A random collection of stuff

One of the guards invited me to speak with the town's leader, Arokkeh, who had fought beside Kavvo and I against the rebels. He stood at the height of the settlement, surveying his people. He told me of another rebel outpost recently formed to the north of the settlement in the Stand of the Sentinels. Though he couldn't spare anyone to drive the rebels out, he figured I could make use of the information. I could indeed, but I didn't have time for such a lengthy detour now. I asked after Dekka and Kavvo; Arokkeh confirmed they'd returned to the Grove some weeks ago.

I didn't stop for too long in Fall's Edge—had to keep on pushing east if I wanted to make it back to Base before nightfall.

The dense jungles opened out as the rivers widened, dispersed to shallow rapids. The road climbed ever higher as I approached the edge of Lowland territory.

Passing the ruins of a military facility on the incline, I stopped to cut away the vines of a metal flower and access the buried hollow under the ruins, containing a few caches of salvage for the taking.

Riding on upwards, I reached the small settlement of Lowland's Path. The scout, Hovveh, called me over, bringing me the same news Arokkeh had relayed: rebels to the north, regrouping at an outpost. Most of the Tenakth assume I'm out this way to act as Hekarro's odd, outlander weapon against Regalla. Nice to know that every time a Tenakth sees rebel colours fly, they think of me.

I crossed the Lowland border and rode down into the drier, hotter tropical reaches surrounding the Grove, its greenery marred by the odd war plane wreck.

Leaving my mount out front, I stopped by the Memorial Grove. As I'd hoped, I found Dekka inside, recounting the tale of Faraday's message to Kavvo. The boy seemed genuinely interested in the renewed visions, asking his grandmother about the figures, their precise words. When I interrupted them, Kavvo confided that he found comfort in the message. Like many, he had suspected that Hekarro had fabricated the vision to secure his reign after taking power. Regalla and her rebels indeed believed this story. I can see why they would—it seemed awful convenient for a ruthless conqueror to start preaching peace only once he took the throne for himself. But Kavvo saw now the truth and merit in the future Hekarro intended for the tribe. He wished he could see the vision for himself. Honestly, wouldn't be too hard to arrange, but the moment had been special, best not to cheapen it. The Tenakth could watch the visions all they wanted once they had Focuses of their own. I'll make it happen, someday.

Saying goodbye to Dekka and Kavvo, I found Untalla by her exhibit of war-time relics, handing over the last few black boxes I'd found out in the wilds.

I then moved across to the Maw of the Arena to stop by Dukkah's stall. I used my recently-acquired Hunting Ground medals to purchase a new Tenakth hunter bow. It wasn't quite up to the standard of my Nora bow from Fall's Edge, but with a little tinkering it would far surpass my current weapon of choice.

Giving it a quick test out front of the Arena, I swiftly returned to my Charger to complete my journey east.

From the jungles with their aircraft ruins to the dry brush and rocky tumbles of the Shining Wastes.

Pushing on through the afternoon, I crossed the wastes and the flowering meadows where the Tallneck roamed.

I spoke to Danur, handing over the reinforced Behemoth components (hoping he hadn't wrangled a crew of his own to fetch them in the meantime). He hadn't—suppose there weren't many out here game to take on a frenzied Behemoth. With that, Danur had checked off every spot marked out on Warend's map, and had gathered all the materials he needed to complete his armour for Keruf's competition. His entry was already coming along well. Even as the camp had grown beyond its humble, precarious beginnings, Danur still doubted his ability to lead the crew as Warend would have. I think he's more than proven himself capable, and told him as much. Carving out a safe camp in the depths of Lowland territory was no easy feat.

Before turning in for the night, I walked to the plane wreck just east of the camp where I'd previously been unable to get at a precious black box recording. Using my vine cutter module, I dissolved the Wreath and snatched up the power cell behind it, using it to charge up the sealed door trapping the recording device.

Inside, I took the black box hardware for Untalla's collection, downloading the audio to my Focus. This one was interesting: one pilot spoke to another, trying to convince them of her theory that the Faro plague was a deliberate attack orchestrated by Faro and his ultra-rich cronies. According to her, they wanted to depopulate the planet, ridding it of common people to make way for an engineered paradise for the comfort of the oligarchs. Well, she might have been about a millennia too early, but her conspiracy is finally unfolding here and now.

Before I could take care of the Spikesnouts and claim my salvage, a Shellwalker convoy came bounding down the beach. They always scuttle in at the worst times. Along with their Watcher escorts, they brought a fire Clawstrider to the party. I tied down one of the Shellwalkers, setting off a smoke bomb while I overrode it. That gave me a bit of a buffer to concentrate on the Watchers that got too close, and most critically the Clawstrider. Close call with that one. Fortunately, the overridden Shellwalker distracted the machines, chasing them back up the beach while I finally tended to the Behemoth carcass, lifting out the boosted components for Danur.

In all, the excursion took longer than I'd hoped, so once I returned to my Bristleback, I rode hard down the beach, pushing east.

I turned north-east up the mountain road, riding parallel to the ridge where Regalla's rebels had made their camp above Thornmarsh. No sign of activity up there; seemed the native machines were beginning to reclaim the territory. Approaching a Charger herd by the roadside, I abandoned my Bristleback in favour of a faster mount.

I sped down the steep slope beside the falls, thundering down to the marshes. The waters were clearer than ever; no hint in the air of the rot that'd infected it for so long.

I reached Thornmarsh just before noon. The relief at the blood choke's vanishing remained a palpable presence in the air, and despite my regrettable Carja garb, I was greeted warmly.

I stopped to eat and trade, cashing in rare salvage from the Isle of Spires, then I sought out Atekka. I found her not at the high seat of power in the centre of town, but by the training pits in conversation with her squad, just like any other soldier. There'd been no further trouble from rot nor rebels since we cleared the falls, but Atekka did have something for me—the gift she had alluded to on my last visit. She told me I'd find it at the stitcher's stall. Something rare and well-suited that they'd had in their stock for a long time, gathering dust

I'd been expecting a new Tenakth armour set—nothing could have prepared me for the outfit the stitcher handed over instead. That's two awful, grief-threaded garments given in as many days. The outfit was Nora; well-made, but old, woven with reds and blues, slung with boar skin and a long, black feathered cape. Just like Rost's—Seeker mark and all. I had to wonder, was this some old uniform of Nora Seekers? Maybe there were more of them in decades past, and if there had been an official ceremonial attire, the Nora had been too focused on recovering from the Eclipse attack to bestow it on me. Maybe it was only for Death-Seekers, that rare and taboo class of soulless warrior.

Rost was the only other Nora I knew of who'd made it this far into the Forbidden West, but there had to have been other exiles. Maybe the bow I'd picked up in Fall's Edge had belonged to this lone Nora, too. They, probably she, must have been around my size. Probably killed by the Tenakth on her journey toward...whatever it was she was seeking. The clan had kept it all this time as some rare and useless trophy. The thought behind the gesture was kind, if a little morbid. Atekka couldn't have known about my complex feelings regarding my home tribe. Couldn't have known the significance of this garment and the grief it stirred up.

Thanking Atekka for the gift (trying to hide any discomfort), I left Thornmarsh and returned to my Charger, riding north-east through the Raintrace as the afternoon stretched on.

On the way to Danur's camp, I passed the Raintrace Hunting Grounds. Recalling the two trials I'd left unfinished on my last visit, I rode up and around the arena's machines to make another attempt at a full set of Clanland hunting medals. The skies darkened, spilling sheets of mist and rain as I did so. By the time I reached the Groundskeeper, my new, borrowed Nora clothes were soaked.

The Groundskeeper was more than happy to watch my work again; I opted for the Tremortusk heavy weapons trial first. My task was to tear off the Tremortusk's cannons and use them to take down the three Clawstriders down in the arena with it. Problem being, of course, what the Tremortusk would be up to in the meantime, especially with both machines' propensities for shock and echo blasts. I was likely to get stunned or electrocuted or deafened in place, unable to defend myself. So, first move was to try down the Tremortusk once I'd torn off both its shock cannons and plasma guns.

Then, I used a mixture of smoke bombs and ropes to keep the Clawstriders from piling onto me while I took up each cannon in turn and let loose. Took me right up to time, but I managed to complete the trial with top marks and collect my medals. Just as the the third Clawstrider went down, the Tremortusk shook off its restraints and started charging. The climb back up to the Groundskeeper was more perilous than the trial itself.

After collecting my medals, I took a brief rest by the fire and prepared for the final trial of the Clanlands. The rain began to clear and, by the time I rode the ropes down for trial three, it had ceased entirely to welcome a soft, golden afternoon.

I conquered the last trial in much the same way, first tying down the Tremortusk to keep it out of the way. Then my task was to ride around on an overridden Clawstrider and take out the remaining two with claw rends and tail swipes. Another trial only I could complete, modified for my specialties. I didn't mind the invitation to show off my skills.

With the final trial complete, the Groundskeeper had a whole mess of medals to hand over—not just for clearing the Raintrace Grounds, but for gaining all top marks across the Clanlands. Along with a great many medals to take to Dukkah, I was rewarded with a new Tripcaster of Oseram make. Its specialty was explosives and staggerbeams, so my investments into improving my glowblast Tripcaster weren't entirely wasted.

As the road turned east, I passed by a second, smaller camp, its firepit still smoking and warm. It was a little early to turn in just yet, but the straw piled up under the shelter was starting to look inviting.

I didn't get much further east when I spotted the vines of an Adamantine Wreath tangled around a rusted structure. Removing them revealed an old storehouse stocked with decayed metal equipment, and beside it, the entrance to a flooded cave. I couldn't resist exploring.

Fortunately, the system didn't run too deep, and I was able to sate my curiosity without spending all night swimming through flooded tunnels. After pushing through a narrow passage, I came to a large open area lit by blue luminescent growths and the odd glow of Greenshine. I gathered all I could and returned to the surface.

On my way over, I came across an Oseram camp, freshly stocked with a fire strongly burning. Someone was delving out here. How had they even reached this place? Leave it to the Oseram to find a way to reach bountiful Old World ruins, however difficult the journey.

The ruins near the Tallneck were indeed swarming with Glinthawks, just as Sonkai had warned. They circled above as Snapmaws drifted below, leaving no safe approach.

Giving the ruins a wide berth, I swam out to inspect the broken Tallneck. Examining its body beneath the surface, I quickly realised it was missing two key components—the power cells that should have slotted into the two ports on its sides. The Glinthawks had likely plucked them out while the poor guy was walking his usual route. Once Gaia's back in control, the machines will serve their purposes in harmony again. Until then, they'll keep cannibalising one another for scrap.

On I went to reclaim the stolen power cells. Swimming over to the first lot of ruins sitting above the surface, I grappled on up to search the Glinthawk's scrap pile. When it came down to roost, I launched myself up and came down with my spear. A few more strikes and it was done; one power cell recovered.

Swimming to the larger ruin (part of the same building, it looked like, both of them lined with chairs like arena stands), I avoided the Snapmaws, taking in the wealth of marine life flourishing between rusted posts and vehicle shells.

I snuck up on the second Glinthawk and overrode it, letting it exchange frost blasts with the Snapmaws below as I searched its scrap for the second power cell. Once snagged, I zip-lined back across the waters toward the Tallneck.

I slotted both power cells into their allocated frames. They connected without a hitch, the Tallneck's machinery pulling from its renewed power supply and beginning to shudder, to slide against the underwater stone and come to a stand. I followed the impressive creature as it stomped across the ocean floor, returning to its programmed circuit.

The sea life grew wilder and more vibrant the further from the beach I swam. Bright reds, purples and yellows marked the coral growths that clung to the sea floor and the sides of ancient buildings.

Reaching the Tallneck's stomping grounds, I climbed up to the rooftops poking above the water and jumped onto its antennae. From its head, I overrode its primary node as usual, downloading its terrain data, then I hooked my Focus into its network connection, using the machine's antennae to boost a data-rich beam-cast to the Base, containing all info pertinent to Omega clearance I'd uncovered at Thebes.

Gliding down as the Tallneck released a pulse of fiery blue energy, I walked back to shore along narrow sandy stretches and shallow sandbanks. Some Quen boats sat overturned, wrecked against the shoals, along with scattered supply barrels. Maybe they were swept up onto the sandbank during a storm? No sign of the passengers now. Maybe the machines got them; they certainly zeroed in on my location quick enough.

Yet more Apex Watchers—the Isle was crawling with them. I took them out before they could riddle me with plasma. I returned to my Charger and set off toward the boat I'd arrived in, further south along the coast.

Taking the high road through the humid forests, I ran into a Stalker herd, setting off their screeching alarms by the heavy tread of my machine. The Stalkers rushed out on alert, but I rushed faster.

Back on the beach, I found the small Quen camp still abandoned, the machine carcasses baking, the corpses turning to rot. I suppose I could have waited for the next ferry trip and gone across the water with Alva, but I didn't want to get stuck for a day or two waiting for the Quen to finish their latest supply run. Best to go at it alone—give my arms another pleasant workout in the process.

On my way over, I came across an Oseram camp, freshly stocked with a fire strongly burning. Someone was delving out here. How had they even reached this place? Leave it to the Oseram to find a way to reach bountiful Old World ruins, however difficult the journey.

The ruins near the Tallneck were indeed swarming with Glinthawks, just as Sonkai had warned. They circled above as Snapmaws drifted below, leaving no safe approach.

Giving the ruins a wide berth, I swam out to inspect the broken Tallneck. Examining its body beneath the surface, I quickly realised it was missing two key components—the power cells that should have slotted into the two ports on its sides. The Glinthawks had likely plucked them out while the poor guy was walking his usual route. Once Gaia's back in control, the machines will serve their purposes in harmony again. Until then, they'll keep cannibalising one another for scrap.

On I went to reclaim the stolen power cells. Swimming over to the first lot of ruins sitting above the surface, I grappled on up to search the Glinthawk's scrap pile. When it came down to roost, I launched myself up and came down with my spear. A few more strikes and it was done; one power cell recovered.

Swimming to the larger ruin (part of the same building, it looked like, both of them lined with chairs like arena stands), I avoided the Snapmaws, taking in the wealth of marine life flourishing between rusted posts and vehicle shells.

I snuck up on the second Glinthawk and overrode it, letting it exchange frost blasts with the Snapmaws below as I searched its scrap for the second power cell. Once snagged, I zip-lined back across the waters toward the Tallneck.

I slotted both power cells into their allocated frames. They connected without a hitch, the Tallneck's machinery pulling from its renewed power supply and beginning to shudder, to slide against the underwater stone and come to a stand. I followed the impressive creature as it stomped across the ocean floor, returning to its programmed circuit.

The sea life grew wilder and more vibrant the further from the beach I swam. Bright reds, purples and yellows marked the coral growths that clung to the sea floor and the sides of ancient buildings.

Reaching the Tallneck's stomping grounds, I climbed up to the rooftops poking above the water and jumped onto its antennae. From its head, I overrode its primary node as usual, downloading its terrain data, then I hooked my Focus into its network connection, using the machine's antennae to boost a data-rich beam-cast to the Base, containing all info pertinent to Omega clearance I'd uncovered at Thebes.

Gliding down as the Tallneck released a pulse of fiery blue energy, I walked back to shore along narrow sandy stretches and shallow sandbanks. Some Quen boats sat overturned, wrecked against the shoals, along with scattered supply barrels. Maybe they were swept up onto the sandbank during a storm? No sign of the passengers now. Maybe the machines got them; they certainly zeroed in on my location quick enough.

Yet more Apex Watchers—the Isle was crawling with them. I took them out before they could riddle me with plasma. I returned to my Charger and set off toward the boat I'd arrived in, further south along the coast.

Taking the high road through the humid forests, I ran into a Stalker herd, setting off their screeching alarms by the heavy tread of my machine. The Stalkers rushed out on alert, but I rushed faster.

Back on the beach, I found the small Quen camp still abandoned, the machine carcasses baking, the corpses turning to rot. I suppose I could have waited for the next ferry trip and gone across the water with Alva, but I didn't want to get stuck for a day or two waiting for the Quen to finish their latest supply run. Best to go at it alone—give my arms another pleasant workout in the process.

It was close to dusk when I left the dig site, walking up through the hollow tower across the sands, its gates now open for passage.

Making the short trip back to Landfall, I spotted Alva preparing for her journey, packing large trunks of scrolls and clothing and mechanical instruments. Lucky thing Kotallo was meeting her—she'd need help carrying it all. I hoped Kotallo had made the trip west by Charger. I kept a few spare overridden mounts just off the northern road by RCC mountain for that very purpose, but riding machines was difficult to get used to.

I stopped by the workbench, making idle improvements to my weapons, trying block out the sound of Faro's demented shrieks with the calm crashing of waves. I'd almost rather keep that particular chunk of Focus footage to myself, leave it out of the archive.

There was a lot of rushing around among the Quen; a lot of harsh whispers, panicked and incredulous looks. Whatever Bohai had told them, it seemed the truth was getting around. The Ceo's servants stood around looking confused—some aghast, others unmistakably happy. Things would sure change around here now that Bohai was in charge—though I don't doubt he made the bulk of the decisions via the Ceo as proxy, when able to manipulate his fickle temperament.

People were looking at me with more than neutral awe, now. There was accusation, suspicion, even anger in some. Best not to stick around for the night. Maybe I'll be welcomed back here once the rumours calm down and Bohai stabilises things. I left Landfall as the sun set, heading for an abandoned Quen shelter on the top of a stout, crumbled ruin. Some pleasant amenities, and a strategic vantage over the rest of Landfall.

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.

I had to put on a bit of a show—couldn't resist. The Quen at the dig site cheered for the barbarian stranger that'd saved them, until word got around, perhaps from Alva, that it was the living Ancestor who had saved them. Behind me, waiting by the wooden gates within the tower, the soldiers from Landfall unsealed the way for the Ceo and his royal escort.

The workers at the dig site opened the gates for me, and behind them was Alva, overjoyed but perplexed at my presence. I told her what I was here for—something else that'd help me on my quest, down in Thebes. Before I could launch into questions, Alva offered a warning about the Ceo. What she had in mind might have revealed what made the man so fixated on Faro, but I never heard it. The gates opened once again, and in walked the Ceo himself, with Overseer Bohai at his side.

The Ceo was eager to get going; so was I. Overseer Bohai took up a torch and led the way down into the excavation site. The hollow they'd carved into the old earth was huge, lined with wooden ramps and lit sconces, sunlight filtering down from above. It must have taken them ages, and an unfathomable amount of work. I guess Faro had to have it built this deep to avoid detection from the swarm.

Finally reaching the foundations, we faced a circular Identi-scan door emblazoned with Faro's logo, still bright yellow. From the way the Ceo waffled poetic about Thebes, the Quen believed it was Faro's tomb, some sort of sacred burial site. I'm sure it ended up being his tomb, in the end, but the Quen didn't seem aware that Thebes was his attempt at a survival bunker to wait out the end times.

As I'd expected, the Identi-scan door was different to your usual Zero Dawn variety. No Alpha registry—it was attuned to Ted Faro alone. The Ceo was about ready to throw a fit when I told him; Alva had to step in, saying that they'd blasted through to some flooded passageways that seemed to lead into the tomb, but were too deep to explore. That'd be no issue for me, and would hopefully give me a chance to check out the ruin without the Ceo and Bohai breathing down my neck. The Ceo ordered me to make haste—almost made me want to slow down out of spite, but I was just as eager to get inside.

Fastening my diving mask, I dove down into the water flowing beneath the bunker. The deeper I swam, the warmer it grew, until the tunnels opened out to a vast sunken industrial corridor lined with pipes plunged into boiling magma below. They must have drawn power from those volcanic reserves, just as Cauldrons often did. Seemed like at least some of the machinery was still chugging along, even now.

Swimming up into the ventilation tunnels beneath the bunker, I pulled myself through briefly-halted fan blades, still turning by the heat's might. The damage to this place pointed toward an unsavory end for Faro, though it could have occurred long after his death.

Eventually, I surfaced within the shelter interior. It looked like a pipe had burst or something, the pressure blasting a hole right through the floor. The room within was stocked with weights and exercise machinery. Well preserved down here, sealed tight. I found a data point in there, a recording left by, to my surprise, a teenage girl. Maybe family? Ted didn't have any that I knew of. She spoke about someone called Grigori Fasbach, found dead in his sleep with no explanation. So there were multiple people stuck down here with Ted. I'd choose the swarm.

Moving to what must have been the main living area, I was struck by the bunker's similarities in design to the RCC. It was sort of eerie, like a dead and buried version of the Base. Bare plants sat in grainy, ashen soil, bright plastic packaging and metal cans left on smooth metal surfaces, untouched since some long-ago meal. Whatever happened here, the people didn't have time to pack away their things first.

I found another recording from the girl, Kanya, which cleared up my population question. Down here had been Faro, his spiritual guru, Grigori, his doctor, a man called Somptow, and his harem—a number of desirable women Faro had apparently hand-selected to join him in slow death. Kanya was the doctor's daughter, likely smuggled in as part of the deal. How horrific. It seemed that Kanya agreed.

In Grigori's living quarters, I found his journal. Skimming his final entry, the man was wracked with guilt. I heard that, before the swarm swept the world, but after Faro knew what he'd set in motion, he'd taken his pick of spiritual leaders, cycling through fringe ideologies throughout his mental descent, as documented by the Alphas unfortunate enough to witness it. It seemed he'd settled on Grigori's philosophy as a path to personal absolution. As if anything could've been enough to give Ted inner peace, after what he'd done. From his journal, Grigori's spiritual edict here in Thebes was to abscond from the 'trappings of techno-nihilism'. From what I could gather, it was his teachings that'd put the idea in Ted's head that technology was the problem, not his actions. The tools, not the wielder—knowledge itself was the disease. Ted had taken that snippet and ran with it, using it as justification to murder the Alphas and purge Apollo from Gaia.

Grigori had discovered that fact, before he died. He was horrified, as he should have been, and tormented by guilt—the sort Faro had been trying to shirk. More than a little suspicious, the timing of his death.

A recording I found from Faro himself only furthered that suspicion. There in his bedroom—the largest, naturally—it was dark, a huge metal bed frame nested in that dark, in the mildew, the sweating metal. I hope he never slept a night of peace in that bed. The recording captured his announcement of Grigori's passing, pointing to some 'condition' that the man must have had, taking him out right after he discovered Faro's final, terrible act.

Moving on, I came to the entrance chamber of the tomb. I thought the place was meant to be a survival bunker, but to look at the place, it was grander than any palace, lined with enormous, animal-headed statues lit up in gold. After causing the end of the world, Faro still had the gall to order this place erected not for utility, but a display of wealth fashioned after ancient rulers. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.

Approaching the Identi-scan door from the other side, I found an emergency exit console and opened the way for the Quen. Knew I'd probably regret doing it, but I wouldn't be getting out of here without their notice, and I wasn't keen on seeing what the Ceo would become when kept waiting.

Bohai greeted me with open arms, but the Ceo was nowhere to be seen. He was 'preparing to enter Thebes', in his little tent, and when he emerged, I began to understand just how delusional this idiot really was. The outfit beneath his bedazzled shawl was clearly meant to evoke Faro's signature outfit, the blue jumper worn in every ancient address I'd seen. I should have noticed the symbol carved into the shell around his neck: Faro's.

As the Ceo went to great, grandiose pains to explain to me, he was more than a self-important fool, he was deranged. He believed he actually was Ted Faro, a living Ancestor in his own right. What he'd said to me the night before, about carrying the burden of ancient knowledge, he'd meant it entirely literally. He believed that Faro's immortal essence had been passed down to him through the generations, that their will was one and the same. He seemed to be engaging in some mental gymnastics—I mean, he didn't event look like Faro—but it was here that he believed Faro's essence would culminate within him, upon attaining the secrets of his final resting place. So this wasn't for the tribe at all. There was no further knowledge to be gained here that would save the Quen—the Ceo was dragging out the expedition just to live out this insane ego trip.

And that wasn't all. I might have been able to bite my tongue and carry on if it was, but there was a reason the Ceo had been so eager to meet me, so sure that I would come and clear the obstacles between him and 'destiny'. Just as he was Faro, I was Elisabet. As the legends told; the Renewer and his Harbinger. His assistant. I couldn't disguise my disgust; only the warning in Alva's eyes kept me quiet. Faro, according to Quen legend, was 'The Man Who Saved the World.' The Old Ones used to call him that, after the Clawback, the era that the Quen's Focuses were from and blinded beyond. Understandable, sure, but deeply, irritatingly unjust. Elisabet Sobeck, the only reason the Ceo stood here breathing, reduced to that bastard's assistant.

The Ceo wanted me to play my part in all this as well. Walk beside him in service as Elisabet served Faro. I felt sick, putrid as I saw what the guards held out to me. A 'Raiment', they called it. A fabrication of Elisabet's iconic outfit, worn in every holo I'd ever seen of her. When did they even make this? When the Ceo heard of my existence, I had to guess, though maybe he'd always intended to drag some servant along behind him in his weird role-playing session.

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.

As I approached the boat, a rippling explosion sounded from the northern point of the beach, and I turned just in time to see a huge, corroded machine carcass crumple into a steaming heap. I know my machines, and this wasn't one I'd ever seen before.

Moving closer, I saw that those who'd taken the machine down were neither Quen nor Lowland Tenakth, but Regalla's rebels. That's too bad—I'd have to take them out to get a closer look at that machine. These ones must have fled from the camp at the falls overlooking Thornmarsh.

Moving in with my Stalker shield cloaking me, I took down their heavily-armoured leader first, then set off a smoke bomb to stop the rest converging.

They put up a decent fight. I guess they'd have to be good, surviving this long in the thick of Lowland territory with most of their allies fallen. I took them on in close combat, going for their helmets so I could sneak in a neat arrow to the skull. One of them picked up the heavy-hitter's acid sprayer—something like a Forgefire stocked with metalbite. I wasn't a fan. With another smoke bomb, I got in close and put the final rebel down. Then I was finally able to inspect the machine carcass.

It was new to me alright. A Slaughterspine, my Focus told me. If it'd already been dubbed thus by the locals, I trusted it lived up to the name. The machine ran on plasma, charging its many lasers and canons with a powerful generator on each flank. This might just be Hephaestus' strongest killing machine yet. I need to put a stop to it. Back to the Quen then, and my hazy path to Thebes.

Back near their boat, I inspected the ruins, finding a storehouse rigged up inside, gone empty. I guess this is where they were bringing all those supplies the Lowlanders saw them ferrying back and forth.

Turning my attention to the lone boat, I shoved it out into the shallows and hopped inside, taking up the oar. Better than a makeshift raft, but the vessel wasn't all that sophisticated. Wasn't sure how it'd far against the strong currents along the way. I'd never actually rowed a boat before, but the basic principle was easy enough to grasp.

The first stretch wasn't all that bad. I kept my eyes trained on distant landmarks to keep course, and the Quen had even lined the optimal path with buoys and beaded netting, demarcating the sandbanks and shallow-reaching ruins.

The weather remained calm, making the currents easy to spot, but no less treacherous, pulling my vessel south as choppy waves swept over the sides. I was eventually able to right myself and return to the Quen's route markers, but not without wearing my arm muscles to jelly.

The journey took me a good few hours—it was early afternoon by the time I landed on the southern side of the Isle of Spires.

There were no Quen to greet me there, either. Just a pair of Clawstrider carcasses and three fresh corpses. It can't have been easy for the Quen trying to gain a foothold here, on an island likely untouched by humanity since the Old Ones lived here. There was no ferry here either, though I was fairly certain I'd made a wrong turning on the path of buoys and veered too far south to some smaller cargo route. Continuing to follow the Quen's helpful lanterns, I trekked up into the ruins of San Francisco.

In the warm, tropical climate, plant life had flourished, tangling through old stone and metal with a thickness and vibrancy far beyond the marvel of Devil's Grief. The buildings slanted down into thick mud, water lapping at the lower levels and streaming in narrow falls from jagged gaps carved by roots and time. I soon found a herd of Clawstriders, overriding one for the journey.

All Alva had said was that their settlement, Landfall, was on the north-eastern coast. If I followed the markers that way, I was sure to find it eventually.

Following the markers further on, I nearly jumped off my machine with the scare I got from a swooping Stormbird. Thankfully it hadn't seen me, and flapped off crackling toward the distant towers. Well, at least I know where I can find Stormbirds. Despite their irritating abundance back east, I'd yet to find a spot frequented by Stormbirds in the Forbidden West. Made their parts a valuable commodity.

My Focus was pinging from every which way with ancient signals and salvage, but I was forced to forge on. I will most definitely be coming back here once we've buried Far Zenith. I'd be content exploring this city for days.

I tried to pass by a group of Red-Eye Watchers, but they pursued my retreating Clawstrider with a barrage of plasma blasts, knocking me from its back. That was it then; it was over for them. With my spear and precise hardpoints to the eyes, I dealt with the Watchers. Once again, a completely different breed to my old training fodder back in the Embrace.

Returning to my Clawstrider, I followed the sandbank path between lopsided ruins, the road rising to high, forested ground for a short stretch, revealing the way ahead. The concentration of Quen lanterns and wooden bridges stretching between isles told me I was closing in on what they called Legacy's Landfall.

The Quen had made camp by their ships on a large beach ahead. I found the entrance to the area guarded by a pair of soldiers. They didn't shoot on sight, which I was wary of despite approaching with hands raised in surrender. Fortunately, one of the pair recognised me as Sobeck, marveling that the Diviner Alva had spoken true of her encounter on the mainland. I asked to speak to her, but my question was gracelessly glossed over—the soldiers had orders to bring me before their leader. I guess I signed up for this, but I really didn't want to endure a whole ceremony just to ask Alva a couple questions about Thebes.

As the soldier led me into the settlement, the Quen stopped in their work to gape and stare. From their clothing, they held lower rank than the soldiers and Diviners. They labored at stalls and campsites and by the ships, hauling goods and making repairs. There were a lot of them, and every eye was turned my way.