C1738 - A Smashing Good Time
Curse Magic holds an… interesting place as a magical discipline. Not a common form of mana by any means, nevertheless there have been specialists who have chosen to devote their time and energy to the research and development of it as a branch of study.
Although it is often… unpleasant… both to witness and to experience firsthand, with the focus of the specialised Curse Magic spells largely being on weakening the targets physically, or draining them mentally, it isn't illegal or frowned upon by any means.
Monsters who use Curse Magic are, however, very difficult to deal with. Sapped of strength, with your will being drained by the second, haunted by whispers and shadows, fighting them is nothing less than nightmarish. Very few are willing to subject themselves to such an experience willingly.
- Excerpt from 'Mana In All Its Forms' by Magio Scholar Presario
Tiny was a little put out when his master unleashed an explosive force and torrent of flame into the air. So many of the little shiny people were knocked over or burned and then they didn't get up again. This left a much smaller number for Tiny to punch!
Regardless, this was an opportunity that the big ape didn't want to waste, and so he threw himself into the fight, hooting with joy in between his bellowed war cries. With his little brother on his shoulder, Tiny slammed his fists into the ground, shaking the earth and shattering the stone before he stood upright, swinging his fists to loosen his shoulders.
Lightning surged through his flesh and thick bolts of electricity snaked across his arms, desperate to be unleashed, and he was all too happy to let them loose.
First, he needed to warm up his left.
Hunching over and raising his fists, Tiny protected his head and settled into a rhythm, bouncing on his feet, shuffling left, then right, bobbing and swaying as the little people nearby turned and brought their weapons to bear. Watching carefully, Tiny's long ears flicked, then he planted his lead foot and—
BAMBAMBAMBAM!
A flurry of punches, too fast to be seen, snapped out with the force of an explosion and the sound of a thunderbolt. Light burst from his fist and crashed into the little people before him. They had shields, and armour, but what could that possibly do against Tiny's fist?
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Their metal was cracked and broken in the first flurry. Those who tried to stand their ground were sent flying, those who tried to dodge were more successful, but not by much.
Displaying impeccable footwork, Tiny moved with speed and grace. Always in balance, always ready to shift his weight, to slide to the side, to advance or to retreat. Before they could escape him, Tiny planted his foot once more, feeling the rotation in his body as he brought back his fist, the power stored in his legs, hips and shoulders that he then unleashed with another rapid combination.
BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!
Six punches this time. So rapid the first hadn't landed before the last one was thrown. This time he let the sizzling lightning loose as well, sending ribbons of power as thick as a human leg (certainly not as thick as Tiny's!) arcing across the people before him.
He felt that this might not have been a popular decision, judging by the reactions of those he was targeting, but for whatever reason, his master had said he needn't hold back once he joined the fight, and so he didn't intend to. Also, he felt like his left might have been sufficiently warmed up.
With a savage grin and burning red eyes, Tiny slammed his palms against his chest, beating out a staccato warning to all within range before he once again rose up on his heels. Bouncing lightly, he danced and shuffled, bobbed and weaved, until… finally, he picked his moment.
He rotated his shoulders just a little, not much was needed to help generate the power. His front foot settled and his knee turned inward, loading his weight while the lightning generators inside him crackled, increasing their output even further.
When he felt his balance was perfect, Tiny unleashed the Ultimate Kong Straight Right.
Energy surged through his body. Light gathered at the tip of his fist, so bright as to be almost blinding. Thick ribbons of electricity raced up his shoulder and down his arm, more and more, faster and faster as his fist extended outwards.
Weight shifted, his front leg straightened as his back leg rotated inwards. From his ankles, to his wrists, to his shoulders and his waist, everything moved in perfect harmony to generate the maximum amount of force.
Before him, the battle ceased to exist as Tiny felt a surge of satisfaction so powerful, his vision went white. Then he realised that was just the detonation of his Skill and the blinding effect of the electricity blasting out of his hand.
When all was said and done, everyone in front of him was no longer there, which made sense to Tiny. If they decided to run away, they were smart, and if they decided to try and block it, then they weren't there anymore. It was Tiny's right hand, after all.
Rolling his shoulders, the bat-faced gorilla rumbled with satisfaction. He was feeling loose now. He could probably unleash an even bigger punch if he tried. Looking up at his shoulder, he saw his little brother still there, looking back at him with his one, big eye. Tiny gave him a thumbs up.
The little brother returned the gesture.
Tiny bounded off looking for more things to hit.
-x-X-x-
Crinis was unhappy. To tell the truth, that was a vast understatement. She boiled with rage. Frothed with it. Every drop of her inky immaterial flesh yearned to take hold of the disgusting… unspeakable creatures and rend them.
Then rend them again.
Perhaps a third time could be managed, if time allowed. It probably couldn't, considering how many of these rend-able creatures there were, which only added to her anger.
They would dare to attack her master. Even once was a slight, an insult that couldn't be tolerated, but they hadn't stopped there! No, they had attacked him four-hundred and eighty-six thousand, three hundred and thirty-two times!
Even thinking about attacking her master was more than she would have permitted. If it weren't for her direct orders preventing her from unleashing a horrifying banquet of destruction, Crinis would leave these mannerless by-products with a memory so dreadful they wouldn't dare to fall asleep for a decade!
No, Master was forcing her to be nice to those who were utterly undeserving. It rankled her to a tentacle-twisting degree.
Robbed of her rightful vengeance, Crinis was left with very few options to vent her pent-up emotions. She was explicitly banned from most of the things she would normally do, Master had given her a list, which meant she was reduced to seeking her vengeance in only the most petty ways.
Like a conductor, hidden within the realm of shadows, Crinis began her dark work.
It started on the outskirts of the battle. Raising her tentacles, Crinis began to pick on the exhausted, the wounded, the isolated. Her Soul-Seeker Cilia were capable of phasing straight through armour, flesh and bone, letting her manipulate the thoughts and minds of her victims directly.
Giggling evilly to herself, Crinis picked out her first target.
With the forest of limbs descending on the army, it was impossible for anyone but Crinis to keep track of them all. Try though they might to fend them off, a difficult task amidst the chaos of the fighting, some were bound to get through.
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The cilia slipped through the defences of Crinis' unfortunate victim, phasing through his armour, his hair, his skull, and seeping directly into his brain.
Vulnerable to her suggestions, there were any number of fully justified and deserved horrors that Crinis could visit upon this filthy individual. Nightmare visions of a twisted reality, allies turned to hideous, dastardly creatures, her master transformed into the golden, glowing idol that he truly was.
Sadly, she was barred from inflicting the kind of mental torment she so longed to dispense, so she had to improvise.
Acting under her influence, the soldier spun wildly before throwing down his weapons and launching himself at his nearest ally. Unsure what was happening, the man cried out in alarm as his once trusted friend and companion bore him down to the ground and then went for his footwear.
Yes, Crinis whispered to herself, yes! They will suffer for what they have done to my master!
It wasn't easy to get the armoured boots off, but once they were, there was nothing stopping Crinis from inflicting the maximum level of bloodless torment she could devise. Her demands surged through the Soul-Seeker Cilia and directly into the mind of her victim, a command so dark and dastardly she was proud of herself for thinking of it.
Tickle!
Seized by a command he could not refuse, Crinis' victim brought his fingers to the sole of his ally's foot and unleashed the full power of their strength and dexterity. Unsure what was happening at first, the hapless soldier, now missing a boot, could do nothing but writhe and kick in protest, demanding his ally cease his actions, unknowing that there was no way Crinis would ever let him go.
SUFFER! Crinis cackled. The tickling will never stop!
With her first victim now helpless, writhing on the ground, giving voice to the depths of their suffering through high-pitched cries of what was most likely despair, Crinis was now prepared to move onto the next. She didn't have an unlimited supply of the cilia, only a few dozen, but with her dark and multi-faceted mind, she could wield thousands of limbs with ease, directing them as if they were each the only appendage she had.
Hidden, unseen, from sneaky angles she wound her limbs around their prey and struck, time and time again.
Each of her victims was subject to the same curse, the same punishment.
Tickle! They must tickle!
With savage glee, Crinis spread chaos throughout the ranks, turning comrades in arms against each other. She delighted in the shocked looks of betrayal that flashed in their eyes, and laughed as tears of pain and sorrow ran down their cheeks.
It was the least of what they deserved, but it was the limit of what she was allowed to inflict. With this, Crinis would have to be satisfied.
This, and truly copious amounts of Curse Magic.
-x-X-x-
Well… this could've gone better. It was going well right up until that idiot Priest charged in. I was trying to wear down the troops so they wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight, but the… let's go with enthusiasm displayed means a heck of a lot more people than I hoped ended up getting hurt.
Is some of that to blame on me for unleashing a few Starcrushers? Maybe. In my defence, they forced me to… sort of. A giant sword of light appeared over me like I was hanging out with Damocles, for goodness' sake! I had to do something!
Perhaps I should have restrained my more… explosive instincts, but what's done is done.
And what's done is this battle.
With two battalions of troops from the Colony charging in, alongside Tiny, Crinis and Invidia, things come to a rather swift and generally anti-climactic end. Soldiers from the Church seem to want to fight to the bitter end, despite their rapidly worsening situation, but they're the most tired and drained of everyone present. Some of them are looking straight up dessicated, which makes me think they might need to hydrate a little more.
The spirit may be willing, but the flesh is lacking moisture.
When it comes to the troops who sallied forth out of Green Mountain, they see the writing on the wall a lot more quickly and lay down their arms. Once we reach that stage, it takes another half hour to round everyone up, get things organised, administer medical care and all the other menial tasks that come with winding up a battle.
Which gives me an opportunity to sit and rest a little. After getting the absolute snot beaten out of me for an extended period of time, my system is still flooded with regeneration fluid. All of the superficial wounds are closed over in record time, but some things take a little longer than others. Out of all of my injuries, my carapace takes the longest to repair, given the dense nature of the material it's composed of.
Right now, I'm covered in a mass of cracks, dings and splits. Some of the blows I suffered were enough to get all the way through, leaving deep rents that are still being healed from the inside out. Even with the absurd abundance of healing fluid and the support of my inner carapace plating, the amount of damage I sustained is still a little worrying.
Then again, I did let ten thousand people try and beat me up without fighting back, so… everything is relative, I suppose.
Despite the depth and breadth of the injuries, the regeneration network is going to take care of them before long. As far as stress tests for the power of this particular organ, things couldn't have gone better. Mutating it to +15 has made the thing even more ridiculous. I can't imagine what it's going to be like at +40.
Gweheheheh, will I ever be defeated?!
Well, I shouldn't get ahead of myself. If I took a Singularity to the face, I'm pretty sure I'd be cooked there and then. Since I can cast something that powerful, it would be stupid to assume that nobody else can.
"Eldest, are you alright?"
Victor emerges from the bustle around me and skitters up to my side, apparently having come down to take over for Sloan. She's in her element organising things on occasions like this, putting everything in its place and ensuring things are running smoothly.
"I'm fine," I tell her. "Surprisingly fine. Things could have gone better, but I can't complain on my end."
"I must apologise for the way things went, Eldest. We should have anticipated that some might become too enthusiastic and break ranks."
"Victor, please. We both know who is to blame for that mess, and it sure isn't you."
"We should have predicted it."
"How is anyone supposed to predict what that maniac is going to do?" I say, clacking my mandibles with derision. "I'll have strong words for the Priest when we get back to the nest. For now, just make sure he's weeping somewhere away from me."
Because he is weeping. Still.
"As you say, Eldest. In the meantime, what would you like us to do with the captives from Green Mountain? Are we taking them with us?"
I consider for a moment.
"No, I don't think so. Let them go. That should soften the blow for them a bit, make them more likely to pay up for the second round of captives."
"Are you sure, Eldest? That seems… generous."
It probably is, but all things considered, I'm hoping they'll see the futility of conflict with the Colony and not be so mad they launch war no matter the cost. With all of these soldiers able to give a first-hand account of how hard it is to kill me, that should settle down the ambitions of the delvers trying to claim the prize. At the same time, it should throw a bit of water on anyone who wants to escalate the conflict. Two birds, one stone. Efficiency and all that good stuff.
"We have more than enough captives to deal with," I point out, "and not much time to move them all. All of these Church troops are going to fill up our holding cells as it is. Hopefully we can collect the ransom for them sooner rather than later."
"Ah, that reminds me, Eldest. We did find someone amongst the captives that we thought you should know of."
That catches my attention.
"Oh? Anyone I know?"
"You did meet once, I believe. Priest Beyn has at least proven useful in this respect, and helped us to identify a non-combatant that was present for the battle. Grand Priest Alir Vinting."
Grand Priest… Alir Vinting?
Hmmmm. That name is stirring something. I feel a tremor, a vibration, a faint whisper of darkness coming from the lightless chamber in the recesses of my mind. The place where the Dark One resides.
Such a disturbance can only mean one thing: Grand Priest Alir Vinting did something bad, and I'm going to find out what it was.
-x-X-x-
Logistics is… not my area, yet being organised seems to be something that the Colony is only getting better at. Tiny, Crinis, Invidia and I march back to the nest at the rear of the column, making sure nothing goes wrong, but absolutely nothing does. It's almost disappointing how smooth it runs.
Despite how vigorous they were during the battle, the Church soldiers appear almost listless, drained of energy and willpower. Just to be safe, their officers were separated and strict safety measures were taken, but none of them appear to have been necessary.
With my presence, the monsters in the tunnels avoid us, despite the abundance of food, and when we return to the nest, the captives are placed into the holding cells and locked away with barely a whisper. From what I've heard, the healers are a little concerned about them, thinking they might be suffering some sort of degenerative condition. Well, as long as they're in our care, they'll get decent meals and medical attention, so hopefully nothing bad happens. The last thing we need is for the Church of the Path to have another excuse to point the finger at us.
Hopefully we can ransom them back to the Church for a hefty profit and move on with life. The thought of extracting some wealth from that dreadful organisation gives me some small sense of satisfaction, but I can't say it's nearly enough. Making them pay a little here and there is nice and all, but to get the full value of what they took from us, it's going to take something rather special indeed.
Still, we made it back to the nest, the battle went about as well as could be expected, and the… acquisition project I sent the Nameless on was completely successful. Any minute now, Merchant will be making contact and seeing how enthusiastic the people of Green Mountain are about getting their delvers back.
Gweheheheh.
In the meantime, I have a few things I need to be thinking about. Namely, the extremely positive results from my new organs. Regeneration network, very happy, two thumbs from Tiny, way up. Maybe even a flex of approval.
Mutations have just pushed the thing from ridiculous to fully absurd. This is a level of healing I'm not sure I've even seen outside of something like Grokus, but without any of the downsides he had. It was obscene, to put it mildly. Despite the length of the fighting and the sheer volume of healing fluid generated, I still didn't experience anything like the sort of fatigue Granin described to me either, so the Vestibule seems to have counteracted the stamina requirements completely.
As far as the industrial complex in the back-zone is concerned… I'm almost scared of the thing. My test shot showed me just how potent the produce had gotten back there, and the single delivery I made at the start of the battle was, frankly, worrying. Rather than acid, it feels more like shooting a slime-virus with a nearly bottomless appetite. The possibility for collateral damage is, put simply, out of control. I'll have to be careful how I use it in future.
As far as mutating it goes… holy moly, I don't even want to think about it.
Last but not least, I'm quietly pleased with the Everflowing Well. Although it wasn't as show-stopping as the other two on the outside, I certainly used it. Having that reservoir of mana to draw on was extremely handy. I entered the battle after already using it, a hefty store of energy already contained inside me. Once I started to draw down on that power, I triggered the organ again, replenishing my supply.
Even though I wasn't able to seize and pull in much of the ambient mana, due to the sheer volume of minds around me wrestling for control, I didn't get close to running out. In my opinion, the Everflow Well was the quiet, understated star of the show.
Never running out of healing, energy or even mana, I am truly built to last.
Indeed, the Everlasting Paragon.
This little border dispute has been a nice testing ground for my new evolution. I've gotten comfortable in my body, tested out the new organs, done some initial mutating. As long as things go well with Merchant, I'll soon be free to go down below and wreak terrible vengeance upon the cursed slugs. I'm really looking forward to it.
But for now, there is someone who needs reprimanding.
The individual in question is currently kneeling, face pressed rather firmly into the dirt, probably too firmly, if I'm being honest. Beyn the one-armed Priest has been brought before me, ready to receive the extremely justified antenna-lashing that he deserves. I can practically see the fear in him, he's trembling like a grub while he kneels down there.
I catch myself extending an antenna down towards him.
Wait! No! He's not a grub, he's very naughty and does not deserve to be tickled, nor rolled!
Rather than reach out with my mind and get a headache from being yelled at, I decide to communicate with pheromones exclusively.
"Well," I say, "what do you have to say for yourself?"
The quivering, hunched shape on the ground grows still, and for a second I'm not sure he's realised I'm talking to him. Then…
"GREAT ONE I AM NOT WORTHY OF YOUR BLESSED AND HOLY SCENT! PLEASE ALLOW ME TO—"
"Loud! Why are you always so loud?! My antennae are itching. How is it even possible to produce that sort of quantity of pheromones? Sheesh!"
"I AM SHAME—"
"You're loud, is what you are."
I see the huddled figure struggle to master himself.
"I apologise, Great One."
Every time with this guy. Dealing with him is exhausting. Frankly, if I didn't feel so bad for sort of accidentally biting his arm off that one time, I wouldn't try so hard to put up with him.
"I HAVE—*ahem*—I have no excuse for my behaviour. Seized with enthusiasm and holy zeal, I disrupted your strategy and led my people into danger. As your Prophet, I cannot be allowed to make such mistakes and lose control of myself."
That's… very reasonable. Surprisingly so.
Hang on.
"As my WHAT?!"
-x-X-x-
Merchant sat, brushing imaginary dust off her finest coat, a black satin number woven with a fascinating and rare type of golden-silk. Only found in a small area in the first stratum, the moths who wove the cocoons were a type of monster carefully cultivated by the Toothoo nomads who claimed the region.
With just a hint of fire mana held within the threads, they seemed to glow all on their own, and the way they captured the light was just exquisite.
Naturally, she had procured some and handed it to the finest embroiderers in the Colony, and they had not let her down. Not only was the pattern an intricate masterpiece that captivated the eye, it also told the story of the Champions who had come before her, with panels dedicated to Vibrant, Brilliant and Solant.
Across the table from her sat a rather unhappy Alice Erry, chief negotiator of Green Mountain and Merchant's current adversary.
Of course, Ms. Erry was far too professional to let her emotions show on her face, but it wasn't hard to sense just how she was feeling. Anger was practically radiating from the woman like heat. Merchant hadn't needed to mutate herself to sense emotions in order to work that out, she merely needed eyes.
"It's a shame we have to meet again under such inauspicious circumstances," Merchant said, shaking her head sadly. "I had truly hoped our last meeting would have led to an immediate and lasting peace between our people."
"At that time, you had already put in place your plan to kidnap our citizens from their beds as they slept, I'm hardly inclined to believe you."
Alice's eyes were hard and burning with rage, which was to be expected. After all, they had been planning on abducting delvers from their beds at that time.
"Kidnapping?" Merchant said, placing a leg on her abdomen in shock. "Such an ugly term. I have been assured that no children were taken. Only delvers. Indeed, only delvers who had been active in the tunnels outside our nest… looking to murder my siblings, or even capture them for sale."
Merchant tutted, shaking her head sadly.
"Such a cruel world, where the civilised would inflict such acts upon the unwilling. It's a shame."
Alice cocked a brow at the ant sitting opposite her.
"Are you now claiming to be civilised?"
"Are you claiming we are not?" Merchant shot back. "If we are not civilised, then spare me your moral protestations, because you can't expect us to act morally. If we are, then stop pretending you did anything other than endorse the capture and sale of sapient, independent beings to a fate worse than death. I'm aware you humans like to possess a cake and have consumed one simultaneously, but I'm afraid this time, you must choose."
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It was unlike her to draw such a line in the sand during negotiations, but Merchant found that the attitude of Green Mountain was really starting to grind her mandibles. Inconsistent, founded upon nothing and seemingly without clear goals or direction. Just… bad for business.
"Does that choice have any bearing on the outcome of these negotiations?" Ms Erry countered bluntly. "Civilised or not, you have abducted our people and are now demanding that we pay you for them. How are we supposed to view this as anything other than provocation for a war?"
Merchant took a soothing puff on her cigar and adjusted the monocle over her right eye.
"Let us not forget the four thousand soldiers we returned to you after the battle beneath the Dungeon. Is that the act of an aggressor looking to ignite a conflict?"
"Then what do you want?" the representative of Green Mountain pushed. "You assured us you would leave our people alone, but failed to keep your word. Why would we trust you this time?"
They both knew the answer to that: they had no choice. If Green Mountain refused to rescue the delvers, then their economy would be devastated. Delving was their primary industry, and the ants had it by the throat.
"Last time, you failed to get anything in writing," Merchant said pleasantly. "This time, neither of us is going to make such an elementary mistake."
So saying, she reached down with a leg and pulled an elaborate scroll from the pouch beside her seat and presented it to her adversary. Ms Erry seized the document and scanned through it rapidly, eyes narrowing the further she got.
When she was done, she placed it down on the table and stared Merchant right in her multi-faceted eyes.
"This is… interesting," she said.
"It's downright generous is what it is," Merchant returned with a laugh. "Let me remind you how this started. We warned you. We pleaded with you. We offered to PAY you. Anything to call off the delvers hunting for us, and you said 'no'.
"Now we are here, in a different time and a very different place. If you want it to stop, then sign and pay us. Once you do, we will respect your borders, we will not impinge on the operation of your industries, or your trade. In fact, your delvers will be welcome to seek contracts from our own Delving Outpost—there are so many centipedes out there, after all. Peace and prosperity for all. After you pay."
Muscles tensed on Alice Erry's jaws, just for a second, but Merchant knew she had clenched her teeth. Sure, get angry. You started this, despite our best efforts to foster peaceful relations.
"Why make us pay at all? You've made your point. Even if the Church doubles their bounty, I don't think a single person would take them up on it."
"Because the failing is Green Mountain's. You have made a grievous error in judgement, and that means you must pay a price."
Merchant reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved a small piece of folded paper. She placed it on the table, then slid it across.
"This price, to be exact."
When Alice winced upon seeing the number, but didn't raise her voice, Merchant knew she had selected the right price out of the eleven she had tucked into her pockets.
Make them hurt, but not too much. They were going to be nice and friendly neighbours from this point on, after all.
-x-X-x-
Alright, Beyn was annoying as heck when he was just a Priest. Then he started leading pilgrimages, which weren't all that distinguishable from crusades, if we're being honest. I wasn't a fan of that, especially since they were done in my name, and last time I checked I was just a shiny, awesome ant-monster and not a god, but fine, whatever floats your boat.
Then he turned himself into a kind of ambassador guy, moving out in the world, helping with diplomacy and preaching his weird beliefs all over the Dungeon. Did I like that? No. Did it keep Beyn away from me? Yes. We all have to make sacrifices.
More recently he's returned to being a front-line preacher, working with his Priests and helping to embed them in the mixed force battalions being deployed in the fifth. Once Solant found out about that aura buff, she was never going into battle without it, I suppose.
And now this one-armed bandit is trying to tell me he's a prophet?! Specifically, my prophet?!
I don't like this one bit.
"How in the name of heck are you my prophet? I don't think that's a title you can just bestow on yourself. I sure as heck didn't give it to you!"
Throwing himself into the dirt at my feet with rather more vigor than necessary, Beyn prostrates before me.
"GREAT ONE, IT IS NOT A TITLE I BESTOW UPON MYSELF, BUT THE CLASS GRANTED UNTO ME BY THE SYSTEM!"
What.
"What exactly is this Class called? And keep it down, for goodness' sake."
I have to clean my antennae. The pheromones are so absurdly thick in the air. One of the downsides of pheromonal communication is that he can still shout even with his face mashed into the floor. And I do mean mashed. That looks painful.
"Prophet of the Colony, Great One."
Oh… no. Is Gandalf pulling some kind of prank on me? This is the last thing I wanted. This is only going to take this idiot's delusions and blow them all out of proportion. It's bad enough the nonsense he spreads all over the place, now he'll be able to do it with even more authority. When other people find out about it, who knows how they're going to react.
Maybe there's some way to save this.
"What does your new Class allow you to do? Any clues from the System prompts?"
Hopefully it's nothing special. If the Class has a fancy name, but doesn't do anything all that impressive, I might be able to limit the damage.
"W-well… it says the… connection that blossoms between us will be strengthened."
It might sound as if he's hesitant, but I can tell he's just trembling from excitement. This man in front of me couldn't possibly be happier. He's overwhelmed with joy, brimming with zealous glee, filled with righteous light. The fact he's this happy about it doesn't bode well for me.
Now, as to what he said, I'm even less of a fan.
Our connection will be made stronger? What connection?!
Wait… please tell me…
I send my consciousness diving into the Nave. Beyn has had a seat in there for a long time, I've even used it to speak with him… once… maybe twice. Now, I zone in on his seat, except he's not on a seat.
No, he is now on a plinth. A plinth. And his ghostly outline is no longer the same as everyone else's, but glowing golden. That cannot be good.
[Beyn, can you hear me?] I reach out to him through the Nave.
[YES, GREAT ONE! I CAN!]
[SHUT UP!]
He grovels harder in apology while I shake my head. That hurts, dammit. Although… something is different here. He spoke back to me. Normally I can understand what someone is saying through the Nave because it acts as a collection point for their will. I can read their thoughts… to a very limited degree.
This guy just spoke back to me, straight through the Nave itself. Which means… he can talk to me whenever he wants to….
Oh… oh no.
"It seems like nothing has changed on my end," I cough. "Not really sure what that might mean. Probably nothing and not special in any way. Is there anything else it can do?"
"Great One! It says I can speak with your voice."
"You can what now?"
"Or perhaps, you can speak through me?"
Oh, he would love that. I'm reluctant to try it, simply because if it turns out to be true, he's going to become insufferable. Surely not though. I reach out through the Nave, pushing my consciousness into it.
Beyn shakes on the ground, his face still pressed into the floor.
"Ah… ah… ah…" he says. "I don't remember… GAH… how tongues work. So weird."
Yuck! That leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
So… I actually can speak through him. That's… pretty useless… and really weird.
Beyn's gone still, but I can see water pooling on the ground under his face. That's an awful lot of tears for one man to cry.
"Well if that's all your Class can do, then it's not that big of a deal. No need to be too excited."
Beyn lifts his head, just long enough to brush the tears away from his eyes.
"There is one more thing it says, Great One. It says that I have become a living conduit for belief."
What? That would mean…
Back into the Nave once more, my mind wrapping around the plinth upon which Beyn stands, looking smug and annoying.
There is… something emanating from it. Something different than the Will that flows through the Vestibule is coming through. Is this… belief? Faith?
Oh… I do not like that.
"I can feel you… Great One… my god," Beyn weeps into the Dungeon floor.
All the other Priests in the room crash to their knees and smack their faces into the floor with great vigour.
Reflexively, I clean my antennae. This… this is bad.
-x-X-x-
The Church of the New Path, founded by the Priest Beyn, did not set out to be in direct opposition to its progenitor, but could not seem to avoid the conflict. Both faiths clashed frequently wherever they went, the old refusing to yield ground to the new.
It made the spread of the burgeoning Church that much more difficult. Not only did they have to overcome the resistance of the masses to their… unconventional beliefs, they had to also defeat the active interference of the Church of the Path.
Despite the difficulties, it is remarkable that the faith expanded to the extent that it did. Perhaps it was the will of the Great One that it be so.
- Excerpt from the private notes of Historiant
Right. Well, nothing of interest is happening here, no great learning or secret mysteries are unfolding in the slightest. Faith, Belief, I can't imagine it's important, and therefore I have no need to look further into it.
So I dismiss Beyn and run away into a side chamber to look at my Skills, which I definitely want to do. Since when have I ever avoided monitoring my Skill levels and ensuring that I increase the rank of everything that's reached its cap?
Granin has been telling me to do it for ages, after all, and I would never want to let him down.
Tiny, Crinis and Invidia pile in after me, but so does Victor before we manage to shut the door. It's not easy to find rooms large enough for me to fit in anymore, but I have a sneaking suspicion the Colony has been building here and there since I evolved. Well, I know for a fact they've been doing that, and they haven't so much been building rooms as knocking walls down and combining smaller rooms.
[Make sure you guys check your Skills as well,] I tell my three associates. [If I have to do this, then you have to as well.]
Crinis waggles a tentacle at me uncertainly.
[Master. We check our Skills regularly. That's what Mr Granin and the triad asked us to do…]
Dangit.
[Well, do it anyway. It'll make me feel better and I would really appreciate it.]
Tiny and Invidia share a quick glance, then they both shrug and oblige me. Crinis reaches out and gives me a pat on the carapace, offering some comfort, before she turns to engage her status.
"All right then, Victor. What did you need? You can take as much of my time as you want. All of it. It's not that I need distracting or anything. I'm just really interested in what you have to say."
Antennae waggling a little uncertainly, Victor looks at me.
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"I… was just going to ask if you were going to head to the fifth stratum straight away. Now that the situation with Green Mountain has been resolved, you can leave if you want to."
As much as I would like to flee down to the fifth and start hunting slugs, there is one thing I should probably look into before I go.
"We captured a Grand Priest, did we not? Can you get Beyn… or someone else, to go and talk to that guy? We should try and find out who they are and what they know."
"I can do that, Eldest. Will you speak to them yourself?"
"Well… I probably will, but let Beyn speak to him first. Then get him to report to you, then you report to me."
The general hesitates for a moment, confused.
"Why wouldn't you speak to him directly, Eldest?"
"No reason! No reason at all! Now, let me attend to these Skills. Can't keep them waiting, haha!"
"O-kaaaaay. Sure, I'll let him know."
"Great."
The general hesitates for a moment, half-turning away, still watching me closely.
"Are you sure you're fine, Eldest?"
"Never better. I'm full of belief… in myself! Lots of confidence right now. Just… so dang confident. If I were any more confident, I'd be a fund manager."
"Oh, have you heard of Merchant's new initiative?"
"What? I mean, yes! I just don't have time for it right now. Skills, you know how it is."
"Alright then. I'll leave you to it."
I am overcome with an almost physical sense of relief as she finally leaves and I can devote myself fully to my currently chosen distraction. Without hesitation, I whip up the menu and start carefully inspecting all of my Skills, devoting all of the focus I can muster with four brains.
Which is quite a considerable amount.
Immediately, it's easy to see that I have been… somewhat neglectful, to my status screen. It appears as though the triad had gotten in here and done some tinkering while evolving me and I haven't bothered to check, and thus haven't noticed. I've been benefitting from some of these improved Skills without even realising I had them!
Sub-optimal, as Granin would say. If I check the descriptions and start to consciously utilise them, their effectiveness will go up tremendously. Let's see what they got up to…
Master Grip has been upgraded into Grandmaster Grip (V). Stealth also unexpectedly jumped a rank, not sure exactly how useful that will be from here on out, but hey, why not? Diamond Mind went up a rank to Unbroken Mind (VI), which is quite the milestone.
As a Skill which improves my willpower and defence against unwanted influence, this is an important upgrade. Especially right before I return to the fifth.
Keen Eye and Manifold-High Focus, the latter one of my new fused Skills, have reached rank five and six respectively, sharpening my senses and improving my ability to focus on more than one thing at a time.
Condensed Mana hit rank six, along with External Mana Manipulation and Mana Sensing. Very nice. My Omni Elemental affinity is almost ready to hit rank seven! I'm SUPER keen to see what happens when I reach that milestone, but I still need another twenty levels.
Force magic is up, as is barrier magic. Both reached rank five. Endure hit rank six, Mandible Parry hit four, and my Precog-Agile Defence reached five.
Wowee, that is a heck of a lot of Skills. Maybe it was that bad.
With all of these Skill upgrades, I'm ready to annihilate the fifth stratum. Let me at 'em!
-x-X-x-
Beyn wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel upon meeting the Grand Priest once more. There had been a time when he had hoped that others of his old order might see as he now saw, and be drawn into the light of this new Path. After the tragedy in the Silver City, he was no longer certain.
Head bowed in thought, he wandered the pathways inside the nest, moving towards the holding cells. Well lit and spacious, these corridors were just another example of the Colony's care for those who chose to walk alongside them. Beyn often reflected on the fact that the ants' passageways tended to be cramped and dark, which was how they preferred them, dense tunnels designed for ants to pack in on all sides. Yet, when it came to the humans and others who shared their living spaces, the Colony was generous with the things that they were reluctant to give themselves.
There were no others sharing this corridor with him at the moment, no one else to enjoy the flawless carvings, the woven rugs or the soft glow of the enchanted sconces evenly spaced along the walls. He padded in silence, the only sound the muted tap of his ant-headed staff upon the floor.
When he reached his destination, he stepped from the corridor and into a shared space, guarded by a dozen ants who kept a careful, unmoving watch upon those locked within. For this block of two dozen cells, the majority appeared to be filled with members of the Judgement Battalion, all of whom appeared wan and fading, inexplicably weak.
"Excuse me. Where can I find the Priest, Alir Vinting?" he asked, using his now flawless pheromonal speech.
"He is in the cell towards the back, the one on the right," came the prompt reply.
Once upon a time, the ants had reacted with surprise and shock when he spoke to them with pheromones, wondering how he produced them without a relevant gland. They often lost interest when told it was a function of mana. Nowadays, others speaking in the same manner as them was no longer surprising. This was incredibly pleasing to Beyn, a sign of the growing closeness between the Colony and those who walked the Path alongside them.
"Thank you. May the Great One illuminate your steps."
"Who?"
Too distracted to sniff the guard's reply, Beyn resolutely began to walk to the rearmost cells. Far more luxurious than anything he had ever seen be called a prison in the past, the small rooms were nonetheless barren and cramped by Colony standards, with those within fully visible to anyone on the outside.
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Alir Vinting was exactly where the guard had told him, seated comfortably, sipping a cup of tea, his robes still stained with dirt from the battlefield.
Instantly, Beyn's heart ignited in anger. He knew.
It was impossible for him to say how he knew, but he did, a burning certainty filling his chest and sizzling behind his eyes, turning all doubt to shreds.
"It was you," he said.
He came to a stop just outside of reach of the bars behind which the Grand Priest was contained, staring hard at the man within. For his part, Alir seemed unperturbed, lowering his cup as he turned towards his latest guest.
"You will need to be a little more clear," he said.
Beyn lifted his staff and crashed it down on the stone floor in a fit of anger.
"It was you!" he exploded. "You were the one behind the capture of the lost ant in the Silver City! That time in the library, you were trying to extract information from me, learn all you could. I thought perhaps you may have seen a glimmer of light in the New Path, but all along you were planning your… your heresy."
The one-armed Priest spat the word with disgust. It wasn't enough to contain all of the disdain, all of the horror he felt at what the man before him had done, but he did not know of a stronger word.
"You speak to me of heresy?" Alir scoffed. "A fallen Priest of the Way who lost his mind along with his arm? The only light in your eyes is that of madness. Monsters are here for our glory, not the other way around. I have done nothing but follow the Path as it was laid before us at the dawn of Pangera! You were once a person who understood that."
"I was shown a greater truth. A partnership and a way forward that uplifts all involved. Look at the prosperity and power all around you and tell me I am wrong!"
Alir looked down at the exquisite porcelain cup he held in his hand. Disdainfully, he released his grip, letting it shatter on the floor.
"You are wrong," he said simply.
There was no saving him. No point in even making the attempt. For the first time since his awakening, Beyn felt something close to hate. He did not pity, or lament the blindness of the man in front of him. Those things could be forgiven. His actions, however, his actions were irredeemable.
"Sitting in a cell, telling me you have done nothing wrong," Beyn ground out. "I wonder if they will see things the same way."
He tilted his head, ever so slightly, towards the imposing ant-head carving atop his staff. For the first time since he had appeared, Alir looked somewhat nervous.
"Threatening me, a Grand Priest of the Church?" he sneered. "Look at how far you have fallen. Is there anything left of your decency, of your faith?"
"My faith has never burned brighter," Beyn muttered, eyes boring a hole in the man in front of him. "If you can be threatened with the truth, then perhaps you walk the wrong Path. I will tell them what you have done, then your fate will be left in their mandibles. Normally, the justice of the Colony is quite lenient, but… for you, I foresee a different outcome."
"If they kill me, they will bring down a storm upon their own idiotic, monstrous heads," Alir shot back. "You know that. Do you intend to endanger your own false salvation?"
"I'll tell them. But it won't make a difference."
Beyn took a solemn step back.
"Walk in the light of the True Path," he said, "for whatever time remains to you."
-x-X-x-
Less than an hour after the fallen Priest had left him, Alir was taken from his cell. The ants did not bother to communicate with him, nor did they bring a human to answer his questions. A lack of courtesy that had not been present until this moment.
He really told them.
Deep down, the Grand Priest had not truly believed that Beyn, although he had fallen far, would really inform the ants that he had been the one to perform the ritual. It was a baseless accusation, he had no evidence! Even if he did, he knew what would happen to the Colony if they executed a Grand Priest of the Way.
Tensions were already high within the Dungeon and the Church was agitating against the monsters in every throne room, every council chamber and every board meeting across Pangera. Defeating the Judgement Battalion may already have been enough to light the tinder, but sentencing him for a completely legal act?
It was madness. Madness!
And yet… hadn't he said it himself? Beyn was surely insane. The Priest was a lost cause, unworthy of reeducation. What of the Colony, then? Had they no sense of self-preservation? They had been just as active as the Church had been in trying to sway opinion towards them. Trade, games, gifts, every trick in the book. They had to know what would happen.
Alir didn't want to die.
Not to monsters. The very idea of it seemed unholy and backwards. Monsters existed for the sole reason of strengthening the faithful, he sincerely believed that. Those who died in the Dungeon were simply lacking in belief, or unworthy of the Path's gifts. Alir Vinting was neither of those things. All his life, he had been devoted. He had progressed along the Path, advanced his Class, worked tirelessly for the exploitation of the Dungeon and uplifted the Church. He would not die this way!
When he was delivered, like a portion of food, to the feet of the giant ant monster that had terrorised the Judgement Battalion, all the defiance and anger Alir had felt melted away, evaporating into mist. This creature did not care for his service, did not care for his views or sentiment.
Even standing in its presence was difficult, so suffocating was the aura of power that rolled from it. With eyes like gleaming jewels, it looked down at him, mandibles twitching, and he couldn't help but picture what they would do to him if he were to be bitten.
Its mind connected to his so quickly he didn't even have a chance to rebuff the contact. Like a puppy gripped by the scruff of its neck, he was held up and examined, falling limp and unable to resist.
[I know you,] the ant said to him.
Alir tried to think of nothing, to communicate nothing, but that was impossible. The monster was already beyond his guard. They had indeed met before, within the Silver City.
[You already had your eyes on us back then,] the ant mused, its voice thundering inside his head. [Well now. This will be unpleasant, for both of us.]
There was no apology in the creature's tone, and that was all the warning Alir received. Immediately, the beast began to rummage through his mind, hunting through his memories like a scholar flipping through the pages of a book. It wasn't painful, not exactly, but it was extremely uncomfortable.
[This… is illegal,] he managed to push out as he grit his teeth.
[Plenty of evil things are legal,] the ant refuted him, not really paying attention. [For example, what you did to my sister. So why wouldn't this?]
That was the memory Alir was most desperate to hide, but the more he tried to avoid it, the more the ant dove towards it, seizing on his every weakness and moment of doubt to pry a little deeper and reveal a little more.
Eventually, there was no avoiding it, the creature's mind was overwhelmingly powerful compared to his own, and it pried him open easier than a person eating shellfish.
In full and excruciating detail, the ant went through every moment of the process. From the successful abduction of the ant, to the final drop of essence that had been harvested from its lifeless form, not a single detail was overlooked, not one second passed over.
CRACK.
Alir jumped in fright, unable to contain himself as those two gigantic mandibles crashed together. He could almost feel them snapping shut around his neck, but they did not. Not yet.
[I see,] the ant said. [Beyn was right. You were the one.]
[You can't kill me!] Alir shrieked across the mind bridge. [You will surely spark a war that you cannot afford!]
The ant tilted its head slightly.
[Kill you? Why do you think I would ever let you off that easily?]
It let that thought ring and echo inside Alir's head and turned to one side as he tried to process what he had heard. What did they intend to do to him? What horrors were these insects capable of inflicting on those they believed had wronged them?
There was a flash of light and another, smaller ant appeared, as if materialising from thin air.
[Is this the one?] it said.
There was an underlying disgust in the newcomer's tone, as if it didn't want to be here, wanted no part in this process.
Was this to be his executioner?
[This is him,] the giant ant confirmed, not bothering to exclude Alir from the conversation. It truly thought so little of him.
[Well… if anyone deserved it, this is them,] the little ant sighed, then addressed him directly. [Hey, you. Which arm is your favourite?]
It stood, watching him, waiting for an answer. Alir felt his mouth go dry. They were going to take an arm? His mind raced. If all they did was take a limb, he could consider himself to have gotten off lightly, but he felt sick at the thought of losing an arm.
[I'm left handed,] he lied.
[I'm in your head,] the giant ant reminded him, irritated.
[Right arm, then,] the little ant confirmed. [Well come along. I don't want to take any longer on this than I have to.]
[What are you going to do?] he asked, scared to hear the answer, but more scared not to know.
The little ant prodded him, getting Alir moving in the direction it wanted.
[I've been told that your people have never been able to extract 'essence' from non-monsters. It was an interesting problem, I'll grant you, but clearly none of them were Brilliant.]
It took Alir a moment to understand just what was being said. Once he did, he felt the contents of his stomach rising up to the back of his throat.
They hadn't. They couldn't.
[Today, we are going to find out how your essence tastes,] the little ant confirmed for him, then clacked her mandibles disapprovingly. [Revolting, I bet.]
-x-X-x-
Life was never easy for a monster, that was what she had learned since the time of her spawning.
Leaking ichor, poisoned and corrupted, she clawed her way down the tunnel, each of her six legs crippled in one way or another. Yet, were she to remain behind, death would surely find her. As it had always been, forward was the only way to go.
Why the slug creatures had sought her out so desperately, she had no idea, but now, as she dragged her form into the tunnel that led to the next stratum, she knew she was finally free of them. Electricity rippled across her frame, cauterizing her wounds, burning out the infection and sending waves of pain rolling through her body.
Her mandibles chattered as she steeled herself against the suffering. Without this ability, she would never have made it through the toxic environment of the fifth. Even with it, the damage and scars that had been inflicted on her would take a significant amount of time to fade.
Unsteady, she paused for a moment, shrouded in the darkness of the tunnel. Behind her, the virulent toxicity of the stratum she left behind surged and boiled, as if furious to have failed to ensnare its prey. Ahead, the mana thickened precipitously. At the end of the tunnel, a stormcloud, wreathed in purple lightning, writhed like a living thing. Even from here she could feel powerful winds blowing against her antennae, setting the hairs on her frame to quivering.
This promised to be an environment more to her liking. Perhaps she would finally be able to restart, rebuild the life that had been robbed from her before, so soon after her birth.
Anger rippled through her form and she chittered again, unhappy to be reminded of what had transpired in the past. She had been much weaker then, much less evolved. Since that loss, she had vowed that she would grow stronger, smarter, better able to defend what she had claimed.
The same mistakes would not be repeated again.
After a period of rest, she raised up on her legs once more and began to advance. Despite the pleasure she felt at being able to leave the hellish fifth behind, she did not underestimate the sixth. Danger only increased in the Dungeon, she had learned that painful lesson many times over as she had descended. Who could say what dangers would lurk within the sixth?
No, taking it lightly would be a death sentence. All senses alert, she crept toward the border. The moment her antennae came into contact with the cloud, they flared to life, her senses blaring with new information. Mana so thick as to be intoxicating battered against her, rich with power, laden with a weight and density that tantalised her core.
Eager for more, she moved forward, her legs gripping tightly. There was nothing to be seen yet, the cloud swirled too densely for her eyes, yet her antennae told her so much.
Once she finally broke through, the tunnel edge fell away, so she clung to the rock and held her position, hanging upside down, antennae waggling.
A vast open space stretched beneath her, a raging storm filling it entirely. Winds so powerful and sharp they could shear through rock sliced through the open air and boomed with an almost constant peal of thunder.
Yes, this was different. The last stratum had been a disappointment, to say the least. She had hoped to claim territory within, hidden from the eyes and grasping hands of the small ones who infested the fourth, but it had proven to be uninhabitable.
This place seemed much more promising. No toxins, no slugs, and so far, no small ones. Here she might finally reclaim that which had been taken from her. Her carapace buzzed with anticipation of that which was to come, but she quickly stifled those emotions. Nothing was certain yet. Exploration and investigation were necessary before she could make a proper decision. Only after hunting, judging the suitability of the prey and the environment, could she discern whether she would thrive here.
Cautious, she continued to cling to the rock and began to investigate. Moving slowly, she began to explore around the tunnel entrance, widening her path over time, antennae never ceasing to move while her mind reached out to interpret the mana that swirled so vigorously.
Frustratingly, she still couldn't see through the dense cloud, but nevertheless, she learned.
Monsters were flying through it, not too strong, judging by the power of their cores, but there was a chance they were concealing their real strength. If she could learn to do it, then other monsters could too. Once she had healed a little more, she might be strong enough to challenge one.
Wings flexed along her back, keen to take flight, but she was patient, continuing her slow, methodical pattern of exploration.
Despite her precautions, there were still leftover effects of the fifth's poison in her system, and possibly parasites that needed to be removed before they caused further damage. Once that was done, she would begin to hunt.
And then, if she were successful, she would begin to look for a proper location to claim as her own.
Excitement surged again, and this time, she did not suppress it. Something simply felt right about this place, as if it were where she should have been born all along. Her children might have fallen before, but she had grown so much since then, and ensured that the next generation that were born would be so much more than the offspring she had failed before.
Soon, the Hive would be reborn.
Wings fluttering, then vigorously buzzing, the Queen let go of the rock and let herself drop into the storm.
-x-X-x-
After seeing off that creepy Priest and neatly avoiding Beyn, I slip out of the nest and down into the depths with Tiny, Invidia and Crinis. After settling the issue of the mountain, it's time for us to go and do Solant a favour. The fifth is calling and there are some slugs I can't wait to catch up with.
Gweheheheheh.
Seriously though. If we can make a difference in this conflict and tip it firmly into the Colony's favour, then that will hopefully free up some resources. Right now, pretty much the entire military output of the Colony is being poured into this invasion. All of the new graduates from the Antcademy, all the metal, the armour, the weapons, the Biomass, the cores, the engineers, the construction crews, the healers, the core shapers, everything.
Building the first fortress was such a vast undertaking, but I know for a fact that Solant intends to build one for each heart the Colony managed to locate. I can scarcely imagine the sheer quantity of resources required to pull off such a thing. If one were to pay for it all at market rates, you could probably afford to buy the Silver City for a similar amount!
I knew it was going to be hard to conquer the fifth and that we would need to sacrifice, but this is getting right out of hand.
If I get in there and kick some backside, hopefully it will relieve the burden on the rest of the Colony, at least a little.
[No, Crinis. For the last time, you can't come with me out of the safe zones.]
[But Master!] she protests… again. [How will we know you are safe? I can hide inside your carapace. You won't even know I'm there.]
Unlikely. I've gotten better at spotting when she tries to sneak inside my body, and it's frankly shocking how often she tries it.
[We've been over this. The mana is toxic. The mana. It goes inside my body when I'm out there. Remember? Considering you are more vulnerable to that mana than the rest of us, it decidedly isn't safe for you to hide in there.]
Unable to refute my flawless logic, Crinis is reduced to sulking as she clings to my back while we run down to the fifth. Solant has had them build all sorts of fancy, quick mechanisms and roads to move from the nest to the staging area… but I don't fit in most of them, sadly. Not a big deal, it just means it takes us a little longer to get down there.
I only have to tell Crinis to withdraw from my carapace twice during the trip. Progress!
When we get down there, the sheer scale of what Solant has been doing strikes me right in the face like a rocket-propelled baseball bat.
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I thought the staging area was absurdly huge before, but it's grown to three or four times the previous size. Huge warehouses, enormous training grounds, entire fields of workshops and foundries. Barracks are stacked on barracks which are stacked on storage which lives on top of a hospital. It's as if the entire section of Dungeon around the entrance to the fifth has been transformed for kilometres in every direction. No wall is left untouched, everything has been carved out and filled with some sort of functional space. The open areas are likewise transformed into an almost obsessively organised grid of production.
And the movement! The entrance to the fifth appears as a vacuum nozzle, sucking in everything I see at a furious, almost dizzying pace. Only then does it really hit home that Sloan and Victor really weren't exaggerating. Everything is going down there.
My gob is fully smacked.
There's so much going on that I almost don't see the three Legionaries waiting for me with their arms crossed. Sadly, I still do. Even more sadly, they see me before I manage to slink off.
Dammit! I knew upgraded Stealth wasn't going to do squat anymore.
Morrelia shoots me an apologetic shrug as the three begin to march in my direction. At their lead, the Commander, Chyron, looks positively thunderous.
Why?! It's not as if I tried to sneak off—oh that's sort of what I did, actually. I'm supposed to let them know where I go so they can tag along, my disapproving, monster-hating shadows.
Well, Morrelia is fine.
[I forgot, alright? Sheesh,] is my brilliant defence after connecting the mind bridge.
Chyron glares at me, which is a lot less intimidating than she thinks it is. I find it increasingly hard to take people seriously now that they're so fun sized.
No. I mustn't try and tickle.
[You're going back into the fifth?] she asks me, rather directly.
[Uh, yes? I'm only up here because of the threat posed by Green Mountain. Now that's been resolved, I need to get down there and help with the invasion.]
[Resolved? I suppose that's one way of putting it.]
[Are they going to keep trying to abduct my family members? No? Sounds resolved to me.]
Hah. Not even Chyron can argue with that.
[And I suppose the Call doesn't have anything to do with how eager you are to descend?] she asks pointedly.
[Gah! Don't remind me about it!]
I've been doing a good job of ignoring it, but one mention is all it takes to bring the hook latched into my soul back into sharp focus. It's been agonizing to remain in the fourth, and now that I'm this close to the fifth, it feels as if someone is actively yanking on the chain. Knowing there's a tunnel not far away that will make the pain go away is a powerful motivator.
[It isn't a non-factor,] I admit. [It hurts like heck.]
[And if you manage to get through the fifth?] Chyron presses me. [What then? You go onto the sixth and conquer that for your family?]
[I mean… I wouldn't mind seeing it. Most people of Pangera have no idea what's down there. I'm curious. Wouldn't you be curious?]
She just stares at me. I think she knows I want to conquer it for my family.
-x-X-x-
Morrelia knew that Commander Chyron and the other legionaries would never admit it, but what the Colony had achieved in the fifth stratum was incredibly impressive. Even though many kingdoms, empires and alliances had made attempts to do the same in the past, they had always failed. It was too hard and the costs simply couldn't be sustained long enough to make meaningful progress.
Anthony and his family were perhaps the only ones capable of the obscene level of commitment required to get the job done, and getting the job done they were.
Even the Abyssal Legion, for all their power and secrets, hadn't been able to conquer the fifth. They had found ways to adapt to it, established their outposts and managed to breach it, something nobody else had ever succeeded in doing, yet they were now heavily outnumbered in the fifth by the ants.
"This ant is getting out of hand," Chyron said, snapping Morrelia's attention back to the present.
"Anthony?" she clarified. "I mean, the target? We were warned he–it would be difficult to observe."
"I genuinely can't tell if the creature is simply a forgetful, bumbling idiot, or a duplicitous sneak trying to throw us off the scent," Tribune Aurelis complained. "Does it really expect us to believe it simply didn't remember to tell us it was leaving to invade another stratum?"
Morrelia was quietly confident that was exactly what had happened. In her experience, anything Anthony found annoying, he was liable to ignore, and she had no doubt he thought his Legion observers were extremely annoying. For one, they had been foisted on him by Solant, not something he had taken on willingly. He likely agreed that the deal was worth it for his family, otherwise he wouldn't tolerate them at all.
But all she said was: "It doesn't matter either way, does it? Our task hasn't changed."
"That's right," Chyron affirmed, her eyes hard. "At this rate, we can be certain that the ant will make it to the sixth stratum. It's our responsibility to ensure that the Legion is ready for when and where that takes place. Our problem is, just how strong is this ant going to be when it gets there?"
Chyron watched the giant ant walking in front of them with cold, judging eyes, giving Morrelia and her fellow tribune a moment to consider what she had said.
Indeed, what Anthony had done to the Judgement Battalion was nothing less than shocking. He had endured a truly absurd amount of punishment, allowed himself to be battered by nine thousand Dungeon-hardened troops, and come out the other side with barely a scratch. That level of endurance, that level of healing, was absurd, even for a tier eight mythic.
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Luckily, even Anthony didn't seem to realise how extraordinary his own evolution had become.
"If he reaches tier nine, even the Legion may not be able to deal with him," Chyron muttered softly, turning back to look her two Tribunes in the eye. "Praetorian Armour is powerful, capable of battling even in the depths, but that ant cannot be allowed to double its power again. I don't doubt it will prove to be successful in taking the fight to the Krath, it was before it evolved, but we have to find ways to restrict its ability to gain XP and Levels. I want the two of you to work on a strategy and report to me as soon as you have something."
Morrelia and Aurelis gave each other the side-eye. They didn't particularly like each other, even still, and moments of genuine cooperation between them remained rare.
After all, they were technically competing for promotion on the Officer's fast track, something Aurelis had made clear he would never give up.
"Of course, Commander," Aurelis stated, smashing out a salute before Morrelia could get out a word. "We will have a strategy on your desk before the day is done."
Morrelia started. They would? How exactly were they going to prevent Anthony from doing whatever the heck he wanted to do? He'd made it perfectly clear he wasn't going to allow anyone to put restrictions on where he could go and what he could do. The only people he was ever going to listen to were members of his own family and they were unlikely to ask him to restrict his movements in the fifth.
If anything, they would do the opposite.
Morrelia knew for a fact that Solant had been trying to get Anthony back into the fifth for days now, desperate to have him reinforce the Colony's faltering front lines.
"We will do our best, Commander," she said firmly, snapping out a salute of her own.
Chyron nodded, expecting nothing less from them, then turned back to keep walking, the three of them still trailing in the wake of the monster they had been sent here to kill.
If that had been a long shot before, it was impossible now, and Morrelia couldn't help but feel relieved that was the case. Anthony had made it perfectly clear that a five-thousand strong Legion wouldn't be enough to kill him. To bring him down, something more would be needed.
And if he managed to evolve just one more time? What could possibly hope to bring him down at that point?
Morrelia suppressed a shiver. Tier nine monsters were mythical creatures to anyone who had experience in the Dungeon. Unable to rise to the fourth, they were almost unheard of, impossible beings of strength and power no human could ever hope to match. Down in the depths, the Legion's finest contended with beasts such as those.
Perhaps soon, Anthony would be down there among them.
-x-X-x-
Well… it's been six months, more or less, since I was last down here in the fifth, although it doesn't feel that long to me.
I have to wonder, is this how bears feel? Emerging after sleeping for an entire winter, blinking, wondering what the heck has been going on while they caught some z's? Obviously I'm not blinking, due to the lack of lids, but I am feeling a little disoriented. After moving down the tunnel and back into the fortress, it's clear that things have changed down here just a little bit.
And by a little bit, I mean a lot.
Putting aside the general more I see around me, more ants, more non-ants, more logistics, I think Solant has upgraded the previous system to what looks like a full-on railway, the changes to the stratum itself are the most surprising.
Without the poisonous influence of Theorazzn corrupting everything, I can only assume that the natural, original flavour of the fifth is starting to come back, and it looks… organic? The tunnel walls, once covered in mucus, slime, fungus and various other unspeakable substances are now looking… a little alive?
Standing in the middle of the vast chamber beneath the entrance, it almost feels as if I'm inside a fleshy organism of some kind. Which, I suppose, makes sense when I think about it. If the fifth before was a living thing, made sick and infected with a hideous disease, then getting rid of the infection will return it to what it was before: a healthy creature of flesh and blood.
Wait a second… the fifth isn't… a monster is it? That would be… weird.
"Eldest, it's nice to see you have returned to where the family needs you."
Solant's rather snippy greeting brings me out of my thoughts and back to the present moment. She's clearly still annoyed I put off returning to the fifth in order to settle things up above. Well, she can get over it, I was never going to let that situation stand.
"I'm here now," I tell her, looking down at the little general. "Are things really going so poorly? You sound stressed."
"Being in command of the invasion of an entire stratum is a rather stress-laden endeavour," she tells me, a little dryly. "Things are not going 'poorly', they are simply not progressing as well as I would like."
I mean… that sounds like the situation is going poorly to me.
"Alright then," I tell her, "let's get down to the headquarters and you can lay out the situation for me."
"Is that really necessary?" she asks, waving her antennae impatiently. "I can simply direct you to the location of our greatest need."
"Just how impatient are you, Solant? Sheesh! I just got here and you want to fling me off into the tunnels without even telling me how things are going? I'll fight non-stop and smash the slugs back into the depths from whence they came, but it would be nice if I could have a little context for the smashing."
I get the feeling Solant is getting a little too comfortable treating everything and everyone around her as an extension of herself. Tools to be used in the pursuit of victory rather than individuals that need to be respected.
She sure as heck isn't going to treat me like that. Perhaps this will be a healthy reminder for her. One of my antennae twitches with the urge to thwack, but I hold back, knowing the risk of inflicting serious injury with my irregular size.
This is proving to be an ongoing issue.
I turn to one of the ants standing next to Solant; Leonidant, I think. One of her siblings, at any rate.
"Hey, can you thwack Solant for me?"
The ant in question freezes on the spot.
"Uh… excuse me?"
"Just wander over and give her a good, solid thwack on the head with one of your antennae," I tell her. "I can't do it, I'd crush her into little bits."
"But… why would you want to do that?"
"Because she's being rude and treating her family members like tools. Clearly some sense needs to be knocked into that head of hers and I'm asking you to be the one to do it."
"Senior–" Solant begins, but I cut her off.
"Not now, Solant, I'm sorting something out. Come on now, stop wasting time and get it done."
"I… I–uh–I don't want to?"
"It's not like I want to thwack her," I lie. "But sometimes it has to be done. This is one of those times. No need to be shy, just wander over there and put a bit of oomph behind it."
I can tell that Leonidant is not enthusiastic about this, but with me looming over her, she is hardly in a position to resist. Reluctance dripping off her visibly, the scout drags herself over to the general, raises an antenna… and gives her a limp pat on the head.
"That… was a little weak," I say, trying not to be too harsh.
"Please don't make me do it again," Leonidant begs and I sigh.
"Fine. Well, I hope you learned your lesson, Solant."
"Thoroughly," she says, eyeing her sister a little too intently.
"Hey, it's not her fault you stopped treating your family right. Come on now, let's go to the HQ. The sooner you can fill me in, the sooner you can kick me out into the tunnels."
"Very well," she says, turning around and leading the way deeper into the fortress.
"I will… fit into the HQ, right?" I ask as I fall in behind her.
"No."
"Dang it."
-x-X-x-
As it turns out, Solant wasn't lying when she said I wasn't going to fit inside the chamber she uses to coordinate the campaign. The best they can do is enlarge one of the entrances so I can plop down outside and peer in. At least it's enough to allow me to see the ever-changing model of the fifth that the generals have been using. I've seen it before, and I'd assumed that after six months they would have had to start making a new one, using a new scale, but nope. The model is enormous, basically the size of a multi-storey building, contained in an ever-expanding oval carve-out in the centre of the room.
Every minute detail of the stratum has been replicated, down to the tiniest little tunnels, represented by filaments as thin as an ant-hair. The first thing I see when I start taking it in is the chambers that are obviously representing hearts.
It appears as though the Colony has conquered over a dozen of the things, vastly expanding the amount of cleansed territory and driving back the Krath. For each of the hearts, a matching fortress has been constructed, not necessarily the size of the original, but each there to provide the same function: housing the tanks of purified mana necessary to flood the system and overwhelm the corruption of Theorazzn.
I can scarcely imagine the sheer quantity of effort the Colony has poured into achieving this. Getting the first heart cleansed was a monumental effort and it nearly got me killed. They made this much progress even without me, Tiny, Crinis and Invidia? It's boggling!
"As you can see, we have been busy in your absence," Solant says, moving over to the model and then climbing onto it.
Makes sense, I suppose, it's not like she can just point at the parts she wants to indicate—it's way too large. With her small frame, it's trivial for Solant to pick her way over the surface, heading towards the places she wants to emphasise.
"We have been continuing to expand our field of influence by strategically targeting hearts. Using our connected network of fortresses, we can utilise the channels to transfer and stockpile liquid mana in the places where we want it. By flooding sections of the Dungeon, we've been able to clear out Krath resistance and make it difficult for them to form a solid defensive line."
Ah, that makes sense. With the power of the cleansed mana and the ability to deliver it right to the front in tremendous volume, they can literally drive out the Krath and then move in to secure the territory once they're gone. Using this method, they could avoid any major confrontations against the Krath completely. No wonder they've been so successful.
"I'm guessing the Krath have found ways to mitigate the effectiveness of the strategy?"
"Indeed."
Solant crawls out to the edges of the model, pointing at several key points.
"Our expansion, in terms of width, hasn't been opposed as much as when we have tried to go deeper. Most of the Krath opposition is positioned here, here and here. In response to our flooding strategy, they have begun to reshape the tunnels, creating huge reservoirs of concentrated mucus to dump our mana into, diverting the flow away from their defensive emplacements. Fighting over the vent systems has also intensified dramatically. They've realised we can use them to pour mana directly into the hearts and have been doing everything they can to stop them falling into our mandibles, even destroying them.
"As a result, the pace of our advance has slowed dramatically over the last two months, allowing the Krath to slowly entangle us in a battle of attrition. This is precisely the sort of conflict we must avoid. The burden it places on the troops, the rate of attrition, cannot be borne. Also, it gives the slug tribes more time to concoct countermeasures and embed their defences. If we don't break through soon, making significant progress will only come at an appalling cost."
I see. Solant wants me back in the fight as a line-breaker. A shock assault piece to smash through the slugs' position and allow the cleansed mana to flow deeper into the Dungeon before they have a chance to reshape the terrain. So long as we can keep the tribes backpedaling, they won't have the capacity to defend themselves from the flood strategy. It also means we would have more chances to seize vents before they can tamper with them. If we have control of vents, then we can attack the hearts directly.
"Alright, where am I headed?" I ask.
"First, I would like you to hit these Krath outposts. Here, here, here and… here."
Surprisingly, Solant doesn't go straight to the deepest parts of the model, but four points along the outer edge of its middle.
"These are the main concentrations of Krath forces preventing our expansion along the width of our territory. If they fall, then we will be able to capture at least two more hearts and open new avenues into the depths, most importantly this arterial tunnel that we believe runs almost eight hundred kilometres down."
That's a mighty nice passage to control. I can see why Solant wants it.
"After that, I would want you to deploy into the depths. It's important that we move quickly. Giving the slugs time to adapt has proven to be the death knell of many strategies. They are devious and clever creatures. If they know you are coming, they will find a way to capture you as they did before."
"Well… I think they will find that a little more difficult now than they did before," I say, standing up again and stretching my legs.
"Say…" I wonder aloud. "Have we had any miners… or maybe Smithant, come down here and look around?"
"Looking for new materials that might aid the war effort?" Solant says, nodding. "Yes, we have. With the return of the original mana and monsters, there have been some deposits of materials found to be growing here and there. We have been assessing them, but the process is slow going. They are difficult to work with, so I am told."
"Get Merchant down here to look at them," I instruct Solant.
"Merchant? I don't think there is any trade to be had down here," Solant says doubtfully.
"Just trust me. She'll know what to do. Let her look at everything you've found so far. Surely something will be useful."
"Very well."
"Good. Well, I'm off. One more place to see and then I'll head out."
"What? Where are you going now?" Solant asks, masking her frustration.
"I was saved by the little snails during my evolution. If not for them, I'd probably be dead. At the very least, I'd be less awesome. I owe them a thanks!"
-x-X-x-
As it turns out, the nursery isn't quite where I remember it being. The fortress is still absurdly vast, and rooms are being repurposed all the time. One of the resident Brood Tenders, a lovely sister of mine by the name of Tendant, leads me to where I want to go and explains the reasons behind the shift.
"As our territory has expanded, we've gained control of more Krath villages. Hundreds, at this point. They aren't always able to evacuate properly, the poor things."
The Brood Tender clacks her mandibles despondently, and I can't help but wonder if the innate compassion of her caste has gone a little too far. All Brood Tenders should be loving, caring teachers for the young, of course, but feeling sorry for the Krath? I mean… they're the Krath! A nastier, more conniving and generally yucky species has yet to be found on Pangera. Literally!
"Leaving behind their eggs must be such a painful decision," the Tender goes on, unaware of my inner conflict. "And not all of the eggs survive the transition, which is just… just awful. Even so, we have managed to recover many more viable eggs and hatch our darling little snails. As a result, we needed to greatly expand the snailcare facility."
"Well… how many snails do we have now?" I ask.
From what I remember, there weren't that many of them before. A few dozen, maybe a hundred?
"Over two thousand," Tendant tells me brightly. "We've had to divide them into smaller groups. They really don't like being over-crowded. The last hatching was just a few days ago. They're so small just after they hatch. So precious."
Two thousand?!
That's… way more than expected. At this rate, we may actually have a viable population of these cleansed Krath. Will the Chal Empire return to its former glory? Under the protective umbrella of their ant allies, of course.
"Well, I just came to see the first group."
"Oh, I'm sure Theresant won't have a problem with that," Tendant informs me as we arrive out the front of two large doors carved with an intricate depiction of ants and snails working together in harmony.
As it turns out, Theresant is slightly worried about letting me see the Chal.
"Aren't you being a little too protective?" I say, irritated.
After arguing with her for ten minutes, I'm starting to get a bit offended.
"Just what is it you think I'm going to do to them?"
"You are well known for tickling the grubs and rolling them around, Eldest," she informs me, a little snippily.
"Not anymore," I protest. "I'm much too large and my antennae are way too heavy. And I resent the implication I would happily crush the snails to death! Do you think I have that little self control?"
Still visibly reluctant, Theresant finally lets me inside the facility. I'm sure it's because of my persuasive arguments and not because I threatened to just walk through the wall. After all, I'm famed for my reasonableness.
Unfortunately, I'm too large to actually go inside the rooms dedicated to the care of the Chal, so Theresant has kindly offered to bring them out to see me.
I have to say, the snailcare facility really does have a tranquil and nurturing feeling about it. The air is still and peaceful, every ant in the place moves with a grace and quiet joy that seems to suffuse the very stones. Inside the courtyard in which I'm waiting, there are several different gardens, each based on a different theme, the arrangements evoking different thoughts and feelings from the viewer. This feeling is… almost spiritual.
And the sounds! I can't quite describe it. I can't really hear anything fully, but through the general quiet I can detect the odd note that hangs in the air, quivering with an energy and life all of its own.
I have to wait a while. At first I thought Theresant just lied to me, but then I have to concede they are snails, and not very large ones at that. I can't expect them to move quickly. They don't call it 'snail's pace' for nothing.
When Theresant returns, she is visibly fretting, hovering over a group of snails accompanied by an almost equal number of Brood Tenders.
This time I am offended! Is that really necessary? Sheesh!
For their part, the snails appear completely relaxed. Their eyes, atop their little stalks, are filled with peace and almost half shut, while their long, thin moustaches flow down their faces to trail on either side of their bodies. They really are a sight to see, these snails. Perhaps they have changed as they've gotten older, but their skin is a soft golden colour that seems to be glowing from within, while their shells are like precious jewels, gleaming and sparkling upon their backs.
In silence, they approach before stopping just a few metres away from one of my legs. Slowly, they form themselves into a neat formation, evenly spaced, and then look up at me, unblinking.
Uh…
"How are we supposed to talk to them? Do they understand pheromones? Or should I whip up a mind bridge?"
"Absolutely not!" Theresant snaps. "Their minds are too fragile to be subject to such magic. They are still infants!"
Well, sure, they're not a year old yet, but they look pretty darn wise if you ask me. Maybe it's just the moustache, but these little guys give off an almost ancient wise-guru sort of vibe.
Still, it wouldn't do to just ignore the advice of a Brood Tender, so I figure I may as well say my thanks using pheromones and hope somebody can translate it for me at some point. Before I can relay the message, the lead snail begins to hum.
Just a single note, but that pure, impossibly clean note sings along my antennae and stuns me into silence.
Following the first, another snail hums a note, then another, then another. One by one, each of the little chal joins in until all of them are humming and the hairs on my antennae are dancing the viennese waltz.
The pure perfection of it is enough to bring an imaginary tear to my very corporeal eyes. Carried away by the sound, I don't even feel the passing of time; all of my brains, all my mind constructs are simply absorbed in experiencing the all-encompassing sound produced by the snails.
And then, abruptly, it is over, all sound is cut off and I snap back to myself, looking down at the snails who appear somewhat wan and fatigued. Even their moustaches look a little less regal than before.
"Do they… get tired easily?" I ask.
They've only been humming at me for a few minutes.
"No, they don't!" Theresant snaps, furious as she urgently begins to round up the snails who reluctantly obey her directing antennae pokes back towards their rooms.
"What do you mean? They've only been out here for a few minutes."
"It's been two hours."
"Um… what?"
"Two. Hours. Eldest! This is why I didn't want to bring them out here. Something always goes wrong when you're around!"
"What did I do? That was all them! Heck, I don't even know what they did!"
"They did something for you," she snaps back. "I don't care what it is, just don't come here and tire them out all the time. They're still growing."
Confused, I start to examine myself, but I can't find any changes on my carapace or legs. Perturbed, I look inside, and it takes a while, but I eventually do find that something has, unbelievably, changed.
My Pure Core. It hasn't changed much, it's almost not noticeable, really, but I swear it's taken on a slightly… shellish appearance.
What the heck?
-x-X-x-