in any rush to eat, though.

"Look at 'em all, scurrying around like mice," Xord said. "Ain't someone gonna put up a fight? C'mon, let's have some fun!" He brought his hammer crashing down, making a fissure in the pavement. He felt like he was being ignored. No one was visibly alarmed by his size and booming voice; when fleeing the colony was their number one priority, it was easy for them to overlook even a behemoth like him.

Xord decided to follow the crowd. He got into the air and hovered low to the ground, mowing down anyone who happened to be in his path. He was approaching the colony's main gate, leading him to wonder if there were even any other ways out.

Xord's jet engine stirred up a cloud of dust as he made a rough landing in front of the gate. "You ain't going nowhere!"

A man cried out, "The evac ships! That's our—" He was cut off as an M64 lashed out at him with its axe-like arm and knocked him off his feet. The panicked crowd whipped around, but the Mechon were closing in on them.

Xord let out another laugh, but fell silent when he noticed a young blonde-haired girl among the crowd. She was gripping a man's shirt tightly, petrified. Xord made a croaking noise when he noticed a duo of M55 units approaching them from behind. The girl shrieked when Xord made a move, but he merely held his hammer in front of the two Mechon, blocking them. The man took the girl in his arms and sprinted past Xord, escaping Colony 6.

Xord's arm began to shake and he nearly let go of his hammer. He skimmed the faces in the crowd, noticing they were bearing the same looks of horror he had seen in the girl's eyes. Then, when another Homs attempted to slip past him, he drove his hammer into her legs without thinking. The M55 units charged forward and tackled her. Xord stood and watched the horde of Mechon tear through the rest of the crowd, unable to make peace with himself.

Why was it so easy for Xord to kill Homs when all of them were people? Why was Désirée so dear to him if she was just a Homs? Xord didn't want to think about it; he couldn't think about it. If he put any thought into his actions, everything he knew and understood would fall apart. Xord didn't need any justifications. He didn't need to be able to explain himself. Sometimes, things went wrong with machines and that was just the way they were.

Xord, recalling Egil's instructions, lifted off, leaving the other Mechon to secure the gate. He came across a woman with her back pressed against a building, hugging herself in fear as an M67 approached. Before the Mechon could attack, Xord plucked the woman off of the ground.

The woman looked around in disbelief. "You saved me," she said in a quiet voice, relaxing slightly in Xord's grip. "But… why?"

"'Cause I'm not supposed to eat you." To an M32 Scout Unit, Xord signaled, Follow me. The unit flickered its lights in response and went with him over the wall.

"E-excuse me? What? You can talk?" the woman sputtered, tensing up again. "What's going on? Where are you taking me?"

"We'll both find out soon enough," said Xord. He looped around the colony and descended when he noticed a big, gated opening in the face of a cliff. "I reckon this is it," he murmured.

"You're taking me into the mine?"

Xord entered and propelled himself down a long elevator shaft. "Quiet, girlie. Would you rather be back at the colony?"

"Why did you attack Colony 6?" the woman demanded. "And Sword Valley, a year ago? What do you want with us Homs?"

"You'll get your answer all right. Then you'll see." Upon reaching the end of the shaft, Xord landed on the base platform of an enormous ether rig. Gently, he put both the woman and his hammer down. "You wait right here. I'll be keeping an eye on you." He signaled to the M32, which opened a live feed at the top of his vision.

The woman wrapped her arms around herself again. "I don't know what you want from me," she sobbed.

"It's not justyou. You won't be alone for long," Xord said as the flames on his tail grew brighter. "I'll be back!"

By the time Xord returned to the colony, the Defence Force had arrived. A number of broken Mechon units lay on the ground, sparking and leaking ether, but the Homs were still outnumbered.

"Look at the size of that one!" a soldier cried as Xord descended from above.

Another said, "Bullets aren't gonna do a damn thing against that beast. Where's our mobile artillery?"

"I think it's in the mi—"

Xord swooped down and grabbed one of the soldiers in each hand. He kept quiet as he flew back to the mine, knowing he'd grow tired of repeating the same conversation. He could see at the top of his vision that the woman was sitting exactly where he had left her, still hugging herself.

"Are they holding us hostage?" one of the soldiers said after he was brought inside. "What are they planning?"

"I don't know. They're killing everyone else," said the anxious woman. "That Mechon, it… spoke to me, but it wouldn't tell me what it was doing."

"A talking Mechon? Now I've heard everything," the other soldier said.

Xord couldn't resist joining in. "Not 'til you've heard me!"

He made a dozen or so more trips back and forth. By the time he was done, Colony 6 had all but burned to the ground. Rain had started to fall, diminishing some of the flames. The Mechon had taken to sifting through the rubble in search of survivors. Nearly everyone had been either kidnapped or eaten, although a fair number of residents had been able to leave in evac ships. Xord decided it wasn't worth it to pursue them for the time being. There was a heap of slain Mechon in front of the main gate, suggesting that some amount of people had managed to get out. Xord hadn't noticed any escapees during his trips, however.

He settled in front of the captives and picked up his hammer. "That should do it for now," he said, tapping its handle against the ground.

"We need answers!" exclaimed a soldier, drawing a pistol. The others backed away.

"Oi, how'd you manage to sneak that in here?" Xord said chidingly. "No matter. That little thing ain't gonna hurt m—"

A bullet clanked off of Xord's armor.

Again, he thwacked the platform with his hammer's handle. "Right. Are we quite done yet?"

The soldier threw down his gun. "D-damn you."

Xord needed to let Egil know that he had gathered what seemed like a sufficient amount of captives, but he didn't know where his M33 Transmission Unit was. It must've been somewhere in the colony. He'd have to go back and look for it.

"Tell us what's going on!" yelled someone in the crowd. "Say something useful with that big mouth of yours!"

"Heh," Xord grunted. "Do you want to know how I can talk? I'll let you in on a lil' secret." He leaned in until he was at eye level with the crowd. "It's because I used to be like you!"

"What?"

Xord rose to his full height and broke into a belly laugh, the panels on his chest bouncing up and down. "That's right! I was a Homs once. Not that I remember a whole lot from back then."

"They put a Homs inside a Mechon?"

"Who would have done that? And why?"

"This is my body now," Xord said proudly. "As for the rest, you'll find out on your own!"

"You mean—"

"We're going to get turned into Mechon, too? That's the plan?"

With a wistful sigh, Xord said, "You get used to it." They were empty words. The Homs he had captured would be put through hell, and even though he himself had experienced those things, he had no empathy for them. It wasn't his job to care. He was merely humoring them, the insects that they were. If he hadn't been ordered to show restraint, he would've eaten them by now.

"I'm getting out of here! You'll never take me alive!" hollered the soldier who'd shot at Xord. He burst into a sprint, only for Xord to hook him with the claw of his hammer, scoop him up, and toss him into his jaws. He jerked back as if to swallow, and then chewed up what was left. Blood dribbled out of his chest and splattered on the floor.

The captives were stricken with horror and disgust.

Xord patted his undercarriage. "Anyone else? Still got plenty of room."

It took several seconds for someone to break the silence. "I don't want to die," the anxious woman choked, tears in her eyes. "Turn me into a Mechon, anything. I just don't want to die."

A murmur of nervous agreement rose from the crowd.

A man raised his voice to say, "You said you were a Homs, but you just… killedsomeone. You ate them. How can you live with yourself after doing that, and attacking Colony 6?"

Xord tapped his chin. "That's a good question." He tried to think about it, but his mind went blank—and in a sense, that was the answer. When the subject of morality came up, Xord never entertained those thoughts for long. He would have a moment of lucidity every now and again, but most of the time, morals simply weren't relevant. Killing had become second nature; routine. It didn't even give him much of a rush anymore. Xord kept tapping his chin, lost in his empty head.

After a long moment, Xord lowered his arm. "Well, I've told you lot enough. I've got to be going now. Don't try anything funny while I'm not here." The M32 was still hovering above them, transmitting a smaller version of the scene into Xord's second pair of eyes. Xord gave it a nod before lifting off and exiting through the elevator shaft.

If Egil wanted to turn the ether mine into a base, Xord figured he would need to bring the Mechon inside. It would be a far less tedious task than taking the Homs to the mine, since he could simply signal to the Mechon and have all of them follow him at once. Being able to command a legion of machines with a blink of his eyes made him feel powerful. That must have been how it felt to be Egil.

Of course, the first thing he'd have to do was flag down Egil's M33. Upon arriving at the colony, Xord blinked his eyes in a specific pattern: M33 Transmission Unit: return my signal. He scoured the ruins for a corresponding display of lights. He found the unit—which looked almost identical to an M32—hovering by the colony's main entrance.

He landed in front of it and said, "We've taken the colony. I've got some people ready to go inside the mine."

He heard Egil's voice: "I will ready the passenger craft."

"It better be here soon. I'm getting hungry." Xord had used up a lot of energy flying back and forth between Colony 6 and the ether mine. There was still some ether left in his tank, but it wouldn't last him very long. Xord needed to feed before his self-preservation system activated. Now more than ever, he wanted to avoid losing control.

It was time to recruit the other Mechon. As he soared over the colony, eyes flashing, Xord called, "All right, everyone, pack it up! It's time to move out." The Mechon began following him one by one, forming something like a parade. Once Xord had recruited a large flock of them—he decided to leave some in the colony in case the escapees returned—he grounded himself and started leading them on foot. It took more energy to remain airborne, and he wanted to avoid flying too far ahead of the Mechon. It would be a long walk to the mine.

It was nearly dawn by the time they arrived at the freight elevator. Out of precaution, Xord had made a pit stop to kill and eat a family of Hoxes. It was a small meal, but there hadn't been much else around. Xord had spent the rest of the trip watching and listening in on his captives. He didn't know whether or not they were already acquainted, but they had all huddled together and were exchanging words of comfort and support. That was what made them Homs: their ability to have compassion and look out for their fellow man.

But what would happen when those men became machines?

"Budge up! If you can't all fit, you're not trying hard enough." Xord hovered over the lift, signaling for the Mechon to get in. Once they were all aboard, he pressed the button and sent them down to the central pit. Xord followed them and landed in front of his captives. "Did you miss me?"

"There's so many," someone in the crowd breathed as the Mechon unloaded themselves from the lift.

Xord said, "Don't worry. They don't want nothing to do with you." He looked over the Mechon, which were idling in anticipation of a command. He thought for a moment, trying to come up with a way to disperse them throughout the mine. Xord, feeling clever, transmitted conceptual data of several kinds of ether deposits. The Mechon flashed their lights in response and set off, their ether receptors activated. They showed a faint attraction to the Homs, but quickly fell back in line. Upon noticing that the M33 had joined the other Mechon, Xord signaled for it to stay behind.

Xord had never pondered the complexity of Mechons' artificial intelligence. Even though he was encased in the same metal armor, he felt no connection to the machines. They were merely tools that were designed to be controlled. Mechon were expendable; if they broke, they were easy to replace. There was no shortage of resources on Mechonis. When he sent them off to war, Egil didn't expect his Mechon to make it back in one piece.

"The craft is now entering the ether mine," Egil said through the M33.

"It's about time!" Xord exclaimed as a silver, bullet-shaped craft arrived in the central pit. It was unmanned; Egil must have been controlling it by remote. Xord waved his hammer, beckoning the Homs forward. In grim silence, they formed a queue and started boarding the craft. They had no other choice. By the time twelve of them had entered, all of the seats were filled.

"Are you sending another one?" Xord asked Egil, concerned.

"I do not have enough accommodations available," he said. "Once these Homs have undergone their procedures, I will return for the others." The passenger craft's doors closed. It lifted off, leaving behind a moderately-sized group of uneasy Homs.

"So what now? Am I supposed to fetch them food and drink?"

"Water, yes. Food is optional," Egil said. "A Homs can survive for three weeks without food."

Xord was appalled. Now that he had been put in charge of their well-being, he felt a small amount of sympathy for the Homs. Facing them, he said, "You'll have to stay here a bit longer. I'll find you some water."

"And food?"

"We'll see about that," Xord said as he left.

Xord, being a father, knew what it was like to nurture and provide for someone. With his new responsibility, his paternal instincts had resurfaced. Xord found it comforting. Caring for others provided a kind of fulfillment that was much different from the sick satisfaction he got out of murder. It was soft and warm, and it made his head feel like a cloud rather than a rapacious pit. Was that what it felt like to love someone? Xord didn't remember.

He returned to the mine with a metal trough of water he had collected from a pond in Colony 6. Most of the water had sloshed out during his flight, but there still should have been enough to go around. The captives thanked him, likely more-so out of fear than actual gratitude.

"You ought to get some shuteye," Xord advised. The Mechon had attacked in the middle of the night, and now, it was well into the morning. After everything that had happened, the captives must have been exhausted. They were likely getting by on nervous energy alone.

"Are you, um," a man said, "going to watch us sleep?"

"Oh!" Xord put up his hands in alarm. "I can leave." He didn't mention the M32 he had been using to monitor them. He felt pity for the captives, knowing they would have to sleep on the cold metal floor of the rig. It made him wish he could do more for them. Xord thought about how happy they would be if they woke up surrounded by blankets and food. He realized he could still have an impact on people without making them fear him—and in that case, their response wouldn't be cut short by death.

Everything in the colony had been destroyed. Xord figured there must've at least been wild fruit growing somewhere on the Bionis' leg. As he left the mine again, Xord's lines began to flash from red to blue—meaning he was minutes from losing control. How had he been so careless? He should've stopped to eat the last time he went out. He couldn't risk feeling peckish around his captives.

The land around Colony 6 was mostly barren of both large game and edible plants, so Xord headed in the direction of the Bionis' knee. He did a nosedive when his hunger took over, as if he were being magnetically pulled toward the life dwelling below. Without bothering to charge his cannon, he discharged a burst of electricity toward a herd of Ponios. He succeeded in electrocuting one of the larger specimens, causing it to drop. The rest of the monsters scattered. Xord, with what little consciousness he had left, felt something bordering on nostalgia. He was reminded of his very first meal; the meal that had given him a taste for blood and ether.

Xord was also reminded of how he hadn't started out by eating Homs. He'd even avoided eating a single person during his period of isolation on Valak Mountain. It gave him hope: maybe someday he'd be able to get away from Egil, return to society, and live a peaceful life. Perhaps he'd even get to reunite with his daughter. He might've been big and scary, but as long as he was careful and kept himself well-fed, he wouldn't have to hurt anybody.

Then, it dawned on him that there would be no society to return to if Egil's plan was brought to fruition—and Xord was doing his part to make it happen.

Rain continued to fall over Colony 6.

When he was done eating, Xord turned his attention to the surrounding vegetation. He didn't know anything about botany—he couldn't tell trees apart or determine whether or not certain fruits were safe to eat. The latter worried him. He wondered if he'd be better off not taking anything back at all.

Having found nothing but scraggly shrubs and wildflowers amid the grass, Xord made his way over to a small grove. He was delighted to find a tree full of dark purple fruits: humming plums. He knew plums' pits were inedible, but he'd never heard of a plum with toxic flesh. He hoped one of the captives would be more knowledgeable about them, seeing as they lived in the area.

Xord stared at the tree blankly. He hadn't thought of bringing something to carry the fruits. He assessed the size of the tree, realizing he could fit his fingers around its trunk. Using both hands, he grabbed a hold of it and pulled, uprooting it little by little.

Xord returned to the rig as discreetly as an eight-meter-tall Mechon carrying a plum tree could. If some of the captives had been asleep, they weren't sleeping anymore.

"Breakfast's here!" Xord chimed, holding the tree out like a bouquet of flowers.

"Are those humming plums?" a woman inquired.

Xord looked from the tree to the woman and shrugged. "I dunno. You tell me."

The woman said, "Humming plums induce euphoria. They have you singing and dancing. I have—had a brewery in the colony. My prune wine was a favorite at parties. Humming plums will get you drunk even without fermentation, though."

"I could go for that right now," a soldier said, repressing a laugh. "Anything to take my mind off of all this."

"Let's have one last party. We can celebrate that we're Homs."

"I like that idea."

Xord set the tree on its side and, uncharacteristically aloof, said, "Well, have fun." It was the same resigned voice he'd use when he could tell Désirée wasn't interested in talking with him; the voice of a father who wanted to stay relevant to his child, but didn't know how. He knew the captives feared and despised him, and there was nothing he could do to make amends. He had destroyed their homes and killed their loved ones, and he was going to have all of them made into machines. Xord always knew he was the bad guy, but he hadn't felt bad until now.

Wanting to leave the Homs to themselves, Xord decided to fly to the top of the ether rig and check on the Mechon he'd sent out. There were paths winding around the walls of the central pit, some of them leading to hollowed-out coves where ether deposits could be found. One to three idle Mechon were stationed at each deposit. Pleased, Xord continued to ascend until he reached a huge entryway.

He paused for a moment to eavesdrop on his captives. They had picked several plums each and were sitting in a circle.

"I just realized these are the last things we're ever gonna get to eat. There are so many foods I never got to try."

"Now isn't the time to be thinking about that. If you can't stop thinking about it, just keep eating plums until you do."

"No! You'll black out if you eat too many!"

"Isn't that the point?"

Xord sauntered through the entryway, finding himself at the mouth of a tunnel. He figured it would be a good idea to scope out the rest of it. He pressed inside, ducking down when the ridges on his shell scraped the ceiling. Eventually, he dropped onto his knees. The tunnel became increasingly short and narrow until it closed around him.

Then, he could no longer move.

He grunted and attempted to back up, but the ridges on his upper arms had gotten jammed in the walls. Xord, being made of metal, couldn't wriggle and squeeze his way out. With the ridges on his shell touching the ceiling, he was unable to get back onto his feet. His immovable shoulders prevented him from pushing himself out with his hands. He let out a strained cry as his body creaked terribly.

He could still hear the Homs and see them through his smaller eyes. They were singing and dancing drunkenly and laughing at the spectacle of it all. It didn't take long for them to get on his nerves. They were oblivious to his fate, and if they did know what had happened to him, they probably would've celebrated harder.

Xord's body didn't react to his stress—his heartbeat and respiration were constant—which made the experience more torturous. He wasn't calm. He wasn't at rest. On the inside, he was thrashing and trying to claw his way out. Xord couldn't feel the tunnel's walls against his armor, but he still felt cramped from the pressure. He vocalized labored breathing as he thrust his body, wrenching and pulling without going anywhere.

There was no way for Xord to get help. He tried to signal to the M32 to stop broadcasting, but it wasn't in range of his output. The M33 was out of reach as well. Xord couldn't stand to listen to the Homs' revelry anymore. If he had ears, he wouldn't have even been able to cover them—the noise was being streamed directly into his brain. He sobbed as he desperately willed himself to move, causing his armor to vibrate. All he could do was rotate his head. He attempted to twist it all the way around and snap his own neck, even though he already knew there was nothing there for him to break.

Xord's tank was at around a quarter of its maximum capacity. He didn't want to think of what would happen when the ether dried up. He already felt like he was losing his mind—what would his hunger do to his head if it was impossible for him to sate it? Xord hoped he would just lose consciousness; at least then he would go out in peace. For the first time, he embraced the prospect of death.

Xord thought back to his time on Valak Mountain, where he had spent weeks alone with his thoughts. It hadn't occurred to him at the time, but the experience wasn't much different from his brush with the incorporeal. Even as a Homs, he had spent every day in front of the forge in his garage all by himself. Xord had always been a solitary man—but he was solitary by choice. He hadn't chosen to exist without a body or be held inside a cell. Xord was seldom afforded the privilege of freedom, which made it all the more precious to him.

Sometimes, Xord didn't even realize he'd had freedom until it was gone.

How had he been so stupid?

With the captives' merriment still resounding in his head, Xord clenched his jaw so hard that it would have cracked if it were bone. He wanted to kill them. He didn't hate them, at least not personally. He hated them the way one might hate a fly buzzing around their head. Xord had killed so many people that death no longer carried any weight. It was just a solution to a problem.

When the first pangs of hunger emerged, they coalesced with his anger and formed an emotion that his brain struggled to process. It was a fervent, bestial rage. Xord's body crunched halfway into jet formation, his tail blazing. His engine roared as he accelerated with all the force he could muster. Little by little, his ridges cut through the rocky walls. He used all of his remaining strength to continue pushing forward, until he finally had enough space to complete his transformation. Then, he reversed and tore himself out of the tunnel.

Xord plummeted into the pit, catching himself only a few meters above the bottom platform of the rig. He let out a ghoulish, guttural noise as he loomed over the partying Homs, electricity crackling from his open jaws.

In a frenzy, he slaughtered every last one. They were too drunk to run or defend themselves. Some were too drunk to care. Xord, reveling in his gluttony, devoured as many of them as he could: fifteen, almost sixteen. He couldn't keep the last one down. He reposed on the blood-stained floor as his head cleared and he adjusted to the full kiloliter of ether.

It was silent.

Xord felt nothing; no guilt and no remorse. He waddled up to the plum tree, picked it up, and threw it into the river of ether below. The metal trough came next. Xord then stood at the edge of the platform and stared into the ether, his shoulders rising and falling with his calm, simulated breathing. His engine purred contentedly.

To Egil's M33, he said, "I killed them. I killed them all."

He didn't get a response.

A Homs' life held no intrinsic value. They were designed to be consumed, just like all the other ether-based life forms populating the Bionis. Xord was able to see this clearly now. Sentimentality did nothing but obstruct the truth: on Bionis, the rule of the world was to eat or be eaten. If Xord didn't intervene, he would be purged alongside everyone and everything else. He was fighting to survive in more ways than one.

There were still several uneaten corpses strewn across the platform. Xord didn't want to look at them anymore. He was feeling restless, and he had a lot of ether to burn. There was no point in sticking around the mine. Xord emerged from the darkness to find that the sun had come out, although there was still a light drizzle.

He was itching to do something. There remained the matter of the people who had escaped through Colony 6's main gate—people who could take the place of the ones he'd massacred—but the thought of seeing more Homs gave him a phantom bellyache, as if they were sweets and he had eaten too many.

Xord idled outside the freight elevator, his armor painted with mist. Regrettably, the ether had made him fully lucid, and all he could think about was what he had done in the pit. The only satisfaction he had gained from killing the captives was the bliss of satiation. Drunken Homs were barely different from monsters. Even through the lens of misanthropy, it had been a complete waste of life.

In hindsight, Xord thought it was laughable that he'd tried to treat the captives well. He never actually cared about them, he told himself. What he had done was no different from feeding pigs extra scraps before taking them to the market; a performative display of pity.

Xord was a Mechon, and Mechons' values were antithetical to Homs'. What use did a Mechon have for family; for friends? Mechon couldn't smile together, or share warmth, or invite others into their homes. They weren't designed for any of those things. Mechon were designed to be used, and they were used to destroy.

Xord recalled one of the first Homs he ever ate: the soldier who had willingly given his life to avoid becoming a Face. He then recalled the anxious woman—one of the captives who had left on the passenger craft—who agreed to be turned into a Mechon just to save her life. It seemed there was no consensus as to which was preferable, but most Homs didn't have the luxury of choosing for themselves. Xord was the arbiter of their fates; a position he hadn't chosen to assume, either. Behind it all was Egil, a false god with the power to insert himself into others' destinies.

Xord couldn't be mad anymore. So what if fate took the form of a man? Circumstance was circumstance; it didn't matter who or what was holding the reins. Xord had grown tired of fighting for control. It was easier just to give in and accept the conditions he'd been put under. Egil was challenging the soul of the Bionis itself—if he wanted Xord to help him burn the world down, who was Xord to protest?

In the distance, Xord saw something resembling a jet shoot through the clouds like an arrow. It was followed by a convoy of smaller vehicles. As they drew closer, Xord was able to make out that they were Mechon carriers—and their guide was none other than Metal Face. Metal Face seemed to have noticed Xord as well. He shepherded the carriers toward Colony 6 and touched down in front of the mine.

"What a mess that was," Metal Face muttered as he came out of jet formation. He, for some reason, had his neck turned so Xord could only see him in profile.

Xord made a not-so-subtle attempt to take a peek at the other side of Metal Face's head. "Colony 9?"

"The Monado's fallen into new hands. I couldn't keep up," said Metal Face, twisting his neck further.

"But I thought the Monado couldn't hurt us."

"It's not even that. He—he dodged all of my attacks, like he could read my mind. And then he and his two buddies ganged up on me and knocked me over, letting them hack away at my fragile parts."

Xord was intrigued. He'd never struggled to get a kill, so it seemed implausible that Metal Face—who was nearly twice his size—could be so easily overwhelmed. How had any number of Homs been able to topple him? "You think it's because of the Monado?"

"Can't be. I've seen that thing in action plenty of times, and I've never seen anything like that," Metal Face said. "I was given the orders to retreat. If we stuck around, things could've turned bad fast."

Xord was having a hard time taking Metal Face seriously. "I can't believe you got beat by three little Homs. I ate ten times as many in Colony 6," he boasted. He tipped back his torso and rolled his abdomen forward, showing off his full belly—even though it would've looked the same if it were empty. "If I was there, I would've eaten them all and used the Monado to pick my teeth."

Xord had come to see Metal Face as a rival, since the two of them had similar interests. Xord also felt the need to compensate for his comparatively small stature. In Metal Face's presence, those people's deaths stopped being an accident—they were an achievement; bragging rights. Xord didn't even know how many people he had inside of him. He just knew that he'd won.

"You don't get it," Metal Face snarled. "I'm not playing around here. I don't know what the hell I was up against."

"Right, if you say so."

Something had been on Xord's mind from the moment he first recognized Metal Face. He couldn't keep it to himself anymore. In a grave tone, he asked, "Did you… send anyone back?"

"It was a complete failure," Metal Face said. He froze. "Oh, that's right. How could I forget about her?"

"Her?" Xord repeated in a whimper. If he were a Homs, his heart would have been pounding. Tears would've been in his eyes.

Metal Face stepped aside, giving Xord a look at one of the Mechon carriers. In the claws of an M72 was the limp body of a blonde-haired girl, her back facing Xord. He gasped. Then, the M72 opened its claws slightly, causing the body to roll onto its back.

It wasn't Désirée.

It wasn't her at all.

Xord let out a strangled noise; an animal noise; the only noise a man could make under the weight of so much emotion.

And in response, Metal Face threw back his head and laughed.

"You idiot! I don't even know what your daughter looks like. I didn't stick around to meet your family after you made me those things." He had turned toward Xord, revealing that half of his face had been charred and blackened. "I just couldn't stand listening to all your blubbering. I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to believe me."

Then, Metal Face said, "We might've had to retreat, but not until we'd already spilled some blood. Maybe your daughter is alive. Maybe she isn't. I don't care either way."

Xord was shaking, but he found the strength to raise his hammer and point it at the burnt part of Metal Face's head. For a moment he just stood there, pointing. All of his emotions had cleared, freeing his mind from its torment. He entered a state of calm lucidity that was foreign to his damaged brain; a glimpse, perhaps, of what his mind had been like long before. "Looks like you could use a new head," Xord said in a voice that was hardly recognizable as his own, "and the only forge big enough is hell."

Metal Face stared down at Xord, glowering. "Tch." Condescendingly, he said, "We had a good talk, but it's time for me to go." He and the carriers made a swift departure, leaving Xord by himself again.

Xord's mind regressed into a muddle of thoughts and his heart hurt. He refused to believe Désirée was dead, though, and intended to remain blissful in his ignorance. He was done looking for her; he told himself it was for her sake. Would Désirée want to see the person—monster—he had become? And would Xord be able to reconcile with her if she became a monster herself? It was probably for the best that they stayed worlds apart.

The hardest part would be forgetting about her.