Chapter 1
(Rhian's Home - Veridia Outskirts)
Rhian’s room was small, a cozy nook carved into the side of their family’s dwelling. It smelled faintly of dried herbs and the damp earth that clung to her boots. A few polished stones, each a treasure from her explorations, sat on a rough-hewn shelf. Her hair, a tangle of brown braids, was usually a mess, but today she'd tried to make it neater. She tugged at her tunic, a familiar garment patched in a few places, and slung her worn satchel over her shoulder.
Her mother stood in the doorway, her expression a familiar mix of worry and resignation. Her father leaned against the frame, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Rhian.
Her mother wrung her hands.
"Are you sure about this, Rhian? Going over there?"
Her father grunted, his voice low.
"That one… he keeps to himself for a reason. Always tinkering with his scraps. They say he’s not quite right in the head."
Rhian adjusted her satchel, a small smile playing on her lips.
"He's not strange, Papa. He’s just… different. And he’s lonely."
Her mother sighed, a soft sound that still carried a hint of concern.
"Lonely is one thing. Wandering off to that solitary workshop of his is another. You be careful, alright?"
Rhian nodded, her honey-brown eyes meeting her mother's.
"I will. He makes interesting things, and he needs someone to talk to. I’ll be back before sundown."
Veridia bustled around Rhian, a familiar symphony of sounds and sights. She skipped along the packed-earth street, her worn boots kicking up little puffs of dust. Awnings of treated Titan hide offered shade from the bright, high sun.
“Rhian! Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
Old Mrs. Gable, her face a roadmap of wrinkles, leaned out from behind a stall piled high with preserved fruits. Her voice was raspy, like dry leaves skittering across stone.
Rhian paused, a bright smile lighting up her face.
“Just visiting! Someone I know is working on something new.”
Mrs. Gable chuckled, her eyes twinkling.
“Ah, the quiet one with the peculiar knack for… making things. You’re a good girl, Rhian. Always thinking of others.”
Rhian beamed, accepting the compliment as if it were a tangible gift. She waved and continued on her way.
A group of children playing a game with scavenged gears stopped their activity as she passed. Their faces, smudged with dirt, turned towards her.
“Hey Rhian! Wanna play? We’re seeing who can make the gear spin the longest!”
Rhian shook her head politely.
“Maybe later! I’m on my way somewhere important.”
One of the older boys, his grin wide, called out, “Important? Like going to see the builder?”
Rhian just waved again, her pace quickening. She could feel their eyes on her back, but she didn’t mind. She knew what she was doing.
She passed the Warden’s local outpost, its reinforced timber walls bearing the marks of past encounters. A few Wardens, their armor scuffed and practical, stood guard. They nodded at her, a silent acknowledgment of her presence in their town.
Her destination was on the very edge of Veridia, where the packed earth of the streets gave way to the wilder growth of the Xylosian forest. The air grew quieter here, the sounds of the settlement fading behind her. She could already feel the hum of the workshop, a low thrumming that always seemed to beckon her closer.
The path narrowed, skirting the forest's edge. Rhian's bare feet padded softly on packed earth, the settlement's hum fading. Ahead, silhouetted against the hazy sky, was Alex's place.
A weathered hut stood closest to the path, its roof sagging. Beside it, a makeshift warehouse of scarred metal sheets loomed. It looked less like a building and more like salvaged ambitions.
A low rumble vibrated from within. Rhian pushed open the heavy, creaking door. Inside, tools, spare parts, and dismembered components were neatly stacked or laid out. Everything bore marks of constant tinkering. Alex sat hunched over a glowing computer terminal, fingers flying across the keyboard, muttering.
"Alex?"
He jumped, his head snapping up. His brown hair was perpetually disheveled, falling over a brow bisected by a thin, pale scar. Hazel eyes, usually sharp with focus, widened slightly in surprise. He wore a reinforced, earth-toned tunic, smudged with grease and dust.
"Rhian. Hey. Didn't hear you come in."
* * *
Rhian’s eyes scanned Alex. His face was pale, and the smudge of grease on his cheek seemed to have merged with a faint dustiness, making him look like a dirt-streaked statue. The tear in his shirt was small, but it snagged her attention.
"Have you eaten anything today, Alex?" she asked.
He blinked, his gaze shifting from the terminal to her, then back to the screen. A flicker of guilt crossed his features.
"Uh, not really," he admitted, his voice a little rough. "Got caught up."
Rhian sighed, a small puff of exasperation. She walked over to her satchel, pulled out the bread she’d taken earlier, and placed it on the workbench beside his terminal.
"Here."
Alex looked at the bread, then at her. It was a simple loaf, but it smelled warm and yeasty, a stark contrast to the sharp scent of oil and hot metal that filled the workshop. His stomach rumbled.
"Thanks, Rhian." He picked it up, the warmth seeping into his fingers. "Smells good."
She watched him take a bite, a faint smile playing on her lips.
I wonder what he'd do without me,
Her gaze drifted past him to the massive, tarp-covered shape dominating the back of the warehouse.
"Are you still working on… that?" she asked, pointing a small finger.
Alex swallowed the mouthful of bread. "Yeah. Almost done." He gestured vaguely at the terminal with the hand holding the rest of the loaf. "Just running the final checks. I'll be testing it today."
Rhian’s eyes widened. "So soon?"
"Yeah. I want to pilot it. I've been working on it for five years, Rhian. I’m not waiting another day." He took another, larger bite of bread.
"But… what if something goes wrong?"
He met her gaze, a spark of absolute certainty in his hazel eyes. "Nothing will go wrong."
Alex turned back to the terminal, his fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose. The familiar hum of the workshop seemed to deepen as he initiated the system diagnostics. He tapped commands with a focused intensity that made him seem almost a part of the machinery itself.
"System, run full diagnostic on core energy pathways," he murmured, his voice tight with anticipation. "Confirm residual feedback in neural link. All systems nominal."
A series of soft, pleasant chimes echoed from the terminal, followed by a string of green text scrolling across the screen.
[CORE DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE. ALL PARAMETERS WITHIN ACCEPTABLE RANGE.]
[NEURAL LINK STABLE. NO UNEXPECTED FEEDBACK DETECTED.]
[SYSTEM READY FOR OPERATIONAL DEPLOYMENT.]
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His eyes, sharp and clear now, met Rhian’s. He reached for the edge of the heavy tarp that concealed his creation.
"It's done," he said, a note of reverence in his voice.
He pulled the tarp away.
The Arosaurer stood before them, massive and powerful. Its primary fuselage and limbs were composed of reinforced silver and grey metallic plating, gleaming under the workshop lights. Vibrant cobalt blue armor sections were strategically placed over its head, tracing its dorsal spine, and accenting its powerful, segmented tail. Bright red circular caps dotted the joint housings and weapon mounting points, high-contrast visual identifiers against the silver frame. Its bipedal legs, thick and built for sprinting, terminated in large, silver three-toed claws. The head, dominated by a blue armored cowl, housed a powerful, tooth-lined jaw. The tail, armored with blue plating along its top, ended in a sharp silver kinetic tip.
Alex stared at it, a look of pure, unadulterated awe on his face.
"My first Zoid," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "It's finally complete."