Dunban handed Shulk a bottle with water. "Was that a new technique you used against the Volffs? Quite the mess you made with it."
Shulk threw a sheepish look at the scorched earth and the plants caught up in the wrangle. Of the rich ferns remained little more than heaps of ash. Add to that the three slain Volffs, and the once peaceful jungle had all the makings of a battlefield. Memories of Mechon stalking through the streets of Colony 9 resurfaced, and Shulk swallowed to chase away the imaginary taste of smoke in his mouth.
"I underestimated the effect of the deactivated insulator," Shulk said and sipped from the water. The spinning of his head slowed a little. "I thought it would mostly increase the brightness to confuse the monsters."
"Well, you should think twice before using it again." Dunban pointed at the Monado. Its blue light circles pulsated weakly, and the ether blade didn't work at all. "Without a proper weapon, you would have lost any subsequent fight before it even began. Next time, I may not be around to help you. Which brings me to a far more crucial question: What are you doing here by yourself?"
Shulk turned the bottle in his hands. Dunban had no more reason to wander through the jungles of the Fallen Arm than he did. Although he did seem better equipped to the terrain with his hunter boots and the light cape that protected against both sun and rain.
He hadn't changed much in the past years. The way he carried himself still commanded respect, this leader aura Shulk admired so much. But a new, quiet fire simmered deep within Dunban. Every time his hand closed around the hilt of his katana it came to the forefront, prepared to lash out and hack at the unfortunate wildlife in his path.
"You were reckless," Dunban said when Shulk refused to answer. "Let's leave it at that. I can take you to the settlement downhill. You can repair the Monado there."
Shulk climbed to his feet. His stance wasn't exactly steady, but he would manage as long as they maintained a slow pace. "I also need some extra parts for the Havre I crashed farther that way."
"I noticed. Frankly, I took you for a better pilot."
Shulk fidgeted with the water bottle. "Ah… sorry."
"You don't have to apologise to me, it's not my ship. Although I must wonder… why a High Entia ship?"
"I've been living in Alcamoth. For some time now."
"I… see."
"A lot of things have changed since you left," Shulk said. "You could have stopped by once or twice."
Dunban tightened his grip on the katana. A reflex he himself didn't seem to notice. "I don't need to tell you why I left. And this is no place to sit idly and talk. Before we reach the settlement, you should do something about your face. You look awful."
Shulk ran a hand through his hair to rid himself of leaves and dirt. Without water, he wouldn't get far in that regard. If he looked as bad as he felt, he made for quite the sorrowful picture; bruised, dizzy, and dehydrated. His shirt had borne the brunt of the Volff attack and showed irreparable holes. Not to mention the Monado, which gave off no more than a pained hiss when Shulk clipped it to his back.
One day into the journey, and he had already crashed and lost the first fight. Shulk had harboured no illusions about the difficulty of his journey, after all, he aimed to overstep the horizon of Homs' understanding and chase after visions of unknown places and people. Still, he hadn't expected to be quite so outmatched either.
He needed a helping hand.
But as Dunban had argued, first he needed a shower.
Dunban knew the terrain, and neither the heat nor the hidden tubes in the ground slowed his steps. He could tell by a trail in the sand or a broken twig which creature had come by earlier. Accordingly, he knew the path to the nearest pond that promised the least trouble.
How long had Dunban wandered through this jungle? Five years? Ten? After that day, he had tarried long enough for the funeral, and afterwards no one from Colony 9 or elsewhere had seen him. As if he had vanished alongside the Telethia.
Shulk could have used his guidance. He still hungered for a word of reassurance out of Dunban's mouth. But how to even initiate a conversation? How to bridge a cleft that had widened for twelve years? Shulk hadn't even managed to talk with Tyrea, and he had seen her on a daily basis.
The terrain fell off in a cliff. Vines wound downwards to the pond Dunban had promised. The tension that had controlled each of Shulk's steps until this point fled his tired muscles, and he took a moment to appreciate the scenery. A waterfall splashed into the pond. Water, so clear that Shulk could make out the individual gears and bolts underneath the surface, sloshed against the metal banks.
This place would make for a fitting addition to the Collectopaedia.
Dunban side-eyed Shulk, probably to assess whether he would manage the climb on the vines. Admittedly, Shulk had seen better days, but the promise of water, not to mention the alluring gleam of the metal parts in its depths, spurred him forward.
Soon, Shulk reached the pond and submerged his fingers in the warm water. His heartbeat slowed. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to hear the voices of Reyn and Sharla accompanying Dunban's calm steps. They would both roll their eyes at the excitement with which Shulk felt the water for mechanical parts. A digital filament would do wonders to stabilise the Havre's sub engines… Shulk took off jacket and shirt and waded deeper into the pond. Fascinating. Even after years of exposure to water, the mechanisms of the Mechonis arm showed no rust. A sufficient energy source might get the gears turning again.
For ten wonderful minutes, he dove in the pond for parts. The water washed all exhaustion from him, and even his bruises stopped nagging. This was what he excelled at; telling apart mechanical fragments and seeing the potential in what others deemed worthless junk.
But as much as he enjoyed the hunt, Shulk needed to return to shore at some point. Dunban waited for him there. He had taken the time to refill his water bottle. With a faint smile he looked over the pile of gears and filament in Shulk's arms.
"You wouldn't happen to have seen a core coil over there, would you?" Shulk asked.
Dunban wasn't listening. His jaw had hardened.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Huh?" Shulk looked at his bare torso. "Oh, that? It's a scar from when Dickson shot me. I'm not sure what type of ether bullet he used. Sharla said she has never seen this kind of scar. But I have had it ever since then."
At the centre of Shulk's chest, where Dickson's shot had exited his torso, there remained a collection of bulges. The flesh itself had healed. But, so Shulk's theory, the bullet hat splintered, and a handful of fragments had grown together with the skin when Linada had treated him. That would explain the intense red of the alien elements. Since the scar never ached, Shulk tended to forget about its existence. It remained hidden under fabric most of the time anyway.
"Are you sure it's just that?" Dunban asked. "This doesn't look natural."
"It's alright, I think. The effect is nowhere close to what the Monado did to your arm."
Dunban closed his right fist with visible effort. "Whatever you say, Shulk. But this doesn't excuse you wandering across the Fallen Arm alone and ill-equipped. I thought I taught you better than that. Do you want to join Fiora so badly that you are willing to throw your life away?"
Shulk flinched. For a moment while under the claws of the Volff, he had fantasised about seeing Fiora again. To feel the warmth of her hand in whichever form of existence that would follow. But not like this. Shulk hadn't left the relative safety of Alcamoth to die. He couldn't, not while the Shoulder in the present and a metal bridge in the future were falling apart.
"I'm not the one who ran away once she was gone," he said and met Dunban's stern look with his own. "I have made a promise to her. I can't die yet."
Dunban narrowed his eyes. Then he nodded. "But keep in mind that next time, you may not be so lucky."
"I don't think it was luck. You made the decision to follow the smoke clouds from the crash site because you didn't want to stand aside while people were at risk. Even without knowing it was me, you came to help. You're still the hero of the Homs. Even if you deny it. And I want to believe that you still do your most to ensure a better future for everyone."
Dunban thought over Shulk's words before he smiled. "Interesting theory. We'll see how much truth there is to it. But maybe another time. Do you think you are fit to tackle the rest of the march to the settlement?"
"I think so, yeah."
Refreshed and equipped with a handful of mechanical parts, Shulk followed Dunban through the jungle. At its state, the Monado would do them little good in case of a fight, but they managed to avoid another run-in with the local wildlife. Soon the canopy above them grew thin. A steady wind that tasted of salt made the heat more bearable.
The promise of reaching the Hidden Machina Village lightened Shulk's step. Not only would he be able to acquire additional parts for the Monado's repair, he might even find a Machina who knew how to extend the duration of the Havre's ether supply units. The many broken mechanisms of the Fallen Arm should provide them with the necessary material. Furthermore, if anyone had data on the surrounding ocean and potential landmasses to share, it had to be the inhabitants of the Hidden Machina Village.
The sun had passed its midday peak when Dunban stopped.
"There we are," he said.
They stood at the edge of a cliff, where the Mechonis' wrist led to the palm. Or rather what remained of the palm.
The walls that had once encircled the Hidden Machina Village had disappeared. The surrounding hills and beaches were no more. Shulk's chest cramped, and the dizziness returned with full force, worse than before. The salted air made him sick, and a storm without natural winds chilled his core.
Where once the last Machina refuge had shone in the sun, only water remained. The ocean had swallowed the land. It glittered with the storm, so harmless. Only the four taller digits protruded out of the waves like lonely monuments, like machines robbed of their purpose.
Even here, the new world was resisting, no, devouring the old one.
"What happened?" Shulk managed between two uneven breaths.
"A side effect of the birth of the new world, I imagine," Dunban said. "It has been this way for almost ten years. Come, the settlement is further down the cliff. You can't miss it."
Shulk tore his eyes from the sorrowful sight of the sunken digits. He hadn't known. Many places of Bionis and Mechonis no longer existed, and countless people had had no home to return to. As a result, they had flocked to Colony 9 and later the Bionis' Shoulder. But in an act of defiant naivety, Shulk had assumed the Fallen Arm would escape such a fate. Not for long, it seemed.
Would the remains of the arm sink further? Would this place disappear like the Shoulder would disappear in a few years?
Shulk wanted to scream. But there was no enemy to threaten, no physical opponent to take revenge against, no god to kill. Only the vast world he had wished into existence.
From the cliff where he and Dunban stood, a narrow path wound downwards, half overgrown with lichen. And at the end of this path, the settlement revealed itself. Terraces clung to the metal cliff face, and huts in Machina and Nopon style huddled on the narrow overhangs, grey and herded together like shuddering seagulls. Groves in the wall served as ladders between the terraces all the way down to the waterfront where small jetties clawed into the sea. The vertical city design resembled the lost Frontier Village. But this place lacked the vibrancy of the Nopon's home. Desperation had borne the settlement, and it showed in every nut and bolt.
The Machina, Nopon, and occasional Homs walking about regarded their neighbours with hostile gazes. Shulk fastened his collar against the storm. If he kept his head any lower, he would have to crawl.
Dunban halted on the second-lowest terrace close to a merchant's stall that displayed an assortment of metal parts. A female High Entia balanced crates this way and that in an effort to follow the shop owner's directions.
"That should do," Dunban said. "The merchant might not offer the cheapest prices, but he should have the right replacement parts for you. Otherwise you can try the shop near the port."
Shulk whirled around to look at Dunban. "Aren't you going to stay? At least for a while?"
"I have stayed long enough. You know how to take care of yourself, or so I hope. Stay sharp."
"Wait, please!" Panic seared Shulk's throat. "I… I need…"
Before Shulk could put into words what he needed, a crash boomed across the terrace. The High Entia had dropped a crate. With tears on her face, she knelt amidst a pile of shards and scrambled for the blue glow that would have revealed the parts that had survived the impact. Blue light amps – used for a number of ether constructions and in Machina scanning devices. Their rarity had worsened exponentially since the fall of Mechonis. To see so many broken samples equalled a stab in Shulk's gut.
"Worthless!" the shop owner, a tall Machina, shouted. "Do you have any idea how much irreparable value you destroyed? A few of my friends depended on these for self-maintenance. We need these to function, do you understand?"
The High Entia raised her bloody fingers above her head. "I'm sorry, so very sorry!"
A male Homs who had previously inspected the shop's product range stepped closer. "I don't think you know what being sorry means," he said. "You High Entia with your venerability and your pretty castle in the clouds. Of course, you have no reason to be sorry. You got your home back, alright."
"I didn't mean to—"
"Not all of us were so lucky, you know? And while the rest of us struggles, you High Entia look down on our misery. You and your pathetic empress." The man spat out. "Why don't you run back to your precious Alcamoth? You'd do us all a favour."
A couple of bystanders murmured their agreement.
Shulk recoiled in horror. He had thought the hostilities between the different races were relics of the past. No, he had clung to this belief as the one truth that promised the slightest glimmer of optimism. Had he not offered Egil a hand in friendship? Had the rebuilding of Colony 9 and then the collaborative efforts on the Bionis' Shoulder not proven beyond doubt that the people could work together and live in harmony?
"I don't understand," Shulk said.
"Why they are being so petty?" Dunban huffed. "Isn't it obvious? In times of crisis, we look for someone to blame. And it is easier to find that someone in those that differ from us. It's the reason we continued to wage war with Mechonis for centuries."
"But we learned the truth! We made peace with the Machina."
"Not everyone made the same journey as you, Shulk. You gave every individual the chance to decide their own future. But someone who hasn't walked on the same path as you may have quite the different view of the world. How are they supposed to make the right choices at all times? You can't promise everyone equal control and expect no conflict to come out of it."
All energy left Shulk. He didn't want to look anymore, didn't want to listen to the insults and the accusations. "Then it was all for nothing?"
"If you believe that, then you lost the battle before you even entered the fray. And in that case, you may as well go back and offer yourself to the next Volff as a meal."
The man had worked himself into his hateful tirade, and the noise drew in a growing number of spectators. When a fellow High Entia joined the woman's side and countered with equally venomous insults, the situation threatened to escalate into a brawl. With a provocative grin, the Homs cursed Melia's name.
Shulk, although he felt sick to his stomach, stepped forward to intervene. But help arrived from an unexpected direction in the form of a bright ball of fur.
"Some broken machine-things, that no reason to forget manners."
Shulk could hardly believe his eyes. "Nene?"
Nene hopped into the open space between the opposing parties and puffed her chest. The fact that the others towered above her with three times her size and muscle mass didn't deter her in the slightest.
"Hom-hom has no reason to look for fight," she said, and the man shrunk under her gaze. "Fallen Arm has plenty of beasts to knock thick head against. And machine-man can stop shouting like hungry nestling too. Nene will replace broken lights."
The shop owner frowned, but the bulk of his anger had disappeared. "Do you have any idea how difficult blue light amps are to find?"
"Nene see no problem. Will search extra-long and hard to make dadapon and brotherpon proud. Machine-man can go back to shop and make lots of cash like before."
"Fine then. I take your word that you will replace what she owes me."
Nene flapped her wings and called the Machina back before he had a chance to disappear behind his displays. "Machine-man is forgetting apology to bird-lay. Must shake hands like good neighbour-pons. Then will be no more need for petty fight. World outside settlement has enough things to fight."
The shop owner and his High Entia assistance did as Nene had ordered. They shook hands. A few bystanders exchanged embarrassed looks or shuffled their feet, and the Homs who had thrown the first insults fled the scene. Under tears, the High Entia woman thanked Nene for her involvement and her promise to make up for the Machina's losses.
"Nene glad to bring silly littlepon back to senses. Urge to save the day comes natural when spending so much time around heropon."
"You see, Shulk," Dunban said with a small smile, "not everyone knows how to make the right choices at all times. But it seems you have inspired one or the other."
Shulk nodded. Maybe the settlement hid a few more golden gears behind its grey exterior.
He waved Nene, and when she noticed him and Dunban, all manner of serious heropon behaviour fell from her, and she bounced and flapped like an oversized rubber ball. "Mister Shulk! Mister Dundun!"
"What are you doing here, Nene?" Shulk asked. "I thought you were with Riki and Kino in Colony 9."
Nene pulled her wings closer and rolled back and forth without looking at Shulk. "Is long and tiring story. But what about Mister Shulk? Is Miss Melly not with him?"
Dunban raised an eyebrow but for the moment chose not to voice any questions of his own.
"No, she's still in Alcamoth," Shulk said.
"Nene not understand. You two always together on quest for friends from Alcamoth. Did Mister Shulk and Miss Melly have fight because of littlepon Aaron?"
"Uhm, no, that's not…" Shulk scratched his chin and gave up. "I guess that would be a long and tiring story too."
"Oh, Nene have time to hear! Will Mister Dundun come and listen too?"
Dunban inspected Shulk with a look that resembled tweezers to bring order into the most sensitive parts of a machine. Especially sharp tweezers "On second thought, I just realised that I do have an afternoon to waste. And I'm starting to suspect there's more I missed back at Colony 9 than I thought."
There was no going back now.
Shulk had manoeuvred himself into perhaps the most awkward story time session since the beginning of the world. Time to set a few things straight.
29/06/22: So, are you guys appropriately hyped for Xenoblade 3? At the time I'm writing these lines, the game is exactly one month away. And having only seen the reveal trailer, which gave me enough hype for a year, I can't describe the excitement I feel when I imagine myself shoving the game into the Switch in a month and losing myself in an (almost) entirely unknown experience. I guess it's true what Fiora said in chapter one. "Not knowing what's coming, that's part of the fun, right?"