The following morning, Alagrin and Fox stood out on a large cliff that Fox assumed was once a piece of a ship's hull, now buried under the dirt and grime.
"Tell me, Fox, do you feel responsible for the death of Peppy Hare?" asked Alagrin, turning his wrinkled little head towards Fox.
Fox didn't look at the turtle, instead thinking back to the day three years earlier when Peppy had sacrificed himself so that Fox, Falco, and Krystal could escape from Cain. "A little. I feel angrier at Cain, though," he said after a while.
Alagrin nodded, but Fox couldn't discern whether the nod was of understanding, disappointment, or merely acknowledgment. They stood there for at least ten minutes, enjoying the fresh morning air before the hot afternoon winds blew the stench of the polluted sea inland. Finally Alagrin broke the silence. "Must correct this," he said.
Fox blinked at him. "What?" he asked.
"Anger clouds judgement. Guilt weakens willpower. Before you begin training, meditation is necessary," Alagrin replied. Then he nodded at Fox. "Sit," he said.
Fox obeyed, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. He frowned at Alagrin as the little turtle began hobbling away. "Where are you going?" he asked.
Alagrin didn't turn back. "Clean house, cook, repair. Much work must be done. You meditate. I shall find you when I know you are ready," he said.
Fox stared as the little psychic master disappeared into the fog. After a moment he turned and looked out across the forest, then closed his eyes. Fox checked his breathing, straightened his back, and began his meditation.
At first it was difficult. The ground was uncomfortable and the air was thick, giving him a hard time concentrating. But after a while, hours perhaps, nothing seemed to matter anymore.
Visions of memories danced in front of Fox's closed eyes, some even that he didn't remember. He caught a brief glimpse of a hairy face, shadowed under a hood, reaching out and handing an infant Fox over to another large figure. Fox looked up at the two foxes that he had been handed to, recognizing them as his Aunt Angela and Uncle Michael, and the purple evening sky of Katina behind them. He turned back to the hooded figure and caught a glimpse– nothing more than a brief peek– at the face. It was Peppy Hare.
The colors blurred together and seemed to spiral away as though they were being drained from a sink, and then a new image came up. This wasn't one of his memories, however. This was an image of a large, cerulean blue planet glimmering in space. Snow-capped mountains dotted its surface, and the light of Solar glimmered of its oceans. And then, suddenly, it imploded, the gargantuan hunks of debris scattering into space. It was as though the entire planet had been a ticking bomb, and the timer had counted down to zero. Then Fox saw with horror a large, hulking starship roar away from the space rubble. The Venomian starship. This was planet Cerinia, Krystal's home. Then was this a memory of Krystal's, or Alagrin's?
The memory went blank, as though it was shoved out of Fox's head by an outside force. Then another faded into view, showing two lone figures standing on a catwalk suspended over rivers of flame and boiling lava. Fox couldn't see who they were through the clouds of smoke, but he could see white flashes of light through the darkness, and the bright beams of two energy swords clashing together. Then the image dissolved into that of Peppy and Cain standing in the Venomian flagship's hangar, reigning blow after blow down on each other with their energy swords. Peppy faltered, stepping back and deactivating his weapon, and Cain sprang forward to end his life. It was all Fox could do to push away the hot bite of hate that accompanied the memory.
Now he was sitting in the cockpit of his Arwing, watching in horror as the Andross Empire invaded the Cornerian Rebellion's base on Fortuna. Cornerian shuttles attempted to take off, but were blasted out of the sky by laser beams. Venomian starfighters zipped over the beautiful temples, dropping bombs and destroying the beautiful forests. Fox was about to reach for the controls of the Arwing to help the shuttles escape, but the memory faded before he could.
Fox slowly opened his eyes to find the dim glow of Solar shining through the haze in the sky. It was mid afternoon. Alagrin was standing in front of him, leaning calmly on a short wooden cane.
"You remember much," said Alagrin. It was a statement, not a question.
Fox nodded.
"You still feel guilt and anger?"
Fox blinked, thinking back to Peppy's death. Had he distracted the rabbit, or had Peppy sacrificed himself to save Fox? Had there really been no other way? At length, Fox looked at Alagrin and shook his head no.
Alagrin nodded and motioned for Fox to stand up. "Good. I had thought so," he said, beginning to lead Fox back towards his mud house.
Fox became uncomfortably aware of how hungry he was. "How long had I been meditating?" he asked Alagrin casually.
"Three days."
Fox gaped at the turtle. "Three days? You're serious?" he asked in amazement.
Alagrin nodded. "You eat. You are hungry. Then we begin your training," he said.
Fox followed Alagrin back to his hut and eagerly accepted the meal that had been cooked. It smelt faintly sour, but tasted sweet and refreshing. "So what do we do now?" Fox asked after he was done, trying not to sound too eager.
"You sweep," Alagrin said simply.
And he did. For a week and a half, Fox simply lived with Alagrin, growing accustomed to his simple lifestyle and sweeping the floor every night before he went to sleep. Fox guessed that it was supposed to teach him discipline. Alagrin neither confirmed or denied this theory.
After a week and three days, Fox began what he assumed was his real training. Every morning, just before the sun rose, Fox would run for an hour through the forest, carrying Alagrin on his back in a small knapsack. Alagrin pushed him onwards, even through dense mud or murky, polluted waters, always striving for Fox to do his best.
After his morning run, Fox would return to the hut to eat breakfast, his first of two daily meals. Usually it was something simple, such as a bowl of berries from Alagrin's small garden. After breakfast, Fox would tend to Alagrin's garden, making sure the plants weren't being eaten by insects or planting seeds in the tiny patch of clean soil.
After this, his morning was over, and his mental training began. Alagrin would order him to sit alone in a darkened room for hours, meditate, or try to reach Krystal with his mind. After he was proficient with this, Alagrin would order him to try and reach someone else. A close friend or relative, perhaps. Fox tried Falco, trying to extend his feelings out to the bird like he had with Krystal. For the first few days he received nothing, but persistence paid off. After almost a week, Fox felt signs of worry and anxiety plaguing Falco, but even that was a good sign. At least he was alive and well.
"Try to read what I think," commanded Alagrin to Fox after he had been there for three weeks.
Fox obeyed. He stared into the turtle's eyes, probing past them into his very being. There wasn't much at first, just a pool of soothing calm. There would perhaps be a few sharp jolts of unexpected worry, but not much more than that.
"Good, good," Alagrin said when Fox told him what he felt. Then the turtle got up and hobbled outside into the darkness. "Sweep," he commanded.
Fox slept on his sleeping roll that he'd retrieved from his old camp, laying it out on Alagrin's floor at night. He was always asleep within seconds of touching it. If he had dreams, he didn't remember them. Alagrin not only taught him how to be at peace with the world around him, but also himself.
For a long time, Fox did little that was physically demanding. In the evenings Alagrin instructed Fox to test his mind– the turtle would hide ten different objects under large leaves and instruct Fox to try and find a specific one with a single try, or he might make him solve arithmetic problems in his head. There were even times when Fox had to stand unmoving and alone for hours, or sleep outside in the darkness of the forest. Fox didn't mind, though. He trusted in Alagrin. That was the most important thing: trust in his mentor.
After his third week living with the Cerinian survivor, Fox received the training that he had sought after his entire stay on Zoness. Telepathy, psychokinesis, telekinesis. Alagrin unlocked Fox's mind, showing him dimensions of the world that he had never dreamed imaginable.
Often during his morning runs, Alagrin had Fox recite simple sentences to him via psychokinesis.
Mary's blue eyes make Johnny swoon and fall down, Fox recited to Alagrin for the sixty-fourth time.
Good, good. You have mastered it. Now say it backwards, replied Alagrin.
Combat training. Fox expected to learn little in the ways of combat from the tiny Cerinian. How wrong he was. Every evening Fox would leave Alagrin's hut with nothing but his combat uniform, marching out to a wooded glen in the forest where Alagrin had reassembled ancient combat androids with scavenged parts. He would stand just two meters away from them, and, with Alagrin watching from the safety of a tree, try to defeat the androids using nothing but his mind.
At first it was difficult. Fox found himself stunned by the powered-down rays of their blasters almost every time. He would duck and roll, hiding behind trees or leaping into branches, but eventually would run out of options. Telekinesis he found was incredibly difficult to master, as well. Even after a good three weeks of practicing, he could only move small things like pebbles or water droplets.
"Trying too hard, you are trying too hard!" exclaimed Alagrin one time, stamping his foot on the ground when Fox failed to keep a rock suspended in the air for over seventeen seconds.
"What do you mean?" asked Fox, exhausted from the mental strain. He had no idea how Krystal managed to use her telepathy all the time. He was sweating after only an hour of mental communication.
"Relax. Concentrate! Do not strain yourself! Remember your energy sword, in the ice cave? Hm? You were relaxed, and peaceful!" Alagrin scowled.
Fox did recall that. He'd told Alagrin everything about what he'd learned about his mysterious mental powers in his previous adventures. He closed his eyes and extended his hand out to the rock, breathing deeply. He tried to reach out to it and feel its presence, telling its own energy to lift itself in the air. The rock trembled, hovered, and then lifted into the air. Fox swept his hand out towards the murky river of water running through the forest, and the rock followed his motion. With a short ker-plunk, he dropped the rock in the water, then turned back to Alagrin.
Alagrin nodded. "Very good," he said.
Yet for all its difficulties, Fox's training never seemed like it wasn't leading him somewhere. He almost never made the same mistakes twice, and caught on quite fast. Alagrin often praised him for this, yet at the same time chided him, letting him know that he could never let himself become arrogant with his abilities.
"I have seen dark things used with your abilities, young Fox. Terrible things. Arrogance is the beginning. Arrogance leads to selfishness. Selfishness leads to greed. Greed leads to evil," Alagrin warned one night as they ate dinner.
"Evil," said Fox slowly, blowing softly on a spoonful of a hot, porridge-like food. "Is that what happened to Cain?" he asked.
Alagrin shot Fox a strange look. He hesitated for a moment, then answered, "Yes."
Fox's training wore on. He became stronger. He became swifter. Alagrin pushed him beyond his previous limits, testing him like he never was tested before. And Fox relished in his training, knowing that at times he would make Alagrin proud or surprised, and loving the sense of self-respect that he received as well. And Fox thought that he had been a skilled warrior after years of training with the Cornerian Rebellion.
It was his battle training. The ancient battle androids swept their laser cannons towards him, blasting full-on. Their shots only hit the dirt Fox had previously been standing on.
One of the androids was thrown backwards by invisible arms, smashing against a tree trunk. Another had its internal circuits suddenly rewired to that it destroyed its own companions. The third was bombarded with dozens of rocks that came flying from nowhere, assailing it like a swarm of killer bees.
After the dust settled, Fox was the only thing left standing.
Alagrin smiled and clapped his wrinkled hands together briefly. "Well done," he said, hopping down from his perch in a tree and sliding down the trunk on his shell. Fox bent down and let Alagrin jump up onto his shoulder, proudly carrying him back to the mud-brick hut.
But as they walked, Fox's smile began to fade. He began to feel strange chill creep past his fur, growing ever stronger as they approached the hut. When they finally were inside, Fox noticed that Alagrin looked grim too. Fox set the little turtle down, but didn't enter the cozy home.
"I feel strange," he said softly.
Alagrin nodded simply.
"It feels cold all of a sudden. What is it?" asked Fox in confusion.
Alagrin turned around slowly, not looking at Fox but past him. Fox turned to look at what Alagrin was seeing, and the mist behind them parted to reveal a black, scraggly looking tree. A dark opening yawned near the roots of the tree, and Fox shivered. It felt as though the cold was coming from inside the tree.
Fox understood. Alagrin didn't have to tell him that he had to enter. This was another test. Fox bent down and reached for his utility belt, which he had left on the ground by the hut. He knew he should trust himself, but he would just bring his blaster just in case... no. He would also bring his energy sword.
"Your weapons," said Alagrin from behind him. "You will not need them."
Fox hesitated, then picked up his belt and buckled it around his waist anyway. He walked towards the tree slowly, feeling as though his breath should be fogging in the air from the cold.
When he reached the base of the tree, Fox crouched low and ducked inside, almost tripping and sliding into a small hole in the ground. Readying himself, Fox sat down on the dirt and slid feet-first inside, landing with a soft thud at the bottom of the hole.
He could hear things moving around in the dark. Slimy, creeping things. He ignored them. Fox stepped forward, peering into the gloom. He thought he could hear something else through the slithering sounds as well. A harsh, metallic rasp.
Fox was about to reach for his energy sword and use it for light when a blackness darker than blackness stepped towards him. Fox's eyes grew wide as the demonic figure approached, the red visor of its helmet flashing in the darkness.
Cain. Somehow, he'd found Fox. But how? And why was he here?
Fox shoved his thoughts aside, pushing away every shred of doubt. He had been waiting for this moment for years, he should be reveling in it, not fearing it.
Gritting his teeth, Fox reached down and snapped his energy sword free of his belt, igniting it and angling it out in front of him. Cain copied him exactly.
Fox blinked. Cain slashed, swinging for his feet. Fox tipped his blade down, deflecting the blow and then aiming to stab Cain through the chest. Cain swatted Fox's energy blade away and raised his own blade high over his head, ready to bring it down in a single, powerful swing.
Fox saw his opening. He cocked his wrists, gathered strength in his legs, and sprang forward, slashing Cain's head from his shoulders with one quick motion.
The body crumpled to the dirt, a last sigh escaping its open esophagus. The head rolled towards Fox's feet, the visor cracked and the neck armor melted.
Fox stared at it for a moment. Had he done this? Was this real? Had he just struck down Andross's feared lieutenant with relative ease?
The armor plating on the helmet hissed, bubbled, and then melted away, putrid fumes rising from the metal. Fox peered through the smoke to see the face of his enemy. He had to have a face. And he did.
It was Fox's face. Blood splashed up across its muzzle, its mouth wide open in shock, and its green eyes staring ahead like some dead fish.
Fox gasped and stepped back, but the moment the vision had appeared, it vanished, fading into the darkness.
Outside Alagrin sat in his hut, calmly humming over a bowl of boiling stew.