Work Text:
Xiao Reviews Natlan: A Grim Analysis Wrapped in.... Vigilant Humor?
Introduction
The Yaksha Contemplates the Flames
Xiao folded his arms, perched high atop a jagged peak in Liyue. His vigilant gaze swept the horizon, though his thoughts wandered far beyond the amber-lit plains of his homeland. The topic of Natlan—its fiery culture, tumultuous history, and arguably lackluster narrative—had recently reached his ears. (Venti) A mortal bard, animated with reckless enthusiasm, had sung of its tribal warfare, of primal carnage turned unity under the Pyro Archon’s watchful eye. Xiao’s first reaction? An arched brow and a muttered, “Fools.” His second? A grim determination to set the record straight. Natlan, with all its grandiose proclamations of unity and sacrifice, was, in his eyes, a lesson in what not to do.
Xiao's Perspective on Natlan: The Land of Fire and War
In the quiet serenity of Wangshu Inn, Xiao stood on the balcony, gazing at the distant mountains bathed in twilight. He had heard of Natlan’s fiery culture and the ideals they so proudly professed. A nation built upon the pillars of war and sacrifice, they claimed. Yet, as Xiao mulled over the accounts, he couldn’t help but feel a peculiar mixture of disdain and grim amusement.
Section 1: The Theater of War – Where’s the Plot?
“Natlan, the Nation of War,” Xiao mused, the corners of his mouth twitching in what could have been a smirk—or a grimace. “They sing of battle and valor, yet their tales are oddly devoid of substance. Their Archon, Mavuika, preaches unity in the heat of conflict, yet their victories seem to hinge on sheer luck and melodramatic speeches.”
He paused, thinking of the infamous "Eroded Lord of Primal Flame" finale. “A battle against a primal entity, reduced to a skirmish and a fade-to-black ending? I’ve seen hilichurls put up a better fight.” He exhaled sharply, the sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “Where is the war? Where is the sacrifice? Surely not in Capitano’s ill-conceived ‘cheating’ of life and death, or Mavuika’s puzzling decision to leave her motorcycle unused during the only moment it would have been remotely practical.”
Section 2: The Absurdity of Natlan’s Culture
Rock and Roll Warriors: A Nation’s Legacy
“Natlan’s warriors claim to embody freedom, passion, and camaraderie,” Xiao mused, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm. “Yet what do they truly stand for? Banging drums, imitating rock-and-roll singers, and charging into battle without a shred of discipline.” He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The Pyro Archon’s philosophy—“No one should fight alone”—felt particularly grating. “They would do well to ask themselves this: Would I prefer to die in the company of friends, or survive through solitary vigilance?” Xiao had no doubt about his answer. He had fought alone for centuries, bearing the weight of karmic debt, and while it was not a life he would wish on others, it was a life that had preserved Liyue.
The culture of Natlan, with its primal carnage and exuberant displays, seemed more like a performance art piece than a foundation for survival. “Mortals who think themselves fierce warriors?” Xiao muttered. “They’re lucky the Abyss' true horrors haven’t noticed them yet.”
Xiao leaned against the railing, the metal cool beneath his fingers. “They say no one should fight alone. A noble sentiment, perhaps—if not utterly naive. I have fought alone for centuries. Alone, I have confronted demons that would reduce Natlan’s bravest to ash. Alone, I have endured sacrifices that their mortal minds could scarcely fathom.”
He tilted his head, a faint gleam of amusement in his otherwise solemn gaze. “And yet, they prance about in their tribal garb, shouting slogans and pretending that their fiery dances hold the weight of true struggle. Perhaps they believe that stamping their feet on the earth will scare their enemies into submission. A peculiar strategy, but who am I to judge?”
Section 3: The Flawed Philosophy of Sacrifice
When “Sacrifice” Rings Hollow
The history of Natlan, Xiao thought, was like a song with no melody. “Their records speak of primal carnage and the rise of warriors united under fire’s banner. But where are the moments of introspection? The lessons learned?"
Xiao sighed.
"Their wars are celebrated, but their aftermaths are forgotten. A history without consequence is as meaningless as a blade without an edge.”
He closed his eyes briefly, recalling the Yakshas’ battles. “In Liyue, every scar has meaning. Each Yaksha bore the burden of their deeds, the weight of lives lost and saved. In Natlan, it seems that fire consumes all—even the lessons of the past.”
Natlan’s history is steeped in the theme of sacrifice, yet Xiao found it shallow. “Sacrifice is not a theatrical gesture to impress one’s peers,” he said, his tone laced with disdain. “It is silent. Lonely. Often unnoticed by those it protects.”
Capitano’s grand sacrifice—his purported “cheating” of life and death to enter the Night Kingdom—felt more like a plot device than a genuine act of valor. Xiao’s karmic debt was the result of countless sacrifices, unacknowledged and uncelebrated.
“Has Capitano’s sacrifice truly changed anything?” Xiao wondered aloud. “Or does it simply serve to inspire Natlan’s next generation of fools?”
Section 4: A Comparison to Liyue’s Strength
Why Liyue Stands Supreme
“In Liyue, we do not preach hollow ideals,” Xiao stated with conviction. “Our strength is in stone—unyielding, enduring. We rely on adepti and Yakshas, not mortal adolescents playing at war.”
Where Natlan’s warriors painted themselves in bright hues and screamed war cries, Liyue’s defenders acted with quiet purpose. “Mortals under my protection live peacefully,” Xiao said simply. “Those in Natlan? They risk their lives to prove a point. Perhaps their Pyro Archon should focus less on unity and more on practicality.”
“And then,” Xiao continued, his tone dripping with sardonic amusement, “There is the power of friendship. Natlan’s great unifying force. It is a lovely thought, truly. But friendship does not slay demons. It does not silence the cries of the damned. It does not save a warrior from the solitude of his own mind.”
He gestured vaguely at the horizon. “Perhaps they should try fighting alone for a century or two. Then we shall see how much their friendships sustain them.”
Xiao glanced at the sky, his expression softening for a brief moment. “Morax taught us that strength comes from understanding one’s place in the grand design. Natlan, for all its fire, seems to have forgotten this. Their flames burn brightly, but they lack the foundation to sustain them.”
Section 5: The “Disappointing Endgame Battle”
Where Is the War?
Dice’s commentary on the Natlan Archon quest echoed Xiao’s sentiments perfectly. “Where is the war?” Xiao repeated, the faintest twitch of amusement tugging at his lips. “The Nation of War, reduced to… a glorified skirmish, theatrical cutscenes, and some vague moralizing.”
He couldn’t help but recall Viva La Dirt League’s “Disappointing Endgame Battle” parody. “Skycraft: Eternal Fire promised an epic confrontation,” Xiao said, his voice tinged with mockery. “Instead, it delivered three enemies and a fade-to-black. Natlan’s story feels… eerily similar.”
Section 6: The Pyro Archon’s Role
The Rock That Doesn’t Burn
Mavuika, the Pyro Archon, inspired little confidence in Xiao. “Her personality is as dynamic as a rock,” he quipped, his tone deadpan. “Not a rock infused with geo energy, mind you. Just a regular, mundane rock.”
Her lack of impact in battle and reliance on the “power of friendship” trope grated on Xiao’s nerves. “If an Archon cannot lead by Lord Morax's example, what purpose do they serve?” he asked, his voice cold. “Perhaps Mavuika should consider a career as a storyteller, given how often she narrates her own inaction.”
Section 7: Final Thoughts
Unity in Flames?
“In the end,” Xiao concluded, his voice quiet but firm, “Natlan is a nation of contradictions. They sing of unity, yet their actions are fragmented. They claim to honor sacrifice, yet their stories are hollow. They praise strength, yet their warriors crumble under the weight of their own ideals.”
He turned away from the railing, his gaze distant. “Perhaps their flames will one day find purpose. Until then, they remain little more than embers in the wind—bright, fleeting, and ultimately forgotten.”
Xiao’s musings concluded with a simple yet profound realization: Natlan’s narrative was inconsistent because it sought to reconcile irreconcilable themes. “War and unity are antithetical,” he said. “To bind a nation together with flames is to ensure it burns itself out.”
He stood, turning his gaze back to Liyue. “Perhaps I am biased,” he admitted. “But I would take the enduring stone of Liyue over Natlan’s fleeting flames any day.”
And with that, the Yaksha vanished into the wind, his grim critique left to linger like the karmic burden he bore.
Post-Script: Xiao's Humor Breaks Through
As Xiao walked back into the inn, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. “Perhaps I should visit Natlan,” he murmured. “If only to teach them how to stage a proper battle. Or at least how to write an ending that doesn’t feel like a cheap parlor trick.”
For a moment, he imagined himself amidst Natlan’s fiery warriors, their confusion palpable as he defeated their greatest foes with silent efficiency. The thought almost made him smile. Almost.