《Storm Strider》 Chapter 1 - Sand-Dancer Marisol A double spin jump, huh? I¡¯ve got this. perfectly raring then then then Don¡¯t fall, don¡¯t fall, don¡¯t fall! exactly wanted was I got this, I got this, I got this! Finish the routine with a bang! snapped exploded sure Twenty¡­ Forty¡­ Fifty¡­ Sixty-five! Yes! loved and exact incredibly now? am A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. gold exactly knows top really today? then will will actually was your will don¡¯t never ¡­ do that
What¡­? one freakedSomeone¡¯s still alive? thump have Something [Please do not attempt to remove the worm while system integration is in progress,] [... Greetings, Marisol Vellamira,][I am designated ¡®Archive¡¯, your personal bug assistant, here to support your integration with the Altered Swarmsteel System. This ship will sink in thirty minutes, and if you do not leave before then, you will die. Would you like to choose from one of four insect classes?] Chapter 2 - Four Classes [Greetings, Marisol Vellamira,] [I am designated ¡®Archive¡¯, your personal bug assistant, here to support your integration with the Altered Swarmsteel System. This vessel will sink in thirty minutes, and if you do not leave before then, you will die. Would you like to choose from one of four insect classes?] splat tad [I understand you must be very confused. However, you are not currently in a situation where you are allowed to panic,] [You must remain calm. Remember your mama¡¯s teachings. Come a blizzard or a sandstorm, a Sand-Dancer must¨C] [The wandering bug-slayers call us ¡®Altered Swarmsteel Systems¡¯. We are highly advanced spinal implants forged from the carcasses of the magic-blooded Swarm, designed to allow humans to walk the path of an Insect-Blooded by unlocking your unique magic and mutations. You can call me the ¡®Archive¡¯, an artificial lifeform created to assist you in all things related to slaying giant bugs,] [Antonio Saranno was my previous user with a crab insect class. A Crab-Blooded. Unfortunately, he has perished in battle. Now, it is your turn to perish, but if you do not want that to happen, please refrain from interrupting any further. I shall explain your current situation.] A talking ¡®artificial lifeform¡¯, Ain''t like I never heard about ''systems'' and ''Insect-Blooded'' before, but I thought¨C [You have forfeited all mental privacy rights the moment you integrated with me,] [Worry not, Marisol. I will not judge your thoughts. Neither of us can afford to do so¡ªas of this moment, an E-Rank Giant-Class Leviathan is swimming below our vessel. Left unchecked for thirty more minutes, it will eventually deduce there are no remaining fighters on board and proceed to sink the entire vessel. You are two thousand and forty-one metres away from the harbour you set sail from. If you are stranded out here on a plank of wood, you will die.] talking [Correct,] [If I were not here, your chances of survival would have been zero. The backup rowboats have all been destroyed, and the sails are all torn. You cannot sail this broken vessel by yourself. However, Antonio Saranno requested I integrate with you as his dying wish, so I must comply according to the Hasharana Code. To that extent, the breadth of assistance I can offer is allowing you to choose your own insect class, of which there are four. Now, please¨C] hard [Then, for a brief explanation: do you know how humanity has been waging war against the Swarm so far?] [Indeed. Hexichor is the magic essence in bugs that gives them their incredible power, and the presence of a system converts all consumed Hexichor into ¡®points¡¯. You would then use those points to increase your attribute levels and unlock new mutations. What mutations you are allowed to unlock are based on your insect class,] [Typically, the system decides your class the moment you survive the integration, and the class you get depends on a variety of factors: your physiology, the environment you grew up in, your dietary habits, and your idiosyncratic preferences, so on and so forth. Your assigned class should, theoretically, be the most fitting for you, but it appears you are a little¡­ special.] choose [... You have equal aptitudes with the four insect classes I am about to let you choose from,] [It is already quite rare that a single person can choose between two classes, let alone four. You must have lived a colourful life and accrued a variety of physiological experiences.] [I know that much from reading your memories, yes. Three of the four classes I am about to offer you are based on desert insects. Without concern for why you are special at the moment, shall I list out your options? We do not have much time left¡ªthis vessel will sink in approximately twenty-seven minutes.] This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. [First, a brief introduction to class selection. The moment you pick and confirm a class, you cannot revert the decision, and both your mutation tree and the ''Hexichor Art'' you will be given¡ªyour unique magic, that is¡ªcannot be changed. Under normal circumstances, I would have you think long and hard about which class you want to pick, but I can also offer recommendations if you have no particular preferences.] [Second, the moment you confirm a class, the tier one core mutation¡ªthe most basic mutation specific to your class¡ªwill begin manifesting on your body,] [It might be a painful process depending on what you mutate. Please prepare and brace yourself for the minor inconvenience. I can assure your safety throughout the mutation process, however, so there is no need to concern yourself over your potential demise¨C]
[Ignore the Hexichor Art for a moment. If you pick the ¡®Desert Locust¡¯ class, the tier one mutation you will immediately unlock is ¡®Migratory Wings¡¯, which will mutate wings between your shoulder blades and allow you to fly downwind at speeds of up to fifty kilometres an hour,] [As the storm is currently blowing back towards the continent, even an inexperienced flyer like you will easily be able to return to the shoreline. It may not the most powerful insect class, but I highly recommend it if you wish to return home safely.]
[Ignore the Hexichor Art again. The ¡®Giant Mesquite Bug¡¯ class has ¡®Armoured Wings¡¯ as its tier one mutation, which will mutate two sets of giant wings between your shoulder blades. The hard forewings known as ¡®elytra¡¯ will protect the membranous wings underneath, allowing you to fly downwinds at speeds of up to twenty kilometres an hour,] [Considering the violent force of the cutting winds, having armoured wings will prove to be extremely useful. While further mutations would make you bulkier and more sluggish, I can recommend the giant mesquite bug class if you wish for ultimate comfort and safety.] that love were
[And for your final option, the tier one mutation of the ¡®Tarantula Hawk Wasp¡¯ is ¡®Aposematic Wings¡¯, which will mutate brightly coloured wings between your shoulder blades and allow you to fly downwind at speeds up to seventy kilometres an hour,] [While this is typically a class chosen only by bug-slayers, owing to its incredibly powerful Hexichor Art and offensive-oriented mutations, its wings are still good enough for you to fly back to the shoreline with. You enjoy dancing, correct? The brightly coloured wings should enhance the shape of your silhouette as you twirl and caper. I can fully and whole-heartedly recommend the tarantula hawk wasp class.] really want [Unfortunately, not at the moment. You will only unlock the tier one mutation of each class the moment you select one, and without any points to increase your stamina, your strength, or any further mutations to enhance your wings, it will be impossible to fly headwind against this storm. As I am also unable to contact any nearby bug-slayers due to you being an unregistered user of the Altered Swarmsteel System, please prioritise your own safety and return to the shoreline.] [Please prioritise your safety and return to the shoreline. Please prioritise your safety and return to the shoreline. Please prioritise your safety and return¨C] [It is an insect class nobody chooses. It is a terrible insect class that will most certainly not help you survive. The abilities its mutations afford are nigh-impossible to control, the Hexichor Art is unknown, and the risk-reward ratio is not worth it even for a highly trained bug-slayer. For the purpose of expediting your class selection, I elected to omit the option¨C] forward [...] [... Very well.] all
[Option #4: Water Strider] [Please do not pick this class] Chapter 3 - Water Strider [Option #4: Water Strider] [Brief Description: Hydrophobic, long-legged, fearlessly fast¡ªthe water strider is anatomically built to run and skate across water. Its hydrophobic hairs allow it to bend water beneath its legs and prevent drops from weighing it down. On the open seas, there is no insect that can move and dance faster than the water strider] [Hexichor Art: ???] [T1 Mutation: Striding Glaives]
[...Yes,] the Archive said, very reluctantly. [The tier one mutation of the ¡®Water Strider¡¯ class is ¡®Striding Glaives¡¯, which will mutate your legs into hydrophobic glaives, allowing you to repel water and, in turn, manipulate water beneath your feet. With that said, it is a remarkably difficult to control tier one mutation, and because it is such an uncommon insect class, even we Archives have no idea what its Hexichor Art is. You would not be able to use your unique magic until you figure out what it is, so please do not pick this class. Please do not pick this class. Please do not¨C] ¡°Confirm Water Strider Class.¡± [Are you certain you want to select the Water Strider¡¯Class?] ¡°I¡¯m certain.¡± [Initiating system integration for Water Strider Class.] And it was like a phantom butcher just came and severed the nerves in her legs, making her topple over unceremoniously. She used to sit on her knees for long hours of posture training, and whenever she got up it¡¯d be like the devil¡¯s thousand needles were in her thighs; this wasn¡¯t what it felt like. Her legs weren¡¯t just numb. Her bones were shattering, her muscles were rearranging, her skin was ripping and tearing and stitching itself back together, and when she finally looked down with her throat clenched, her teeth gritted¨C Her legs from the knees down were the sharpest blades she¡¯d ever seen, and any semblance of feet or toes or bones were completely moulded into the blade¡¯s silver exoskeleton.
[T1 Mutation Unlocked: Striding Glaives] [Brief Description: Your lower legs have become water-repelling glaives. You can now stand and walk on water so long as you are able to maintain your balance. This is both a passive and a channeled mutation. The glaives are passive and will never fail you, but maintaining the ability to stand on water will continuously drain your Hexichor Pool, so you cannot stand on water indefinitely]
[¡­ I told you not to pick the water strider class,] the Archive hissed, making her wince as she pressed her hands to her ears. [This tier one mutation is not reversible. You will have to live with blades for legs for the rest of your life, and even if you were to sever them and consume a healing potion, you will never be able to regenerate your normal human feet. Can you even walk like this? Can you even stand up like this? I do not understand¨C] ¡°So you can read my mind, but you can¡¯t read my resolve?¡± It was difficult. It was painful. Her thighs burned and her arms quivered as she pushed herself onto the tip of her blades, and her eyes watered as she felt stabbing throbs where her knees connected with the glaives¡ªbut damn if she¡¯d picked one of the other three classes and just flew away, flying downwind and betraying the core tenet of being a Sand-Dancer. ¡°... A Sand-Dancer always dances against the desert, and against the world for just a sliver of attention,¡± she hissed back, biting her lips, stabbing her right blade through the floorboards as she rose on one knee. ¡°Ten years I¡¯ve saved up for this once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Whirlpool City, and ten years I¡¯ve waited to bottle just one small vial of healing seawater¡ªdo you think I¡¯ll go back now and watch mama¡¯s life tick away without doing anything about it? Do you think a Sand-Dancer launches into a mid-air twirl without thinking about sticking the landing?¡± [...] ¡°I¡¯m going to the Whirlpool City,¡± she said, shooting to her feet, snapping her arms out, and assuming the Sand-Dancer¡¯s neutral one-legged standing posture. ¡°Whether you like it or not, you¡¯re coming along with me, so¡­ help me get off this ship, will you?¡± The Archive was silent for one more moment, as though calculating her survival percentage and not liking the results, but then it started warbling. Shifting. Its six legs extended, its antennae became more jagged, and its teardrop-shaped body thinned into something akin to a stick. She managed a small smile in response. It was now a perfect mirror of a tiny water strider. [... Understood,] the Archive said. [Please exit the captain¡¯s cabin first and survey your surroundings. I know only what your senses can perceive, so I cannot determine a proper escape route if I cannot see the ocean with your eyes.] She took her first step slowly, careful not to slip her blades between the floorboards, but quickly found it wasn¡¯t as hard as the Archive had made it out to be. It was a bit difficult trying not to wobble after her first step, sure, but not impossible. Walking only on her tiptoes in scorching golden sands was much tougher than this. I got this. First, out of the cabin, and then¨C As the heavy waves rocked the ship from side to side, she stumbled out of the cabin and nearly went over the railings. Lightning cracked the sky and cold rain slammed against her face, and if her blades weren¡¯t literally stabbed into the floorboards, she¡¯d have been thrown off the ship already. Throwing her hands around the ratlines to stabilise herself, she forced herself to squint through the rain, out at the stormy seas¡ªand it was a much more dreary sight than she¡¯d thought. Captain Antonio had set off the voyage with four full-rigged ships, twenty crew and twenty passengers on each, but now the only ship with a mast still standing was the one she was on. The other three ships were split down in half, ripped to shreds, littering the dark and wavy seas with torn sails and rotten timber. Water-logged crates and barrels bobbled on the sea¡¯s surface, corpses lay face-down and hung limply on floating debris. For a few seconds she even thought she saw the ghost of a man standing on a plank of wood at the very far edge of the wreckage, but then rain blew into her eyes and she had to blink; the ghost was gone in the next second. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Strange. And although the storm would swallow everything out there in due time¡­ she thought she still had a chance. If she really could ¡®stand¡¯ on water with her glaives for legs, just like a water strider could, then she could vault over the railings and try to walk out of the storm. She didn¡¯t know where she¡¯d go, but¨C [Before you do that, toss something into the middle of all that wreckage. Anything will suffice.] The way the Archive said that made her hesitate to climb overboard immediately, so she listened, picked up a rolling water gourd, and chucked it out as hard as she could. A shudder of animalistic fear rippled up her spine as a giant shadow swam out from under her ship, kicking slowly towards where the gourd plopped into the sea. She thought it was some sort of serpent at first, but then she noticed the dozen tiny legs, the glowing orange fork tail, and the gigantic curved tusks jutting out from under its jaw. Its legs and tusks were poking out the surface as it swam upside-down, like someone doing backstroke in the sands, and then a tiny whirlpool formed as it sucked in everything in the gourd¡¯s vicinity¡ªshe swore she could hear its mandibles crunching down on everything it managed to drag under. ¡°... W-What?¡± she breathed, looking down at the Archive standing on her shoulder, pointing out with a shaky finger. ¡°That thing¡­ it just¡­ what? What kind of insect is that?¡± A status screen popped up next to her head, and thank the Great Makers rain phased through it like a mirage; she wouldn¡¯t have been able to read a single word otherwise. [Identification Complete] [Scientific Name: Anostraca Branchiopoda] [Common Name: Fairy Shrimp] [Strength Level: Giant-Class, E-Rank] [Hexichor Art: None] [Brief Description: Twenty body segments, eleven pairs of legs, and lacking in rigid carapace¡ªfairy shrimps are best known for swimming upside-down and feeding on organic particles from water surfaces. They have two pairs of antennae, one pair especially elongated and resembling tusks, which they can control and are specifically evolved for grasping motions]
[... Ah,] the Archive muttered. [I thought they were tusks, too.] She shot the little water strider on her shoulder with a dumbfounded look. ¡°I thought the ¡®Swarm¡¯ that¡¯s attacking humanity and trying to conquer our world are all giant insects. Shrimps aren¡¯t insects, right?¡± [It is a common misconception that the Swarm is only made out of creatures from the class of ¡®insects¡¯. More accurately, the Swarm is made out of creatures from the phylum of ¡®Arthropoda¡¯, which consists of all manners of insects, crustaceans, arachnids, and myriapods, so on and so forth,] the Archive explained. [Shrimps are crustaceans. Thus, they are part of the Swarm, and thus they are enemies of humanity.] The rainshower in her ears pounded like a drum as she read the description box over and over. It didn¡¯t do the actual leviathan any justice¡ªit completely failed to mention the fairy shrimp was at least twenty metres long and nearly as wide as the ship was. She would¡¯ve continued staring dumbly out if the ship didn¡¯t suddenly lurch backwards, her hands on the ratlines the only thing keeping her from falling off her blades. [It would appear the hull has been breached at long last,] the Archive said plainly. [In twenty or so minutes, this vessel will sink by itself, but the fairy shrimp will likely become impatient and destroy it in ten. You must bypass it before then.] ¡°And how do I do that?¡± [If you had wings, you could simply fly downwind and return to the shoreline within a few hours¨C] ¡°I¡¯m going to swat you,¡± she warned, clicking her tongue at the little bug on her shoulder as the ship eventually rocked back forward; her palms were starting to bleed from how hard she was holding onto the ratlines. ¡°I know it¡¯s big, and professional bug-slayers probably train years and decades just to be able to hunt these leviathans, but¡­ is there a way I can kill it? Any weaknesses I can exploit? A blindspot in its defences?¡± The Archive tilted its head quizzically. [Engaging it in a battle is foolish. You should look to bypass it instead. With your ability to stand on water, there is a chance, no matter how slight, that you can simply glide a wide berth around it and circumvent it completely. Its antennae may not detect you if you walk slowly and carefully¨C] ¡°It¡¯s weaknesses, Archive,¡± she said again, gritting her teeth. ¡°I ain¡¯t gonna run or glide around it. I¡¯m killing it here and now, so tell me how to clean a shrimp.¡± [... But why must you engage it in battle?] the Archive asked. [You said it yourself. A bug-slayer¡ªa Hasharana¡ªtrains years and decades before they even think about challenging a bug this size. Granted, the size of crustaceans are not generally proportional with their ¡®strength¡¯ compared to their terrestrial counterparts, but it would still be a nigh-impossible undertaking to kill the fairy shrimp¨C] ¡°So I¡¯m just gonna let it scurry away after killing Captain Antonio, everyone on board, and potentially every other ship that comes sailing by this strait?¡± [...] ¡°I don¡¯t know what orders the people who made you gave you, but if you serve the bug-slayers and your first tenet ain''t avenging those who have lost their lives to the Swarm, then I¡¯d say you can use a little reckless Sand-Dancer in you,¡± she said, forcing a cheerful, confident grin onto her face. ¡°The shrimp will pay for what it did, and you¡¯ve already come this far with me, eh?" She was pushing the Archive again, and she knew it, but if she was just going to run, there¡¯d have been no reason for her to pick the water strider class. So show me, Archive. What are its weaknesses, and can I exploit any of them? [... Very well,] the Archive said, sighing reluctantly. [The fairy shrimp has the following notable strengths: thin and flexible exoskeleton, specialised grasping antennae, automatic food filtration, and an adaptable distribution. That means it is tough, grabby, sensitive to surface movement, and can survive in both salt and freshwater environments.] ¡°O¡­kay,¡± she said, nodding and gulping hard as she watched the shadow of the shrimp swim out again, swirling beneath the wreckage. ¡°What are its notable weaknesses, then?¡± [None.] She blinked. Looked down at the Archive. Then blinked again. ¡°Say that again?¡± [It has no notable weaknesses,] the Archive repeated, just as curt as the first time. [We, the Archive of Altered Swarmsteel Systems, only know as much about the Swarm as the bug-slayers have collected information on them. Because our forces are currently lacking in the far west, much of our information on many western crustaceans are regrettably incomplete¡ªif the fairy shrimp has any notable weaknesses, we will discover it after we either kill it or die trying.] ¡°...¡± [It is perfectly acceptable if you do not wish to proceed with a battle. Trying to skate around it will still be extremely difficult in this storm, but at the very least, you would not have to face an enemy with unknown weaknesses¨C] ¡°Actually,¡± she murmured, narrowing her eyes at the fairy shrimp¡¯s shadow as it surfaced to swallow a few more planks of wood, as though searching for survivors it could gnaw on, ¡°it does have one very notable weakness if I just use a bit of common sense, right?¡± The Archive lifted its head to stare at her. [And what would that be?] She pointed at its upside-down legs breaking the surface like shark fins, and the Archive followed her finger. ¡°It¡¯s swimming with its belly up,¡± she said. ¡°Even if my glaives for legs can¡¯t slice it open as it tries to eat me, something long and hard falling on it really, really fast would still impale it right through, no?¡± [... Ah.] [I see.] [You do stand a chance if you can impale it like that.] [In that case¨C] [Objective #1: Slay the E-Rank Giant-Class Fairy Shrimp] [Time Limit: 10 minutes] [Reward: 15 points, 12x Fairy Shrimp Phyllopodia, 4x Fairy Shrimp Antennae] [Failure: Death] Chapter 4 - Shrimp Slayer [So you are brave enough to challenge the fairy shrimp on its domain, but not brave enough to jump ten metres down?] [The chances of your success are less than five percent. If you wish to abort your objective, you can still¨C] have [You have a ninety-five percent chance of failure.] cold [... You really can balance on glaives for legs,] [But the real test will be moving. Will you ride the waves or let them pull you around? Will you outrun the leviathan or let it swallow you whole?] [I apologise. But the fairy shrimp is charging towards you from the left.] ¡­ Oh. What am I, performing for a crowd? too felt It¡¯s¡­ almost just like sand-dancing. You put one foot ahead on the other, focus your weight on the tip of your toes, and then¨C now [Not fast enough, Marisol,] [Walking on the sea is not like walking on the desert. If you fall in the desert, you will hit the ground, and you will climb to your feet. If you fall into the ocean, you will sink into the abyss, and you will not be able to stand ever again.] ¡­ This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. skating The ¡®Storm Stride¡¯, I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m doing it! Ain¡¯t this ¡®skating¡¯, mama? speed. [Focus on the plan. Hold the ropes tight.] Alright! Just one more to go! [That was wholly unnecessary. Please refrain from¨C] You said five percent, right? perfect ¡®Marisol.¡¯ ¡®No matter what sort of stage you¡¯ve been given, and no matter what unreasonable demands have been made of your routine¡­¡¯ that higher snapped beam ¡®... A Sand-Dancer always ends her dance with a bow.¡¯ [... I see,] [Percentages and calculations mean nothing in the face of a Sand-Dancer as unpredictable as you. Henceforth, I will adjust my advice to better fit your¡­ recklessness. Or courage.] Two sides of the same coin, Now, you said something about¡­ rewards? And shrimp parts? What did you say I¡¯d get if I killed the shrimp again? [Ah, yes. One moment.]
[Objective #1 Completed: Slay the E-Rank Giant-Class Fairy Shrimp]
[You have around fifteen minutes to rest before even this ¡®vessel¡¯ will sink,] [However, now that the most immediate threat to your wellbeing has been taken care of, that is fifteen minutes you can use to increase your attribute levels before you must depart. Please consider how to spend your points carefully. As with the class selection, you cannot undo any decisions you make.] Attribute levels?I¡¯ve no idea what you¡¯re talking about. [I apologise. Allow me to reiterate and explain again.] [To claim your rewards and obtain the points to increase your strength,] [you must eat the bug.] Chapter 5 - Altered Swarmsteel System [Eating the bugs you slay is the only way you can obtain their Hexichor and have me transform them into points,] [Accounting for your still-very-human biology, fifteen points is the most you will be able to obtain from eating only the easily digestible parts of the fairy shrimp, that being the first three pairs of thoracopods, the compound eyes, the left cercopod, the latter section of the upturned abdomen, the nauplius eyes¨C] anything [We have around fourteen minutes remaining. Allow me to make this brief. This is your status screen, which denotes all of your physiological attributes:]
Striding Glaives
[From top to bottom, we have your name, insect class, your current unallocated points, your Hexichor Art, and your Hexichor Pool. You can think of Hexichor Pool as ¡®magic stamina¡¯, or ''mana'' for short. Every time you use your Hexichor Art or any active mutation ability, you will drain a bit of mana from the pool. If the number reaches zero, you will die,] [After that, you have your five physical attributes. One ¡®level¡¯ in strength, speed, dexterity, toughness, and perceptivity means you are equivalent to an average human in all those attributes. If you have five levels in strength, you are basically as strong as five average humans. Understood?] knew [If you want to raise your strength from level one to two, it will cost you one point. If you want to raise it from two to three, it will cost you four points. To increase any of your attribute levels by one, it will cost a number of points equal to that attribute''s current level squared, and this applies for the first five attributes,] [To increase your Hexichor Pool, however, the cost is consistently one point per level. This is because increasing your magic stamina is the easiest modification I can make to your body. Therefore, to increase your Hexichor Pool from four hundred and ninety-nine to five hundred, it would only cost you one point, and from five hundred to six hundred, it would only cost you a hundred points. Understood?] was [Finally, for the mutation tree at the bottom, there are ten tiers of class-specific mutations you can unlock¡ªthink of mutations as active and passive biological abilities¡ªand you must unlock all mutations in each tier before moving onto the next. Your tier one mutation, ¡®Striding Glaives¡¯, was unlocked the moment you chose your class, so if you have fifty points, you can unlock one tier two mutation,] [There is no point in explaining Hexichor Arts at this stage. There is no point in explaining the intricacies of how the levelling system functions at this stage. Now that you know everything you need to know, please¡ªstart eating the bug.] ¡­ Might as well eat while I¡­ ask? Dammit, I already got this far Lots ¡­ You¡¯re saying mama spent decades honing her strength and toughness, but I can literally be twice as strong and tough as her if I just put two points into those ¡®attributes¡¯? How does that even¡­ work? I get you¡¯re some advanced magic technology the smartest people on the continent developed, but¨C [Insect flesh is more protein-dense, folic acid-dense, and vitamin-dense than any other food in the world, and combined with the magic essence that is ''Hexichor''?] [Insects are such a potent source of nutrients that, if a normal human without a system were to consume insect flesh and accumulate Hexichor, they would begin mutating traits of said insect and gradually lose their humanity. However, systems such as I are capable of controlling that intake of Hexichor and converting it into points, which you can then use to selectively increase your attributes or evolve controlled mutations.] Well, the people who developed you must¡¯ve been¨C [Out-of-this-world genius, yes. They even designed us ¡®Archives¡¯ to be able to converse with our users like this.] [Now eat this part over here. You have twelve minutes remaining.] The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. I get it, I get it. I¡¯ll eat whatever you want me to eat. If only it ain¡¯t so salty, huh? [It is a saltwater crustacean.] And where I come from, we cut our fish open and leave it to dry for at least two days so the saltiness is less overbearing, I¡¯d hoped my first bite of a crustacean would be¡­ you know? Cooked? Will I really be safe eating raw flesh like this? [No.] What? [Apologies. I meant yes,] was [But¡­ perhaps you could start a little fire. Not only would eating cooked insect flesh yield more points, it would also be easier on your stomach.] And how am I going to start a fire in the middle of this? How the hell do I start a fire, though? Yes! [You can cook multiple strips of flesh at once to minimise cooking time,] [Rip flesh from here, here, here and here. This is all you can realistically eat and digest within fifteen minutes for fifteen points. Do not throw away the inedible chitin, either. Put as much of it inside your cloak as you can.] I don¡¯t know how to carve a shrimp. [I do. Grab the leg at the base and twist¨C just like that. Good job. Now squeeze out the flesh and¨C] I know how to carve a shrimp. sharp [They are part of your reward for slaying the shrimp,] [Twelve shrimp phyllopodia¡ªtwelve ¡®legs¡¯¡ªand four shrimp antennae. They can be used to construct ''Swarmsteel'', which are magic equipment forged from insect parts that can provide attribute levels and even special abilities once you meld with it.] You¡¯re going to have to explain what ¡®meld¡¯ means¨C [Say you construct a helmet out of the shrimp parts you just obtained. If you wear the helmet and it comes in contact with your skin, it will begin to stick onto your skin. That is called ¡®melding¡¯, and the higher quality the Swarmsteel¡ªwhich depends on the quality of the parts, the quality of the construct, and how well you can meld with it¡ªthe more attribute levels you can gain from equipping it,] [You already know who the Great Makers are. I notice you reference them a fair amount as an expression of exaggeration in your speech and thoughts¨C] ¨Chey, don¡¯t pry into my memories like that¨C [¨Cso the people who understood how to work with insect parts to turn them into powerful weapons and equipment are called ¡®Makers¡¯,] [Now eat. Five minutes remaining. Since the flesh is now semi-cooked, you should be gaining twenty points instead of fifteen points.] bit And¡­ I don¡¯t assume I can make any Swarmsteel with these random parts just sitting around? They¡¯re going to weigh me down, right? Are they really worth keeping around even though I probably won¡¯t be using them anytime soon? [Just hoard it. I am sure it will come in handy eventually.] If you say so. But if I sink, that¡¯s on you. [That would be on you for picking the water strider class¨C] Is there anywhere for me to skate to? Another ship or something of the sort? [... According to the navigation data that Antonio Saranno last updated three months ago when he sailed by this strait, there is one landmass somewhere between three to four kilometres of where we are,] [If you can manage to skate through the storm, you should be able to see the tail of the island, but if you cannot, you will die. There is still the option for you to attempt skating back to the shoreline. What will it be, Marisol?] ¡­ ¡­ I have twenty ¡®points¡¯ now, right? [Correct.] And how do I raise my attributes? [Simply command me to do so. I suggest, with twenty points, you put¨C] Raise my speed to level four, my toughness to two, and¡­ how many points would I have left? [Five points.] Put the rest into the other attributes, A Sand-Dancer must be graceful, and I can¡¯t do that if my attributes aren¡¯t properly balanced, right? A few levels in every attribute should be¡­ helpful.
[... The attribute levels will help, but at the end of the day, this storm is a nasty one to skate through on glaives,] [If you shall make it out of this alive, it will be your tenacity that pushes you through; nothing more, nothing less.] [Good luck, Marisol.]
[Objective #2: Skate out of the storm and head towards the unidentified landmass] Chapter 6 - On the Edge now Maintain your balance, Marisol! Focus like you¡¯ve never focused before! primal [Antonio Saranno last sailed by this strait three months ago, and his navigation data shows there is one landmass between three to four kilometres out,] [At your speed, it should take you no less than ten minutes, but no more than twenty.] Ten minutes [And what in the Great Maker¡¯s names are you doing?] [Do not waste your energy, Marisol! Focus! Your chances of failure are already high enough as they are, and now you decide to start launching off waves? Please prioritise your safety! Flashy moves can come once you are on solid ground¨C] If you can project yourself as a little water skater on my shoulder, can you also project something else into my eyes? [... Like?] You can read my mind, can¡¯t you? Put her in front of me. Please. [...] better [... How can you even remain so cheery and hopeful in a situation like this?] [You have a ninety-five percent chance of dying in the storm. You are untrained in the strengths of an Insect-Blooded. You can still turn around and have a safer, easier journey back to the shoreline, but¡­ why is it that you can smile like this?] [Whether it is for your mother or not, are you simply not afraid of death, Marisol Vellamira?] did If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡­ Do you know the ¡®Chariot¡¯s Sandstorm Dance¡¯, Archive? Legends have it that when the first Sand-Dancers rose from the graves of those who died in the desert, they were the lords of the wind! They were the guardian deities of caravaneers and travelling merchants alike! You couldn¡¯t cross the desert without at least one Sand-Dancer in your caravan, because when a sandstorm hits and threatens to swallow you whole, it is only the Sand-Dancer who can single-handedly draw the storm¡¯s attention away with their beautiful, graceful dance! People may be stronger now, aye! Caravaneers may have tools that can anchor their carriages to the ground when a sandstorm blows, and there may be more Insect-Blooded warriors with magical abilities to gawk at now than ever, but a Sand-Dancer lives their entire lives on the edge! All day, all night long, on the blistering hot sands where the very ground can melt the skin off our feet¡ªit¡¯s hot and painful and sometimes we¡¯ll feel like falling over and never getting up again, but that just won¡¯t do! A Sand-Dancer must be graceful no matter what, and do you know why? Because the Swarm that attacks humanity are without gravity. They are colossal bugs whose wings can conquer the sky. One stride of theirs is a hundred strides for us. They are stronger, faster, and bigger than us in every regard¡ªbut when Sand-Dancers are eternally graceful on the edge, we show humanity that we, too, are in no way inferior to the Swarm. This Just like the Swarm! Sand-Dancers. Can. Fly! just soared laugh ¡­ I may not make a lot of money sand-dancing, and mama may have forgotten why she started dancing, But I remember seeing her dance for the first time, outrunning a storm, and it¡¯s something I¡¯ve dedicated my life to. It¡¯s a noble job where I get to entertain a crowd, buy my own bread, soar through the sky, and¡­ guess what? It just so happens to be fun as well. I may have chosen it, but you were the one who still agreed to give me the water strider class. I¡¯ll have you take responsibility and guide me forward until the very end.
[... The landmass is closer than Antonio Saranno¡¯s navigation data suggested,] [Keep at your current pace, and you will arrive within five minutes, but do be warned¡ªyou are still far from civilization, and there is no telling what will await you on that unidentified landmass.] Come on, just be positive for a bit. Say something good about me. [You would make a good bug-slayer. You have talent. Why not turn around and return to the continent, where you can then take the Hasharana Entrance Exam to become a registered bug-slayer?] No can do, Archive. It¡¯s still a race against the ailment getting worse. I¡¯m going to the Whirlpool City, getting my vial of healing seawater, and going home to mama. Chapter 7 - The Island of Crabs ¡­ Nope, Can¡¯t walk anymore. Need to sit. It¡¯s safe to rest here, right? [Perhaps,] [or perhaps not.] How useful you are. Goodnight. [It is currently one in the afternoon.] [It is certainly a unique skill to be able to half-sleep the way you did, but this is not the place to do so,] [Remember: you are far from being out of the woods. For the time being, go further inland, observe your surroundings, and then search for essential survival supplies should immediate departure from this landmass be impossible.] I was just going to do that, Where, exactly, am I though?
The air grew heavy with the scent of exotic blooms as she entered a dense forest past the beach. She¡¯d lived her entire life in a desert town, so she knew what ¡®forests¡¯ were¡­ and that was about the extent of what she knew. Compared to the palms in her town, the trees here were giant Are those nuts? [Those are fruits.] Fruits? [Sweet and fleshy products that are typically grown from a plant or a tree.] Edible? [Please refrain.] That thing! What¡¯s that weird plant called? [A pitcher plant. Its cavity contains digestive fluids that it uses to drown and dissolve insects that fly in.] And those massive white lumps growing on the trees? They look edible! [Please refrain. Those are some sort of fungi. They are typically symbiont organisms that play essential roles in the decomposition of organic matter.] And the soil changes colours when I step on it? How does that work? [That¡­ I am unsure of.] You don¡¯t seem very sure of anything. What¡¯s the point of telling me to look around and observe my surroundings when you can¡¯t tell me what I¡¯m being surrounded by? [The reward for doing so is updating my navigation data, which would allow me to identify this landmass by identifying the flora on it, thus allowing me to construct a proper plan of departure for you,] [However, this landmass is¡­ peculiar. I cannot identify a single flora around you. None of them match any known records in my database.] ¡­ So, I¡¯m the first to ever come to this island? [You are the first to ever see these oversized flora,] [You see, ¡®fruits¡¯ are not typically two metres tall. You can usually fit them in the palm of your hand. Likewise, water pitchers are usually the size of your forearm, but here they are large enough for you to fall into it. The colossal trees, the branching vines and roots, and the iridescent soil that changes colour whenever you put your weight on it¡­ it is as though you have stepped foot onto a giant¡¯s domain where everything around you is ten times their usual size.¡± If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. never It¡¯s not dangerous though, right? Honestly, I feel pretty safe here. The roots are so smooth and swirly that I can probably skate away on them if something jumps out at me. [Even still, I would implore you to not let your guard down until I am able to identify this landmass,] [Your first objective should be to reach the other side of this landmass. If I can approximate its size, I can cross-reference preexisting navigation data to see just where we might be marooned. The ideal scenario is getting noticed by a passing vessel willing to carry you the rest of the way to the Whirlpool City. If that is not possible, you must be prepared to skate there yourself.] dozen [... It is doubtful that you can survive the next few days without fresh food,] [Mutating your Striding Glaives forced a lot of energy from you, so you must eat. See that particularly garish fruit growing out from that shallow wellspring?] What is it? [It bears resemblance to white pears grown in the northern end of the continent. I surmise there is a ten percent chance of facing a painful, gruesome death even if you consume it in small bites.] Hey. [There is a ninety percent chance that the fruit will remind you of your mother¡¯s pita bread.] That¡¯s more like it. needed fresh ¡­ Well. [Well.] The water was nice. [I concur.] But the fruit was barely filling. It¡¯s like I ate nothing at all¨C
¡­ What? [What?] It says I got¡­ I got¨C [You obtained attribute points from eating that fruit?] [I do not understand this landmass. Only insect flesh can provide attribute points via conversion of Hexichor. Unless what you ate was¨C] You heard that, Archive? [Your ears are my ears.] There¡¯s people on the island! [So you must be wary,] [I do not know what is going on with this landmass, but it is clearly of unnatural origin. For all we know¨C] should could Snap! ¡­ [... Hm.] [I see.] [Please begin running now.]
[Objective #3: Identify the landmass and search for essential survival supplies] Chapter 8 - Blackclaw Marauders Blackclaw Marauders? You know those people, then? What¡¯s up with their heads? Freaky! [In the western seas, marauders rule in the straits where the Harbour Imperatours from the Whirlpool City cannot defend,] [Think of them as bandits on the sea, and, like many bandit fleets on the continent, these marauders regularly consume crustaceans to biologically modify themselves. Since most of them do not have systems that allow them to control how their mutations manifest via Hexichor conversion into points, they usually end up¡­ disfigured like that.] You mean if I ate the fairy shrimp¡¯s meat without having you in my neck, I¡¯d mutate fairy shrimp traits on my body? [Yes.] How many crabs did they have to eat to have their entire heads and arms replaced with that? [They are the ¡®Blackclaw Marauders¡¯, one of the weaker known bandit fleets of the western seas. They are quite infamous even amongst the many criminal organisations in the Hasharana¡¯s database,] [The Blackclaw Marauders do not have an established outpost. We believe they drift around solely on their ships, making it difficult for the Hasharana stationed in this region to track them down and eliminate them. However, it is rumoured that wherever they settle down somewhere for repairs, they always make sure to choose a location with plenty of crabs for them to chew on¡ªsuffice it to say they probably eat more crabs in a single week than most men ever do in their entire lives.] Fast! And strong! [Indeed. And the Blackclaw Marauders are known to be particularly cruel and vindictive during their pillages as well. If they catch you, they will probably enslave you in their galleys, and you will never see the light of day again,] [That is, if they do not simply pluck off your limbs and decide to turn you into bait for catching more crabs. That is also very much a possibility.] their [... Do not tell me you are getting cold feet, now.] [Did you not slay the fairy shrimp leviathan with a less than five percent chance of success?] ¡­ I don¡¯t suppose I can beat them, right? I mean, I¡¯ve never been in a fight before! [Even if you knew how to fight, I would not recommend going up one against fifty with superior battle experience and weaponry. Please just run.] Where? Is there anywhere I can¨C [This appears to be a rather large landmass. Skate west and begin ascending a series of small hills. There is a cliff overlooking the entire landmass next to a waterfall¡ªyou can lose them there.] now Whoa! Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey¨C [The Blackclaw Marauders¡¯ preferred food of choice is the ¡®Lightfoot Crab¡¯also known as the ¡®Red Rock Crab¡¯, one of the more common species of crab in the western seas,] [Most adults of the species are mottled or spotted brown, pink, or yellow, and their Hexichor Art is ''Aqua Volley'', which allows them to spit high-pressure streams of Hexichor-infused blood in response to external threats. Now, if a little lightfoot crab spit seawater at you, it would not really hurt, but when you scale a lightfoot crab up to the shape and size of a human and then do a little biological modification, and then have them spit their own Hexichor-infused blood instead of seawater, which has far more punch than normal seawater¨C] If I get hit once, I¡¯ll die? [Perhaps. Or perhaps not.] How useful you are, Upgrade my speed level to five! That¡¯s¡­ um, four times four is sixteen! That¡¯ll be sixteen points, right?
[Speed: 4 ¡ú 5]
[Indeed. You have fifty points remaining.] I have so much left? Then, can I¨C [Please refrain,] [I have a proposal to make once you reach the top of the cliff.] [See that small boulder next to the waterfall? Pick it up, throw it off the edge, and then climb down the cliff on one of the vines.] ¡­ Oh! plop Y-You¡¯re a genius, Archive! N-Now I just h-have to climb back up¨C [I detect many hollow spaces behind the waterfall,] [Please, order me to deposit fifty points and unlock the tier two mutation second to the left] W-What do you mean? I¨C [¨Cplease just do it¨C] ¨Cdeposit fifty points and unlock the tier two mutation second to the left! reflected
was was
¡­ Nope, Can¡¯t walk¡­ anymore. Need to lay down. It¡¯s safe to rest here¡­ right? [I believe so,] [I hope you do not roll in your sleep. Three rolls to your left and you would fall out of the cave and down into the basin. Perhaps you should move a little bit deeper into the cave.] Right¡­ I¡¯ll do just that¨C swore Chapter 9 - The Crab Boy ¡­ Great Makers, dammit. What is it this time? [Analysing quality of sound. Measuring the pattern of steps. Matching it with pre-existing records. Match successful,] [It is a crab.] You don¡¯t say. [Please be ready to flee or fight.] I really should run, right? I mean, I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m tired. And I¡¯ve never fought anything or anyone before. Well, I guess there was that one time with that vagrant who tried to steal my donations when I first started sand-dancing, but that doesn¡¯t¨C [Focus.] probably clang Oh no. Oh no no no no¨C ¡­ something not Great Makers, that took a few years off my life. If he were a mutated human like those Marauders¨C [If he were a Marauder, you would have been dead already,] [It would appear he is simply wearing the pincer and the shell as Swarmsteel: magic equipment made out of insect parts that enhances his biological attributes.] Yes, yes, I remember. really And he¡¯s probably not dangerous, right? I mean, he¡¯s just a little boy. Doesn¡¯t look older than ten to me. What are the odds I¡¯ll wake up missing an arm or two? [Not very high. I will alert you if he attempts to harm you in your sleep.] You can do that? Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. [I am integrated with your cervical spine. I can administer adrenaline, numbing agents, and various other compounds into you as the situation calls for it. I could even stimulate your nerves to make you feel as though your entire body is on fire, which has a ninety-nine percent chance of waking you up within three seconds.] Ninety-nine percent? Who have you tried that on and failed to wake them up? [The second strongest man in the world. Now, you need not be worried¡ªI will make sure the boy does not harm you in your sleep.] ¡­ Don¡¯t wake me up unless it¡¯s an emergency, Between you and the boy, you¡¯re more likely to be the one to hurt me.
¡­ It¡¯s warm. How long was I asleep for, Archive? [Five hours, twenty-six minutes, and eighteen seconds,] [Your brainwaves were quite calm and stable, like those of an infant. I trust you had a good rest?] The worst part about waking up is hearing your voice ringing like drums in my ears. Couldn¡¯t you¡­ tone it down a little? Make your voice a little less grating, a little less metallic? [Most certainly,] [Is your own voice to your liking? You can simply pretend I am your ¡®inner voice¡¯. Statistically, most Altered Swarmsteel System users prefer their Archive speak in their own voices, but there are exceptions every once in a while, where people request we mimic the voices of someone dear to them¨C] Where¡¯s mama¡¯s book? definitely Hey! I thought you said you¡¯d pay attention! Where¡¯s my book? [The boy took it an hour ago, but I did not wake you up because it was not an emergency¨C] ¡®Ain¡¯t an emergency¡¯ my ass! Mama wrote it for me! think [I do not think the boy speaks your tongue,] [Normally, I can automatically translate any language in the world, but since I am currently unregistered¡ªyou did not obtain me by passing the official Hasharana Entrance Exam¡ªthe automatic translation function only works on very old languages previously entered into the database of Altered Swarmsteel Systems. By ''old'', I mean the last time languages were manually entered into the database was four years ago. Considering you are currently on an unidentified landmass, I doubt a Hasharana would have encountered the boy''s tongue within the past four years¡ªassuming the boy can even speak to begin with.] You¡¯re a gift with so many limitations. [Blame the situation, not the system¨C] ¡­ What? world Whoa. What is this place? [I have given up on identifying this landmass, but it would appear there is a subterranean coral forest in addition to the gargantuan forest above ground. Perhaps¡­ this landmass is¡­] ¡­ [... Nevermind.] [The boy is fast, but you have already outrun the Marauders on the forest¡¯s roots. You can do the same here. Would you like to give chase?] was ¡­ Do you even have to ask? I¡¯m getting mama¡¯s book back, and then we¡¯re gonna figure out how to get off this creepy island.
[Objective #5: Pursue the boy and reclaim your book] Chapter 10 - Bashing Jump really ¡­ Oh. This feels wrong. long What is this place, anyways? [I have no explanation.] constantly [Please refrain. Focus on your target.] Right! had The crabs will get to me. They¡¯ll eat my corpse¨C [No, they will not. Look to your left thirty metres away. Do you recognise that lump of flesh?] Point fruit!
[Unallocated Points: 0 ¡ú 14]
What do I put the points in, Archive? I ain¡¯t got enough to level up my speed again, right? [You do not. I would recommend either increasing your toughness or strength by two levels. Both options would cost thirteen points, but considering you are running headfirst into every single wall of vines, I would recommend tough¨C] had ¡­ No. Toughness ain¡¯t right. A Sand-Dancer has no business getting hit by anything while dancing. had did ¡­ ¡®Sand-Dancers were not always mere performers for children and guardians for caravans¡¯, ¡®In the far, far east, where the mountains pierce the skies and the lands are shrouded by an eternal fog as dense as a brick wall, the Mori Sand-Dancers were warriors against the Swarm. They developed jump techniques for the sole purpose of war.¡¯ The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. [Marisol. Focus. Another bad fall like that and you may break a bone or two¨C] There are hundreds of different jumps a Sand-Dancer can perform, but the fundamentals of every single jump boil down to the same four parts, There¡¯s the ¡®lead-up¡¯, which is where you build momentum. Then, there¡¯s the ¡®launch¡¯, which is where you gather up all your momentum by clenching every muscle in your body. After that, there¡¯s the ¡®flight¡¯ where you have to control your spin while maintaining your balance, and then there¡¯s the ¡®landing¡¯, where you hit the ground with only one foot while the other is stretched out parallel to the ground. I can already do a double spin jump on sand, but on solid ground like this, and with powerful glaives for legs¡­ If I can build up enough momentum and do a double spin jump, wouldn¡¯t I be able to bash through any wall standing in my way? thousands Deposit all my points into strength!
[Strength: 2 ¡ú 4]
Now that¡¯s a ¡®bashing jump¡¯, Archive! A technical jump I can use to knock donation thieves into the next desert over! [... Impressive, indeed,] [but you could have just put your points into toughness and continued crashing through the walls of vines head-on, no problem. Your momentum was only slowing because you were unconsciously flinching and braking whenever your forearms were scraped.] Thick skin ain¡¯t look good on a Sand-Dancer! I¡¯m putting all my points into strength and speed from now on! [The attribute levels do not affect your surface appearance. Increasing your toughness level will not change how your skin looks, not to mention¡­ ah, whatever. Do as you will for now.] speed Ow! [You could have just grabbed him normally. Are you trying to kill him?] immediately Ow! [You have the strength of four average adult men. There was no need to pull that hard against a little boy.] He wouldn¡¯t let go! What was I supposed¡­ to do¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Dammit. Why do I feel like the bad guy here? [You crashed into him at the speed of twenty metres a second. I believe you may have broken a few bones of his.] Should I¡­ maybe go after him? See if he¡¯s alright? I¡­ I didn¡¯t really mean to¨C [Leave him be. You retrieved your book, and he is a native. He must have ways of mending himself,] [Now, please make sure to secure your book around your waist properly. You were lucky the boy did not run off into some coral crevice you could not follow him through.] ¡­ ¡­ Alright.
[Objective #5 Completed: Pursue the boy and reclaim your book] ¡­ And, you know, now that you¡¯re mentioning it¨C was Real ¡­ [... While you may not have a fishing rod, you have two glaives for legs,] [Hailing from a land of sand as you do, do you know what ¡®spearfishing¡¯ is?] Chapter 11 - Glaive Fishing Spearfishing is when you spear a fish with a spear, right? I''m kidding, one did [It has been one hour, sixteen minutes, and fifteen sec¨C] How useful you are. starvingfast [... If it is too difficult for you, you could consider foraging the forest for any edible fruits instead¨C] I¡¯m glaive-ing a fish, and I ain¡¯t stopping until I do. ¡­ Tch. He¡¯s getting his revenge on me. ¡­ I don¡¯t feel anything, Are you really sure these glaives are a part of my body? [Most assuredly, they are made of organic tissue,] [It is simply because they have yet to form new nerve connections to the rest of your body that you cannot feel anything from holding one over the fire. Please refrain from doing so in the future.] So it¡¯s okay to use it like a skewering rod for the time being, right? [... Do as you wish.] looked If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡­ Ah! Hothothothothot¨C [Blow on it before you eat. Are you a child?] delicious sparkling dozens
[Unallocated Points: 1 ¡ú 52]
actually [... With fifty-two points, you can consider unlocking the tier two mutation on the left] Deposit fifty points and unlock the other tier two mutation on the left.
According to its description, ¡®Ripple Sensors¡¯ seemed to do exactly There. click
[Objective #6 Completed: Find a stable food source]
¡­ Look! Who said I couldn¡¯t do it, huh? Who didn¡¯t believe in me and told me to peel bark off the trees for sustenance? [I never said that.] But you absolutely didn¡¯t believe in me! [... Well, with Ripple Sensors unlocked, I do not see why there is a reason you cannot¨C] I¡¯m joking, I¡¯m joking! ¡­ really would [... It is, indeed, quite peculiar that the boy returned to you after your rough handling of him earlier,] [Where are his people? His parents? Why is he alone on an island where the Blackclaw Marauders rule¨C] real [They must really want you.] [And if they find the boy with you¡­] Chapter 12 - Technique Book ¡­ certain had Some sort of warrior deity the natives worshipped, then? He does look pretty impressive. Those are some massive muscles on a man. The crab helmet still looks silly with those stupid protruded eyes, though. [It is not exactly uncommon for island tribes to notice our bug-slayers fighting off the Swarm in the distance, and then believe those same bug-slayers to be guardian gods of the island,] [In my database, there are sixty-two records of secular island tribes worshipping bug-slayers as supernatural deities. At some point in time, perhaps several decades ago, the natives of this island must have come in contact with one of our bug-slayers donning Swarmsteel crab armour.] And¡­ is that the same helmet the bug-slayer wore? [I do not believe so. The drawing on the ceiling has faded quite a fair amount, but the general shape of the boy¡¯s helmet does not match that of the drawing¡¯s helmet. I believe the boy may have simply recreated a weaker version of the helmet with lesser crab parts.] Why would he do something like that? [...] [... It is rude to keep a host waiting with their front door open.] I know. think A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡­ The only ship off this island is the Marauders¡¯ ship, I was only on Captain Antonio¡¯s ship for two days when we were attacked, so the Whirlpool City has to be at least another two weeks¡¯ sail away. There ain¡¯t no way I can skate all the way there without solid ground to rest on in between, so¡­ there¡¯s no other choice, right? [You must commandeer the Marauders¡¯ ship and sail off this island with it.] And I probably have to do it in a few days, too, When I saw them earlier today, they seemed like they were celebrating, yeah, but there were also a few of them doing repairs on their ship. If they ain¡¯t leaving to raid because they ain¡¯t done with their own repairs, they¡¯ll probably be done in¡­ what? Four days? Five days at most? [Three days. I noticed, too, that they were trying to patch up small holes in their ship¡¯s hull¡ªit would not take them more than three days to set sail again.] Three days, huh? [...] ¡­ I have to beat the Marauders in three days. more war¡ª click really ¡°... To el borde Vellamira, Marisol, my only daughter.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re reading this, you must be bored out of your mind sitting on Captain Antonio¡¯s ship.¡± ¡°Now that you¡¯ve opened the lock on this first chapter, the next chapter¡¯s lock will open exactly one month from now. Knowing you, if I gave you access to every chapter all at once, you would blow through the entire book and then complain about having nothing to do on Antonio¡¯s ship. The man¡¯s an old friend of a cousin of a brother of your late father. I don¡¯t want to hear him nag in my ear once you guys get back to me.¡± ¡°With that said, I¡¯m sure you only opened this book because you¡¯re itching to get up on your feet and dance¡ªso have no fear.¡± ¡°Mama is here to teach you an old Sand-Dancer¡¯s technique, developed in old times of war.¡± ¡°¡­ I hope you didn¡¯t skip to the last page just to read this message.¡± I didn¡¯t, mama. Promise. ¡°Well, whatever. You have plenty of time to stare at the diagrams while you¡¯re on that ship.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve no doubt that, on that ship, you¡¯ve already seen plenty of leviathans and horrors swimming beneath the sea¡¯s surface. The deep blue is a scary stage, and I imagine you¡¯re terrified of falling overboard while dancing on the deck, but know this, and keep it in your heart: the four techniques I will impart on you in this book can only be performed if you are truly fearless.¡± ¡°You cannot fear the spin. You cannot fear the speed. It is an ¡®explosive¡¯ jump, Marisol. If you jump with anything less than a hundred and ten percent of your power, you will break your legs just as I had attempting to perform this technique a decade ago¡ªbut I have faith in you.¡± ¡°You are nothing like me, after all.¡± ¡°And this technique, if performed properly, is what an old Sand-Dancer would call the ¡®War Jump¡¯: to shatter every wall that stands in your way.¡± ¡°... I pray you won¡¯t have to use it on someone, but if you must, at least do it with all the explosive grace of a Sand-Dancer and tell me about it when you get home.¡± ¡­ A ¡®War Jump¡¯, huh? I don¡¯t think it¡¯s something I can do without practice. But if I can do it¨C [Even with their chitin armour, the Blackclaw Marauders will not be able to endure hits at such speeds,] [I believe it is worthwhile practising and perfecting this technique. You may only have three days to do it, but, frankly, I have already seen you accomplish the near-impossible. I do not believe this combat-oriented ¡®War Jump¡¯ ¡ªor even just learning how to fight¡ªis completely out of your realm of expertise.] You¡¯re complimenting me for once. [I merely told the truth.] You¡¯re still complimenting me¨C [Please get to practising.] [There is no telling when the Blackclaw Marauders will return once they depart in three days.]
Chapter 13 - Fearless Attempt number five hundred and ninety-nine. You got this, Marisol. knew hard ¡­ I don¡¯t get it. Are my glaives just not sharp enough or what? [Your glaives are more than sharp enough,] [If you were to simply stand here and saw your glaives back and forth, you would eventually be able to cut down this tree. The problem, then, has nothing to do with its sharpness.] ¡­ did melting too How¡¯d you do it, mama? I¡¯ve slain a leviathan, I¡¯ve skated through a storm, I¡¯ve outrun crab bandits on giant roots, and a simple Sand-Dancer¡¯s double spin is what I¡¯m really afraid of? ... was had Lunch first. Then, I guess I¡¯ll¡­ get back to falling on my ass over and over again. little This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Striding Glaives Ripple SensorsHydrofuge Spines
[Your attribute levels are already plenty high enough for the enemies you are facing,] [There is such a thing as bloating and overloading on Hexichor, even for people with systems who can convert that Hexichor into points. Simply put, how many points you can gain depends on how much insect flesh you can stuff in your belly, and at your current rate, it is quite¡­ bad. You will get sick. Keep this up for a day or two longer, and there will be severe side effects.] I¡¯d like to stop eating too, but¨C [It is not about points and attribute levels, nor about your unknown Hexichor Art, nor about any of the other tier two mutations you can choose to unlock. Even if you were to discover your Hexichor Art right now, it would not help you overcome this obstacle,] [It is fear. You are afraid. If you cannot conquer fear with your own heart, it does not matter how many points you put into strength and speed and toughness. Your mind will unconsciously limit your power output and make it so it is as though you did not increase your attribute levels at all.] ¡­ But what other choice do I have? If I can¡¯t even chop that tree down, I won¡¯t be able to get home to mama in time. [...] What¡¯s he trying to do now? tad What? Waitwaitwaitwaitwait¨C ¡­ hard [¡­ Some groups of people have higher tolerance level when it comes to resisting the mutations brought about by eating insect flesh and consuming Hexichor,] [A lot of factors go into determining Hexichor tolerant levels¡ªgenetics, upbringing, strength of will, et cetera¡ªbut if the boy has been consistent eating small bites of crabs since he was a young child, it would explain how he possesses inhuman strength and toughness while maintaining most of his human form on the surface. His Hexichor tolerance level is naturally higher than most other people.] [Even if you had not caught him, I believe he would have been fine. His muscle strands are a lot tougher than yours.] [... Perhaps it is not about the amount of time he has spent with you,] [To him, the only remaining tribesman on this island, you are the only one he can trust, and trust may not always have anything to do with how much time one physically spends with another.] If it ain¡¯t about time, then what is ¡®trust¡¯ built on? We¡¯ve only met a few days ago as well¡ªdo you trust me with everything you have? [Yes.] ¡­ Why? [Because I am integrated with your cervical spine, and I ¡®feel¡¯ as though I have been with you in spirit for aeons. I trust you very much so, and thus, I can claim I will follow you without any fear.] [Even if you have only known the exact technique of the War Jump for three days, has it really only been three days, Marisol?] They found us? How? [... Into the forest, Marisol,] [You must defeat them there, or die trying.]
Chapter 14 - Speed and Silence How many chasing me, Archive? [Your perceptivity level is not high enough for me to see behind you, but I estimate at least twenty Blackclaw Marauders; one of them has especially heavy footsteps,] [Do not engage all of them at once. Pick them off one by one with your superior speed.] was Tch. I can¡¯t just keep running forever. crack ¡­ My knee barely even hurts. [Well, you have put quite a fair number of points into raising your toughness the past few days,] [You have the strength equivalent of four men, the speed equivalent of six men, and the toughness equivalent of three men. At the speed you can run into people, the total magnitude of any impacting force is far more than what your strength level suggests.] I¡­ I ain¡¯t never actually seriously hit anyone before¨C [Please duck.] so Whoa. I¡­ gimme a moment¡­ to¨C [Stimulating release of perception-enhancing compounds.] faster Hey! You ain¡¯t ever told me you could do that! Wouldn¡¯t that have come in handy¨C [It is but a temporary boost. Your senses are running three times as fast as normal; overuse of this functionality of mine will eventually damage your brain and turn you paraplegic. I will only use this once.] How long will this boost last, then? [Five minutes.] [Defeat all of them before then.] ¡­ Got it! The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. [Do not engage in melee with them. Poke and prod, in and out¨C] I know! If they¡¯re standing in a tight formation like that, how can I pick them off one by one? They¡¯ll shoot me all at once if I show up in front of them, so the moment I¡¯m in their line of sight¡­ ¡­ ¡®Blind them in the sand¡¯,¡®A blind audience cannot see the faults in your dance.¡¯ clang ¡­ What? glowered crack He¡¯s strong and tough in one package! [Then do not fight him here where there are no trees around. Find a way to get past him. The cliffside is dangerous¨C] Shit! Deposit all my points into strength!
[Strength: 4 ¡ú 5]
She kicked her glaives at his chest as her hands grasped at his pincer, trying to pry his claws off her throat, but nothing about him would give. Five levels in strength wasn¡¯t enough. He strode forward calmly and held her over the edge of the cliff¡ªhe had no intention of dropping her, it seemed, but he did [¨CDhina Tongue detected. Translating¨C] ¨Cthem [Lie. Tell him there are three more Hasharana sailing the nearby straits, and that if you die, they will immediately know where you are¨C] Chapter 15 - The Crab God ¡­
A dream? Whose dream? This is¡­ the island I''m on? Who am I? really had Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. wasn¡¯t Hard wanted must grande creador did
knew [... Marisol. Marisol. Marisol¨C] I hear you. [I detected intense brainwave activity from you just now. You must have biologically ¡®melded¡¯ with the Swarmsteel for a brief moment. Swarmsteel are made of bug parts, after all, so if one is particularly well-made, it is possible for a user to inherit the memories of the previous user.] ¡­ [Are you alright, Marisol?] [You must surface for air¨C] I know. feel That¡¯s why Kuku jumped off that tree. He ¡®knew¡¯ me for far, far longer than three days. And I¡­ had ¡­ ¡®Fearless¡¯, huh? really Archive. [Yes?] I¡¯m going. [... Understood, Marisol Vellamira.] [Overriding previous objective.] [Objective #7: Defeat the Blackclaw Marauders] Chapter 16 - War Jump ¡­ So slow. What a useless bunch. They forget their place. I make the decisions. My word¡¯s absolute. was wasn¡¯thad Her kicks ain¡¯t half-bad, though. What''s her Hexichor Art, really? grande creador ¡­ ¡­ something ¡­ I didn¡¯t mishear. This sound is¡­ deep water You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. devoured ¡­ somewhat both ferocity
still ¡­ exactly Clench every muscle in your body. Don¡¯t fear the spin. speed Don¡¯t fear the speed. exhilaration nothing Dance, and spin, and kick with one hundred and ten percent of your power¨C clang creador¡¯s me? ¡®It is an explosive jump, Marisol¡¯. fire ¡­ ¡®Explosive grace¡¯. ¡®Finish the routine, Marisol¡¯. Chapter 17 - Gift and Reward and exactly very Are they putting some sort of wine into the crab legs, though? I feel¡­ drunk. [I have no idea.] Tch. How useful you are. something ¡­ Overindulgence much? Kids shouldn¡¯t be drinking. I think¡­ I think I¡¯m gonna trip and fall over myself. [Children in the Plagueplain Front are known to intoxicate themselves on far more potent drugs and toxic substances on a daily basis.] So, you tell that to every kid that gets the Altered Swarmsteel System? It¡¯s okay to knock themselves out silly? [It has been a year and a month since they got to have any fun. Let them be.] I''m kidding. Mama used to let me drink too¡ªsaid it¡¯s good practice for helping me keep my balance even when I¡¯m not feeling up to it. [Into the forest, towards the basin at the bottom of the waterfall.] You remember? [I only see what you see, and you were indeed paying attention, albeit unconsciously.] Go, me. try, ¡­ [Line the cracked edges of the helmet with the fairy-shrimp-mix-boreal-sap extract and apply gentle heat as you stick both halves together. If you blow warm air on the extract, it would begin to harden, and¨C] I got, I got it. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. unsurprisingly really Does he hate me, still? I shouldn¡¯t have broken it in the first half. It was something his sister gave to him, and¨C It¡¯s soft, but it¡¯s definitely not made of normal fabric. It¡¯s made out of¡­ really, really thin crab shells? What is¨C
Striding Glaives Ripple SensorsHydrofuge Spines
[You have obtained your first Swarmsteel,] [To reiterate, Swarmsteel are magical equipment made out of insect parts, and when they come in contact with human skin, they typically offer a few attribute levels with the tradeoff being putting a permanent limiter on your Hexichor Pool. Currently, your scarf is offering you one level in speed while removing seventy-six levels from your Hexichor Pool. In my opinion, however, the additional level in speed is quite worth the reduce in mana.] Uh¡­ okay. Wait. It says one out of two next to speed, and zero out of one next to¡­ toughness? What¡¯s up with that? [It means, at this D-rank Swarmsteel¡¯s maximum potential, it can offer you two levels in speed and one level in toughness,] [However, Swarmsteel is something you typically have to acclimate to. You cannot simply pick up a S-rank¡­ a high-rank Swarmsteel and immediately gain a hundred levels in strength. The longer you equip and get used to a particular Swarmsteel, the more of its potential you can draw out.] So if I just keep wearing this scarf, I¡¯ll get two levels in speed and one level in toughness? [Correct.] But the minus Hexichor Pool also means as long as I¡¯m wearing it, I¡¯ll have less mana to use my other mutations? [You can counteract it by simply putting more points into increasing your Hexichor Pool,] [You have been eating crabs consistently for the past month, anyways. Not nearly as much as the first three days you have been on this island, mind you¡ªI fear you are, colloquially speaking, ''growing sick'' of eating crabs over and over¡ªbut you have still have enough points to easily counteract the seventy-six reduction in Hexichor Pool.] It''ll be worth it? [Certainly. For a Swarmsteel that offers one whole speed level on top of your original speed level? And that is not even mentioning¡ªthe scarf appears to have a special ability.] Reflexive camouflage? [I believe it is a minor property of ghost crab chitin,] [Ghost crabs derive their name from their usually pale colouration, but it is also derived from the fact that their chitin can change colours in order to match their surroundings. They do so by adjusting the concentration and dispersal of pigments within their chromatophores, which are cells that produce colour via pigmentation. It is not exactly metachrosis, but my database shows they can even match the specific colour of sand grains around them¨C] ¨Cokay, stop, I guess I am a little too drunk for this¨C [¨Ctry willing the scarf to change colour,] [Imagine it turning pale white under the moonlight.] Whoa, What if I had an entire cloak made out of this? I¡¯d be able to turn invisible, right? Maybe I should ask Kuku¨C [It is likely he made this with everything he had,] [A ghost crab scarf is good enough. You have traded those fairy shrimp parts for a Swarmsteel far greater than anything you could have made with them.] ¡­ second ¡­ ¡­ Archive? [Yes?] The second time I did the War Jump, when I was spinning so fast it was like the world around me turned into a void, did you also see¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Nevermind. [... Your journey is far from over, Marisol.] [Now begins the real challenge.] Chapter 18 - Departure [Well, time is all you have while you sail straight towards the Whirlpool City,] [There are five thousand two hundred and fifteen recipes containing the keyword ¡®crab¡¯ in my database. The children stuffed fifty live crabs in the lower decks for you to slowly eat on your journey. You can attempt and fail thirty times if you so desire¨C] ¡­ In the end, the ¡®Great Crab God¡¯ they worshipped was the island itself, huh? The reason why those white lumps of flesh gave me points, and the reason why you were confused when the island appeared closer than your navigation data suggested¡­ the entire island is the top of one giant crab, ain''t it? [Correct. The landmass that I failed to properly identify at first glance is what is known as a ¡®horseshoe crab¡¯. The entire forest grows on the top of its shell, and while I do not know what, exactly, it gains out of allowing those tribesmen to live on it, it is clear there is some symbiotic relationship there. It wanted the tribesmen alive, so when the Marauders landed on it, it searched the great blues for a Hasharana who could help it.] Why would it do that? Don¡¯t the Hasharana¡­ don¡¯t all bug-slayers kill every giant bug on sight? [Not quite. There are plenty of ¡®docile¡¯ giant bugs on the mainland continent as well, and slaying them would usually require far more effort than they are worth. Furthermore, some giant bugs are so incredibly massive yet immobile that they form the foundations of entire ecosystems. To remove them when life has already bloomed all around would spell devastation for everyone in the vicinity.] So¡­ you ain¡¯t gonna report it to the Hasharana? [I will,] [It is still important information to add to the database. I will simply classify that horseshoe crab as a docile giant bug currently hosting a tribe of crab-worshipping children. I imagine, in due time, a Hasharana would access the data and venture there to assess the horseshoe crab¡¯s danger to the children. If they determine it truly is docile, nothing will be done. The Hasharana may even offer modes of communication to the children should the horseshoe crab ever exhibit aberrant behaviour.] I see. If you said a Hasharana was going to come and kill the crab¡ªruining the children¡¯s home as a result¡ªI would¡¯ve ripped you out of my neck to stop you from making that report. [I have already made the report, and I will immediately send it to the other Archives once I can connect with them.] ¡­ [... Speaking of those white lumps of flesh, you must have been eating the horseshoe crab¡¯s eggs¨C] Ew. Stop. I don¡¯t wanna hear it. I was hungry and desperate and it ain''t ever gonna happen again. And how long will it take to sail to the Whirlpool City? That was a month¡¯s detour, but if I remember correctly, I was only on Captain Antonio¡¯s ship for two days before we were attacked¡­ so, two weeks until the city? Maybe a bit more? [The children fashioned the ship¡¯s masts with wide and sturdy sails,] [They also sent you off on a day of strong winds¡ªI am unsure if they calculated it or they simply predicted today would be a good day to kick you off¡ªso right now, you have a good, windy start. There will undoubtedly be ups and downs in speed here and there, but I estimate it will not take two weeks at this rate. With a lot of excess weight tossed off the ship, one and a half weeks should be more than long enough.] That¡¯s really fast, ain¡¯t it? What if there¡¯s headwind? There are oars in the lower decks, right? [Oh, there is most certainly going to be headwind. The Whirlpool City is built around a volcano island, and the walls constantly emit winds and mist to create an artificial storm around the city,] [The reason behind the artificial storm is manyfold, but the unfortunate result is that this ship will most definitely shatter within five hundred metres of the city¡¯s walls. The storm and the waves will be too much for this meagre vessel to handle. You will have to disembark and skate the final stretch towards the city by yourself.] ¡­ What? Why didn¡¯t you tell me¨C [Also, while there are emergency oars in the lower decks should you need to manually propel the ship, you are but one little lady. There is no way you can propel the ship by any meaningful margin.] [If the sails are ripped, there are only three replacement sails in the lower decks, but there is no way you can fasten them all by yourself. If the hull is breached, there are certainly replacement wooden planks, but I doubt you will be able to seal any breaches properly. If the winds blow your ship off course, then there is very little you can do to steer it back on track. Furthermore, since this warship¡¯s design screams ¡®Marauder¡¯, any patrolling Harbour Imperator ships from the Whirlpool City will immediately fire at you¡ªin essence, I can simulate only one thousand nine hundred and eighty-eight scenarios in which this lone sail to the Whirlpool City can go horribly wrong. There is a zero percent chance that this ship can survive even half the journey there.] Stolen novel; please report. Wait, wait, wait¨C [I apologise for not being positive enough. Allow me to rephrase: since you are ''sailing'' this warship alone, there is a one hundred percent chance that something will go disastrously wrong.] ¡­ Thank you for being positive, Very helpful. [Glad to be of service.] And¡­ there¡¯s nothing I can do if something bad happens to this ship? [No. To begin with, your decision to head to the Whirlpool City with nothing but glaives for legs was an impossible risky one. At least now, you have a ship to sit on for at least a few days before something bad happens.] What do I do now, then? [You eat and you train. I estimate the silhouette of the Whirlpool City will come into view on the far distant horizon by tomorrow morning, so until something bad happens, you should prioritise increasing your Hexichor Pool with ninety percent of your point income. Should you have to skate the rest of the way to the Whirlpool City, you will need Hexichor to make sure you do not run out of stamina halfway through and sink into the abyss.]
definitely That¡¯s the Whirlpool City, right? Looks¡­ cold. If it¡¯s going to be rainy all the way there, I should probably get some thicker clothes over me, right? [Indeed. I estimate we will begin sailing through the rain clouds by tomorrow morning, so if you have a deep yearning for sunlight, turn around now.] Like I can steer the ship even if I wanted to. [... Oh, but that is quite true.]
I can still kinda see the silhouette of the city out there, though, really How long until we get there again? [On the fourteenth day.] I¡¯ll be holding you to that, then. [Please refrain.]
We¡¯re getting closer, aren¡¯t we? [We most certainly are.] I''m getting bored of eating crabs. [You certainly are.] How many points do I have now? [Well over two hundred.] Should I spend some of them? [Keep them as unallocated points until you find yourself in a difficult situation.] But I''m bored. [You certainly are.]
Are we getting any closer, Archive? [Definitely. Please refrain from looking away from the rope. It may snap and whip you across the face.]
Archiveeeee, you goddamn liar¨C [We are making no progress despite sailing tailwind,] [This is strange. The sails are blowing, the ship is groaning, and the waves are definitely moving past us¡­ how peculiar. With you, it is simply nonstop anomaly after anomaly¨C] What are we gonna do? Are we just stuck here? How much food do we have left? I¡¯ve gotten through, like, twenty crabs already, so¨C [Relax, Marisol. Perhaps the ship is stuck on a reef or something,] [Disembark and investigate what is happening at the keel. If it is a coral reef, there is a chance you can dislodge it by kicking it really, really hard.] ¡­ Do I gotta? [You have no other choice.] were [... Barnacles?] [The bubbles they are expelling are pushing the ship back. Thankfully, they are not particularly difficult to remove, nor do they typically fight back when you try to cut them off. Simply skate over, go underwater for a few moments, and¨C] Nope. Nope nope nope nope. barely [... Oh. I see.] [We are in trouble.] [Overriding previous objective.]
[Objective #8: Man the warship alone and sail towards the Whirlpool City] Chapter 19 - The Oar-Foot Leviathan ¡­ So much for being fearless, What did you say it was? A rem¡­ remah¨C [It is a giant remipede.]
[Identification Complete]
Marisol saw the word ¡®sea serpent¡¯ on the status screen that popped up next to her head, and she felt she understood why people could confuse the two of them; stuck on a tiny ship, surrounded by eerily calm waters, the shadow of the giant remipede did nothing [... Just to clarify before you get any funny ideas: this giant remipede is not something that can be beaten head-on at your level, or even by most trained Hasharana,] [It may not be on the level of a Mutant or a Lesser Great Mutant, but in leviathan terms, it is quite the titanic bug. It will not be possible to slay it the same way you did the fairy shrimp. Its chitin is immensely thick from the outside, and unlike the fairy shrimp, its abdomen on the underside is armoured as well. You do not possess a weapon sharp enough to cleave through its chitin, and that is that.] Is it a zero percent chance of victory? [It is a one hundred percent chance of defeat.] ¡­ Okay, Alright. Got it. I ain¡¯t keen on fighting something like that, either, so what¡¯s the strategy here? What¡¯s it even want with me, anyways? [I believe it is patrolling this particular strait intercepting any and all ships trying to reach the Whirlpool City,] [Please look up. I believe I saw something quite interesting in the fog enshrouding the warship.] were all [Indeed, something is afoot with the great blue,] [Both the attack by the fairy shrimp and the appearance of this giant remipede are extremely abnormal situations. I do not believe you are being targeted explicitly, but¡­ perhaps something is spurring these giant bugs to action. It may be headed in the same direction as you are, therefore¨C] How much time do I have left? [¨Ceight minutes,] [There are no rowboats on this warship. Disembark the warship and skate towards the wreckages. If you can hide and survive until dawn, the giant remipede may forget about you and return to the lower depths; then we can think about how you will proceed towards the Whirlpool City from there.] The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. [As I mentioned, the giant remipede¡¯s chemosensory antennae are very keen. It will be able to detect you if you rush towards the wreckages even in this heavy rain,] [Just to play it safe, you should aim to get a thousand metres away from this warship without it noticing you leaving. That nearest pallet would not do as the destination. Aim for the furthest pallet, far and deep into the fog.] And just how can I possibly skate without making any¡­ vibrations¡­ ¡­ devoured This technique¡­ it¡¯s¨C ¡°To el borde Vellamira, Marisol, my only little rascal.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re reading this on the tenth page of the diagrams, it means you just skipped my letter on the first page because your eyes are too excited. You wanted to get right into the technique without bothering to hear what I have to say, hm?¡± ¡°You little rascal.¡± ¡°I knew you would skip the first page, so I¡¯m writing my letter here instead, knowing your eyes will catch on my words if they¡¯re interrupting the flow of the diagrams.¡± ¡­ Tch. You really got me, huh? You reading my mind or something? [... One minute, Marisol,] [A fair word of warning: your mother¡¯s technique appears to be untested. There is no guarantee that it will work on the sea. You must be prepared to make a break for safety should it fail¨C] Mama¡¯s techniques are never wrong, Archive. If Sand-Dancers can fly, do you think we can¡¯t crawl? dare Alright. Good landing. But now¡­ extremely ¡°... If you¡¯re reading this chapter, you must already be two months deep onto the great blue.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve reached the Whirlpool City yet, but by now, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen your fair share of the leviathans that roam the sea we call the ¡®Deepwater Legion Front¡¯¡ªand while I may have imparted on you the War Jump meant to demolish all walls that stand in a Sand-Dancer¡¯s way, the truth is, there are some walls that are simply very, very difficult to overcome.¡± ¡°The leviathans of the Deepwater Legion Front can be such walls.¡± ¡°So, if you ever find yourself facing a wall you cannot kick your way through with brute force alone, mama is here to teach you yet another old Sand-Dancer¡¯s technique¡ªbecause after learning how to destroy others with the ''War Jump'', you must learn how to protect yourself with the ''Silent Step''." "This is but the natural progression of a Sand-Dancer." ¡°This technique begins by standing on your tiptoes, feet pressed together. You take one step forward, press the inner edge of the forward feet against the sand, and then push off the sand with your back foot as you slide with your forward foot. Perform every motion on the inner edge of your feet with your body hunched over, palms hovering right above the ground¡ªalmost as though you are walking on all fours, moving by dragging the ground past you instead of you moving along the ground.¡± ¡°The head is always the heaviest part of a Sand-Dancer¡¯s body, and it is like an iron ball attached to a string that is your torso. When you dance and turn normally, it is as though you are swinging that iron ball, and you must keep that swinging momentum constantly fast lest you lose your balance and fall.¡± ¡°However, perform the ¡®Silent Step¡¯ correctly, and that iron ball is constantly swinging low, slow, and close to the ground. You will not make a sound. You will not disturb the desert gods. As long as you maintain focus, you will be all but invisible to any giant bugs that burrow beneath the sand." "The old Sand-Dancers trudged across the desert like this, and while it is a mostly useless technique in new sand-dancing routines, it is a technique that measures your rhythm." "How well can you control how fast you skate, and how long can you do it for?" Chapter 20 - Companionship was I got this. Mama¡¯s techniques¡­ are invincible. Just gotta¡­ keep this up¡­ for about thirty more minutes. something Why does it care so much about a tiny little human, anyways? How am I possibly worth its time and energy? Can¡¯t it go eat something bigger? [It is abnormal behaviour indeed, and one I have no explanation for.] I ain¡¯t got anything on me that I can toss far enough to create a ripple. Maybe there¡¯s some debris floating right under me that I can pick up? focused Come on, come on, come on. There¡¯s gotta be something I can¨C [There is something.] [You have enough points to unlock the tier two mutation, second from the right. Give me the order to, and I¨C] Do it.
¡­ And I suppose now''s as good a day as any to use the rest of the points I''ve been saving up? [Correct.] What do I put them in? [You are trying to be sneaky, but you are also trying to skate on water for as long as possible. Put a hundred and fifty into Hexichor Pool, and keep the rest. You may have need to unlock the last tier two mutation, but not right now.] Makes sense.
[... As you can see, you have unlocked ¡®Ripple Returner¡¯, yet another tier two mutation] [Going by the description of Ripple Returner, why not try imagining a ripple travelling away from the tip of your glaives?] This better work, Archive. [There is a one hundred percent chance it will,] ¡­ Just keep sending ripples away, some Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. [Very likely.] Really? [Really. Just keep doing what you are doing.] ¡­ You know, about my unknown Hexichor Art¡­ has there really not been a single bug-slayer who chose the water strider class? Back then, you already knew the mutations of the water strider class were difficult to use and control. That means someone before me must¡¯ve picked it before, right? [Correct.] How many bug-slayers are there with the water strider class? [Historically? Four.] What about right now? [One.] [The other three died gruesome deaths because they could not control their own speed,] [They managed to unlock up to their tier five mutations and died, quite promptly, during a training exercise with the Whirlpool City¡¯s Harbour Imperators. Six years of training and resources spent on them, and in the end, they did not even figure out what their Hexichor Arts were. It is because of their deaths that we, the Archives of the Altered Swarmsteel Systems, never recommend the water strider class when there are plenty of other water-based insect classes that can do the same thing water striders can.] Not to sound cruel, but¡­ they¡¯re just three deaths. I hear the Attini Empire in the south loses thousands of soldiers every single day. Are three deaths that significant to you¨C [They were Hasharana, Marisol. The elite wandering bug-slayers of the continent. To become a Hasharana, one must have the aptitude to pass the Hasharana Entrance Exam that is hosted only once a year, consisting of three stages with an average fatality rate of ninety-eight percent. Only around twenty people pass the exam and are registered with Altered Swarmsteel Systems every year, and as of this year, there are only two hundred and fifty-five registered Hasharana.] [We are in Year Ninety-Four. Ninety-four years since the Swarm invaded the world and pushed humanity back to a single continent. The Seven Swarmsteel Fronts demarcate the seven sections of the continent¡¯s border where the battles against the giant bugs are the fiercest, so we can only assign thirty Hasharana to each Swarmsteel Front to reinforce the local warriors¡ªnow imagine losing ten percent of the Deepwater Legion Front¡¯s forces to accidents easily preventable by simply picking another insect class with equal potential.] ¡­ [Antonio Saranno¡¯s death was a fiery one. I did not mention this to you because it was not relevant back then, but it was not a single fairy shrimp that attacked his fleet. It was fifty-two fairy shrimps that attacked all at once,] [By himself, he managed to slay all but one of them, and he even managed to die on his ship so he would not sink, taking the Altered Swarmsteel System down with him. He died so he could implant me into your nape, giving you a chance to survive. He was an immensely powerful Hasharana to the very end, and he had served the Worm God faithfully for over two decades¡ªso please do not look down on the death of a Hasharana.] [Antonio Saranno was my previous user.] [I understand that, as an Archive of an Altered Swarmsteel System, my capability to empathize with my users extends only so far as to ensure perfect synchronisation in and out of battle. I cannot afford true ¡®companionship¡¯ as humans are able to do for each other. My voice can never be given physical form, and to establish sentimental connections with my users is fundamentally impossible given the nature of my design parameters.] [Even still, I¡­ cannot help but wonder what I would ¡®feel¡¯ should you die because I did not resist your decision to choose the water strider class.] ¡­ ¡­ Are you sure you can¡¯t afford true ¡®companionship¡¯ to me, Archive? [No,] [There is a one hundred percent chance that it is fundamentally impossible given the nature of my design parameters.] I see. You¡¯ll just have to keep taking responsibility for my safety until the very end, then. so Maybe I don¡¯t even need to row it, If I can get a rope and tie it around my waist, I can skate and drag the boat forward during the day, then rest in it during the night. For food, I guess I can just try to¡­ fish? [Freshwater might be a little difficult to come by, but I believe you can manage somehow.] You know, you could at least try to sound a bit more¡­ confident¡­ crack ¡­ Chapter 21 - The Great Devourer just want so remo leviatan cielo remo leviatan little [... And what of your fighting chance?] [If you had simply ignored her and headed straight towards the boat, you would have been able to easily survive the night.] You¡¯re an Archive of the Altered Swarmsteel Systems¡ªservant to the Worm God and his wandering bug-slayers, As if you¡¯d have told me to run and leave her to die in my stead. [True. I would have splintered your eardrums before you could even think about running away.] Are you sure you¡¯re even on my side? [I am on humanity¡¯s side. Make of that what you will.] ¡­ Alright, Archive, I didn¡¯t think this through. What do I do? What are my chances of beating that thing head-on? [One hundred percent chance of failure. Please refrain.] Then what? I just try to skate forward through the fog? Try to outrun it? [There is no telling what else is residing deeper in the fog. This is the giant remipede¡¯s territory, so as long as you stay here, the giant remipede will be the only bug you face.] Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. [Indeed, remipede antennae are ¡®prehensile¡¯, which means they are appendages adapted for grasping and holding. In fact, many water-based bugs and arthropods possess prehensile antennae, including the fairy shrimp you slayed¨C] Okay, so I can¡¯t skate deeper into the fog, but I¡¯ll eventually run out of steam if I just keep skating around in circles here! There has to be a way to hurt it, right? You knew what it was the moment you saw it, and you had its information in your database¡ªwhat did the last guy do to kill one? [The last two people to have a recorded kill on a giant remipede were the Worm God and the Thousand-Tongue, and that happened twenty-nine years ago.] Oh god. I¡¯m dead¨C [They quickly came to the realisation that neither their rifles nor their wands had the necessary power to shatter its chitin¡­ back then, anyways. I am quite sure the Worm God can lift this giant remipede with a single hand now, but I digress,] [When they realised it was too heavily armoured on the outside, they decided to bait it into devouring their rowboat. Once they survived the initial acidic flood that melted everything around them, they blew it open from the inside out. It was messy cleanup work for the Harbour Imperators that arrived on scene later, but they did manage to kill it.] ¡­ What? Why were they sailing across the great blue in a tiny rowboat? [Irrelevant. My point is: search the wreckage around you for anything flammable and explosive¡ªmost explosives in the Deepwater Legion Front can detonate even when they are wet¡ªso gather them all and light the fuse.] Got it! looked That¡¯s it, right? Now I just light the fuse and let the ship blow up? With me still standing on top of it? [You need the giant remipede to swallow the rest of the ship first, and then detonate the explosives. You cannot jump off now.] Then, what do I¨C [Find a crate. A barrel. Something sturdy that can withstand the explosion, like¡­ that conch shelter over there.] slightly That thing? [It is an emergency shelter designed by the Harbour Imperators of the Whirlpool City. The conch itself is nigh-impenetrable, and it floats by itself, too. Your safety is all but assured if you jump inside and hold the door really, really firmly.] I¡¯ll take your word for it! ¡­ Speed is fine, That¡­ was not speed. [By definition, it was,] [I cannot detect wave motion outside the shell. Please gently push the door open and confirm if you are floating on the sea¡¯s surface¨C] bit [Well.] [Now there is no door.] How helpful you are. And where¡­ in the Great Makers¡¯ good name¡­ am¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Welp. The explosion didn¡¯t work.
Chapter 22 - Belly of the Bug Can I just skate out of its mouth, Archive? [Well, it is, indeed, right there,] [You can try.] Oh. Those are¨C hundreds They don¡¯t even look like bugs! What are they¨C [Barnacles are arthropods that are ¡®sessile¡¯, meaning they lack means of self-locomotion,] thuds[While most barnacles are suspension feeders, some are specialised parasites that survive by extending thread-like stems into their hosts¡¯ bodies, feeding on their hosts¡¯ biomass. Fun fact: the most common predators of barnacles are actually carnivorous sea snails, which you would think unlikely because of how slow snails usually are, but because barnacles are quite literally immobile¨C] What¡¯s so fun about that? Focus, Archive! What the hell are they doing inside the remipede? [I believe those barnacles are specialised parasites of the remipede. In return for allowing the barnacles to feed on its biomass, the remipede can spit out the barnacles and attach them to surface ships, keeping the ships ¡®pushed back¡¯ and stuck in place until it feels like destroying its prey,] [in addition to having barnacles that can fire spines on anything trying to escape from its mouth, I suppose. They serve as automatic inside turrets for the remipede.] Why would the remipede have barnacles inside it for¡­ what? This is ridiculous. What¡¯s the point of evolving such a specific function¨C [It is a common misconception that living beings ¡®evolve¡¯ to adapt to certain changes in the environment, when, in fact, it is simply that living beings with certain ¡®mutations¡¯ are able to survive certain changes in the environment,] [The remipede controls nothing. It and its ilk were simply born with the mutation to allow for barnacles inside its mouth, and they were the only ones who survived the Worm God and his crusade against giant sea worms. Evidently, these barnacles are quite helpful in helping the remipede digest any still-living prey inside its body¡ªcase-in-point, that prey being you.] ¡­ You¡¯re very good at raising the mood. [You asked, but I do apologise¨C] Is there a way past those barnacles, then? [The antennae of adult barnacles are ¡®vestigial¡¯, meaning they do not function and are only there because they have yet to be erased by natural selection,] [They detect changes in the environment by extending their hyper-sensitive cirri, which are eight pairs of long and wiry hairs they use to filter food¡ªhowever, as these barnacles feed on the remipede instead, those hairs are probably embedded inside the remipede¡¯s flesh, connecting its senses to theirs. That means¨C] As long as I¡¯m skating on the ground, they can detect me. [Precisely.] weren¡¯t [And if you do not go back out there, there is a one hundred percent chance you will die either way.] [What is the Sand-Dancer¡¯s way, Marisol Vellamira?] ¡­ We live our lives on the very edge. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Yes! They don¡¯t see me! completely shuddered ¡­ This ain¡¯t fun at all¨C [Down! Find some wreckage and take cover!] inside O¡­ kay. I need¡­ a minute. did lot [... While remipedes the size of critters may absorb water through their chitin in a process called ¡®osmosis¡¯, at its current size, this giant remipede has to periodically open its mouth and hydrate itself manually,] [Considering the barnacles that would appreciate the lubrication of saltwater, the wreckages that constantly need pushing in, and the fact that such massive waves of water could also help to kill off anything that might have survived the initial swallowing¡­ I estimate the giant remipede will rehydrate every thirty minutes or so.] Thirty minutes, you say. Every thirty minutes, I¡¯ll have to survive that wall of water? [...] really without absolutely [... As¨C] If, So it¡¯ll be tough for me to get out through its mouth. Big deal. What about cutting my way through the walls? How¡¯d the Worm God and the Thousand-Tongue kill their giant remipede from the inside? [They had firepower in quite the literal sense that you do not currently possess, but they did, in fact, carve their way out by attacking the walls.] [Search the nearby wreckage for any explosives. You may not have dealt any damage to the remipede when it swallowed that first round of explosions, but a second, third, and fourth round on a concentrated spot might just blow out a hole in its walls.] Got it. everything [Please refrain from doing anything that would sap your stamina and Hexichor inefficiently.] It¡¯s an option. [A terrible one.] It¡¯s better than sitting here and doing nothing if I don¡¯t¡­ find anything¡­ ¡­ right Chapter 23 - Harbour Guards ¡­ Harbour Guards, huh? [The Worm God¡¯s Hasharana work closely with the Harbour Imperators to defend the Deepwater Legion Front, so, considering the fact that Harbour Guards are a subsidiary faction of the Harbour Imperators, these men are technically subordinates of the Hasharana,] [Please refrain from trying to order them around, though. As things stand, you are neither a registered Hasharana nor somebody capable of rounding up this sozzled bunch.] You don¡¯t think they could be lying about their story? I¡¯d like to trust them, too, but¡­ how¡¯s it possible that they¡¯re all still alive here? Ain¡¯t it already a miracle that I survived? [For what it is worth, their story aligns with your sailing experience,] [Ten days ago, they were simply sailing from the mainland¡¯s shoreline to the Whirlpool City when they noticed the rain clouds and the fog. Since they were on a patrol round, they sailed in to investigate, found barnacles stuck to their hull, and when they tried to cut them off, the giant remipede attacked¡ªthis and that happened, blah blah blah, and they ended up here just like you. It is a reasonable story.] And I¡¯m sure they tried to fight back against the giant remipede with so many arms. They¡¯re Harbour Guards with actual firepower, after all. [Well, they are no common mercenary band, but I am certain all of their cannonballs bounced off the giant remipede¡¯s chitin like rubber balls nevertheless.] But if even the Harbour Guards couldn¡¯t get rid of the remipede, then what chance do I have? [Well, the Harbour Guards are no Harbour Imperators, either,] [It is fortunate they are here with you. Sooner or later, the rest of the Harbour Guards in the Whirlpool City will realise they are late to return from their patrol and send Harbour Imperators out here to investigate. If all of you can simply hold out inside the giant remipede until that happens¨C] Are the Harbour Imperators strong enough to rescue us? [... On second thought, the Harbour Imperators are unlikely to bother with matters outside the city,] [They are almost permanently entrenched within the city to deal with the whirlpool. Even if the rest of the Harbour Guards realise these men are missing, it is unlikely they will do anything about it. I do not believe help will be arriving.] What could be more important than saving forty men? Forty! That¡¯s¨C [It is largely irrelevant to you and your upbringing in a small desert town, but you forget that here, further out into the great blue, humanity is waging a losing war against the Swarm,] [In most cases, launching a rescue operation deep within Swarm territory is a massive waste of time and resources. Even a Hasharana is not worth rescuing if they are stranded in the middle of a Swarm nest, surrounded on all sides¡ªit is better to let them die a martyr than to weaken the defences of an important fortified outpost.] But a Hasharana wouldn¡¯t leave anyone behind, would they? [... The Harbour Imperators and the Harbour Guards are not Hasharana,] [Whatever the case, expect no outside assistance. What is here is what you will have to work with¨C] was You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. should this [You will be fine, Marisol,] [As with all Harbour Guards, their insect classes are sokolova ants. You might as well sit down and share another drink with them.] And what the hell¡¯s a sokolova ant¨C bent definitely [... Sokolova ants are known to nest in marine zones, and they are very capable of surviving massive tidal waves,] [They have laminate spines across their entire body, which, in their case, functions almost identically to your Hydrofuge Spines. One sokolova ant cannot readily survive tidal inundations, but when there are forty of them gathered together like this, the water-repelling effect of their laminate spines is ¡®amplified¡¯¡ªthey can vibrate their spines in sync to create a water-repelling bubble like this.] You don¡¯t say. [With them here, you can rest assured the wave of water itself would not pose any troubles. However, the bigger problem remains¨C] Of course some [But what are you going to do, Marisol Vellamira?] ¡­ When I was a kid, I used to practise sand-dancing at night so nobody could see me fail, I¡¯m sure I told you this before. In the morning, I must be graceful, and I must be perfect, but at night? I can fall and hurt myself as many times as I want. And part of being a Sand-Dancer is being unbreakable. We dance from dawn till dusk, then dusk till dawn, that¡¯s the least a Sand-Dancer needs to be able to do. How many points do I have again? [Forty-five.] Hah. And how much more can I get before the next wave hits? [¡­ I spied several crabs skittering about the nearby wreckage,] [Catch them, eat them, and you can probably get at least five points within twenty-five minutes.] Good. I have an idea. Chapter 24 - Dance Until Dawn had How many points do I have, Archive? [Fifty-one.] And what are my attribute levels again? Striding Glaives Ripple SensorsHydrofuge SpinesRipple Returner
definitely My toughness level is at four now, huh? That should put me at¡­ four times as tough as the average human? [That was how I explained it to you back then, yes, but in actuality, it is a bit more complicated than that,] [While your toughness level may be at eight currently, what, exactly, is the measurement of ¡®toughness¡¯? The hardness of your skin? The rigidity of your muscles? Going down this path of thought, what, exactly, is the measurement of ¡®strength¡¯ and ¡®speed¡¯? Is it your muscle density or something else?] Well, I assume the geniuses who designed you have the answer¨C [The only satisfactory answer is: there are a lot of factors that play into the measurement of a human¡¯s base attributes, and typically, we only say someone is twice as powerful as an average human when all of their basic attributes are at level two. By extension, someone is only four times as powerful as an average human when all of their basic attributes are at level four,] [In your case, you have five levels in strength, eight levels in speed, four levels in toughness, two levels in dexterity, and three levels in perceptivity. Add all of that together and average it out, you are only ¡®about¡¯ as powerful as four average humans. You must raise your dexterity and perceptivity levels to four as well if you want to be as powerful as four average humans.] ¡­ Okay. That kinda makes sense, I guess, Mama always said humans are made to be ¡®balanced¡¯ creatures. If all you have is incredible muscle mass for strength but no dexterity whatsoever, can you really say you can do the work of two people? Or if you can run three times as fast as the other kids in the town, but your skin gets chafed by the sand because of how fast you¡¯re running and how not-tough you are, can you really say you¡¯re capable of running three times as fast as everyone else without constantly being afraid of hurting yourself? [Well, my explanation is more physiologically orientated, but as long as you understand the principle, I can meet you halfway there.] But that ¡®as powerful as four people¡¯ measurement is still just an estimation on your part, right? I have fifty-one points to spend, but I don¡¯t see how increasing dexterity and perceptivity now would help¨C [You are correct. It would not help right now,] [There have been cases of extremely stubborn Hasharana who focused only on increasing one or two types of attribute, leading to curious scenarios where their skin and bones were technically as ¡®tough¡¯ as brick walls, but because they lacked the muscle density that ¡®strength¡¯ provides, they were nearly unable to move. Especially for the attributes of strength, speed, and toughness, it is generally recommended that you do not leave any one of them too far behind.] [Especially for those with insect classes naturally inclined for speed. Please do not tunnel-vision on the speed attribute. Dexterity will help you control your speed, and perceptivity will allow you to see walls coming before you run into them.] ¡­ Um. Okay. But, in this scenario, I can literally see that wall coming at me¨C [Yes, yes, in this scenario. Now prepare yourself and hold off on spending your points immediately.] [This will be the toughest obstacle you have faced thus far.] ¡­ You can read my memories, can¡¯t you? Do that again. Put her in front of me. ¡­ I remember the day I first saw my mama dancing in a sandstorm. I was ten years old back then, and though it was in the middle of the day, the sandstorm had plunged our little desert town into complete darkness. You could barely see sunlight filtering through the storm, but mama dragged me out there, onto the edge of a dune, and told me to watch. Sand blew through my scarf and dried up my mouth, but I remember shouting at her, telling her we should go home. Men have died much worse for much less¡ªit was suicide trying to sand-dance in the middle of the storm. Mama laughed at me and told me to watch, though. So she shrugged me off, raised a knee, and when the dust devil swerved in towards her as though it had a grudge against her, the manifestation of the desert¡¯s will¡ªshe launched, spun in place, and kicked the devil away with the tip of her toes. Just like that. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The rest of the storm still churned around us, but for that one, singular moment where her feet touched the will of the desert itself¡­ it was like I¡¯d stepped foot in another world where ¡®miracles¡¯ can be made. very possible worked That was the day I decided to take sand-dancing seriously, Archive. speed It may have been simple admiration at first, I¡¯ll admit, but damned if people tell me sand-dancing isn¡¯t something ¡®normal¡¯ people like to do. You live and dance on the very edge of your life, and that is fun, Archive! There ain''t need for more justification than that to do what I do! this beyond this ¡­ Haha! I lived? I lived! Archiveeeeeee! I fucking did it¨C I¡­ holy shit. I need water. So much¡­ salt¡­ in my mouth¨C [Unlock the final tier two mutation.] [I thought about telling you to unlock it before the wave hit, but I wanted to see if it would come in handy. Otherwise, it would have been waste of points when you could have instead spent it on increasing your attributes instead.] [However, it is quite evident that this mutation will help.]
¡­ What? [A passive mutation,] [To sum, you are now able to drink any type of water, and you also have small gills on your face and neck that allows you to breathe underwater for around thirty minutes, give or take.] I have gills on my¡­ what? were What a convenient mutation, though. And now I can drink saltwater, no problem? [Give it a try.] feel This is great! I¡¯ve got this, Archive! With this, I¨C [The next wave will arrive in approximately twenty-eight minutes,] swore [Please use this time to catch just a few more crabs, grow stronger, and tough out the next wave. There is no telling how long you can dance until you die.] Come on. Dance until I die? That ain¡¯t right, Archive. I¡¯ll dance until I win.
also very Fleshy walls¡­ acid under my boots¡­ my sideways ship behind me¡­ Ain¡¯t I dead already? The hell am I still alive for? consistentall never did you want had Chapter 25 - Set Sail It took one whole month for the Harbor Guards to gather enough parts¡ªscrounging materials from every wreckage in the giant remipede, near and far, to cobble their warship back together. Marisol was no shipwright, though she¡¯d worked her fair share of part-time construction jobs back in the desert town, so she spent today the same way she spent most other days in the past month: scouring the wreckages for extra casks of freshwater and live crustaceans, and tending to the bonfire so she could cook some form of stew filled with dried mushrooms and vegetables and other crustaceans and all the like. The Guards all took turns repelling the walls of water throughout the month, and sometimes she¡¯d try to help, too, but the fact was, she was the only decent cook in the group. Terrible food meant terrible morale, so she was the resident chef, and she¡¯d been experimenting with a hundred different ways to cook the same food over and over just to keep their palates fresh. To that end, today was the day even the Archive ran out of new recipes for cooking crabs over a small fire. There were only so many ways you could cook a crab with limited ingredients. Thankfully, today was the last day they¡¯d be inside the giant remipede. She¡¯d already briefed the Guards on her plan to break all of them out of the remipede several weeks ago, and while many of them had responded with all sorts of ¡®no way¡¯ and ¡®are you insane¡¯, she¡¯d gradually won all of them over the past month. Desperation to live was a power motivator. ¡­ How many points do I have, Archive? she thought, sitting curled up on a wooden beam as she poked the bonfire with a stick. The last rack of crab legs was still cooking, so she might as well finish it if everybody else was already sick of eating crabs. She knew she sure was, but the points would always be useful. The Archive pulled her status screen up a second later, showing her best efforts the past month had amounted to something. If she¡¯d given up eating crustaceans just because they made her feel a little sick, she wouldn¡¯t have so many points to work with now.
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: E-Rank Giant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: ???] [Aura: 892 (+20)] [Points: 160] [Strength: 4, Speed: 4, Toughness: 3 (+1), Dexterity: 2, Perception: 3] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 2] [T2 Mutations | Basic Gills Lvl. 1 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 5] [T3 Mutations | Basic Apiclaws | Basic Wings | Basic Setae] 150P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20]
¡­ Just enough points to unlock one tier three mutation, huh? [Indeed,] the Archive said, appearing atop her shoulder. [I will admit, all the tier three core mutations are not particularly powerful at level one, but paired with later core mutations and branch mutations, they could prove rather useful. You are free to pick whichever one you would like to unlock first, but if you would prefer to increase your attribute levels instead, that is also a valid option.] She paused for a moment, glancing at her status screen as she turned the rack of crab legs over. My attribute levels feel high enough for the situation I¡¯m in, and increasing both my strength and speed would cost¡­ a lot, right? Four times four times four is¡ª [Sixty-four. So you would only be able to increase both your strength and speed to level five.] As opposed to unlocking an entirely new mutation. I¡¯m thinking a tier three mutation would be more¡­ useful? What do you think? [Well, you might as well check out your options, at least. Here is the first of the tier three core mutations:]
[T3 Core Mutation: Basic Apiclaws] [Brief Description: You will grow sharp bones that can extend out of your elbows like blades. Their current toughness is the same as your toughness level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase their toughness. At max level, they will be twice as tough as your toughness level]
[The first tier three core mutation is simple enough to understand,] the Archive said, crawling down to her left forearm and tapping it with a tiny leg. [The normal human forearm has two bones: the ulna and the radius. If you unlock basic apiclaws, you will grow a third bone that can whip out your elbows like a blade. Much like your glaives, the apiclaws will regenerate if they are sliced off. They are decent offensive and defensive weapons should you find yourself in a situation where you must attack or block, and your glaives are¡­ preoccupied.] She mulled over the mutation, imagined blades sticking out her elbows, and immediately brightened up at the thought. That sounds cool! So they¡¯re blade-like bones coming out of my elbows? How tough are they? [The toughness scales with the level, and there are branch mutations at level five and ten that will allow you to modify them for extra offensive and defensive power.] Cool! Then, let¡¯s go¡ª [Please refrain from deciding so quickly. Here are your second and third options:]
[T3 Core Mutation: Basic Wings] [Brief Description: You will grow short wings specialized for gliding between your shoulder blades. These wings are incapable of flying. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from using your wings]
[T3 Core Mutation: Basic Setae] [Brief Description: You will grow microscopic setae across your skin that will allow you to cling to and move on walls. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from sticking on walls]
[The other two are quite self-explanatory as well: basic wings will let you glide, while basic setae will allow you to cling to walls and ceilings,] the Archive said plainly. [Please note, however, that for the Water Strider Class, there is no branch mutation for the ¡®Basic Wings¡¯ core mutation that will allow you to truly fly. This is because water striders experience wing dimorphism¡ªmeaning, water striders have varying wing lengths depending on the season, which greatly affect how far and how long they can fly for. Basically, water striders are terrible flyers. You can flap your wings and use them to gain bursts of speed, but in terms of mid-air mobility, you are limited to gliding only.] Her eyes lit up, nevertheless, at the description of the other two mutations. So you¡¯re saying I can still kinda fly. [No. You can glide.] That¡¯s just flying with slightly less control. [Let us see if you can still say that in the face of a storm, which will make certain you never get to glide in the direction you want¡ª] Oh, but the other mutation that lets me cling to walls sounds cool as well, she thought, scratching the back of her head as she hummed in indecision. I think¡­ hm. So there¡¯s one mutation that¡¯ll let me cut crabs open easier¡ªIf you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. [An offensive and defensive weapon option, yes¡ª] One mutation that¡¯ll make my silhouette look prettier and more flowy when I¡¯m dancing¡ª [An emergency escape option through the air, yes¡ª] And one mutation that¡¯ll let me do more impressive dance techniques, like skating up and then backflipping off a wall¡ª [Do you realize these mutations were designed to assist you in battle¡ª] But if I can only pick one core mutation to help us get out of this remipede safe and sound right now, there¡¯s only one real option, right? She finished her thought the moment she smelled something sizzling in the air, and she immediately panicked, yanking the rack of burnt crab legs off the fire. A couple Harbor Guards laughed atop the ship they¡¯d righted and were still patching up¡ªshe shot them all a squint as she munched on the legs, knowing she¡¯d only be getting a few more points for her troubles. Not nearly enough to unlock another tier three mutation. Even still, the best option was obvious, and the Archive had nothing to say in response to her decision. Unlock the third tier three mutation for me. I want ¡®Basic Setae¡¯. And then I¡¯ll have¡­ [Ten points left over.] Upgrade my ¡®Basic Gills¡¯ to level two, and increase my dexterity to level three. I¡¯m gonna need the extra balancing power.
[T3 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Setae Lvl. 1] [Brief Description: You have grown microscopic setae across your skin that will allow you to cling to and move on walls. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from sticking on walls] [Basic Gills Lvl. 1 ¡ú Basic Gills Lvl. 2] [Dexterity: 2 ¡ú 3] [Aura: 892 (+20) ¡ú 1,052 (+20)] [Points: 160 ¡ú 0]
She immediately felt tingly all over the moment she unlocked her new tier three mutation, as if a thousand invisible tweezers were stabbing into her skin and plucking out hairs she didn¡¯t even know she had, but¡­ it wasn¡¯t really painful. She could deal with pain. [Just sit here for the time being. Give or take a minute, and you will be able to walk on walls.] Alright. One minute was just about long enough for them to gather one last time, too, so she was delighted to hear Captain Enrique shouting at all his men to stand around her bonfire. He had impeccable timing as always. One by one, the forty burly men finished off the last of their tasks before jumping down onto their favorite coral chunks, making sure they were within her line of sight as she wolfed down the last of her crab legs. Captain Enrique was the last to jump down next to her, and he gestured in front of her with a proud grin on his face. ¡­ It was something to be proud of. A month ago, they¡¯d all been huddled behind a half-broken ship that¡¯d been knocked flat onto its sides, but their resourcefulness had to be commended. The giant warship¡¯s hull was a mosaic of timbers, planks, and metal plates scrapped from wreckage all around. The triple masts were repaired and lashed with thick, sinewy ropes. The old, tattered sails that bore the Harbor Guards¡¯ emblem were replaced by shiny, silvery fabrics they wove together out of giant fish scales. Thirty black cannons lined the gunports on both sides of the ship, and they¡¯d made sure to load all of them with as many anti-chitin cannonballs as they could scrounge from the other ships before them. They hadn¡¯t done the repairs while the ship was lying on its side, of course. The Guards had yanked the warship upright and kept it upright with dozens of ropes wrapped around coral moors. Now that it was standing tall and strong, its Deepwater Legion architecture influence was all but apparent. The ship was sleek and elongated, tapering into a sharp prow with the bowsprit jutting forward like a pointed sword. Cool ship. [Functional.] Aesthetic. [Efficient.] Can it move underwater? [It can most certainly survive underwater for a good minute or two.] The whole ship was thirty meters long and twice as tall¡ªit looked every bit a warship the likes of which Marisol had seen in picture books since she was a child, and while she¡¯d been excited to explore the marauders¡¯ warship¡ªthat the children painstakingly repaired for her¡ªthat was nothing compared to the real deal. She felt like breaking into a stupid grin. If there was any ship that could possibly break through the giant remipede, it would be the warship in front of her. ¡°... We good to go, boss?¡± Enrique asked. She shot the captain a cheery thumbs-up in response, and that was all the Guards needed to cheer up a frenzy. All forty of them rolled up their mats, picked up their wine barrels, and tossed every crate of food they¡¯d taken out of the ship back onto the ship. They moved with vigor and efficiency like she¡¯d never seen them do before. They were raring to go, hearts pounding in sync, because damn if all they did was sit and wait to be digested. The Guards had a reason to return to the surface, and so did she. Without a word, Captain Enrique offered her a hand off the wooden beam she was sitting on, and she took it¡ªonly to be immediately tossed fifteen meters up onto the warship¡¯s upper deck, his superhuman strength kicking in with a laugh. She landed perfectly on the tip of her glaives, of course¡ªcourtesy of her higher dexterity level¡ªso she bowed, stuck out her tongue, and shot him a thumbs-down as the Guards around her laughed. The Guards were busy with all manners of tasks: some were knotting off the corners of the sails, some were hacking off the mooring lines with their cutlasses, but everyone knew their task. She¡¯d briefed them dozens upon dozens of times over the past month just to make sure they knew exactly what they were going to be doing. However anxious they still felt about her plan, though, her role wasn¡¯t down here on the upper dock. It was up on the very top of the warship¡¯s largest mast. [For the record, I do think this is the most reckless and dangerous plan you have concocted by far.] Thank you. The Archive looked at her weirdly. [... Exhilaration masochist.] She squinted back at the Archive pointedly. Coward. [Realist.] What¡¯s the percentage? [A hundred percent chance of either life or death.] You''re useless as always. While Captain Enrique jumped up himself and manned the steering wheel, shouting at his men to hasten their preparations, she began climbing the ratlines. The ropes swayed and wobbled as she tried not to cut them with her glaives, and it was a bit scary, but eventually she reached the crow¡¯s nest at the very top of the front sail¡ªoverlooking the rest of the remipede¡¯s stomach from far, far above ground. The ship was pointed towards the giant remipede¡¯s teeth, and the last wall of water hit around twenty minutes ago. So, with ten minutes left to spare, she sat down on the crow¡¯s nest and let her glaives kick back and forth over the edge as she took out her mama¡¯s book again. She''d already read every single chapter in the book¡ªand she''d read them a few dozen more times the past month¡ªbut considering the third technique was what she was hinging on to help her deal with the barnacles on their way out, she felt like reading the third chapter again. ¡°... To El Borde Vellamira, Marisol, my only little runaway.¡± ¡°Captain Antonio was wrong. He¡¯d assured me over and over, saying the round trip would take just half a year at most, but if you¡¯re reading this third chapter, you must be more than a few months away from home. Something¡¯s happened to you, right?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure the future me who gave you this book told you it would be a trip longer than ¡®just¡¯ half a year, and I¡¯m also sure the future you told me it wouldn¡¯t take longer than ¡®a few months¡¯, so I¡¯ll say this here and now: I told you so.¡± ¡°I¡¯m always right, you little rascal. Don¡¯t you ever forget that.¡± Marisol snorted immediately upon re-reading the letter on the first page of the third chapter, and she felt a little teary-eyed as she flipped to the next page. Has it really been three months since I left home? [You spent a week riding from the desert to the Harbor City, then three days on Antonio¡¯s ship, then thirty-three days on the horseshoe crab island, then twenty days on the marauders¡¯ warship, then thirty days in here.] [It has been almost exactly three months since you left your home.] She smiled slightly. A lot had gone wrong, and she was sure her mama wouldn¡¯t believe her if she said she was swallowed by a giant bug. ¡°I reckon, if you¡¯re reading this, that you¡¯re either still on Antonio¡¯s ship or stuck in transit inside the Whirlpool City.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if the city¡¯s still brimming with crowds and performers on the streets, but if you¡¯ve been away from home for more than several months already, I also reckon you¡¯re running out of Scales. After all, you only saved up just enough to afford a round trip and a vial of healing seawater. Maybe you¡¯ve been begging or working menial jobs for Scales in the Whirlpool City just to pay for food, but I just can¡¯t stand the thought of a Vellamira sleeping out on those cold, damp streets.¡± ¡°So here¡¯s a technique for you to woo a bigger crowd than any other street performer in the city¡ªbut use it sparingly, alright?¡± ¡°It can hurt your crowd if you¡¯re not careful, and you don¡¯t want to be on the bad side of the Imperators.¡± She chuckled softly again as she flipped to the next page, and from there on until the chapter four lock, it was all diagrams and drawings of the technique she''d already practiced many, many times this month. She¡¯d seen her mama perform this technique a few times when she was a lot younger. Compared to the power needed for the War Jump and the dexterity needed for the Silent Step, it wasn''t particularly difficult for her to figure out how to adapt this third sand-dancing technique for use on water. If anything, she was excited feeling the ground rumble, because she''d spent the past month honing this technique of hers. The bioluminescent lights dimmed as the fleshy walls undulated one last time. Four hundred meters in front of her, the giant remipede opened its mouth to swallow a gargantuan wall of water, and Captain Enrique roared for his men to get into position beneath her. ¡­ Archive? [Yes?] Update that objective, won¡¯t you? The wall of water charged in, making the remipede rumble as it neared the stern of the warship. Marisol dragged a glaive back, a small, nervous grin coming onto her face. It¡¯ll be a messy kill.
[Objective #8: Escape from the giant remipede before you get digested] [Objective #8: Slay the C-Rank Giant-Class Remipede] [Time Limit: 10 minutes] [Reward: 3,000 points, 2x Remipede Olfactory Nerve Centers] [Failure: Glorious death] Chapter 26 - Whirlwind Spin The fifty-meter-tall wave of water smashed into the warship¡¯s bowsprit, and right before it could crush all of them under its weight, Marisol kicked it with the full might of a prideful Sand-Dancer. Immediately, her legs threatened to snap. The waves are still as heavy as ever, huh? She hissed as she vibrated her hydrospines at maximum power, her kick sending out a ripple that bent the water around the ship¡­ but she wasn''t alone this time. The ¡®hold¡¯ command was given, Captain Enrique cut his palm with a knife, and he shouted at his men to activate their Arts as well¡ªand including her, there were forty-one souls pushing back against the giant wall of water. Their combined water-repelling force kept the water at bay. O¡­ kay! We¡¯re holding it! And now¡­ we turn it around! The wall of water may be wide and tall enough to encompass the entirety of the giant remipede¡¯s stomach, but it was still water at the end of the day. Its shape could change. Its flow could change. It was in no way different from a dust devil of the desert, able to be kicked away by a single Sand-Dancer with enough conviction in her toes¡ªit could be sent back the way it came, and all Marisol needed to do was dance. Sucking in a sharp breath, she spun in place and kicked again, then again, then again. A dozen ripples pounded through the top of the wave of water, the bottom supported by the water-repelling force of the Harbor Guards below her. This wasn¡¯t like any of the other times she¡¯d simply redirected the water around the ship. She needed to reverse its direction of flow entirely this time. She gritted her teeth and mustered a hundred and ten percent of her power. The Archive stimulated the release of more adrenaline into her blood. Exhaustion, exertion, and exhilaration flooded into her. Stars swirled in her eyes as she spun and kicked in place, but she knew she had the strength to send the wave back. She had to do it. This was life or death, and for a Sand-Dancer who lived on the very edge between life or death, water was the absolute last thing that was going to stand in her way. Come on! Go! BACK! And with a heaving, heavy groan, the wall of water changed directions. She knew they¡¯d done it when she kicked and the tip of her glaive didn¡¯t even scrape a droplet of water. The moment she saw the massive wave falling backwards, moving towards the mouth, she peered down the crow¡¯s nest and shouted at the Harbor Guards to push their water-repelling force forward. In an instant, the wall of water collapsed and turned into a low, churning wave in front of the warship. They¡¯d created their own wave, and the water beneath them lifted the warship ever so slightly¡ªjust enough for it to start sliding forward. ¡°... LET¡¯S GO!¡± Captain Enrique bellowed his order from the helm, and at once, twenty anti-chitin cannons roared out the back of the ship. The shots propelled the ship forward with a sudden lurch, and then they had the initial momentum. Marisol screamed down at the Harbor Guards¡ª¡°fire¡±¡ªand the next cannon volley fired out the back again, making the warship jolt forward. Suddenly, they weren¡¯t just moving in sharp, lurching movements. They had momentum. They had consistent momentum. Their anti-chitin cannonballs tore into the back of the remipede''s insides, making the giant bug buckle forwards with a tremendous rumble. While Marisol slid down the ratlines and the Guards raced across the upper and lower decks to reload the cannons at the back, Captain Enrique laughed at the helm; a bubbly, childlike sound, completely unbefitting of a man his age and appearance. ¡°We have our own wave, boys!¡± he cackled, as all of them closed their palms and lifted the water-repelling force. ¡°Aye, boys! Ten on the starboard guns, ten on portside, and fire at will! Blast this thing from the inside-out and make it writhe like the scurvy bug it be!¡± As Marisol touched down on the upper deck, the cannons on both sides of the warship roared to life, the deep, deafening sounds echoing through the confined space like thunder. Fleshy walls exploded into geysers of blue blood where the anti-chitin cannonballs punched through. The walls of the giant remipede squirmed and rippled, making the Guards laugh as they reloaded their guns, and more cannons fired in a chaotic cacophony of booms. [Anti-chitin cannonballs fired out of anti-giant cannons,] the Archive mused, [works wonders against a giant remipede from the inside, at least.] The giant remipede buckled even more, and Marisol grinned. It was swimming up, probably in an attempt to make all of them slide back down, but they already had the forward momentum. They couldn¡¯t be stopped now. The Guards simply fired more of their back cannons with greater frequency, using the propulsion force to maintain their momentum. After all, they¡¯d gathered more than enough anti-chitin cannonballs to fire for days on end. They could blast the walls of the remipede with a full volley every twenty meters they sailed, because that was just how fast the Guards could reload. But there¡¯s still one more obstacle! Just one more! Three hundred meters to the mouth. Two hundred meters to the mouth. The bioluminescent walls around them throbbed and pulsed as the remipede spasmed, their continuous barrage of cannonballs hurting it greatly, the wave of water they were riding picking up speed from all the propulsion. The prow cleaved through the water like a knife on butter, and Marisol skated up onto the bowsprit, balancing on the very frontal tip of the ship with her arms spread out. She had a stupid, stupid grin on her face as she stared forward, her eyes locking onto the field of giant barnacles clinging to the walls and ceiling a hundred meters in front of her. Come on, you ugly bastards! Shoot me! And as the first barnacles fired at them, determined to hit something¡ªshe exhaled coolly and slapped one palm on the bowsprit beneath her, kicking her glaives back until she was doing a handstand at the very tip of the ship. Then, she started spinning, vibrating the hydrospines on her glaives so violently as she did that the sprays of water droplets around her shot back towards the barnacles at ultra-high speeds, shattering the spiny projectiles mid-air. ¡°¡­ Sometimes, the audience is too dazzling. Sometimes, they are too loud. Sometimes, you¡¯re trying out a new routine or a new technique you haven¡¯t mastered yet, and you don¡¯t want people to see how ungraceful you look while doing it. When there¡¯s any reason at all you don¡¯t want the audience to see you, just use this technique that is as old as the sky is blue¡ªput your hand on the ground, do a handstand, and spin in place to make a miniature sand tornado. ¡°Blind your audience for a short moment, and what they cannot see will be manifested in their imaginations instead, and what they imagine you are doing will always be a hundred times more impressive than what you are actually doing.¡± ¡°Ironically, what they cannot see is oftentimes far more entrancing than what they can see.¡± The Blackclaw Marauders had shown her the strength of liquids as projectiles, but it was her mama¡¯s third technique, ¡®Whirlwind Spin¡¯, that reminded her¡ªthere were plenty of times when her mama had thrown sand into the audience¡¯s eyes with a spinning handstand, and she¡¯d never understood why. All she remembered were kids laughing around her, adults chuckling in amusement, and everyone¡¯s attention being diverted by such an unexpected move that her mama¡¯s next move made all of them forget that sand was actually really uncomfortable in their eyes.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªher mama wasn¡¯t as infallible of a Sand-Dancer as she¡¯d thought. There were times even when her mama made mistakes during a routine, and there were times when her mama had to cover them up with a quick Whirlwind Spin to distract her audience. Only now, she wasn¡¯t spinning sand, and her audience could use a little bit more than distracting. To do a spinning handstand fast enough to make a small whirlwind, exhale all the air from your lungs, make yourself as light as possible, and just go at it with reckless abandon! Become the whirlwind yourself, and the sands will spin around you in jealous mimicry! She spun and spun and spun, faster than even when she¡¯d done the War Jump, and she became a living spinning top. Any droplet that even neared her was violently repelled by the hydrospines on her glaives, and then they were sent flying every which way. Some smacked the Guards behind her on the head, making them yelp in pain. Some bounced off the deck, some ricocheted off the hard wooden railings, but some shattered the barnacles¡¯ projectiles mid-air¡­ and she was repelling a lot of water droplets simply by spinning on the bowsprit, the very front of the ship. For every projectile that fired their way, she reflected a thousand tiny droplets with the speed and strength equivalent of five men. Only one of those droplets needed to hit the projectile and it¡¯d be intercepted. As a result? Not a single barnacle spine projectile reached their ship. Ha! I¡¯m doing it! I¡¯m doi-doi-doi¡ª But she was spinning way too fast upside-down, and her teeth chattered as she found herself spinning only faster and faster, quite unable to slow herself down at this point. She didn¡¯t want to slow down, though. She wanted to keep going, keep pushing her limits. The only reason why she was still able to keep her hand on the narrow bowsprit was because of her ¡®Basic Setae¡¯ mutation, allowing her skin to cling to surfaces with extra stickiness. If not for the mutation, she¡¯d have spun herself overboard the moment she tried to do a handstand, but she did have the mutation, so she wanted to keep going. How fast could she spin? Could she actually spin up a water tornado if she kept at this growth rate? Ar-ar-ar-chi-chi-chi-ve-ve-ve! Lo-o-o-o-o-k! I¡¯m goi-oi-ng-ng rea-a-ll-ll-ly fa-as-as-as-at¡ª [Please focus. Are you an actual, honest-to-god child?] Ok-ok-ok-ay-ay-ay¡ª ¡°Brace yerselfs, lads!¡± Enrique bellowed, cackling at the top of his lungs as the warship reached speeds it¡¯d certainly never reached before, and Marisol spotted¡ªit was really just a blur of light in her spinning eyes¡ªwhat seemed like the giant remipede¡¯s teeth in the near distance. ¡°We¡¯re closin¡¯ in on the bug¡¯s maw! Fire everythin¡¯ we¡¯ve got! We¡¯re crashin¡¯ through in tree, two¡ª¡± One! Marisol relaxed her setae, letting herself spin twenty meters backwards into the door of the captain¡¯s cabin, and at the same time¡ªthe warship slammed into the giant remipede¡¯s teeth, chitin and flesh exploding into splinters and shredded muscles. With one more thunderous boom, every cannon on the warship fired at once as they burst through the giant remipede¡¯s mouth. For a brief, glorious moment, the warship was underwater. The world turned cold and green. Underwater pressure pressed against her chest, the salty sting of seawater biting at her eyes and lips. Wood creaked and groaned around her as the ship strained under the weight of the ocean. Her fingers ached from clutching onto a random bundle of ropes close to her, her whole body trembling as the cold seeped through her soaked clothes. Her ¡®Basic Gills¡¯ were level two, which meant she could breathe underwater for about two minutes, but she still didn¡¯t like the feeling of being underwater. After twenty seconds that felt like an eternity, the submerged ship started jolting upwards. A deep hum vibrated across the ship as the crew activated their Arts, repelling water below them. The ship began to rise, shuddering with the effort. She squeezed her eyes shut, her ears popping painfully as they shot upward. Pressure pushed down on her shoulders like a heavy weight, the rushing water in her ears making it impossible to think clearly, but just as she felt thirty seconds had passed and they still weren''t anywhere close to the light¡ªthe ship exploded onto the surface with a sudden, deafening boom. Marisol pulled her eyelids open as she gasped for breath. Golden sunlight bathed all of them in its warmth, the stifling, acidic air of the remipede¡¯s insides replaced by the fresh, salty brine of the open seas. The natural light was almost blinding after a month in bioluminescent gloom, but it was a welcome discomfort. She may have hated being surrounded by nothing but water a month ago, but oh, how dearly she¡¯d missed the sea without even being aware of it until now. Unfortunately, not all of them managed to find something to hold onto as the ship burst onto the surface. Half blinded, she stumbled out of the captain¡¯s cabin and opened her eyes just in time to spot Captain Enrique flying overboard with a scream. Several Guards tumbled over the railings as well, and about a dozen unanchored miscellanea flew everywhere. A plank of wood even snapped off the mast and smacked her in the face, making her fall over with a pained yelp¡­ but when all was said and done, she was lying flat on her back, staring up at the sun she¡¯d thought she¡¯d never see again. A knot in her chest that had been twisting tighter and tighter for the past month finally unraveled. Her fingers, raw and trembling, clenched the soaked deck beneath her as if to confirm this wasn¡¯t some cruel dream. It wasn¡¯t. She was out. She was alive. Swallowing a mouthful of seawater, she let out a heavy sigh of relief. Then, a sound bubbled up from her, at first a hoarse gasp, then a choked snort. Before she knew it, she was laughing¡ªwild, broken, unrestrained. It ripped out of her in ragged bursts, echoing across the deck and over the waves, because every breath was a gift, and every laugh was a defiance of the darkness she¡¯d endured. She laughed like she¡¯d never done before. ¡­ I kinda wanna do that again. [Please refrain.] I¡¯m kidding, I¡¯m kidding! she thought, groaning as she stood up and pushed herself to the railings, staring out at the open seas. The first thing she did was check on the people who¡¯d flown overboard¡ªtwo, four, six of them, excluding Enrique, were all paddling safely back towards the ship, cheering with their fists shaking in the air. The Guards who hadn¡¯t flown overboard rushed to the upper deck, cackling as they threw ropes into the sea. Marisol was a little different. She doubled over and threw up, the Whirlwind Spin finally catching up to her head, and she shooed laughing men away as they tried to pat her on the back. She was going to be alright. The second thing she did was look over to the left, where she spotted Captain Enrique swimming away from the ship, heading towards a tiny rowboat a hundred meters out onto the sea. Marisol squinted for a good few seconds, thinking that couldn¡¯t be it¡­ but it was the rowboat she¡¯d laid the pregnant lady down on, and judging by the tiny figure that waved back at Enrique, her decision to leave all the provisions with the lady wasn¡¯t the wrong decision. How lucky is it that we surfaced near the rowboat? Like, seriously, that¡¯s¡ª [The giant remipede never moved that far from the fog in the first place. Remember what I said about the giant horseshoe crab? Giant bugs do not tend to stray too far from their territory,] the Archive said plainly. [Now that we are out of the fog, according to my navigation data, we are right about where your previous ship was destroyed. We have neither made any progress nor backtracked any progress in the past month.] ¡­ And the fog? Where¡¯s it gone now? [I imagine the giant remipede was responsible for it somehow, whether by way of its barnacles or something else. Once you become a registered user and I am reconnected to the other Altered Swarmsteel Systems, I will inquire with the Hasharana to investigate more about the remipede¡¯s symbiotic capabilities with the barnacles.] Marisol gave the Archive a tired smile, wiping her lips as she leaned against the railings. You still can¡¯t contact the Hasharana to give me a hand because I¡¯m not a ¡®registered user¡¯, huh? [Yes. As long as you are an unregistered user, I cannot communicate with the other Archives nor access any real-time information, such as up-to-date navigation data that would tell me whether or not the weather conditions are safe enough for sailing. After you retrieve a vial of healing seawater and cure your mother, please attend the Hasharana Entrance Exam and become a registered user.] You said it had¡­ what, a ninety-eight percent fatality rate? That only ten people pass it out of a thousand participants every year? What makes you so sure I can pass that exam? [...] The little water strider gestured broadly at the five-hundred-meter long carcass floating right in front of them, shriveled and curled up like an artificial island.
[Objective #8 Completed: Slay the C-Rank Giant-Class Remipede] [Reward: 3,000 points, 2x Remipede Olfactory Nerve Centers] [Grade: E-Rank Giant-Class ¡ú C-Rank Giant-Class]
[... Including you, only three people have been recorded slaying a giant remipede of this size,] the Archive said plainly. [Now, three thousand points¡¯ worth of extremely tough remipede flesh is almost impossible to consume and digest in under a month for an untrained human, but if all you eat is ten points'' worth of remipede flesh every day for the next ten months, I am quite certain you will be able to blow through next year¡¯s Hasharana Entrance Exam with ease.] Marisol squinted at the Archive. I don¡¯t wanna eat just remipede meat for ten months. [Then eat more at a faster rate, and you can be done in seven. The world record title for the most points gained in a single day belongs to the Worm God, who managed to consume ten thousand and twenty-one points'' worth of insect meat on a cold winter''s night. Now, you are quite talented, so you can probably be done in five months if you eat just a little bit more every single day¡ª] Don''t wanna. I''ll eat at my own pace. [B-but this year¡¯s Hasharana Entrance Exam is in four months.] Are you trying to guilt trip me into taking the exam? [N-no?] Whirlpool City first, so I can deal with mama''s ailment. Then¡­ we can talk about exams and stuff. [What about right now?] Ain''t it obvious? She planted her elbows against the railings while the Guards continued cheering, and she stared out at the giant remipede carcass with a wide, stupid grin on her face. First, we celebrate! Chapter 27 - Harvesting Respite At one point, Marisol may have been excited to know she played a big role in bringing down the giant remipede, but now it was dead in the middle of the day. Four whole hours since they exploded onto the open sea. There were no clouds overhead to provide any shade, and so the midday sun was scorching her back. She had half a mind to tell everyone to just leave the giant remipede carcass floating where it was, because right now, about thirty of them were walking on the giant carcass while the warship was docked next to its bloody head, and they were having a real tough time harvesting the parts they could harvest. [Tell those five men to give up on the hind phyllopodia. Those four over there should be handling the giant venom mandibles with gloves on. The rest should focus on carving only the flesh near the surface of the chitin; the muscle strands are too tough for any of their cutlasses to tear through.] Wiping a bead of sweat off her brow, she hollered at the top of her lungs and relayed the Archive¡¯s exact words to all of the Harbor Guards¡­ but she had no clue how many of them actually heard her. The thirty of them were all scattered across the five-hundred-meter long carcass doing their own thing¡ªcutting flesh and severing legs and tossing everything onto the warship with rope pulleys and buckets¡ªso she had no hope even half of them heard her instructions. Sighing, she simply lowered her head and focused on her task at hand: kneeling on top of the giant remipede¡¯s smooth head with two small chisels in her hands. This really ain¡¯t a celebration, Archive, she grumbled, getting down on all fours and rapping the remipede¡¯s chitin with the handle of her chisels. Whenever you say there are ¡®rewards¡¯ for killing a bug, what you really mean is I gotta do all the back-breaking work just to claim even a fraction of my rewards. How the hell are you supposed to harvest all the usable parts before the carcass naturally sinks? [By working hard and fast, of course. After the Worm God and the Thousand Tongue slayed their giant remipede, they sat on it for five days straight¡ªusing their biomagic to keep it afloat the entire time¡ªand managed to devour five thousand points¡¯ worth of flesh. They also ripped off its legs and paddled the carcass as their new rowboat, which was a much more stable vessel than their original rowboat.] Okay, but why were two of the strongest humans in history on that stupid rowboat in the first place? [Irrelevant. My point is, while titanic bugs above two hundred meters in length are usually deconstructed by crews of up to a hundred trained experts, it is still very possible for all of you to harvest enough parts to make this venture worthwhile,] the Archive said, jabbing a pointy leg into her cheek. [Focus. Let the Guards harvest the flesh and chitin. You are looking for¡ª] Yes, yes, those ¡®Olfactory Nerve Centers¡¯ or something. What are they even supposed to look like, anyways? The Archive hummed as she continued crawling over the giant head, tapping her chisels against the chitin to listen for hollow spaces underneath. [In humans, an olfactory nerve center is just a bundle of nerves in your brain that allow you to smell. In a giant remipede, however, not only does it have two olfactory nerve centers, it can also use them for ¡®sophisticated olfactory processing¡¯: a type of image-processing and interpretation typically used by cave-dwelling water bugs to locate potential food items even with extremely low odor concentrations in the dark. Recent research from the Genesis Glade Front have even theorized that remipedes can change their nerves centers into neuropil centers should their main brain be damaged...] The Archive paused as it listened to her groaning and shaking her head. [¡­They look like small, silvery pearls the size of your nails, and they are highly concentrated bioarcanic essence in crystal form,] the Archive finished, sighing and shaking its head. [If you can find them and turn them into Swarmsteel, you can equip them for a few additional levels in perception.] She grinned at the Archive as she started tapping the chitin with renewed vigor. More bug parts she could turn into Swarmsteel sounded sweet, so she¡¯d break her back for as long as she needed until she found them. Yet, she felt so, so incredibly stupid as thirty Guards walked past her over and over, hauling their harvests back onto the warship, while frowning at her tapping the chitin like a child digging for earthworms. Hours passed like this. It¡¯ll be worth it, she comforted herself. Shiny pearls¡­ shiny pearls¡­ shiny pearls¡ª Tink! She hit something slightly hollow underneath with her chisel, and she didn¡¯t need telling twice from the Archive. She jammed both chisels into the chitin and started carving away, the little water strider tracing a circle with its legs to show her where she needed to cut. It may have taken her ten minutes, twenty minutes, maybe even thirty minutes¡ªeventually, she carved out a delicate chunk of chitin and tossed it away, peeking inside to see a hole made out of blue, wobbling flesh. Her eyes caught the barest glint of something shiny inside, so she looked away and grimaced as she reached in, rummaging around the squishy flesh with her fingers until she felt them: something small and round between her fingertips. Got it! Translucent fibers ripped from the little spheres as she yanked them out, and with a wide grin, she raised them over her head to let sunlight burn off the remnant strands of flesh. They were such small, small things for such a giant bug; the Archive really hadn¡¯t been lying when it said they were about the size of her nails.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡­ I was expecting something a lot shinier, though. [Give it time to glow. It will look decently pretty in due time.] It¡¯ll glow? Her eyes lit up as she twirled the pearls around, her mind wandering off to places she could possibly wear them over. Do they have to stay in pearl shape to work as Swarmsteel, though? I don¡¯t imagine I can melt them down and¨C [No, it does not have to stay in pearl shape, but I doubt you can smelt it down on a warship. Now please get off the carcass before it sinks.] Right on cue, the water around the giant remipede started to bubble, and she jumped to her glaives completely startled. The Guards yelled at her to quickly jump on board before the carcass could sink, so she clutched the pearls tightly and skated down the side of the chitin, jumping and jamming her glaives straight into the hull of the ship. Someone tossed a rope down at her, and she climbed up as she glanced at the carcass behind her, sinking not-so-quietly into the depths of the great blue¡ªshe hadn¡¯t noticed it while she was busy looking for the pearls, but it was nearly sundown now, and the same thing had happened to the fairy shrimp. The buoyancy of giant bug carcasses would naturally disappear after a while. As two Guards helped her over the railings, she scanned the busy upper deck for all of their spoils of war: about two dozen remipede legs were stacked on top of each other like logs, four giant curved mandibles were wrapped in thick fabrics to prevent any venom from leaking out, and she assumed the dozens upon dozens of crates being hauled to the lower decks were filled with remipede flesh¡­ as much as they could harvest within half a day, anyways. They certainly didn¡¯t manage to harvest three thousand points¡¯ worth of flesh, but there were probably one or two thousand points on the ship. Maybe even two and a half. [I estimate only one thousand points.] She puckered her lip and frowned at the little water strider on her shoulder. You¡¯re no fun. [To be fair, I do not think this warship is capable of carrying more than a thousand points¡¯ worth of bug meat anyways. Considering the additional weight of the chitinous legs and mandibles, I would say the maximum load limit of the warship has already been reached.] And would the additional weight slow us down on the way to the Whirlpool City? [Yes. Would you rather have more points or reach the city quicker?] Come on. You know what I¡¯d choose. [Well, at least I doubt the Guards are going to ask you to share most of the one thousand points with them, considering you were the mastermind behind that glorious escape.] Once the giant remipede bubbled and completely sank beneath the surface, Captain Enrique shouted at his Guards to raise the anchors and unfurl the sails. His daughter¡ªthe pregnant lady they¡¯d pulled up from the rowboat half a day ago¡ªsat on a crate by his side, giving Marisol a tired little wave as their eyes met for a brief moment. Marisol had gotten a brief explanation for why a pregnant lady was on their warship from the Guards earlier. Apparently, Captain Enrique¡¯s daughter and son-in-law had been living on the mainland continent, but then decided to hitch a ride with him and his men on their way back to the Whirlpool City for a vial of healing seawater. It was to ensure the safety of childbirth, she was told; it was just that none of them could¡¯ve ever imagined encountering a giant remipede attack of that scale, much less against a warship flying the Guards¡¯ emblem. To that end, a few Guards had also been rowing around the field of wreckages the past few hours, trying to fish up flags and emblems to identify the ships that¡¯d been sunk by the giant remipede. They were going to continue towards the Whirlpool City, so as soldiers of the city, they had to report what¡¯d happened here in full detail. No doubt Marisol was going to be caught up in the questioning as well, but that was just a problem future her would have to swiftly deal with. The fish scale sails billowed at full strength as the warship started moving again, and now they were headed once more for the Whirlpool City. How long until we reach the Whirlpool City this time, Archive? she asked, leaning against the railings as the Guards scurried around behind her. Planting her chin in her hands, she gazed sluggishly out at the vast, open seas¡ªthe dim orange sun was just about to fall over the horizon, and she felt like laying down to sleep for a long, long time. [The build of this warship is quite streamlined. Assuming there are no further delays, it should take exactly seven days.] One week. Assuming there ain¡¯t no further delays. [Correct.] And for the first time in a while, she felt she had the luxury to just stand there and do nothing but think. Recall. Remember. ¡­ That ¡®ghost¡¯, she eventually thought, narrowing her eyes at the dusking sun. I saw it again. That night when the giant remipede first destroyed my ship. It was just standing on the surface of the sea, staring down at the lady, and the moment I approached it, it sank into the ocean like a skeletal husk. What was that? [...] That ain¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve seen that ¡®ghost¡¯, Archive. The first time, I saw it right after stumbling out of the captain¡¯s cabin on Captain Antonio¡¯s ship. It was standing on the far edge of the wreckage, and it disappeared the moment I looked at it. The second time was when I did the War Jump. The rest of the world may have disappeared around me in a void of color, but not that thing. It ain¡¯t a hallucination. It was standing on the open sea, watching me from a fair distance away from the island, and again¡ªit disappeared once I stopped spinning and tried to look for it. The third time was when it stood over the pregnant lady. She clenched her jaw and scowled down at the little water strider on her shoulder. All three times I¡¯ve seen it, it had something to do with a giant water bug, she thought. The fairy shrimp. The horseshoe crab. The remipede. You said it yourself. It¡¯s nonstop anomaly after anomaly with me, and my mama can say it¡¯s the ¡®Sand-Dancer¡¯s misfortune¡¯ all she wants, but what are the chances I¡¯m being followed by this¡ª [Ghosts do not exist in this world, Marisol.] ¡­ Then what? What is this ¡®ghost¡¯ following me wherever I go? The Archive shook its head lightly. [I do not know.] [But the great blue of the Deepwater Legion Front holds many secrets, and it would be unwise for you to lose any sleep over questions there may not be satisfying answers to.] She sighed begrudgingly and let herself lean fully against the railings, hoping it wouldn¡¯t snap under her weight. Fine. What I have to do right now doesn¡¯t change, anyways. [Correct,] the Archive said. [All you can do right now is wait until this ship either reaches the Whirlpool City, or another attack and you are forced to disembark again.] ¡­ Well, don¡¯t jinx it like that. Chapter 28 - In the Deep Marisol had that same dream again. ¡­ Black. She was on an endless, stormy sea of cold, churning oil. On the horizon in the far distance was the silhouette outline of the Whirlpool City. No matter how fast she skated on the oil, she felt slow. She felt sluggish beyond belief, but¡­ still she continued forward, knowing that stopping meant certain death. It¡¯d always been that way for a Sand-Dancer who lived their lives on the edge, but she¡¯d been pushing it recently. The War Jump. The Silent Step. The Whirlwind Spin. All of them were techniques that pushed her speed to its utmost limits. The Archive had told her as much the moment she picked the Water Strider Class, but if she ever tipped off balance while skating across the open sea¡ªif she ever fell just once, so quickly she couldn¡¯t even vibrate her hydrospines in time¡ªthere¡¯d be no way she could climb back onto her glaives. If she stood still on the stormy sea, the waves would undoubtedly knock her off balance, so she had to keep skating. She had to keep moving and maintain that momentum. But how long could she skate for? How fast was too fast? Panting, heart thumping in her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut as she skated through the storm. Black rain fell around her, silent lightning crackling in the dark sky. She couldn¡¯t stop skating. The sea of oil was slick beneath her glaives, and it tried to stick to her, tried to slow her down. Air bubbles popped all around her. There were shadows swimming underneath the surface, too¡ªbeasts, monsters, leviathans of all shapes and sizes, just waiting for her to make a single mistake and sink into the abyss. She kept skating towards the Whirlpool City. She didn¡¯t look back. She didn¡¯t look down. She kept getting closer and closer. And just when she thought she was about to reach it¡ª Snap! Her glaives tripped on something¡ªa coral, a plank of wood, a bundle of floating weeds¡ªand it didn¡¯t matter what it was. Any little thing could trip her up if she wasn¡¯t focusing at a hundred and ten percent of her power at all times, so¡­ she went soaring. Her momentum sent her flying fifty more meters before she slammed face-first into a wave of oil, and it wasn¡¯t even that painful. She¡¯d had plenty of experience falling as a Sand-Dancer, so she managed to brace her head right as she plunged in. The slick, black oil immediately drowned out all sounds. All light. It clung to her skin like glue and weighed her down, dragging her under. Her arms flailed for the surface. It was no use. She looked up, kicked her glaives, and tried to swim. It was no use. She couldn¡¯t even tell which way was up anymore. Her mind was in a cold-addled haze, and she was self-aware enough to know she wasn¡¯t thinking right. She felt a thousand monsters swimming around her, putting her in the eye of a black storm, and as they lunged in to tear her to shreds, she opened her mouth to screa¡ª
Marisol woke up gasping, cold sweat over her face and neck as the warship swayed gently left and right. Her mind was still racing with a million words, all too fast for her to catch and turn into a coherent thought, so she breathed into her hands and forced herself to calm down. She was still on the Harbor Guards¡¯ warship. It¡¯d only been five days since they set sail from the giant remipede¡¯s carcass, so they were still a day or two off from the Whirlpool City. [... I detected intense brainwave activity just now,] the Archive said idly. [Were you having a nightmare, Marisol?] As her breathing slowed and her head stopped pounding, she swung off her hammock on the lower deck¡ªwhere all the Guards were snoring loudly around her¡ªand climbed upstairs where soft rain pitter-pattered against the deck. It may be colder up here than down there, but even through the thick rain clouds, the occasional shaft of moonlight fell through to illuminate the stormy sea. A breath of freezing air was better than no fresh air at all. I used to have them more as a kid, she thought, wrapping the end of her scarf around her neck to keep herself warm as she leaned against the railings, staring out at the dark horizon. It¡¯s scary, you know. Sand-dancing. You fall and hurt yourself constantly, and it ain¡¯t always light injuries. No kid wouldn¡¯t get nightmares over knowing they had to get up the next morning and do the same routine over and over until they got it right. [Nobody forced you to sand-dance, did they?] No. Of course not. [And still you had nightmares of it?] ¡­ It¡¯s an irrational fear, she thought, smiling softly. Quicksand really ain¡¯t as common as everyone makes them out to be, but when I was a kid, I was always freaked out that there¡¯d be random patches of quicksand in the desert. The idea that I¡¯d suffocate if I messed up my routine and fell into quicksand even once was¡­ pretty stupid, now that I¡¯m thinking back on it. There ain¡¯t no quicksand in the desert. [...] But you can sink into water. You can suffocate on the seas. I wonder¡­ if I¡¯m starting to lose my nerves a little, now that I¡¯m so close to the Whirlpool City¡ª The little water strider poked her cheek, and though it was just a projection of a bug, the jab felt real. It certainly felt sharp and painful enough to snap her out of her weary, listless trance. [Do not fall, then,] the Archive said plainly. [Stay on the tip of your glaives. Be graceful at all times. You must be the embodiment of perfection, for that is what a Sand-Dancer is. Did you set off for the Whirlpool City with such little resolve in your heart?] She swatted the Archive off her shoulder¡ªmade it appear on her other shoulder¡ªand laughed heartily as she did. I¡¯ve properly indoctrinated you into my way of thinking, huh? she thought, teasing the little bug by trying to tickle its back. That¡¯s right. I¡¯ll simply never fall, ever. I¡¯ll go as fast as I want, whenever I want, and nobody can stop me. Not even you.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. [Please refrain.] She was totally content with teasing the Archive for the rest of the night, but a small cough by the helm upstairs made her turn. Someone had set up a small tent on the quarterdeck. A small candle flame kept the tent lit, and Marisol was too curious to not go and check. She bounced up the stairs to see Catrina¡ªEnrique¡¯s daughter¡ªsitting on a rocking chair, one hand on her scarred belly as she stared at the distant silhouette of the Whirlpool City. ¡°... Can¡¯t sleep?¡± Catrina asked, shooting her a soft smile as Marisol sat on the railings next to the chair. The overhead tarp was really nice. She didn¡¯t need to stand out in the gentle rain. ¡°I¡¯m a lady of the sands,¡± Marisol said, grinning back at the lady as she kicked her glaives back and forth. ¡°As much as I like the great blue and the sound of the waves, it ain¡¯t anything compared to the golden hues of the desert.¡± Catrina chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ve never been to the desert, I¡¯ll admit. I¡¯d like to go visit one day.¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t. It¡¯s really boring.¡± ¡°But you just said it was pretty?¡± ¡°It¡¯s still pretty boring.¡± Marisol had spent the past five days working as a scout¡ªskating ahead of the warship occasionally to see if there might be any giant bugs in their way¡ªso, regrettably, she hadn¡¯t spent as much time talking with Catrina as she¡¯d wanted. According to Enrique, they were actually the same age. Marisol didn¡¯t have many friends her age even back in the desert town, so she wanted to talk about all sorts of things, even if it was about something as mundane as their hometowns. ¡°Your papa¡­ Captain Enrique¡¯s from the Whirlpool City, right?¡± Catrina nodded. ¡°Born and raised,¡± she said proudly. ¡°He''s been a Guard for decades, but he sent me and mother off to the Harbor City on the mainland continent a decade ago because he didn¡¯t want us getting caught up in the dangers inside the city. Since the two of us liked the mainland so much, we just settled there and grew new roots.¡± ¡°Oh? My mama was also from the city, but she left before I was born! Does that mean you¡¯ve been to the city before?¡± ¡°Of course. Once a year, whenever we could visit my father.¡± Catrina glanced backwards, and the two of them shared a giggle at Captain Enrique snoring on a barrel of mushroom wine next to the helm. ¡°Harbor Guards don¡¯t get a lot of breaks. He tries his best to visit whenever his patrol route takes him to the shore where we lived, but he can never stay more than a day or two. So, we thought, as a family, that we¡¯d stay at the Whirlpool City for about two months every year. That way, while he¡¯s stationed there, he could come home and eat dinner with us.¡± Then Catrina¡¯s smile weakened, and she looked down as her eyes glazed over. ¡°I guess¡­ we¡¯ve had it lucky the past decade, while we could still eat together as one whole family.¡± Marisol¡¯s lips thinned into a line. She averted her eyes for a brief second as well. After all, Catrina, her husband, and her mother had been heading towards the Whirlpool City when they were attacked by the giant remipede¡ªit was only her and Enrique who survived that attack. Had Marisol gotten there faster, could she have done something to prevent them from getting attacked? ¡°... And you, Mari?¡± Catrina asked, jolting her out of her thoughts. ¡°What were you going to the Whirlpool City for? I heard from father that you were sailing¡­ alone? On a marauder ship, no less? What could possibly compel you to cross the great blue by yourself?¡± Marisol fixed Catrina with a sleepy gaze, fidgeting with the remipede pearls in her hand. She found she¡¯d been rubbing them unconsciously recently, whenever she felt a bit seasick or uneasy. ¡°My mama has an ailment,¡± she said plainly. ¡°If I don¡¯t get to the Whirlpool City and bottle up a vial of healing seawater, she¡¯ll die in a year or two, so¡­ can¡¯t have that happening, right?¡± Catrina stared at her, deep blue eyes twinkling with an odd mix of awe and shock. ¡°You ate a bug-slayer¡¯s system, killed a fairy shrimp, skated through a storm, fought off marauders, and killed a giant remipede from the inside-out for your mother?¡± ¡°Is that¡­ so hard to believe?¡± she asked, scratching the back of her head in embarrassment. ¡°Mm. It does sound quite unbelievable, huh? The Archive¡­ the system in my head tells me not to tell other people my story all the time, because there¡¯s no way anyone would¡ª" ¡°If only I were as brave as you. Completely unprompted, Catrina leaned forward in her chair and patted Marisol on the head, making Marisol freeze where she sat. It¡¯d been a long time since anyone patted her on the head, and¡­ maybe it was because Catrina was about to be a mother, but she almost felt as though she was being comforted by her mama. ¡°I don¡¯t think my father or any of his men said it properly¡ªthey¡¯re Guards who only know how to sail and fight, after all¡ªso let me do their jobs for them this time,¡± Catrina said, her smile twinkling with amusement. ¡°Thank you, Marisol. We¡¯re locals of the Whirlpool City, so we¡¯ll do absolutely everything in our power to make sure you get into the city without any issues. We can also pay for your vial of healing seawater and your return trip to your town, so¡ª¡± ¡°Can I hear it?¡± Marisol blurted, her tongue running faster than her brain as she pointed at Catrina¡¯s scarred belly. ¡°The¡­ the baby. I don¡¯t have any siblings, and I¡¯ve never helped any of the townsfolk with childbirth before, so I¡­ can I hear?¡± She blushed immediately after she finished her sentence. It was such a strange thing to ask, after all, but to her surprise, Catrina only laughed and nodded softly. ¡°Sure,¡± Catrina said, patting her belly. ¡°You can put your ear to it if you¡¯d like.¡± Marisol needed no telling twice. She hopped off the railings, knelt, and placed her ear gently against Catrina¡¯s belly. The sound that came to her was a small heartbeat: low, quiet, but layered. It was barely louder than the soft pitter-patter of raindrops around her, but still it was rich with an unborn human life. It made Marisol tear up for some reason, though she didn¡¯t let Catrina see it. ¡°They¡¯ll be due in another month, I think.¡± Catrina said, patting Marisol¡¯s head again. ¡°I wish you could be there to see them, but, well, you return to your mother with a vial of healing seawater first. Please come back and visit us if you have the time afterwards¡ª¡± ¡°Shh.¡± She knew how rude it was to interrupt Catrina in the middle of an invitation, but she pressed her ear slightly deeper, frowning as she caught a strange sound. It sounded like¡­ a heartbeat that was off-rhythm. A second heartbeat. Marisol looked up, staring at Catrina expectantly. ¡°Are you expecting two?¡± In response, Catrina blinked pointedly back at her. ¡°Two?¡± ¡°Mhm. I¡¯m hearing¡ª¡± Sounds of distant cannon fire made her whirl, and she turned just in time to see a volley of projectiles soaring at them. [Grab the girl and duck.] Quickly, she slid forward and yanked Catrina¡¯s rocking chair away from the railings¡ªjust in time as the warship lurched, the first volley of projectiles slamming into the hull with a series of wet thuds. Captain Enrique jolted awake by the helm, and while Marisol checked on Catrina to see if she was alright, the Guards immediately lit up the lanterns and rushed up onto the deck to man the cannons. Shouts filled the rainy air as Marisol stared out at the direction of fire, and her eyes narrowed on the distant vessels charging straight ahead at them. ¡­ Those aren¡¯t ships. They¡¯re¡­ giant whales? They were hard to make out at night, but where shafts of cold moonlight fell upon them, she saw half a dozen giant white whales carving through the stormy seas. Entire wooden towns were strapped to their backs, aglow with torches and braziers, and she saw yet another volley of cannon fire flashing bright red three hundred meters across. She grabbed Catrina and dragged her further back as the projectiles slammed into the hull after two seconds. Archive! [Whitewhale Marauders,] the Archive said grimly. [Prepare yourself. They are already boarding.] What do you¡ª And then the first of them climbed over the railings. They had completely normal human heads, completely normal human limbs, and the cutlasses they wielded were completely normal steel blades as well¡ªit was just the fact that they all had twelve extra arms jutting out their backs, each wielding a cutlass that had her frozen. Goddamnit. Am I ever gonna catch a break? [Sand-Dancer¡¯s misfortune, indeed.] [Sharpen your glaives and focus.] [They are much stronger than the Blackclaw Marauders; they are one of the Five Marauder Fleets of the Deepwater Legion Front.]
[Objective #9: Defend the warship and outrun the Whitewhale Marauders] [Time Limit: Undefined] [Reward: Survival] [Failure: Parasitic death] Chapter 29 - Whitewhale Marauders The Whitewhale Marauders vaulted over the railings and jumped on board with torches ablaze, fourteen arms wielding fourteen cutlasses. Shouts tore into the air. The Harbor Guards charged the marauders with their own cutlasses, keeping the dozen or so invaders at bay by the railings, and Captain Enrique bellowed for the anchor to raise. The sails dropped, oars shot out the galleys to propel the warship forward, and then they were off into the night. Six giant whales with entire wooden towns on their backs groaned far behind, cannons roaring into the sky as the pursuit began. [Marisol! Do not kick any of the marauders overboard!] She stopped just as she was about to skate straight into a marauder, ready to knock him over the railings. What? Why? They¡¯re¡ª [The Whitewhale Marauders are the parent faction of the Blackclaw Marauders, and they use slaves as their boarding forces.] [Look at them.] She looked, she listened, and she gritted her teeth in the rain. Sounds of metal clashing against metal filled the air, but it was obvious no blood was being drawn on either side. The Guards were shouting at each other to hold back on actually killing the marauders, while the humans who were strapped to the ¡®marauders¡¯ were doing their best to stumble back, trying to jerk their twelve extra arms away from swinging at the Guards. Now, Marisol could see their extra arms weren¡¯t actually part of their bodies. They were just the arms of a parasitic crab wrapped around their backs. The humans¡­ are slaves? [And the actual ¡®marauders¡¯ are the arms,] the Archive said. [The Whitewhale Marauders employ and tame Critter-Class whale lice, which are parasitic crustaceans that infest whales, dolphins, and all sorts of other marine mammals. However, they attach these whale lice to the backs of their slaves, then fire the slaves onto ships so the lice can kill everyone while the real marauders watch from atop their giant whales in absolute safety. Do not kill or kick any of the faux ¡®marauders¡¯ off the ship¡ªthey will not be rescued by the real marauders, who are all around D to C-Rank Giant-Class.] The warship lurched, making everyone stumble for a short second, and Marisol picked up Catrina as she skated down to the captain¡¯s cabin. What do I do, then? If I can¡¯t hit them and I can¡¯t kick them overboard¡ª [Kill only the whale lice on their backs, and the human will be freed.] She let Catrina gently off on the only mattress in the cabin and whirled to stare out the door; the fighting outside was fierce, Captain Enrique was still shouting orders at everyone to stay their blades, but she could see the sails weren¡¯t fully let loose. Two of the three sails were still strapped to the masts, and the Guards needed to be free to cut them loose¡ªif they weren¡¯t moving at full speed, the giant whales behind them would catch up incredibly soon. She had to help. Her glaives moved forward in blinding arcs, making the very air scream as she blurred out of the captain¡¯s cabin and skated straight at a marauder. The man strapped to the whale louse was dirty, unshaven, and more frail and bony than even Catrina when she¡¯d first found the pregnant lady drifting on a plank of wood. Anger gripped her chest as she skated around him¡ªdodging past his fourteen cutlasses swishing at her¡ªand she kicked upwards, making sure not to overextend her glaive and cut into his back. The whale louse peeled off his back with a horrendous screech, and she grabbed its squishy frame before throwing it overboard. It tried to swipe at her on its way out, but she ducked and immediately skated forward to check on the man, her heart thumping in her chest. He was alive, breathing and well. Before he could even lift his head and mutter a word of thanks, she skated away to beeline straight for the other marauders. How many of them, Archive? [Eleven left.] She sucked in a sharp breath, forcing a grin onto her face. Check this out, then! She moved nimbly despite carving through wooden floorboards. Her cloak fluttered after her as she kicked in swift, precise blows, zigzagging through the horde of marauders and splicing the whale lice down in half with her glaives. The cutlasses that swung at her were too slow. She barely felt like she needed to dodge, though a few blades grazed the side of her cheeks and the pouring rain made it a bit hard to focus. The Guards were stalwart, but they weren¡¯t fast¡ªthey couldn¡¯t get behind the marauders and free the slaves, so the only one who could was her. She closed the distance between her and the last marauder in a flash, and in another moment she had the man knocked onto his stomach, stabbing her glaive through the whale louse and throwing it overboard. ¡°That¡¯s the last of them, cap!¡± she shouted, flicking wet hair out of her face as she whirled to face Enrique at the helm. ¡°What¡¯s the strategy here? We¡¯re just gonna outrun the rest of them on the whales?¡± ¡°Aye, lass!¡± he shouted back, and the Guards got to work carrying the freed slaves to the lower decks. The groaning, sickly, ailing men needed medical care. ¡°Get yerself down there as well, will ye? The quarterdeck ain¡¯t no place for a pretty lady! We¡¯re headin¡¯ straight for the Whirlpool City and prayin¡¯ the Guards at the walls are paying enough attention to lend us a few dozen cannonballs¡ª¡± [That is a mistake,] the Archive interrupted, speaking over Enrique¡¯s voice and confusing her ears. [The Whitewhale Marauders are brilliant at pursuit, and we are still well over a day away from the Whirlpool City. The whales will catch up to us within four hours. Tell him to change course for the Dead Island Straits.] Marisol blinked. The what? [Tell him. He is a Harbor Guard. He will know.] ¡°Cap! The bug in my ear says we ain¡¯t making it to the Whirlpool City, so it wants you to route to some place called the Dead Island Straits!¡± She was at the front of the ship, but Enrique was tall enough to peek over the helm, past the railings on the quarterdeck, and then give her a nasty scowl. ¡°Yer Archive told ye that?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°Is it fuckin¡¯ sure?¡± [Repeat after me¡ª] ¡°Of the six whales, only one of them is small and light enough to follow us through the strait!¡± she shouted. ¡°If it''s all six, we ain''t beating or running away from them, but if it''s just one, we can find somewhere to hide while we make repairs!¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Enrique still looked unconvinced, but then he looked back at the giant whales and grimaced¡ªjerking the helm hard left to swerve the entire warship off-course. "Ah, goddamnit! Yer an ¡®artificial intelligence¡¯, ain¡¯t ya? I ain''t know what sort of calculations it even did in yer head, but if it''s tellin'' us to go there, then it''s probably right!¡± he snapped. ¡°Tell my boys to ignore the slaves for a moment! I need ye lot to unfurl full sails if we''re goin¡¯ through that place!¡± Marisol didn''t do exactly as told. If it was just unfurling the other two sails, she could do it by herself. She jumped glaive-first onto the closest mast and started skating directly up with no comment, her basic setae helping her defy gravity as she aimed for the ropes keeping the sails tied up¡ªshe backflipped once she was ten meters off the ground, kicked out at the ropes as she did, and landed on the tip of her glaives with the second sails falling loudly over her head. ¡°Third sail, lass!¡± Enrique shouted, and she immediately snapped toward her destination, repeating the same process with the final mast before landing next to him. Whirling around, she saw the six giant whales still charging full speed ahead at them, but at least the distance between them wasn¡¯t closing so rapidly anymore. The winds were strong and the sails were unfurled. Right now, they were evenly matched in speed, but how long would that last? Not very long, she thought, if the Archive thought they had to shake the marauders off in a place as ominous-sounding as the ¡®Dead Island Straits¡¯. What the hell are you making us sail into, anyways? [Look in front of you.] The Archive pointed behind her, so she raced to the railings and poked her head out, squinting through the dark storm. Giant monoliths loomed in the distance¡ªjust a bit away from the silhouette outline of the Whirlpool City¡ªand they were an archipelago with jagged, uneven peaks, like the teeth of some ancient beast. Between the mountainous islands were deep and narrow canyons, just wide enough for their warship to sail through, but they promised nothing but darkness beyond. Marisol certainly couldn¡¯t see into the canyons even with enormous shafts of moonlight falling on top of them. Something that ominous is so close to the Whirlpool City? [The Dead Island Straits are very well-documented in the Hasharana¡¯s database. It is hardly a threat to anyone if you do not venture inside unprepared.] And¡­ we¡¯re prepared? The Archive shrugged nonchalantly. [There is a one hundred percent chance the marauders are unprepared, too.] If the fact that their pursuers might not want to follow them into the narrow canyons was supposed to be reassuring, Marisol didn¡¯t feel it, but she didn¡¯t have time to feel it. As they neared the islands, strange bubbles began to drift around the warship, their round surfaces glimmering faintly in the moonlight. The warship started creaking and groaning. The rain droplets that fell around them no longer splashed against the wood, and instead, where they touched the bubbles, they became suspended mid-air as though defying gravity themselves. She glanced at Enrique nervously, but the captain seemed just as nervous, knuckles white and tight as he kept the helm steady. Then, just as they were about to sail through the closest canyon, Marisol¡¯s eyes grew wide at the sight of a giant bubble hovering in front of their ship. It shimmered with an oily sheen so thin it seemed like it¡¯d pop at the slightest touch, but instead, it swallowed the ship whole¡ªenveloping all of them in a sudden, abrupt world of silence. The roar of the storm vanished. The bellow of the giant whales faded. The world outside was a watery blur, the colors smudged and distorted. No longer anchored to any sense of gravity, the warship began flying, lifted off the sea by the giant bubble, and even Marisol almost lurched off the railings as Enrique started steering them through the canyon. Behind them, five of the six giant whales bellowed to a halt. Only one kept charging at them, sailing through a giant bubble itself to begin swimming through the air as well. ¡­ I¡¯d love to hear your explanation this time¡ª [Low-gravity strait due to an abundance of a certain type of bioarcanic essence in the air. The low gravity manifests in the form of these bubbles that can only be found around this archipelago,] the Archive said, poking her cheek and making her turn around so she could see how close the pursuing whale was. [Tell the captain to make random turns through the canyons and islands. All we need is to find a particularly dark cove to dock in, and that whale should not be able to find us.] She relayed the message to Enrique¡ªgot a mumbling ¡®I know¡¯ as an answer, and immediately returned to scowling at the Archive. Don¡¯t just say it¡¯s a ¡®low-gravity strait¡¯ and move on like it ain¡¯t nothing special. What kind of biomagic is this? The rocks and vegetation by the sides of the canyon were sharp and dense. There was no rain here. Shafts of moonlight could only fall on the deck here and there, shrouding them in darkness. She heard the marauders behind them shouting, probably trying to get their whale to speed up, but a few decisive turns by Captain Enrique and they were weaving through the winding canyons. She let herself sit down against the railings and breathe out a heavy sigh, figuring they were probably out of the woods for now. The marauders shouldn¡¯t be able to track them through the canyons easily. [It is the remnants of a powerful bug,] the Archive said pointedly. [Three decades ago, after escaping from the giant remipede, the Worm God and the Thousand Tongue passed through this archipelago on a rowboat. It was a normal archipelago back then, but for one single anomaly: there was a giant damselfly residing here¡ªan E-Rank Damselfly God by the name of Venosa¡ªwith wings so powerful she could flap them once and kick up the sea around the archipelago, as though gravity did not exist. [Anyways, the two of them overkilled it and accidentally sent her body parts flying everywhere. Her giant wings were scattered into scales, and then they sank beneath the islands where they continued releasing their grafity-defying bioarcanic essence. However, because tracking down all the scales and destroying them completely would take too much time, the two of them elected to ignore the low-gravity phenomenon. Currently, the Hasharana estimate the low-gravity phenomenon will naturally cease to exist in another two decades or so once the scales naturally decay¡ªdoes this explanation satisfy you?] No. [What would you like further elaboration on?] Why were two of the strongest humans in history¡ªwho could most certainly fly with their cicada wings and wormhole magic¡ªbe back on a normal rowboat? [Irrelevant.] She grumbled under her breath as they sailed under a canopy of vines strung between two mountainous islands, and Enrique swerved the warship into a large grotto just barely hidden behind a wall of foliage. Inside the grotto, the air was cool and thick with moisture. Dimly glowing moss lined the large rock walls, casting soft blue and pink light on the tiny hidden ecosystem. It was a cave with strange, luminous ferns growing across the ground, and there was an opening in the ceiling above to let just a single shaft of moonlight fall through. The faint sounds of dripping water echoed throughout, a rhythmic tip-tap that starkly contrasted the ship¡¯s screeching to halt on dry soil and land. With a final, low groan, the warship trembled as the bubble popped and let it fall onto the bed of ferns. The whole thing swayed slightly, and for a second Marisol worried they¡¯d all tip over sideways¡­ but then its weight settled, the hull stopped shuddering, and she let out yet another quiet breath of relief. Outside, past the wall of foliage, she spotted what seemed like the shadow of a giant whale swimming through the canyon. She and Enrique held their breaths then, but only for another second. The marauders didn¡¯t notice them and swam right by. ¡°... We gotta lay low for a while until we get the ship fixed,¡± Enrique muttered, as a few Guards slowly climbed onto the upper deck to see what was going on. Catrina wobbled up the stairs to the quarterdeck as well, a worried frown stricken on her pale face. Marisol was worried, too. Now that they were all allowed to take a breather, she could see just how damaged the hull and sails were where the slaves were fired into them. ¡°How long do we gotta stay here for?¡± she asked, scowling up at the torn sails as Enrique left the helm. ¡°We ain¡¯t got the spare parts to fix everything, so we gotta scrounge some up from this strait before thinkin¡¯ about how we¡¯re gonna swerve past those whale pests,¡± Enrique said, stumbling down the stairs to meet with the rest of his men in the lower decks. ¡°I reckon¡­ two weeks. Maybe even a whole month. Depends on how many parts we can get, and how fast we get them, so give us some help with that, lass?¡± Her lips twisted as she heard the timeline. Maybe it was just because of the nightmares she¡¯d been having recently, or maybe it was because the reality of the situation was finally sinking in, but¡­ if delays kept coming one after another, she felt it could easily be another few months before she could get home to her mama. And she missed home so, so dearly. So no. She gritted her teeth and whirled to face the wall of foliage, determined to find the parts they needed as soon as possible. [... It will be dangerous navigating these low-gravity canyons, but they are called the ¡®Dead Island Straits¡¯ because lots of giant bugs are known to perish here as they are dragged up from the water,] the Archive said. [If you are able to jump and fly across the canyons faster than everyone else, you may be able to find high-quality bug parts just floating around.] Marisol glanced at the Archive, frowning slightly. I was thinking I¡¯d just skate around on the walls. What do you mean ¡®fly¡¯ around the canyons? The Archive stared back at her pointedly. [This is a low-gravity strait, and you have a wing mutation to unlock, do you not?] Chapter 30 - Airborne [T3 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Wings Lvl. 1] [Brief Description: You have grown short wings specialized for gliding between your shoulder blades. These wings are incapable of flying. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from using your wings] [Aura: 1,052 (+20) ¡ú 1,202 (+20)] [Points: 205 ¡ú 55]
After making sure the marauders wouldn¡¯t find them inside the grotto, the first thing all of them did was sleep the rest of the night off. They were all wet, bloody, and exhausted, Marisol included¡ªso they only started figuring out their next course of action after waking up bright and early the next morning. ¡­ I thought you said I couldn¡¯t fly, Marisol thought, peering over the edge of the grotto as she did. And that¡¯s¡­ like, a hundred meter drop to the bottom of the chasm. It¡¯s still raining as well. Won¡¯t my wings just get too heavy and¡ª [Fun fact: most bugs have slightly hydrophobic wings to help them repel rainwater, so a light drizzle like this would not impede most bugs from taking flight¡ªmuch less a water strider with hydrospines such as you,] the Archive said plainly. [You are correct as well. You would not be ¡®flying¡¯ in its most literal definition, but because this is a low-gravity strait, it is possible for you to maintain consistent airflow provided your takeoffs are strong and firm enough. Here, and only here, gliding is not too far off from flying.] The explanation didn''t convince her for a second. It was one thing if she could flap her wings, but the short, glassy, veiny fabrics that''d grown between her shoulder blades felt beyond flimsy to the touch. She glanced behind her and pinched her wings, feeling no pain, no sensation. It was like she was just wearing another piece of apparel over her normal cloak. [It is the same situation as your glaives last time: it will take time for your nerves to fully develop within your wings,] the Archive said. [Now jump off the ledge and start gliding around the canyons.] ¡­ Chewing her lip, she looked further behind her and saw the Guards unloading most of their supplies from the warship. They had to feed and care for a dozen rescued slaves, after all, and the warship was just not holding up well. Between the gaping holes in the hull and the massive tears in all three sails, it''d be a while before they could start moving again. Making camp in this grotto was definitely the right move for the time being. She looked to Enrique, who was ordering for tents to be set up around the small pond, and his warrior instincts were very keen. His gaze latched onto hers for a brief moment, and he nodded, giving her a look that seemed to say, ¡®scram and find us some usable parts for repair already¡¯. If the Guards were going to be busy making camp here, then she was the only one who could go out on an expedition. ¡­ No more delays to the Whirlpool City, she muttered, turning around and gulping as she peered off the ledge. You want me to just¡­ jump? You sure my wings will kick in automatically? [There are plenty of floating debris you can stand on outside the grotto, but¡­ eh. I would give it fifty-fifty¡ª] ¡°Marisol?¡± Catrina''s voice made her whirl, and the weary young lady looked a bit startled. The two of them were the only girls on the warship, so it came as no surprise to her that Catrina may be wondering what she was planning to do¡­ and she couldn''t very well say she was just going to jump off a hundred-meter-tall ledge, could she? Damnit, Archive, it really is a bit nerve-wracking. Even that waterfall was only fifty meters tall, and I still¡ª ¡°You dropped these in the cabin back then, before you left to help father fight off the boarding marauders,¡± Catrina said, holding out two pearls in her palms with a small, uncertain look. ¡°These things¡­ were harvested from that giant remipede, right? Were you keeping them so you could make Swarmsteel with them?¡± Marisol blinked. Then she patted herself down, realizing she hadn''t even noticed. I thought you''d be able to tell if I dropped something. [The olfactory nerve centers are rather small. Even I cannot¡ª] ¡°I''m not sure if this would suffice, but I made a little something out of them. Close your eyes for me?¡± Catrina waved at her to close her eyes and turn her head to the side, so she did, with a bit of hesitation¡ªthen she felt a prick on her left earlobe, making her wince. A second prick on her other earlobe made her reel away, prying her eyelids open as her fingers flew up to touch her ears. The young lady in front of her only gave her a pretty, charming laugh as she felt the smooth pearls pinned in her ears.
[Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: +5/20)]
¡°My mother liked catching pearls and making jewelry out of them, so I made earrings out of those ¡®pearls¡¯. The pins are made from rolled-up ant chitin as well, so you can¡­ what¡¯s the word? ¡®Meld¡¯ with them?¡± Catrina beamed, scratching the back of her head and averting her eyes slightly. ¡°If you don¡¯t like them, I can turn them into something else. I can make all sorts of jewelry as long as you give me the parts. For now, though¡ª¡± Marisol hugged her, making her pause mid-sentence. ¡°I like them!¡± Marisol said, pulling away as she twirled the pearls in her earlobe. They didn¡¯t hurt too bad because of biological incompatibility, they didn¡¯t feel like they¡¯d fall off anytime soon, and they looked pretty to boot. ¡°Hey, maybe you can even make something pretty out of those remipede parts the guys have been hoarding? If you could make bracelets or necklaces for everyone, wouldn¡¯t we all be a lot stronger?¡± Catrina smiled weakly, shaking her head. ¡°I¡¯m not a Swarmsteel Maker. The best I can do is stick pins into pearls and put them in your ears,¡± she said, before clasping her hands in front of her and dipping her head slightly. ¡°Come back safe, Marisol. There are still stories I wish to hear of the desert.¡± Marisol couldn¡¯t resist giving Catrina another hug before the young lady returned to the warship, adamant on helping out with nursing the wounded. A few men glanced her way and looked stunned for a moment¡ªevidently, her pearls shone like the moon itself and everyone wanted a piece of them¡ªso that was all the confidence boost she needed to face the hundred-meter-tall ledge again. She sucked in a sharp breath. She adjusted her earrings. And then she leaped off, soaring through the thin wall of foliage as the mighty sunlit canyon opened up before her. ¡­ Ah. This is terrifying. It was just a normal jump at first, a mere long jump ten meters away from the grotto, but then she started falling. Gravity took hold of her. The sinking sensation in her gut made her arms flail and panic for a moment before her glaives slammed into something hard¡ªa floating chunk of wooden debris that¡¯d split off the warship as they sailed into the grotto. She tumbled and stopped right before she could roll off the edge, her heart thumping in her chest as her eyes grew wide with terror and excitement. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. For a second there, she really felt as though she was flying. Why didn¡¯t my wings fully open? she thought, glancing back at her twitching wings, and she poked at them as though doing so would make them come alive. Archiveeeeee. I thought you said they¡¯d¡ª [Do you think all winged bugs know how to fly the moment they are born?] She looked anxiously down at the canyon, realizing her floating debris was slowly, steadily sinking. There were dozens and hundreds of other floating items in the air nearby¡ªslabs of stone, mossy branches, and countless other sheddings from the mountainous islands around her. Uh¡­ No? The way you¡¯re saying it makes it sound like the answer¡ª [Well, bugs are actually relatively simplistic creatures,] the Archive said, wagging a leg at her from atop her shoulder. [Contrary to popular belief, they do not need to ¡®learn¡¯ to fly the same way most birds and mammals need to learn complex behaviors. From the moment they emerge from their cocoons or are hatched from their eggs, their simple nervous systems and musculature are already designed to almost perfectly coordinate the movements required for flight. Winged bugs fly as though it is a reflex¡ªcompared to humans who must consciously juggle balancing, muscle coordination, and responding to environmental feedback while first learning how to walk. They are physically superior to humanity in almost every sense of the word.] Hey, are you on their side or ours¡ª [Now, despite possessing this innate instinct at dynamic movement that humans take years to master, some bugs may experience difficulties during their very first attempt at flying,] the Archive interrupted, tapping where her wings connected to her shoulder blades. [For example, newly emerged butterflies and dragonflies often need time for their wings to fully dry and harden before they can fly effectively. You are currently at that stage. You must allow your wings to get accustomed to the sensation of airflow before you can control them.] Marisol bit her lips, staring at the closest debris she could jump to. So¡­ I have to keep jumping until my wings feel like opening. [Correct.] How long will that take? [No idea.] ¡­ How useful you are. Sucking in another deep breath, she closed her eyes and felt the winds passing through her, making her cloak, scarf, and hair flutter under thin sunlight¡ªthen, she jumped with all her strength. She soared fifteen meters up and slammed upside-down into a slab of stone. Her glaives stabbed into the stone and the setae on her palms helped her stick to it, but then the slab started sinking quickly. She took off for a distant slab again, chaining her momentum together as she leapfrogged across the canyon. Surprisingly, it wasn¡¯t as physically demanding as it was mentally terrifying. Gravity was here, but it was really, really weak. She could already leap ten meters up with her enhanced strength, so it should¡¯ve come as no surprise that she could bounce from debris to debris like she was taking a stroll in the park. Regardless, her heart was still in her throat every time she jumped, and¡­ she loved the sensation. The speed. The weightlessness. There were so many dance moves she couldn¡¯t pull off on land or water that she could easily try out here, in the sky, but that¡¯d just be reckless of her. One wrong slip and she¡¯d fall to her death. That much hadn¡¯t changed. So, the next time she slammed hard against a piece of debris on all fours, she narrowed her eyes at a particularly faraway piece as her next destination. It was at least a hundred meters away with nothing floating in between. She wouldn¡¯t be able to back out halfway through. Jump or die. Lightning at my heels. With a sharp exhale, she leaped. The wind whirled around her, the debris shattering under her glaives and scattering across the canyon. The sheer burst of speed carried her twenty meters forward, shooting her in a straight line, but then she started dipping. She started falling. She pressed her arms flat against her sides and gritted her teeth, trying to ¡®feel¡¯ the extra appendages jutting out her shoulder blades. And then she willed strength into them the same way she did her legs, making them unfurl and fan out to her sides. ¡­ Alright! She dipped for only three seconds, but then she tilted her upper body and let the winds carry her back up. The air was cool and sharp against her skin. It tugged at her clothes, whipped through her hair, and the taste of salt from the roaring torrents below her clung to her lips. She spread her arms and let out a laugh, her body charged with more energy than she¡¯d ever felt before. Archive! Look! Look! I¡¯m¡ª [Gliding, not flying. There is no need to flap your wings like that.] Surely I¡¯m getting some lift from doing that, though? I mean¡ª [Watch out,] it said lazily. She reacted a bit too late, slamming headfirst into the slab of stone she¡¯d been aiming for, and it was only because of the setae on her palms that she stayed glued to it instead of peeling right off. Groaning, she rubbed her bruised nose and flicked the little water strider on her shoulder with a scowl. With one more glare at the little water strider, she turned and looked out at the rest of the canyon. Now that she could glide and cruise along the winds, she could essentially go wherever she pleased within the strait. ¡­ You remember the way back to the grotto? [Yes.] What¡¯s the warship need for repairs? [The main thing would be the sails,] the Archive said, gesturing broadly around her. [Wood for repairing the hull would come by very easily. Even the Guards can harvest it from inside the grotto, so you should search for anything that could be used as sails¡ªgiant crustacean chitin and fish scales would work wonders as usual.] She turned her head around, squinting for anything of the sort floating across the canyon. I don¡¯t wanna go looking for carcasses too far away from the grotto, though. If anything happens, I need to be able to come back quickly. [Use your sense of smell,] the Archive chided, poking at her earrings. [The olfactory nerve centers have increased your perception slightly, and now your perception level is four times that of the average human¡¯s. You should be able to pinpoint the closest carcass via the pungent smell of rotting death alone.] ¡­ Ah! She closed her eyes and took a deep, heavy whiff of the air¡ªsmelling mostly brine and the sharp, fresh scent of the morning. There were also a dozen more subtle scents swirling underneath it all. The gushing smell of flesh. Vigorous streams of blood. She opened her eyes slowly and felt as though she could physically ¡®see¡¯ the trails of blood leading her in every conceivable direction. Each of them would surely end at a giant carcass. The only question now was which trail of blood to follow. [The closest one appears to be within a hundred meters. Check that one out first.] She nodded briskly and took off from her debris, gliding a bit lower in the canyon as she headed towards her first carcass. Flying straight was a bit difficult at the beginning, but eventually she got the hang of it¡ªit really was ¡®instinctual¡¯ as the Archive had said¡ªand landed on the side of the cliff. She stared down at a giant orange shrimp impaled on a jutting rock spike. She winced at the gruesome manner of death, and quickly waved this first option off as she jumped after the second blood trail. Lots of giants are just dead around this strait, huh? she thought, half-mumbling to herself as she checked the second, third and fourth carcasses. They were all manners of shrimp, crabs and lobsters smashed against the side of the canyon. You said it¡¯s because¡­ the low gravity pulls them out during especially strong waves when they go briefly airborne, and then they just get impaled on the spikes? How unlucky is that?¡± [Very few creatures live here since it became a low-gravity strait three decades ago, and natural decay occurs very slowly around here as a result. The carcasses you are looking at are most likely not new carcasses by any means¡ªthey have probably been stuck there for years and decades with nothing to feast on them.] Sounds like an ecological nightmare. [It is called the Dead Island Straits, after all.] So she bounced around for what felt like two or three more hours, growing more and more tired with each hard-shelled crustacean carcass she checked. There were still hundreds more blood trails for her to follow, but she felt she was starting to stray too far away from the grotto. Any further and she should probably tell the Guards where she was going first. Fortunately, on her way back to the grotto, she came across a giant carp lying flat on a protruded cliffside near the bottom of the canyon. In fact, it was almost directly under the grotto¡ªshe¡¯d simply failed to notice it because she only started smelling much later in her hunt. Her eyes lit up as she glided down to the rocky ledge, landing atop the giant carp with a quiet thud. The carp was twenty meters long, ten meters wide, and its eyes were milky white and lifeless. Its bright orange scales were the first thing that caught her eye. They gleamed even under dim sunlight, and each one of them were as wide as a dinner plate, more than large enough to patch up the holes in the warship¡¯s sails. Bits of them were chipped and dulled, and some had fallen away, but for the most part it was not nearly as mutilated as the other carcasses she¡¯d seen the past few hours. It was almost as though it¡¯d flopped up to this ledge and just¡­ ¡­ Something ain¡¯t right. Why¡¯d it get stuck up here, a mere ten meters from the bottom of the canyon? Couldn¡¯t it have just flopped right back down? So she took another deep, heavy whiff¡ªand she smelled something acidic lingering in the air, a condensed scent of poison she¡¯d not smelled anywhere else around the canyon. She dodged before the Archive could even shout at her, just narrowly evading a feathered dart that slammed into the carp¡¯s scales from behind. Tch. Yet another ¡®anomaly¡¯ again, Archive? As she skated back on the carp and whirled, she eyed the dozen dark-green tribesmen hovering in the air above her. Their slender, half-insect bodies were suspended effortlessly by their wings beating so fast they were but blurs to her eyes, so if she had to place what type of insect they were¡­ [They are the Damselfly Oracles, known and documented cannibal tribesmen of the Dead Island Straits,] the Archive said dryly. [They could be unexpectedly friendly, though, like the Harbor Guards when you first met them in the giant remipede¡¯s stomach. Would you like to try to talk to them?] Chapter 31 - Damselflies Minus the beating wings and the extra two arms jutting out their backs, the damselfly tribesmen were very much like Kuku and the crab children. The men only wore thatch shorts, the women wore loose-fitting reed dresses, and their tanned skins were blotched with intricate tattoos she couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of from a distance. Each of them carried a blowgun with them, carved from dark wood with sharp, pointed ends. They were designed with only one purpose in mind: to fire poison darts at unsuspecting girls trying to steal their prey. In that sense, maybe they weren¡¯t so much like the crab children. With metallic masks over their faces and giant, hexagonal insect eyes boring holes into her from above, they looked far, far more terrifying than Kuku when she¡¯d first met him. ¡­ Nope. Don''t wanna try talking like this. [Then you already know what to do.] [Loosen your wings and¡ª] She kicked off the giant carp as they jerked their blowguns up, firing a volley of darts at her. There was no warning, no attempt at communication. She slammed glaive-first against the canyon wall and started skating up, speeding away from them as the Archive rambled off random numbers in her head. [Going through database¡­ locating the locale tongue¡­ automatic translation activated. If you wish¡ª] ¡°Stop!¡± she shouted without looking behind her, throwing her arms up as she continued skating. ¡°I ain¡¯t here to steal your prey! I¡¯m sorry! If you could point me to another giant carp you can spare for me, though, I promise I¡¯ll entertain you with my speed and dance routines¡ª¡± In the blink of an eye, six of the tribesmen blurred in front of her, their beating wings a constant annoyance in her ears as they fired darts down at her. [Evade!] She kicked and backflipped off the wall, fanning her wings out in the same motion. The winds immediately jerked her to the right, and now she was gliding away from the grotto, away from the tribesmen. She winced as she wiped a streak of blood off her cheek and glanced behind her, scowling when she saw them flying after her at breakneck speed. [It is not deadly poison, fortunately,] the Archive muttered, licking the wound on her face. [Avoid getting hit by any more of their darts and you should not be paralyzed. It is not their style to poison their prey to the point they themselves will get poisoned when they bite into you.] Not their style? she hissed, slamming into a branch and leaping off it as the first of the damselflies caught up, his clawed insectoid feet smashing through the entire branch. What¡¯s their deal, anyway? They¡¯re fast! Almost faster than me, even! [They are a known and documented tribe of D to C-Rank Giant-Class cannibals who reside in the Dead Island Traits. The Hasharana believe they used to be normal tribesmen until they started consuming the Lesser Damselfly God''s carcass three decades ago, at which point they began mutating damselfly traits. Only after the Hasharana realized they existed did they receive systems that gave them their Pond Damselfly Classes, which halted their wild mutational growth and kept them from losing their humanity.] So you¡¯re saying it¡¯s the Worm God¡¯s fault I¡¯m getting chased, then, for not properly cleaning the carcass up and letting these people eat the damselfly in the first place! The hell¡¯s a damselfly, anyways? The Archive made a status screen pop up next to her face, and she gasped as she almost jumped headfirst into another slab of stone. She jerked her body down and swerved under it, her wings rippling at the abrupt change in direction. Two of the pursuing tribesmen weren¡¯t so quick to change, though, and slammed right into the slab with pained, ear-grating howls. Don¡¯t show me a status screen! Just tell me¡ª [Damselflies are like smaller, slimmer dragonflies. They typically reside around aquatic habitats. Both have two pairs of wings. Although the damselfly wing pairs are similar in size, compared to the dragonfly counterparts, who¡¯s hindwings are typically broader and more rigid than the forewings,] the Archive said curtly. [This means damselflies have a weaker, more fluttery pattern of flight compared to the strong flight capabilities of the dragonfly. They are less able to change directions sharply.] Her mind raced to find a method to throw them off her heels. So, if I make sharp turns, they wouldn¡¯t be able to follow me? [Maybe. Dragonflies are the ¡®fastest¡¯ flyers of the Swarm, after all, so there is not much meaning in saying damselflies are their slower and weaker variations. They can still change directions faster than most winged insects. However, their peripheral vision, field of vision, and visual acuity are all weaker than that of the dragonfly, so make of that what you will.] She was about to snap at the Archive when she spotted a waterfall sprouting from the side of the canyon in front of her, and then she smelled a blood trail leading into the spring tunnel. ¡­ And how good are they at navigating through the dark? The Archive gave her an amused hum. [Not very good,] it said. [No bug can do everything well. In exchange for their powerful flight and highly refined visual senses, the damselflies have extremely tiny antennae that serve little to no olfactory function. Couple that with the fact that all damselflies are diurnal insects¡ª¡®daytime¡¯ insects, in short¡ªthey would be almost completely blind and useless in the dark, so people with Damselfly Classes would not typically have branch mutations that allow them to see in the dark.] Then I¡¯ve got an idea. [I would tell you to refrain, but it is always do or die with you, is it not?] Forcing a smile onto her face, she jumped off the next piece of debris and charged straight for the mouth of the waterfall, a dozen damselflies following after her as she glided through the narrow opening. Suddenly, all was dark around her. The spring tunnel was at most three meters tall and five meters wide. The roaring torrent was so close beneath her that cold water sprayed onto her face, wetting her lips and revitalizing her body. The whooshing sounds of gliding in open air turned into sharp whistles in the narrow tunnel. She immediately slammed her glaives down on the water and began skating¡ªshe was a water strider, of course, and her specialty was on water. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and decided she wouldn¡¯t open them until she reached the other side of the tunnel. The bitter scent of blood trails would guide her through. I owe you one, Catrina! Gusts of wind whistled behind her as she skated through the tunnels, swirling through narrow passageways and turning deeper and deeper into the canyon. She hardly cared about skating slowly or treading lightly. Behind her, she heard shouts and screeches. Tribesmen crashed into walls¡ªtheir only compass being the incredibly thin light reflecting off her glaives¡ªso she vibrated her hydrospines and flicked her hands out, sending ripples out in every single direction.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The ripples bounced and echoed off the walls, throwing the tribesmen off even harder. She started chortling for a moment as she heard a whole bunch of them crashing into each other¡ªthen she tripped over what felt like a thin stone bridge. She would¡¯ve fallen flat on her face if she hadn¡¯t shot her wings out at the last moment to continue gliding, her tongue mere inches from the water surface. [Focus.] [You can smell the way out, but you do not have the basic compound eyes mutation unlocked, either. You cannot see anything on the way there.] As she righted herself and began skating again, she gritted her teeth and opened her eyes, if only to catch the barest glimpses of light being reflected off her glaives. She still couldn¡¯t see more than the occasional boulder in her way, or a sudden dip in the ceiling she had to duck under, but not cracking her skull open from sheer speed had to be good enough. You know, maybe it ain¡¯t a good idea to leave my perception level so relatively low, huh? [For speed-based warriors like you? That is certainly true. While increasing your speed also increases your reaction time and mental agility, it means nothing if you cannot sense anything through environmental obscurants such as fogs, hazes, and simple darkness. I have not been nagging you to raise your perception because you have not been skating in confined spaces where you must make constant sharp turns into unknown obstacles¡ªyou could kind of see everything from afar on the open seas¡ªbut please try to keep your speed level somewhat consistent with your perception level from here on out.] And what about dexterity? Should I be levelling that as well? [As you are? Your current speed level is four while your dexterity level is three, which is¡­ acceptable. You are unusually competent at maintaining your balance even at incredibly high speeds, so just try not to raise your speed level so far ahead of your dexterity level. Five levels ahead should be the absolute maximum.] She sensed there were twists and turns that¡¯d take her deeper into the caves, but she wasn¡¯t trying to skate herself into a dead end. While it was surprising the damselflies were still somewhat able to follow her¡ªthey weren¡¯t extremely powerful flyers for nothing, after all¡ªthey¡¯d significantly slowed down. They were probably decently injured from having been slamming into walls over and over. So she beelined straight for the end of the tunnel, following the strongest blood trail while she kept her eyes peeled for the smallest hint of sunlight. ¡­ There! The exit! The whole way towards the exit where sunlight was a pure golden hole in the wall, she couldn¡¯t stop herself from looking behind her. Four or five damselflies were still extremely hot on her heels, but their bodies were sagging, their wings weren¡¯t beating consistently, and she couldn¡¯t describe them in any way other than ¡®drunk¡¯. They flew like they were drunk. And since their eyesight is way better than mine, they¡¯ll probably be blind for about ten seconds after exiting the tunnels, right? That¡¯ll give me time to get out of their line of sight and glide back to the Harbor Guards! I don¡¯t want them following me back just in case they hurt Catrina! Her pulse was racing in a painful staccato. She unfurled her wings and prepared to glide out. She pushed through the final stretch, skating as fast as she could, and the moment she burst out into the canyon on the opposite side of the cave she¡¯d just skated through¡ª She was met with the bloodshot eye of a giant white whale, a whole town of marauders strapped to its back. ¡­ Oh, come on. Her exit from the waterfall tunnel was a flashy one. Her glaives reflected bright sunlight in every direction. The marauders on the floating whale¡¯s back spotted her. The whale itself spotted her. There was only a brief second where she soared peacefully over the wooden town on its back¡ªand by the time she glided over to the other side of the whale, the marauders were already banging their war drums, training their dozens upon dozens of cannons on her. How unlucky is it that¡ª The marauders didn¡¯t fire at her, though. A few damselfly tribesmen exploded out the tunnel after her, with a dozen more to follow, and all of them immediately changed targets. She wasn¡¯t their juicy prey anymore. They swooped down on the fourteen-armed men manning the cannons and loading their muskets. Shots fired into the air and shouting swelled. Marisol fell under the floating whale with her back to the ground as she looked up at the fighting. [What fortuitous timing,] the Archive said, sighing a breath of relief. [Go. Let them fight amongst themselves. You should be able to sneak away in the chao¡ª] What¡¯s going to happen to the tribesmen, though? She glided into the side of the canyon and clung to the walls, looking up at the battle between the tribesmen and the marauders with her brows furrowed. The tribesmen weren¡¯t winning, and not by a long shot. There were hundreds of marauders equipped with rifles and heavy armor on that whale. The tribesmen¡¯s poison darts were as ineffective as rubber balls against a metal wall, and the marauders were even starting to shoot nets into the sky, catching them right out of the air. I wasn¡¯t trying to¡­ I wasn¡¯t trying to kill them. I just wanted to throw them off. [They would have eaten you if they had caught you. They are no different from the¡ª] It¡¯s not like they fly outside this strait to raid ships and capture slaves and hurt other people, right? From their perspective, I was the one who intruded on their territory. The Archive sighed and shook its head. [You would make a good Hasharana.] [Go.] She nodded firmly back and kicked off the wall, gliding under and up the giant whale. Now, she remembered all too well how powerful the Blackclaw Marauders were when she¡¯d fought them unprepared, so she wasn¡¯t stupid enough to think she could take on a hundred higher-rank marauders on their home territory like this. No. She¡¯d do nothing of the sort. If she wanted to beat down the marauders, she¡¯d need the help of the Guards¡­ and however many damselfly tribesmen she could tear away from the fight above. If she could bring even one of them to safety, then she had to try. That one! Faster, Marisol! More speed! There was one damselfly tribesman still uncaptured by the countless nets and bullets the marauders were shooting into the sky, so before the unmasked girl with one bleeding wing could get shot down as well, Marisol tackled her from below and dragged her up the canyon. The marauders roared and fired after them, of course¡ªa dozen cannonballs exploded around her as she skated up the wall. Somehow, she managed to muster enough strength to drag both of them over the edge of the canyon, throwing them into a giant bone forest two hundred meters above the sea. Marisol let go of the damselfly girl as they tumbled into a roll, groaning with exhaustion. She didn¡¯t know about the girl, but she¡¯d overworked her wings far too much. She¡¯d just learned how to glide less than an hour ago, and she was already swooping and swerving through cannon fire like she knew what she was doing. It was a damned miracle she still found the strength to stand and pick up the girl in her arms, skating straight into the forest of bones. [Find cover, quick!] She didn¡¯t need the Archive to tell her that, but she just barely vaulted over a giant fish skull for cover as the marauders rose after them. The damselfly girl tried to snap at her finger, but she managed to wrangle four arms with one as she clamped her other hand over the girl¡¯s mouth, shushing at both of them to stay quiet. The giant whale was looming over the forest of bones, its gargantuan body casting a great shadow over them as it swam through the air, searching for them. Marisol counted thirty seconds, cold beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, before the whale suddenly stopped fifty meters overhead in the center of the forest. A dozen anchors dropped from the wooden town, and she spotted fifty or so marauders sliding down the chains. ¡­ So persistent, that bunch¡ª ¡°Get off me, plagas del mar!¡± The girl bit her palm and made her wince, loosening her grip just enough for the girl to break out and slide across to the other side of the fish skull. Marisol''s immediate reaction was to throw her hands into the air and keep them raised. Her bleeding hand hurt like hell, but the girl was bleeding from one of her wings, too, and breathing just as hard as she was. They couldn¡¯t afford to be fighting each other now. ¡°... Wait,¡± she breathed, smiling softly, only hoping her words were getting translated right. ¡°¡®Plagas del mar¡¯¡­ that¡¯s what you tribesmen call the marauders, right? I ain¡¯t no marauder. I¡¯m with¡­ uh, I¡¯m with the people in that city right outside your strait. I ain¡¯t here to¡ª¡± ¡°No!¡± the girl snarled, and her brilliant green irises flared with anger. ¡°Mama told Hana! All outsiders plagas del mar! You, too¡ªmarred with no color! You are danger! Something bad will happen to Whirlpool City if Hana let you go, so Hana must eat you!¡± Marisol dropped her smile and narrowed her eyes, her face dark as a pond on a moonless night. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± she asked in a low, quiet voice. ¡°What¡­ who are you¡ª¡± [It is rumored that, because they are capable of flying so fast, the dragonflies and damselflies of the Swarm perceive time itself as moving slower than them,] the Archive said, a sliver of uncertainty in its voice. [The giant damselfly that used to reside here¡ªthe E-Rank Damselfly God¡ªwas rumored to be able to detect danger far in the future because of how fast she was. Now, the same rumors swirl around the cannibals who live in the Dead Island Straits, particularly from descendants whose ancestors consumed that Damselfly God¡¯s flesh three decades ago.] [That is why they are called the Damselfly Oracles: tribesmen with the Swarmblood Art of ''Color Precognition''.] Chapter 32 - Oracles Precognition or not, the moment the damselfly girl tried to fly away¡ª¡®Hana¡¯, she¡¯d called herself¡ªMarisol immediately darted forward to grab her ankle. Hana hissed at her, but she dragged the girl down before either of them could be spotted by the descending marauders. The sound of the damselfly¡¯s beating wings were difficult to miss. Marisol had no doubt they¡¯d be found instantly if Hana were allowed to fly to her fellow tribesmen¡¯s rescue. Naturally, it was a struggle keeping their voices down. Hana snapped at her as she skated around in the blink of an eye, sweeping the girl off her feet while tearing off a piece of her cloak. In one swift motion, she bandaged Hana¡¯s bleeding wing stump and secured it in place with a cord of rope she¡¯d apparently stuffed into her cloak at some point. It took a while, but eventually Hana seemed to realize she was only trying to help. She was allowed to finish the knotting in peace, and then the damselfly zipped out from under her on pure footwork alone. Now they stood on opposite ends of the giant fish skull once again, but Hana¡¯s bared and gritted teeth didn¡¯t seem so threatening anymore. ¡°... We can¡¯t stay here or fight the marauders,¡± Marisol whispered, keeping her hands raised in the air as she looked towards the giant whale looming over them in the distance. In no time at all, the marauders would start tearing through the bone forest looking for them. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ Marisol. I ain¡¯t with them, but I know people who can help you get your friends back. If you follow me back to my people, I can at least keep you safe and hidden from the marauders.¡± Hana fixed her with a glare, silent for a long time. For a second, Marisol worried her automatic translation wasn¡¯t working again, but then Hana¡¯s needle-row teeth seemingly turned sharper under dim sunlight. The girl glanced back at her bandaged wing, the fifty or so marauders sliding down the anchor chains, and then back at Marisol. ¡°You, plagas del mar,¡± Hana said, pursing her lips. ¡°But they also plagas del mar, and more dangerous. If follow you, you kill each other? Plagas kill plagas?¡± Marisol clenched her jaw and nodded slowly. ¡°Sure. Just¡­ just follow me for now, alright? If they find us like this, we¡¯ll be captured for sure, and then none of us will be free.¡± After another second, Hana ground her teeth together and nodded as well. Marisol didn¡¯t let the opportunity slide. She took one peek at the descending marauders and charted out a path in her head. Just like when she¡¯d evaded the Blackclaw Marauders with Kuku guiding her, she stuck to the paths less travelled and obvious to the human eye. Hana may be a native of these straits, but it didn¡¯t seem as though she knew how to navigate through the bone forest. Here, boulders were giant skulls and trees were upside-down ribcages, sprouting from uneven fields of black soil and stone. Marisol felt like shivering every time she skated through a desiccated carcass, and Hana, similarly, looked uneasy following after her. ¡°... How far from your people, plagas en mar?¡± Hana growled, her voice a hush as they paused behind a giant fish skull for a second. Their hearts pounded in sync as they watched a group of marauders comb through the forest, each wielding fourteen cutlasses. ¡°Not very far,¡± Marisol murmured, waiting until the marauders passed. She beckoned Hana forward. ¡°By the way, my name¡¯s Marisol. ¡®Mar¡¯ of the far western seas, and ¡®Sol¡¯ of the far eastern sun. Your name¡¯s Hana, right?¡± She glanced around her to see Hana blinking in surprise. ¡°How you know Hana¡¯s name?¡± [Say you are with the Hasharana, and tell her you are here to help. Even the most secluded tribesmen should at least know of that title.] ¡°I¡¯m a Hasharana,¡± she replied curtly, ducking under a dangling fish fin as she did. ¡°and I¡¯m here to help¡ª¡± ¡°Marisol is Hasharana?¡± Marisol paused. The change in tone was incredibly abrupt. One moment Hana was growling and shooting mean looks at her, and now the girl zipped in front of her, eyes wide as a puppy¡¯s. Marisol returned a nervous smile and nodded. Hana squinted, rubbed her chin, and scratched the back of her head¡ªthen she leaned in close and stared. It was only now that Marisol could see how blurry her irises actually were. Could she even see anything out of those eyes? ¡°... If Marisol is Hasharana, then why no color around you?¡± Hana asked, a genuine question. She backed off and gave Marisol space, squatting with two fists on the ground. ¡°Hasharana, met grandma and grandpa many times before. Grandma said all Hasharana good and bright white color. Human saviors. But you no color. You dangerous.¡± Marisol angled her head to frown at Hana, but movement close behind them made her grab the girl and continue moving on. They couldn¡¯t afford to just stand completely still and talk. ¡°And how is that possible?¡± she muttered, glancing back at the young girl¡ªwho couldn¡¯t be older than fourteen, fifteen¡ªas she made sure they walked low and slow. ¡°You can see other people¡¯s¡­ colors? What is that Art? What do you know about me¡ª¡± ¡°Marisol knows someone who is large with child?¡± Hana interrupted, and Marisol¡¯s eyes twitched. ¡°I¡­ I do,¡± she breathed. ¡°Catrina. She¡¯s pregnant. But how¡¯d you¡ª¡± ¡°We damselflies fly and fly and fly, and never touch ground!¡± Hana said, her eyes glimmering as she walked abreast with Marisol. ¡°All we do is fly! Fast! Strong! So fast, world around us slow! We see what happen to people before it happen, and Hana see traces of ¡®white¡¯ around Marisol, which means someone close to Marisol is large with child!¡± ¡°...¡± [It appears to be a detection-type biomagic,] the Archive explained, as Marisol continued dragging Hana through the bone forest. [Most people with classes have some sort of basic antennae mutation that allows them to detect minute fluctuations in the environment: spore density, air flow, humidity, et cetera. Things normal humans do not tend to be capable of noticing. However, it appears that the Damselfly Oracles have eyes so sensitive to such miniscule information that they can see the ¡®colors¡¯ of people¡¯s aura.]Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Our aura? [Everyone has an aura, even humans without classes. This is because it has been ninety-four years since the arrival of the Swarm, and at this point, so many bugs have died across the world that the very air is permeated with their bioarcanic essence. Every human has inhaled at least a little bit of it, so everyone has an aura,] the Archive said. [Typically, humans are not capable of actually ¡®seeing¡¯ auras. Unless your opponent is a tremendously powerful Insect God, it is unlikely you will ever see one physically emanating from someone¡¯s body. You can feel the killing pressure, yes, and you may be able to smell it, taste it, or even touch it in certain cases, but seeing the natural leakage of bioarcanic essence with stark naked eyes is very, very difficult.] [It appears, then, that the Damselfly Oracles¡¯ Swarmblood Art allows them to physically see auras, and said auras have different colors depending on whether or not the person has ill intentions towards something¡ªin this case, that designated ¡®something¡¯ is the Whirlpool City.] [A ¡®white¡¯ aura probably indicates they are no threat. It also probably means ¡®the birth of new life¡¯, since the purity and innocence of white is associated with childbirth in many cultures across the continent. Since you have been lingering around Catrina, perhaps some of her aura¡¯s color rubbed onto you¡­ or something. This is certainly a peculiar Swarmblood Art that demands further investigation.] Marisol narrowed her eyes at the little water bug on her shoulder. So¡­ they ain''t actually reading my mind like what you¡¯re doing. They¡¯re just seeing the color of our auras and determining whether or not we¡¯re dangerous. [And I suppose a ¡®black¡¯ aura would indicate someone with ill intentions,] the Archive finished, [people like the marauders.] So why is she saying my aura has no color at all? I definitely ain¡¯t trying to hurt anyone. I¡ª [About that.] [Tell her to look at you again.] She didn¡¯t even need to relay the Archive¡¯s instructions out loud. Hana blinked, reeled back all on her head, and then leaned in with squinted eyes. ¡°Eh?¡± Hana mumbled. ¡°Marisol have white color now. But before¡­ have no color? How? What this?¡± [I have been suppressing your aura heavily without telling you ever since you escaped from the giant remipede,] the Archive admitted. [Killing pressure is nice to emit, but I was worried your aura was actually attracting strong bugs to challenge you to a fight, so I have been¡­ shrinking and suppressing your aura. All I did just now was release it.] So it was all your fault I got chased by Hana in the first place. [Hey. I did it for you.] She knew the Archive had good intentions, of course¡ªit always did¡ªso all she did was offer a wide smile to Hana as she tilted her head. There was no need to explain everything the Archive was telling her. ¡°But I have white color now, right?¡± she said, pointing at herself. ¡°So I¡¯m not a threat to you. Or the Whirlpool City. I¡¯m not an enemy now, right?¡± Hana shook her head vehemently. ¡°No! I mean, yes! Marisol yourself no threat, but still can¡¯t let all of you go so easily!¡± Marisol tried her best not to grit her teeth. ¡°And why do you guys even care about stopping us? We just wanna get to the Whirlpool City¡ª¡± ¡°Worm God hired us, twenty years ago! Told us to protect islands and eat people with no colors or black colors from reaching Whirlpool City! If we do our job, Worm God let us live here undisturbed!¡± Hana said. Marisol gave the Archive a pointed look, but the little water strider shook its head as though to say it had no idea what the girl was talking about. [I have no records of the Worm God ever making contact with the Damselfly Oracles. However, it is possible he met and made a contract with them without the Archives¡¯ acknowledgement. It may even be redacted information a normal Archive is not supposed to be able to access¡ª] ¡°Marisol have white colors, so Marisol okay, but maybe Marisol friends dangerous to Whirlpool City, so if danger, we have to eat!¡± Hana continued, sounding proud of herself as she said that. ¡°Whale people chasing us, black colors. Colors of death! We have to eat them, too! Protect Whirlpool City!¡± ¡°... So, the only reason you guys tried to attack me was because you couldn¡¯t see my colors, and you thought I¡¯d be a danger to the Whirlpool City?¡± Hana nodded fervently. ¡°Yes! Worm God say if see black or no colors, eat! If any other colors, can¡¯t eat! All to protect Whirlpool City!¡± ¡°So if I bring you back to my people, and you see all of them have colors other than black or nothing, you¡¯ll let us pass?¡± ¡°Hm¡­ Yes! Okay!¡± Hana bared her teeth, giving Marisol a toothy grin. ¡°If Marisol people good colors, we let Marisol pass! But Hana still call others to eat the whale people and rescue family!¡± Marisol sighed a breath of relief. At least she¡¯d made a tentative agreement with the Damselfly Oracles for now. [I could see why the Worm God could have made a contract with them, too,] the Archive mumbled. [The Dead Island Straits are one of only three sea routes towards the Whirlpool City, which means a lot of people will choose to pass through here in order to reach the city. If they can determine which ships and vessels may be marauders in disguise by seeing their ¡®colors¡¯, that is one sea route completely defended by these tribesmen, sparing more Guards and Imperators to defend the other two sea routes.] And¡­ how many of these damselflies are there? [I wonder.] [The Dead Island Straits are composed of seventy-one separate islands, so if there are a dozen tribesmen assigned to guard each one on average, then it is likely there are at least seven hundred Damselfly Oracles living here.] [If that is the case, the Whitewhale Marauders do not really stand a chance¡ªeventually, the rest of the Damselfly Oracles will notice their presence and tear them to shreds.] The thought wasn¡¯t very comforting, and that was because she had no idea if the tribesmen could distinguish between marauders and slaves being masqueraded as marauders. If she wanted to rescue the slaves properly, she¡¯d have to convince Hana and the rest of the damselfly ¡®family¡¯ to work with the Harbor Guards. Still, as they snuck past the majority of the marauders and were about to emerge onto the cliff of the canyon where the Guards¡¯ warship was docked, a question continued to nag at her mind. ¡°¡­ Hey, Hana?¡± The girl whirled on her. ¡°What, Marisol?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­ seeing this ghost thing the past two months or so,¡± she said slowly, cautiously, ¡°it¡­ has appeared every time something bad happened to me. Like¡­ a bad omen. A warning. And there¡¯s this dream I¡¯ve been having, too, where I¡¯m skating really, really fast on a black sea of oil, but I always trip and end up sinking.¡± ¡°Uh-huh?¡± ¡°What¡­ do you think about those?¡± She knew it was gratuitous. Just because the Damselfly Oracles could divine intentions from the colors of auras didn¡¯t mean they knew everything about everything spiritual, but she felt it was worth a shot. If there was a chance Hana could tell her something about the ¡®ghost¡¯ even the Archive couldn¡¯t explain, then she felt it¡¯d all be worth it. Unfortunately, Hana just stared at her quizzically. Or maybe it was more the eyes of someone looking at someone insane. ¡°Sure haven¡¯t gone too fast, head go spinney dizzy?¡± Hana replied, miming turning a crank next to her own head. ¡°When go too fast, sometimes see hallucinations. We see sometimes, too! Spirits! Bad omens! But most of time, not real. Just hallucinations!¡± Marisol returned a polite, grateful smile, but that wasn¡¯t the answer she wanted to hear. She wasn¡¯t sure what she wanted to hear, but she knew she wasn¡¯t seeing hallucinations. That ghost of a monster was real. Am I just afraid? Am I just hesitating? Are... are those nightmares going to¡ª [Focus, Marisol.] [You are this close to the Whirlpool City.] [Do not let talks of ¡®ghosts¡¯ break your resolve now.] She knew that, of course. But still, she couldn¡¯t stop the nervous thumps in her chest as the two of them peered down the ledge to the wall of foliage, where the grotto and the warship was hidden behind. Chapter 33 - The Colours of Death Marisol regained enough strength in her wings to glide through the wall of foliage. While Hana was unable to fly properly with one of her wings bandaged, the two of them managed to enter the grotto without any trouble. Letting out a sigh of relief, Marisol slid to a halt as she saw the warship. The Harbor Guards were still spread out across the cave, harvesting whatever little resources there were for the ship¡¯s repairs. About a dozen tents and tarps were strewn across the ferns, crates of remipede meat were unloaded and cooking on self-rotating skewers over small bonfires. Somehow, they¡¯d managed to turn the grotto into quite a cozy little camp in just the few hours she¡¯d been gone. It was only midday outside, but at this rate, they could probably have an entire harbor built by nightfall. [Do not underestimate the construction capabilities of humans with Ant Classes,] the Archive said almost absentmindedly as Hana landed on the edge of the cliff, immediately standing and taking cover behind her. [The repairs also seem to be moving along faster than Captain Enrique¡¯s initial projection. At their current rate, they should be done in two weeks instead of¡ª] ¡°Marisol!¡± Catrina¡¯s voice pierced through the air, and everyone snapped their heads over to stare at the two of them. Marisol waved back at the pregnant lady rushing towards her¡ªshe was just glad everyone was still safe¡ªbut it was evident Hana didn¡¯t share the same relief she did. As Catrina, Enrique, and several Guards trudged over to hear any good news about possible replacement sails, Hana blurred in front of her and growled; a sharp, guttural sound. It made Catrina flinch and all of the Guards draw their cutlasses at once. ¡°Damselfly Oracle,¡± Enrique breathed, eyes narrowing as he held his blade in front of him, beckoning the others to keep a fair distance from Hana. ¡°What¡¯s the meanin¡¯ of this, lass? Yer goin¡¯ out and pickin¡¯ up strays now? That¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°I know, I know. It¡¯s¡­ well, it ain¡¯t really that long of a story, honestly, but she¡¯s with us. I can explain,¡± Marisol interrupted, skating between the Guards and Hana with a nervous smile. She glanced behind her and whispered at Hana as she did. ¡°Hey, hey, hey. What are you doing? They¡¯re with me, you know¡ªthe ones I said I was going to bring you to meet. Could you drop the teeth and claws?¡± Hana glowered at her. ¡°Danger. Won''t.¡± ¡°They'' ain¡¯t dangerous. They''re with me. They''re like me, people who work with the Hasharana¡ª¡± ¡°Marisol white color, fine. But them,¡± Hana said, pointing at the Guards one by one, ¡°full black colors. Colors of death. Danger.¡± Hana¡¯s conviction shone through. There was no twitch of a brow, twist of a lip, not even an ounce of hesitation in her voice. Marisol glanced back at Catrina and the Guards, her gaze met all of theirs with a silent, appraising assessment. ¡­ No. There¡¯s no way they''re dangerous to the Whirlpool City. Her Art was¡­ she had to be mistaken about something¡ª ¡°Get away from the cannibal, lass,¡± Enrique warned, voice urgent and tight as he gritted his teeth. ¡°They''re unpredictable, that lot. Sometimes they eat our boys, sometimes they don''t. There ain''t reasonin¡¯ with any of them. I''ll listen to ye all ye want later, but for yer own sake¡ª¡± ¡°Enough!¡± Hana snapped. She jumped back to the edge of the cliff. She beat her wings, the strong winds ruffled the ferns and made the Harbor Guards stumble back. ¡°Marisol white color, okay, but plagas del mar marred with black colors! Must eat! Protect Whirlpool City!¡± Then, she stuck four pinkies in her mouth and whistled, a shrill and ear-piercing sound that made even Marisol wince. Enrique and the Guards immediately dashed in to cut her down, but Marisol kicked a wide berth to make them back off, scowling at them and Hana. Before she could even say anything, though, the grotto began to rumble. The walls of moss started to shake. The canyons outside the foliage wall groaned with a cacophony of fluttery, buzzing sounds. Almost as though a swarm of desert locusts were riding a sandstorm, and then¡ªthe foliage wall exploded behind all of them. Bright sunlight flooded into the grotto as a hundred Damselfly Oracles responded to Hana¡¯s call. Tch. If she could summon so many of them in one go, why didn¡¯t she just do it earlier? [Well, did you want her and her brethren to swarm the Whitewhale Marauders and kill everyone on board indiscriminately?] Marisol clenched her jaw, spinning around to face the horde of hovering damselflies with the Guards flanking her sides. All of the tribesmen had blowguns in their hands. Some carried thick wooden blades with sawed edges, their metal damselfly masks kept all but their glowing green eyes hidden. Judging by how frenzied their shouts and buzzes were, Marisol could only assume they were seeing the exact same colors Hana saw: pure ¡®black¡¯. According to their Swarmblood Art, they posed a danger towards the Whirlpool City. But that couldn¡¯t be right. They were literally Guards, and the Archive confirmed their identities for her. Could they actually be marauders in disguise, having fooled her and the Archive for the better part of the past two months? ¡­ Screw that. As if she¡¯d been that inattentive to the world around her. She twirled into the Whirlwind Spin, kicking up clumps of soil, rocks, muddy water, and everything in between into everyone¡¯s eyes. A flashy move. A loud move. That got all of them to shut up, and when all eyes were finally on her, she clapped her hands once to make them jolt again. That got all of them to pay attention. ¡°... We ain¡¯t plagas del mar!¡± she shouted, jabbing a thumb at herself and the Guards, ¡°and you ain¡¯t mindless cannibals, either!¡± she said, pointing up at the Damselfly Oracles. ¡°We were chased here by the Whitewhale Marauders, who¡¯ve taken some people as slaves, and we wanna help you beat them down so we can rescue the innocents! We don¡¯t care what you do with the marauders, but even if some of them look like marauders, they ain¡¯t! Look closer! Closer! They¡¯ve all got whale lice stuck to their backs, so some of them have no choice but to fight back!¡± Catrina tapped her shoulder anxiously. ¡°Marisol. I don¡¯t understand a word you¡¯re saying, but I don¡¯t think you should be negotiating with them, either. Even I¡¯ve heard about them from¡ª¡± ¡°You say you serve the Worm God and his Hasharana, right?¡± she continued, shrugging Catrina¡¯s hand off as she jabbed a finger at one of the closest hovering damselfly, singling him out of the bunch as she turned around and thumbed at her nape. ¡°You want proof I¡¯m a Hasharana? Take a look at my nape! You see that little protrusion on my neck? That¡¯s the system of a Hasharana, right?¡± Some of the damselflies squinted, and some of them hovered closer to take a better look. They turned and started whispering amongst themselves. They did recognize the mark of an Altered Swarmsteel System; they weren¡¯t lying about knowing the Hasharana. She didn¡¯t want to believe either the Guards or the Damselfly Oracles were lying, even if she¡¯d only met the latter an hour ago. ¡°If all of you help us get our warship up and sailing again, I promise, we¡¯ll be out of your hair. We¡¯ll even help you take down the marauders so you don¡¯t have to risk your own lives!¡± She pointed at the broken warship behind her. ¡°Hana will tell you! There may be lots of you¡ªmore than enough to overwhelm any enemy with sheer speed and numbers alone¡ªbut there¡¯s still a hundred or so marauders on that whale. They¡¯re dangerous, wear a lot of armor against your darts, and they¡¯re coordinated when fighting! If you guys fight them by yourselves, I¡¯m sure lots of you will get hurt, so why not let us take the lead? Just support us, and we¡¯ll do the rest!¡± It was a rather convincing argument if she had to say so herself, and the Archive seemed to agree, but in truth, it could go either way with the Damselfly Oracles. At the end of the day, she didn¡¯t really understand what colors looked like from their perspective. Would mere words from an outsider sway them to ignore the colors they¡¯d been diligently acting upon their entire lives?The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Maybe. Maybe not. But she had to get to the Whirlpool City no matter what, and if they really, really weren¡¯t going to help her¡­ Marisol was just about to drag her glaives back when Hana clicked her tongue, whirling around to shout utter gibberish at her people. Even the Archive¡¯s automatic translation couldn¡¯t pick up her words for how fast she was talking, but she heard very well the responses from the tribesmen she was speaking too: they were all manners of ¡®are you sure¡¯ and ¡®their colours are black¡¯, all overlapping over each other, but Hana sounded insistent. Eventually, Hana turned back around and gave her¡ªonly her¡ª a begrudging nod. The damselflies hovering behind her immediately dispersed, half of them swooping onto the warship to poke at its holes, the other half flying across and out of the grotto to gather materials for the repairs. She convinced them? [You did save her and bandage her bloody wing, after all.] [Good deeds are not always repaid in kind, so when it does happen, be grateful for them.] Now, it was Marisol¡¯s turn to face the Guards around her. She gestured at all of them to lower their blades and stop glaring at the damselflies with distrust and the intent to harm lurking in their eyes. ¡°They¡¯re helping us, cap,¡± she said, looking at Enrique pointedly. ¡°It ain¡¯t that long of a story. I went out looking for parts, had a brief tussle with them, and some of them were captured by the Whitewhale Marauders we accidentally stumbled upon. So, they¡¯re helping us out now for both our sake and theirs. That¡¯s all there is to it.¡± For his part, Captain Enrique didn¡¯t look the slightest bit relaxed even after hearing her explanation, and maybe that was all fine and well. The Guards evidently knew who the Damselfly Oracles were. There was no need to force themselves to act all friendly with their new helpers, but they did, at least, seem to understand they weren¡¯t in immediate danger. All of them lowered their cutlasses slowly, and Enrique shot her a scowl. ¡°I hope ye know what yer doin¡¯, lass. I trust ye, but¡­ not them,¡± he said, before turning around and shouting at his men to continue with the repairs. Catrina gave her a slow nod before leaving as well, returning to inform the injured slaves in the tents about their situation. The Damselfly Oracles couldn¡¯t repair the warship by themselves, and judging by the distrustful looks many of the Guards directed at their new helpers, they rushed over to direct them. Marisol wasn¡¯t sure how they were going to coordinate since they couldn¡¯t speak the same tongue, but the Guards were experienced sailors. Maybe they did know how to speak the damselflies¡¯ tongue. Just as she was about to sigh a breath of relief, though, she jumped. Hana crept up behind her and tapped her shoulder, still hiding in her shadow as the young girl narrowed her eyes at the Harbor Guards. ¡°Thank you, Hana,¡± she whispered, smiling softly down at the girl. ¡°I promise none of them mean any harm to the Whirlpool City. You ain''t breaking your contract to the Worm God. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a reason¡ª¡± ¡°Hana was wrong,¡± she whispered, refusing to look at Marisol as she continued squinting at the Guards. ¡°I just panicking. Scared. I looked closer, like you said, and not all of them actually marred with black colours. Most¡­ okay. Blue and pink colours. But just one of them¡­ danger. Colour so black it overpower everyone else colour.¡± Marisol frowned. ¡°Hm?¡± And Hana pointed straight at Catrina, emerald eyes burning with murderous intent. ¡°That one,¡± Hana breathed. ¡°Large with child, black as night, death incarnate.¡± ¡­ It was a bit of a risk, but Marisol patted Hana¡¯s head and shook her own head. ¡°That¡¯s Catrina,¡± she said slowly. ¡°A friend. The daughter of the Harbour Guard¡¯s captain. She¡¯s with me.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°She is.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°She is.¡± Hana didn¡¯t look at all convince, but¡­ as long as she kept her mutterings to herself and kept her sharp teeth far from Catrina, Marisol didn¡¯t really care if they couldn¡¯t be the best of friends and agree on every little thing. She just wanted to get to the Whirlpool City as soon as possible. ¡­ How long do you think it¡¯ll take them to repair the ship, Archive? She asked, chewing her lip as she watched the Guards work with the damselflies. A lot of hand motions and directing was going on, with both groups grabbing parts from here and there. A week? Nine days? Maybe eight? [Seven hours.] [I do not wish unwanted weight upon you, but if you are going to face the Whitewhale Marauders in battle, I would recommend eating as much remipede meat as you can stuff down your throat during this time.]
The Archive¡¯s estimation was almost right on the dot. Sundown. Evening twilight hour. As the world outside darkened, the hundred or so damselflies summoned for aid backed off from the grotto. A smaller group of twenty damselflies flew in with a dozen giant bubbles on their shoulders. After all, no matter how light or streamlined the warship was, it couldn¡¯t sail through the sky by itself. They needed the bubbles to keep them afloat. A fully repaired warship would help, too. Marisol couldn¡¯t quite decipher every expression on the Guards¡¯ faces, but she garnered enough to make her giggle. There was shock, awe, and surprise as the most common expressions. The fact that the Damselfly Oracles managed to fix their warship from hull to sail in under half a day was already impressive enough, but they¡¯d even sprinkled some upgrades onto the vessel. The wooden hull was layered with hollow crustacean shells, giving the ship a spiky, more menacing look. The silver fish scale sails were replaced with bright orange carp scales. They glittered like the sun in the dim moonlight. The tents, tarps, and crates of food were neatly stacked on the lower decks, flown in by the damselflies. It had taken them only half an hour to finish rearranging all their supplies, which took the Guards four hours to set up. Four whole hours¡¯ of work undone in thirty minutes. Now all forty-two of them stood on the upper deck, watching as the damselflies stuffed the giant bubbles behind the sails and under the masts. This way, even if their hull received heavy cannon fire, they could continue flying through the sky as long as their sails were protected. ¡°I mean, we gave them good instructions, but ye¡¯d think they were shipwrights born and raised in the city,¡± Enrique muttered, standing at the helm with Marisol and Catrina by his side. The damselflies who weren¡¯t busy with the giant bubbles were pushing the warship slowly out of the grotto, making them inch towards the ledge. ¡°I still ain¡¯t a fan of them, and there¡¯ll be hell to explain to my bosses after this¡­ but I ain¡¯t gonna lie. They did a damn fine job with the repairs.¡± Marisol beamed at him, though her stomach was still bloated and her whole body was in slight pain from having stuffed so much remipede meat down her throat the past few hours. ¡°Right¡­ so we gotta repay them, yeah?¡± she mumbled, leaning against the railings for support as the ship groaned and creaked, ready to be pushed off the ledge. ¡°Remember, we ain¡¯t just saving the slaves from the marauders. We¡¯re saving the dozen or so damselflies they caught as well, so¡ª¡± ¡°Stick to yer plan and shoot only where ye give the signal to so we don¡¯t accidentally hit who we¡¯re tryin¡¯ to rescue,¡± he finished, brows drawing together as he glanced at her with a worried expression. ¡°Yer plan¡¯s damned reckless again, by the way. I know ye said ye can jump and glide around this strait with yer wings or whatnot, but we¡¯re the Guards. We¡¯re the ones who¡¯re supposed to fight them marauders off. To let ye fly off like that¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a bone to pick with the marauders too, cap,¡± she whispered, keeping her forehead pressed against the railings as she took deep breaths, one after another. ¡°That one¡¯s a bit of a long story, so no need to worry¡ªa Sand-Dancer always lands on their feet.¡± ¡°Hmph.¡± Captain Enrique grunted and faced forward, roaring at his men to man the cannons. Catrina quickly ducked into the captain¡¯s cabin to stay far away from the combat. The damselflies finished stuffing the giant bubbles under the masts, and now the rest of them were pushing full speed ahead, sliding the stern of the warship right off the ledge. They didn¡¯t fall. The bubbles kept them elevated. And, with a bit of extra lift support from the damselflies below the hull, the warship sailed above the canyon. Their glittering sails were so bright and eye-catching that, through the fog, the giant whale anchored to the top of the island noticed them. It let out a heavy, earth-rattling whistle. The marauders in the wooden town lit their torches, burned their braziers, and raised their anchor. They swerved towards the warship immediately. Captain Enrique didn¡¯t falter. The damselflies scattered and disappeared into the canyons. As instructed, they remained alert, but stayed far from the battle, ensuring they wouldn¡¯t get caught up in close combat. The Guards turned their sails eastwards, guiding the warship towards the silhouette of the Whirlpool City. From this high up, it looked like it sat on the horizon. As planned, they weren¡¯t just going to be fighting. They¡¯d take the Whitewhale Marauders down, rescue the slaves and damselflies, and head towards the Whirlpool City. They needed to make up for lost sailing time. Marisol had pushed really, really hard for it. She couldn¡¯t afford to waste any more time, and she didn¡¯t want her nightmare¡ªher ¡®fate¡¯ of sinking¡ªto even have a chance of coming true. So when the marauders eventually caught up to them, the giant whale swimming side-by-side with their warship a hundred meters to their left, a roar of cannon fire exploded from the marauders first. They returned interception fire at the same time. Marisol lifted her head from the railings, exhaling coolly. ¡­ Just you wait, mama, she thought, glaring at the floating wooden town in the distance. Ain¡¯t nobody gonna stop me from getting you that vial of seawater. What¡¯s my status screen looking like, Archive?
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: C-Rank Giant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: ???] [Aura: 1,202 (+30)] [Points: 284] [Strength: 4, Speed: 4, Toughness: 3 (+1), Dexterity: 3, Perception: 3 (+1)] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 2] [T2 Mutations | Basic Gills Lvl. 2 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 5] [T3 Mutations | Basic Apiclaws | Basic Wings Lvl. 1 | Basic Setae Lvl. 1 ] 150P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20] [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: +10/20)]
Two hundred and eighty-four points, she thought, glancing at her status screen. That¡¯s quite a lot of points, isn¡¯t it? [Enough for one more tier three core mutation, and then you still have a few points left to spare.] Good. Let¡¯s fuck the marauders up and get to the city, then. Chapter 34 - The Ten Minute Stride A volley of cannon fire exploded from the Whitewhale Marauders, echoing through the sky like thunder. The Harbor Guards returned fire. Both vessels had an equal number of cannons. The giant whale was a bit larger, but that only made it a bigger target. The warship¡¯s sleeker design gave them more maneuverability. Captain Enrique bellowed for reloads as he spun the helm, making the ship tilt starboard and forcing the whale to turn along with them. That extra ten seconds before the marauders could line up their cannons again bought the Guards enough time. The sky crackled once more, cannonballs shattering mid-air as they sailed along the edge of the Dead Island Straits. They only had maneuverability advantage because they were in the air, and the giant whale was obviously not used to swimming anywhere outside of the water. Ten minutes¡ªthat was how long they had until they¡¯d reach the edge of the Dead Island Straits and plummeted to level waters once again. [¡­ Stimulating release of perception-enhancing compounds.] The Archive shoved a dagger of ice into the back of her head and made her spine arch. She¡¯d never get used to it, and she didn¡¯t want to. It was a horrible sensation that forced her to take note of twice as many details as she normally could, and if she had this type of kinetic vision twenty-four hours a day, she¡¯d puke her guts out, no doubt. But she could do ten minutes. ¡°I¡¯m going, cap!¡± she shouted, skating back to the other end of the railings as the Harbor Guards on the upper deck noticed her moving. Four of them immediately retrieved an ultra-long plank and stuck it onto the railings, raising it like a ramp¡­ and she clenched every muscle in her body, expelling every last breath of air in her lungs. The world became blurry line of light as she kicked off the railings, speeding off the ramp to take flight in the skies. [One hundred meters until contact with the whale.] Wind shrieked in her ears, a sharp, cold howl that drowned out all other sounds. Her gliding wings fanned outwards with a crack, catching the air. The wind was overpowered with deep, resonant booms of cannon fire. She wasn¡¯t breathing. She wasn¡¯t really looking, either. She was feeling. She tucked her arms in and rolled, dodging a cannonball as it whipped past her, and then jerked her wings up to soar over another few shots. This is even harder than¡ª [Focus.] [Even a near-miss would displace air, and you would have to readjust mid-glide.] The muscles in her back burned, her arms trembled from the strain it took to stay on course. The marauders¡¯ town on the giant whale¡¯s back was an intricate tangle of wooden structures, ropes, and sails¡ªa ramshackle fortress soaring through the clouds¡ªbut what she focused on was just a single, narrow point. The little building at the tail-end of the whale that looked like a harbor for smaller vessels. On the sea¡¯s surface, that was probably where the marauders would kick off their smaller dinghies and sail to any ship they were plundering, but now it was just a big target for her to aim for. She clenched her jaw, kept her eyelids peeled open, and concentrated. Her heart was a wild drum. Every pulse sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. The marauders¡¯ town was so, so close. There was no stopping. No slowing down. A Sand-Dancer lived their entire lives on the edge between life and death, and with this speed she held so dearly in her heart¡ª She flew and smashed glaives-first into the wooden harbor. Planks exploded around her, splintering into a thousand shards. Her impact sent a shockwave rippling across the entire harbor, making even the giant whale buckle for a second, but she stood firm. Her wings snapped shut behind her as dust billowed up, swallowing her and the harbor in a thick, choking cloud. For a few more moments, everything was quiet. The world was still. Dust swirled in the air, debris rained around her, but eventually, it all cleared to reveal the destruction she¡¯d wrought. The pier she landed on was reduced to a jagged ruin, and wooden beams jutted out at odd angles. Just beyond the pier, she saw a dozen marauders, all standing in ragged lines, defenders for this part of town. Their cutlasses gleamed in the moonlight, and their faces were hardened, weathered by the sea. She met their gaze with a cold, steely calm, two blade-like bones jutting out of her elbows. A slew of status screens popped up next to her, showing all the attributes and mutations she¡¯d upgraded with her points, but she glossed over them and kept her eyes straight ahead.
[T3 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Apiclaws Lvl. 1] [Brief Description: You have grown sharp bones that can extend out of your elbows like blades. Their current toughness is the same as your toughness level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase their toughness. At max level, they will be twice as tough as your toughness level] [Striding Glaives Lvl. 2 ¡ú Striding Glaives Lvl. 4] [Basic Apiclaws Lvl. 1 ¡ú Basic Apiclaws Lvl. 3] [Basic Wings Lvl. 1 ¡ú Basic Wings Lvl. 2] [Basic Setae Lvl. 1 ¡ú Basic Setae Lvl. 2] [Speed: 4 ¡ú 5] [Aura: 1,202 (+30) ¡ú 1,484 (+30)] [Points: 284 ¡ú 2]
Her face twitched slightly, and the marauders hesitated, shifting uneasily. Their blades trembled just a little in their hands¡­ and if that wasn¡¯t her cue to go, she didn¡¯t know what was. Archive. [Go ahead, Marisol.] [Overriding previous objective.]
[Objective #9: Defend the warship and outrun the Whitewhale Marauders] [Objective #9: Destroy the C-Rank Giant-Class Whitewhale Marauders on the giant whale] [Time Limit: 8 minutes]If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. [Success: Rescue of all living slaves and Damselfly Oracles on board] [Failure: Death]
She launched from the wreckage, skating up towards the first marauders standing in her way. They swung¡ªand missed. She wasn¡¯t twice as fast as them, but she was well faster than them, so she didn¡¯t even bother kicking them. Speeding past them, she dragged her apiclaws through the nearest beams of wood and tore through them, making the flimsy building collapse. As she skated through the town, she tried to sniff out the locations of everyone that didn¡¯t smell like they had blood on their hands, but¡­ there were none in this end of town. [The captives should all be near the other end of town, where the marauder captain is pulling the reins of the whale,] the Archive said. [Everybody here is a true C-Rank Giant-Class marauder. None are being controlled by their whale louse.] There was no need to hold back, then. Her claws and glaives carved through the wooden planks around her as she tore across the town like a storm, sending splinters flying, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. The town erupted into chaos. Marauders who were manning the cannons turned to see her skating at them. They tried to swing or shoot at her. A few times, they nearly got close to hitting her, but they were disorganized, and unprepared for her speed. She was a blur. Her cloak fluttered after her as she cleaved through the shoddy buildings in swift, heavy blows. Her goal wasn¡¯t to skate straight towards the whale¡¯s head, that would come in time. Instead, she zigzagged across the town, weakened as many wooden beam foundations as she could, and tossed colored pheromone flares into the sky. They were pill-shaped bombs the Guards had given her¡ªand they were the go-ahead signal for the warship to aim and fire on her location, because there were no prisoners for her to save here. To her far right, the warship¡¯s cannons thundered. The sky lit up in bursts of red and green as the flares streaked upward, and each pop of color was a promise: destruction was imminent. It took a few seconds, but then the first metal shells smashed into the town she was still skating through. Dozens of buildings buckled under the assault, roofs caved in and walls splintered. Ropes and sails whipped out in every direction. She maintained a five second delay between every toss of the colored flare. The ground exploded behind her, the sound of the falling cannon balls loud in her ears. Her timing had to be perfect. Even a second too slow, and the cannons would obliterate her along with the marauders. She had to trust her instincts. There could be no room for doubt. If nothing else, though, skating through the explosions was exhilarating. She was fast. Archive! How long until we exit the straits? [Three minutes,] it replied curtly, and she launched a spinning jump over a dozen marauders. She flung more flares skyward as they charged at her; cannon fire annihilated them as she landed. [Start smelling again. You are close to the head of the whale, and we do not want any misfires on innocents.] Got it! Her nostrils flared as she sucked in shallow breaths, tasting smoke, ash, and the acrid tang of burning wood. It was like trying to find a whisper in a storm. The swirling scents clashed violently, but she clenched her jaw, determined to parse through the chaos. Somewhere beneath it all, she could feel the faint threads of life¡ªthe salty sweat of terrified captives and the raw, iron tang of blood. It was difficult picking up a particular scent with so much smoke, ash and fire in the air. Still, she persisted and skated across the rope bridges connecting the tail and head-end of the town. That was when she came across the wooden cages. They sat out on the streets: dried blood caked around some of them, mounds of broken and dismembered corpses lying inside others. ¡­ Among only a few, she spotted imprisoned Damselfly Oracles huddled together and cowering against the sounds of cannon fire. She cleaved through their cages as she skated by and narrowed her eyes in disgust. She quickly asked the captives if there were any more prisoners, but they shook their heads¡ªa united ¡®no¡¯ as their response. ¡°... Fly, then!¡± she barked at them, the Archive translating her words. ¡°Get to the warship over there! Don¡¯t stop! Your people are waiting for you!¡± She didn¡¯t stay to see if they obeyed her orders. Her heart burned with rage. She saw dozens more marauders trying to intercept her from the giant pointed fortress at the head of the whale, and she charged straight through the main street as she tossed out the remainder of her pheromone flares. She did so only because she could tell: any slave on board had already been fired towards the warship as part of the invading force, and those who hadn¡¯t been chosen were dead, slaughtered by the marauders. If she¡¯d been a little faster¡ªif they¡¯d all been in a bit more of a hurry towards the Whirlpool City¡ªmaybe she could¡¯ve saved them in time. As things stood, though, there were no more slaves to be rescued. No more souls left on the giant whale without the putrid scent of murdered blood bled into their very skin. There was no point stopping the Guards from barraging this entire town to hell anymore. The colored flares hissed as they ignited, spiraling into the air in bright, vivid colors. The explosions that followed ripped through the makeshift town like a thunderclap, reducing flimsy structures to rubble. She didn¡¯t look back. She didn¡¯t stop to help any of the marauders who tried to jump overboard. Her vision blurred, festering anger clouding her thoughts. That fortress on the head of the whale. Is that where the captain is? [Likely so.] That was all the confirmation she needed to keep going. As she pushed forward, the rope bridges violently beneath her, the planks groaning under the weight of her fury. The ash-filled air clawed at her throat, but she didn¡¯t slow. Couldn¡¯t slow. Ahead, more shapes emerged from the smoke: marauders. Filthy, grinning, blade-wielding bastards. They moved like they owned the wreckage, like they weren¡¯t scavengers picking flesh from corpses. Her glaives were in motion before she realised she lunged. The first marauder barely had time to sneer before her glaive tore through his shoulder. She spun with the follow-through, carving a wide arc. Blood sprayed hot and thick. Another rushed her¡ªtoo slow. Her glaive connected with his knee, snapping bone, and she drove a second glaive through his chest before he even hit the ground. They killed them. Every last one. A third marauder came from her blind side. She ducked instinctively, the swing of his cleaver missing by inches. Then she twisted low, slashing upward, her glaive splitting his stomach open with a wet, visceral sound. They were innocent. Two more charged her from the bridge ahead, their weapons raised. She surged forward. Faster. Harder. Her speed blurred the edges of her vision, but she could see them clearly. Every grimy detail, every twitch of their muscles. One swung wide. She vaulted over his blade, planting her hands on his shoulder as she flipped over him. Her glaive came down like lightning, severing his spine. Why wasn¡¯t I faster? The thought burned hotter. Her muscles burned with it. The town continued groaning under the weight of her fury as she cleaved and skated and tore her way forward. Too much fury. Too much destruction. Planks cracked. Chains shuddered. She didn¡¯t care. Even more marauders lunged at her, but she was faster. Her apiclaws and glaives were blinding now, four arcs of sharpness and death. Faster. A new wave surged toward her, six at once. She snarled, wild and feral. Her anger was all-consuming now, fueling her legs, her arms, her claws. Faster. Another came, then another. Their weapons blurred. Her movements blurred faster. A blade grazed her arm. She didn¡¯t feel it. Her glaive bit through an axe haft, then its wielder¡¯s throat. She vaulted forward again, glaives slamming onto solid ground as the bridge behind her began to collapse under the weight of the dead. Smoke and fire curled around her, casting her shadow long and jagged against the path ahead. FASTER. The giant wooden fortress loomed before her. The head of the whale. The heart of the filth. A new surge of anger pulsed through her veins. By the time she practically flew through the giant wooden gates, the sounds of cannon fire made the entire fortress at the head of the whale rumble. Her heart pounded with an aggressive, murderous rhythm like it never had before. Emerging into the single, enormous hall shaped like a fighting pit, she skidded to a halt and scowled at the grotesque skull effigies lining the walls. Torches jutted from the floor like bone spikes, and the air was thick with salt, sweat, and old blood. It was obvious more men had perished here than anywhere outside in the crumbling town¡­ and the person who was responsible for all the deaths was standing right in front of her. In the center of the cavernous hall was a single thirteen-armed man: a monstrous, towering body with skin like gnarled oak. His crab head and pincer were garishly orange. He was missing a right arm, but his twelve whale louse arms held chipped cutlasses with ease. His protruded eye stalks gleamed with cruel, dark amusement as he sneered at her. Marisol recognized those eyes from somewhere. She panted heavily, letting her muscles cool down for a second. ¡°Yer the water strider girl, ain¡¯tcha?¡± the Whitewhale Marauder captain rasped. ¡°The skies have ears and the seas have mouths, ye know¡ªthe whale lice tells me ye killed my little brothers.¡± Chapter 35 - Full Speed Ahead A status screen popped up next to Marisol''s head as she screeched to a halt, facing off against the marauder captain.
[Identification Complete] [Identity: Whitewhale Marauder Captain] [Grade: B-Rank Giant-Class] [Class: Whale Lice] [Swarmblood Art: Latchbind Mantle] [Aura: ~1,700] [Strength: ~6, Speed: ~4, Toughness: ~5, Dexterity: ~7, Perception: ~4]
But Marisol didn¡¯t even so much as glance at the captain¡¯s attributes. Her eyes simply twitched as she panted for breath, let her muscles rest, and glared at him as he rambled in front of her. ¡°The Imperators may have the Whirlpool City, but we marauders have the rest of the Deepwater Legion Front,¡± the captain said, sneering at her with cold, unabashedly violent eyes as he sharpened his cutlasses against each other. A sharp, ear-grating noise. ¡°My whale lice are everywhere. In the depths, on the shores, tucked under every coral reef and then some more. Ye think anyone can get away with killin¡¯ my brothers without my lice findin¡¯ their rotten corpses sinkin¡¯ to the bottom of the great blue?¡± His crab head and pincers gave him the look of a Blackclaw Marauder, but he had additional whale louse arms on his back as well, making him something of a fusion-crustacean. She wasn¡¯t even sure if that was the right term to call people like him, but that was about as much thought as she wanted to give someone like him. She felt she didn¡¯t have much time¡ªneither on the giant whale, nor on her journey to the Whirlpool City. ¡®Fate¡¯ was catching up. ¡°Oh, ¡®ah saw my little brother¡¯s corpses. Hauled ¡®em up from the seabed and saw the nasty, nasty way they drowned. Last ¡®ah heard of ¡®em, they¡¯d beached themselves on a little island and were supposed to rejoin us a month ago¡­ ¡®ah supposed that¡¯s yer doin¡¯, little lass?¡± the man growled, stepping forward, fanning his twelve cutlasses and one pincer in a menacing way. Bloodlust poured out his shell and slowly crawled over the fighting pit. ¡°The cap¡¯s arm was cut off cleanly, and ¡®ah know he ain¡¯t that weak. There¡¯s only one class on the great blue that can cut through shell as tough as his the way it was cut, so it¡¯s gotta be ye, right? A water strider? A Hasharana, perhaps, like the one who cut off my arm a decade ago?¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°Come on, little lass. Let¡¯s dance. Show me what ye got. ¡®Ah promise ye ¡®ah ain¡¯t anythin¡¯ like the Blackclaw¡ª¡± Exhaling sharply, she willed her glaives into motion. She leaned her entire body forward. She retracted her apiclaws to make herself more streamlined. It was twenty meters to the approaching captain, but she crossed it in the blink of an eye, launching ten meters before contact as she spun, spun, and spun. Gaining momentum, she kicked outwards with a hundred and ten percent of her power. An explosion was born, centered on his chest. ¡®Explosive grace¡¯ backed by rage. She cleaved him diagonally in half with the War Jump, shoulder to waist, and screeched to a fiery halt twenty meters away. The Whitewhale Marauder captain didn¡¯t even manage to finish his sentence before he fell, blood splattering everywhere.
[Objective #9: Destroy the C-Rank Giant-Class Whitewhale Marauders on the giant whale] [Success: Rescue of all living slaves and Damselfly Oracles on board] [Grade: C-Rank Giant-Class ¡ú B-Rank Giant-Class]
[... That was a quadra-spin War Jump,] the Archive remarked. [You have come a long way since barely being able to defeat the E-Rank Giant-Class Blackclaw Marauder captain with a double-spin War Jump¡ª] Be quiet. Just¡­ be quiet. The Archive looked at her, sighed, and gently tapped her cheek with a single leg. It couldn''t quite wipe the tear rolling down her cheek, but it most certainly tried. [Whether you and those children decided to execute the Blackclaw Marauders or not, the Whitewhale Marauders would still have chosen to come after you. They have their own sense of camaraderie the same way you do¡ªthat you still managed to rescue a few slaves is commendable enough.] [Now, please consider leaving the giant whale.] [We are about to reach the edge of the Dead Island Straits.] ¡­ Right. And, right on cue, the giant whale below her buckled. Her glaives were stabbed into the floor, but the entire wooden fortress was tilting as well, torches and effigies breaking, shrapnel and debris flying everywhere. She flailed her arms for a brief second before glaring at the closest wall. She charged towards it, bracing her arms in front of her as she smashed through to become weightless one last time. It was a hundred meters back to the warship. The volleys of cannon fire had stopped some time ago, though she hadn¡¯t noticed it while she was listening to the marauder captain ramble. She heard the Guards shouting and saw them racing around the upper deck even as she glided towards them. She looked up and understood why. The lightning storm was horribly powerful. It hovered ominously a hundred meters ahead of them. A demarcation where the Dead Island Straits ended and the storm began. The moment they crossed that invisible boundary, both the giant whale and the warship plummeted to the sea. The giant whale could probably endure the impact with its thick and leathery skin, but the warship? Not so much. Much less onto a sea in stormy turmoil. Archive! [Land on the warship first! There is only a fifty percent chance it will shatter on impact with the sea, so, at the very least, grab Catrina and glide off with her to ensure she does not suffer the brunt of the impact!] Got it!This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Pressing her arms against her sides, she crash landed on the ship¡¯s middle mast and slid down the wooden beam. She glanced only briefly at the crumbling marauder town atop the giant whale. She¡¯d no idea what the whale was going to do from now on, but¡­ she sensed maybe it, too, had been a slave to the marauders. She was glad she could do something for it. Now she had to do something for the rest of them, because the moment she touched down on the upper deck, the entire warship started lurching. The Guards only barely acknowledged her return as they continued racing around, securing everything to the ship with ropes, chains, and hooks. Captain Enrique bellowed orders for everyone to hammer more planks on the inside of the hull, reinforcing the ship. Marisol, on the other hand, didn¡¯t have time for any of that. She skated straight into the captain¡¯s cabin, spotted Catrina wincing and groaning in the corner behind a bunch of empty barrels, and immediately dashed in to scoop the lady up. Got you! A great surge of strength flowed through her veins as she skated back out the cabin. She fanned her wings out, just in time. The warship plummeted beneath her. Catrina squeezed her eyes shut and held onto Marisol for dear life. Marisol couldn¡¯t avert her eyes. The two of them were airborne, gliding safely down to the stormy great blue, but the warship was free falling. It was a hundred meters straight down, and¡­ Her senses flared, making her whirl just in time to see a horde of emerald wings shooting past her, crowding under the warship like a swarm of desert locusts. It didn¡¯t matter if rain was pouring like a flood. It didn¡¯t matter if streaks of blue and purple lightning flashed on the horizon every five or so seconds, splitting her eardrums apart¡ªthe hundred or so Damselfly Oracles charged on, uncaring. The sound of their wings almost drowned out the storm as they slowed the warship¡¯s descent. What had seemed like a certain disaster shifted as the Damselfly Oracles swarmed beneath the plummeting warship, their wings forming a shimmering net of light and motion. They latched onto the hull, their collective strength pulling the ship¡¯s descent under control. Half a minute after Marisol had scooped up Catrina, the vessel struck the storm-churned sea with a resounding splash, sending towering waves rolling outward. The Damselfly Oracles immediately retreated, zipping back towards the Dead Island Straits as Marisol glided slowly down¡­ and she swore she saw Hana amongst the horde of them, nodding gratefully while simultaneously glaring at Catrina in her arms. Then, the swarm of beating emerald wings disappeared from her line of sight. [¡­ Well,] the Archive muttered. [I suppose they really are on the Hasharana''s side, after all.] Marisol was too busy concentrating on vibrating her hydrospines to give the Archive a proper response, but as she glided slowly down to the warship, the Guards were already cheering and bumping chests with each other. They¡¯d survived another life or death situation, after all¡ªand that was when Catrina groaned and clutched at her belly. Her body spasmed madly, and Marisol had to hold her tighter to prevent the two of them from pitching over. Marisol looked worriedly down at the lady¡¯s pale, ghoulish face, and then she felt the kick in Catrina¡¯s belly though she wasn¡¯t even touching it directly. This is¡­ Archive! She¡¯s going into¡ª [Touch down on the warship first and get her back under a roof! Repeat my instructions to the entire crew!] She didn¡¯t need telling twice. She folded her wings and landed hard on the upper deck, surprising Enrique and the Guards, but before any of them could rope her into their celebrations, she skated back into the captain¡¯s cabin. The mattress was still there, but the dim lantern over her head was swaying, and creaking. The warship was in the middle of a nasty lightning storm. She almost slipped off her glaives as she lay Catrina down on the mattress, kneeling next to the pregnant lady. When the Guards rushed in to see what the hurry was all about, the captain in the lead, she barked at them the Archive¡¯s instructions. ¡°I want fresh and hot water! Boiled!¡± she snapped, her voice hoarse but commanding, cutting through the thunder like a whip. ¡°Find lanterns, clean rags, blankets! Anything to keep her warm! She¡¯s going into labor!¡± And the Guards, who¡¯d been so boisterous just a moment ago, suddenly looked like lost little boys. The brave men who were fearless in the face of bugs and marauders now looked at her with fear and uncertainty, but there was no time to indulge their cluelessness. She snapped them out of their daze with a sharp whistle, bringing them to attention. ¡°Come on, boys! Move!¡± There was only one more moment of hesitation, a heartbeat of indecision¡ªthe Guards scattered like ants, clambering over each other as their heavy boots pounded against the deck outside. Enrique stayed behind. He slid forward, gripping Catrina¡¯s hand with incredibly creased brows, Marisol glared out the porthole and bit her lip. It was only supposed to be a little bit past twilight, but the storm outside was the nastiest she¡¯d ever seen. Pure black clouds scudded over an oily sea, gargantuan waves smashed into the side of the ship. The ship dipped and swayed with the motion. The men were probably doing everything they could to gather supplies from the lower decks, but even if they could get everything to her within the next few minutes, could she really offer any help to Catrina? She¡¯d only seen midwives do their jobs once or twice back in the desert town. She¡¯d never participated, she¡¯d never helped. There was a good chance Enrique knew more about delivering a child than she did, so what was there for her to do? [Tell Captain Enrique to man the helm,] the Archive said. [Even through this storm, the Whirlpool City should only be a thirty minute sail away. Tell him and the rest of the guards to raise full sails and head straight for the city.] So she did. Quietly. Captain Enrique gave her a questioning look, but seeing Catrina clawing at the sheets and Marisol nodding at him to move, he merely nodded back. While he strode out of the cabin a few Guards filed in with a bunch of hot rags, buckets, and blankets. Marisol stayed by Catrina¡¯s side and forced a smile onto her face, refusing to let go of the lady¡¯s hand even once. ¡°Hold on just a little longer,¡± she whispered, dabbing Catrina¡¯s sweaty face with a rag as she did. ¡°We¡¯re almost there. The Whirlpool City¡¯s right there. I can see it outside the door¡ª¡± Catrina suddenly grabbed the back of her head, pulling her in. ¡°... It¡¯s being eaten,¡± Catrina breathed. Marisol blinked as the ship rocked hard left and made everyone stumble behind her. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Catrina,¡± she said. ¡°Just¡­ breathe. I think. Calm down, think happy thoughts, and the moment we dock, I swear I¡¯ll rush in and¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªthere¡¯s no time¡ª¡± ¡°There is time. We¡¯re not late. Your papa said it was going to take a month to repair the ship in the Dead Island Straits, but look at us! We¡¯re out on the second day! You¡¯ll get to the Whirlpool City, I¡¯ll get to the Whirlpool City, and everything will be¡ª¡± ¡°That night,¡± Catrina hissed, gritting her teeth so hard Marisol heard her jaw creaking, ¡°I¡­ when you came for me¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­ I didn¡¯t always have this scar on my belly. That night¡­ I don''t really know what happened, and I thought it was just a hallucination at first, but I¡­ I think I saw a ghost¡ª¡± And the sound of cannon fire cut Catrina off mid-sentence, making Marisol whirl in fright. They hadn¡¯t fired that shot. Who? ¡°Stay with her, some of you,¡± she said, looking at the closest Guards before nodding at Catrina. She did her best to give the lady a bright, steady smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be back really quick, okay? I¡¯m just gonna see what''s going on outside. Drink some water if you need to.¡± She didn''t wait for Catrina''s response. By the time she skated outside into the pouring rain, a second shot had been fired, slamming into the stormy waves before the warship. Captain Enrique was already shouting at his men to drop anchors and halt the ship. Marisol raced to the bowsprit and squinted past the railings to see what they were stopping for, and why. True to the Archive¡¯s words, the Whirlpool City was incredibly close¡ªit was a massive city built around a giant volcano island. She could only see its shadow and silhouette through the storm, but she could spot the tiered buildings climbing up the sides of the volcano, the towering spires built at the very top of the volcano, and the incredibly steep streets illuminated by dim blue lamps. It was the legendary city she¡¯d read about and seen in textbooks so, so, so many times as a child, but anchored a hundred meters in front of them¡ªfour hundred meters from the docks of the harbour city¡ªwas a fleet of a dozen giant warships. Positioned like a physical wall, the warships were flanked by two colossal lighthouses, and the moment the lighthouses shone their giant white beams on her, she winced and recoiled. She hadn¡¯t been prepared to be blinded, but the fleet of warships anchored in front of them seemed to have no concerns for their safety. Then she heard a third cannon shot firing from one of the lighthouses, and the projectile smashed into the sea just a few meters away from their hull. Marisol flinched again. If that wasn¡¯t a warning shot, she didn¡¯t know what was. ¡°Stop where you are!¡± a voice from the lighthouse roared. It was deep and distorted, piercing through the rain and thunder like a horn. ¡°Identify yourselves within one minute, or by the decree of the Harbor Imperatrix, we will fire and sink your vessel!¡± Chapter 36 - Birth of a Sea God A dozen warships, two lighthouses, and the shadow of the Whirlpool City stood in Marisol¡¯s way¡ªthe final stretch to her destination ten years in the making. They didn¡¯t fire a fourth warning shot. It was completely unnecessary. Captain Enrique immediately shouted at one of his Harbor Guards to toss him a swirly blue conch from the lower deck. He snatched it out of the air, turned a dial on the side, and spoke through the empty shell with a voice every bit as loud as the lighthouse guards. ¡°We ain¡¯t marauders or anythin¡¯ of the sort!¡± he bellowed, marching from the helm to the front of the ship where Marisol stood, standing wide and open in the cross beams of light. He jabbed a finger at their crudely painted sails. ¡°I am Enrique Delgaro, Captain of the ¡®Caralonia¡¯, frigate of the Fifteenth Harbor Guard Naval Squadron! Aye, we may not be flyin¡¯ the colors of the Whirlpool City, but we can explain! Let us through and dock first! My daughter ain¡¯t givin¡¯ birth on these accursed seas!¡± A second voice cut back from the other lighthouse, booming across the sky. ¡°Who is your Squadron Admiral?¡± ¡°Alvaro Banez! Just get that old sod outta his mansion and have him look at my face! He¡¯ll tell ye¡ª¡± ¡°Admiral Banez is dead, alongside the rest of the Fifteenth Naval Squadron! None of them returned from their patrols across the Deepwater Legion Front!¡± Enrique¡¯s face twitched by her side. ¡°What? The drunk¡¯s dead? What in the gran creador¡¯s blasted name happened to¡ª¡± ¡°Never mind what happened to Admiral Banez! We have hereby confirmed your identities as the Black Frigate known as ¡®Caralonia¡¯!¡± Marisol¡¯s heart lifted for a brief second. Enrique immediately turned to shout at his Harbor Guards to raise anchors, and¡ª ¡°We still do not give you permission to pass and dock!¡± the lighthouse voice roared, and the hundreds of Guards on the warships in front of them waved at them to stop moving. ¡°Defense Protocol ¡®Black Storm¡¯ is currently underway! By decree of the Harbor Imperatrix, no vessel is allowed to enter or leave the Whirlpool City! Move your vessel forward by only a hundred meters and drop anchors so you may join our ranks!¡± A fourth warning shot fired, splashing up a geyser of water right next to Marisol once again. She flinched at the explosive sound, but her paltry reaction was nothing compared to Enrique¡¯s fury. She watched, with great anxiety, as he climbed halfway up the ratlines to shake his fists at the lighthouses. ¡°Fuck do ye mean ¡®Black Storm¡¯ Protocol is underway?¡± he bellowed. ¡°Last time an Imperatrix ordered for its activation was three goddamned decades ago, after the Swarm God was repelled and we needed to stabilize the city¡ªso what the hell¡¯s goin¡¯ on inside? You¡¯re tellin¡¯ me there ain¡¯t a single ship movin¡¯ in and out of the city right now?¡± ¡°Nothing has been entering and leaving for an entire month already! You are no exception to this protocol!¡± Enrique fumed even harder, his face burning red with anger. As he roared through his conch and exchanged conversations with the lighthouse guards, Marisol took a step back and gulped, glancing at the little water strider on her shoulder. What¡¯s that? she asked. ¡®Black Storm¡¯... Protocol? Is it something I need to know? The Archive was quiet for a moment before replying. [... Unlike the capitals of many major battlefronts, the Whirlpool City has many protocols set in place to deal with all sorts of emergencies. Defense Protocol ¡®Black Storm¡¯ is the harshest defense strategy of them all¡ªcomplete lockdown of all movement, trade or military, in and out of the city.] It pointed a leg forward at the base of the city. [I told you a while back that the Whirlpool City constantly emits mist and wind in order to create an artificial storm outside the city. ¡®Black Storm¡¯ is the harshest storm the city can create. No invading force would be able to push through this storm and attack the city.] But why¡ª [The lighthouse guard said as much.] [The last time Defense Protocol ¡®Black Storm¡¯ was activated was three decades ago.]" [A danger equivalent to the Swarm God¡ªthe strongest bug in the world¡ªis currently underway, and the Harbor Imperators believe the only way to defend against it is to stop all movement in and out of the city.]If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Marisol gritted her teeth. And how long until this protocol lifts? [Until the danger ends.] When is that? [I do not know.] I ain''t got all the time in the world. Catrina ain''t got all the time in the world. I need to¡ª ¡°My daughter is in labor, and damned if this ain¡¯t the shittiest storm to give birth to a child in!¡± Enrique snapped, practically screaming into his voice-amplifying conch. ¡°You ain¡¯t know half the shit we¡¯ve been through the past two months, aye? We were eaten by a giant remipede, attacked by Whitewhale Marauders, and then our entire warship went into freefall! Even if ain¡¯t for my daughter, we¡¯re runnin¡¯ out of food, supplies, and only the gran creadors know how much time this warship¡¯s got left in it! The wooden boards and planks feel like they''re gonna break and snap in half any time now!¡± ¡°Link up with the other warships docked between our lighthouses! There are spare supplies for all of us to tide ¡®Black Storm¡¯ over with!¡± one of the lighthouses shouted back. ¡°We cannot, however, under any circumstances, let anyone enter the city during this protocol! Not you, not your daughter, or anyone else! This is for the good of the Deepwater Legion Front!¡± ¡°It¡¯s one girl! Two girls, actually! I¡¯ve got here a makeshift Hasharana who skated all the way from shore to city with nothin¡¯ but her fuckin¡¯ glaives for legs! At least let the two of them¨C¡± ¡°We cannot¡ª¡± the lighthouse voice suddenly cut off, and Marisol heard loud scuffling noises on the other side of the conch. Then, a different voice snapped back at Enrique. ¡°The hell are ye houndin¡¯ us for, man? Ye think we don¡¯t wanna get back to our wives back in the city? Ah¡¯ll tell ye what, ah¡¯ve been stuck out here for three weeks! Ye think fishin¡¯ in this storm is any easy? We¡¯ve been pickin¡¯ and sharin¡¯ bones these past few days!¡± Enrique clicked his tongue loudly. ¡°What, and the Imperators ain¡¯t tell you nothin¡¯? What¡¯s goin¡¯ on inside the fuckin¡¯ city?¡± ¡°Hell if ¡®ah know, man, but orders are orders! Nobody¡¯s gettin¡¯ in and out, and that¡¯s all there is to it!¡± As the two of them began screaming at each other once again, Marisol stumbled unwittingly. A particularly powerful wave smashed into the side of the warship and made even the reinforced hull rattle. She clung to the railings, knuckles white as she tried to stabilize herself, but a second wave smashed into the other side and sent her flying away from the railings. Still, Enrique managed to cling onto the ratlines and continue shouting, completely oblivious to the fact that the storm was intensifying around them. And it wasn¡¯t a natural storm. As Marisol clung onto the ropes dangling off the center mast, her skin pricked with unease. It was a deep, unsettling sensation that crawled up her spine; it made her shiver from head to toe; it wasn¡¯t the cold rain; it wasn¡¯t the never-ending thunder. It was¡­ the waves beneath the ship, twisting and writhing like something swirling just beneath the surface was trying to break free. It was a gnawing sense of dread she couldn¡¯t explain¡ªthe feeling she was being watched, but who? The sensation that something was approaching, but from where? She whirled in a panic, cold sweat beading down her brows as she scanned the churning black sea behind them. There were no marauders in pursuit. No monster fin breaching the turbulent waves. They were in the presence of a dozen more warships and two lighthouses built by the Whirlpool City, the most reliable faction in the Deepwater Legion Front. What, exactly, was she even so terrified of? Her ¡®fate¡¯? How would that even possibly come true? ¡­ A shrill scream from the captain¡¯s cabin silenced both her thoughts and Enrique¡¯s shouts. They turned at the exact same time, staring through the foggy, dimly lit window on the cabin door. A single lantern illuminated the cabin, and Marisol could see the shadows refracting through the glass. Marisol saw half a dozen Harbor Guards crowded around Catrina, trying to accompany her through the delivery. Marisol saw her arms trembling, head tilted so far back it looked like her neck was going to snap. With piercing clarity, she let out a howl so sharp and violent it sounded downright inhuman, and then¡ª Heads flew inside the cabin. Blood splattered onto the glass, blotting out all light seeping out from the cabin. Silence. The waves stopped smashing against the sides of the warship. And neither Marisol, the captain, nor any of the Guards standing above deck could move as she listened to a single pair of footsteps approaching the cabin door¡ªa single, bony hand curling around the doorknob and pushing it open from the inside. The door swung out slowly, gently, creaking on its hinges, and for a second, Marisol saw nothing. There was no light inside the cabin. So when the ghost she¡¯d seen¡ªon the very first day everything went wrong¡ªhad to fold itself in half just to fit through the doorway, she couldn¡¯t help but feel fate had finally caught up with her. The milky white ¡®ghost¡¯ stood in front of the captain¡¯s cabin, surrounded by three dozen trembling Guards, and unfolded itself to its full height. Three meters tall. Skinny as a skeleton. It looked vaguely humanoid. If Marisol were to squint at it from afar, it¡¯d look like it had two legs, two arms, and something resembling a head, but it wasn¡¯t human. Its body was more akin to a stick made of seven chitin segments. It had two antennae curled like horns. It had a slender head with two beady red eyes. It had twelve arms and two legs¡ªtwo appendages jutting out of each segment¡ªand save for the few splotches of flesh and blood stuck to its body, no doubt from bursting out of Catrina¡¯s belly, its chitin was so pale and ghostly that she could see right through into its pulsing, writhing blue organs. It stood on its two legs as though trying to be human, but it really, really wasn¡¯t. It was a ghost. [... MARISOL VELLAMIRA.] [RUN.]
[Objective #10: Survive the F-Rank Mutant-Class Wraith Shrimp] [Time Limit: Undefined] [Rewa¨C]
The status screen fizzled as the bug stomped, splitting the warship down in half. Chapter 37 - Wraith Shrimp Fall on your feet, Marisol! Don¡¯t land on your back! If you fall even once¡ª She didn¡¯t even manage to finish her own thoughts. Somehow, she twisted mid-air and landed on the tip of her glaives. She skated a good ten meters back as the rest of the warship creaked and crumbled around her. The masts fell. She watched with pained, watery eyes as the giant sails came crashing down like trees felled by an unseen hand. Splintered wood and knotted ropes rained down like deadly hail. The crew were screaming, their voices drowned out by the storm. Those who¡¯d been tossed far away enough were bobbing on the surface, clinging to debris. Some were struck by falling beams and others were dragged down by tangled ratlines. Far to her side, she spotted Enrique and a few of his close confidants clawing onto a piece of wood. Of the four dozen Harbor Guards who¡¯d been on board, she spotted only half or so of their heads. When the spotlights from the lighthouse shone down upon the sinking warship, all of them could do nothing but stare at the Mutant standing perfectly straight on the slanted bowsprit. The spotlights shone through its translucent chitin. The form of its bony body segments, its twelve arms, its two legs, and its horn-like antennae were outlined in the flashing lightning behind it. If Marisol didn¡¯t know any better, she¡¯d even have thought the storm was bowing to it. Wind, rain, and water swirled around it like it was a god of the sea. As it stared blankly down at all of them bobbing on flotsam, all she could think was the name she¡¯d been hearing since the horseshoe crab island. The plague of the ocean, ¡®Plagas del Mar.¡¯
[Identification Complete] [Common Name: Wraith Shrimp] [Grade: F-Rank Mutant-Class] [Swarmblood Art: Hypercompression] [Aura: ~7,000] [Strength: ~8, Speed: ~6, Toughness: ~7, Dexterity: ~10, Perception: ~9] [Brief Description: Seven body segments, seven pairs of legs, and extremely difficult to detect. Wraith shrimps are remarkably slender and flexible, and each pair of limbs has a different function. The first two pairs are modified raptorial appendages that specialize in grabbing, cutting, and swimming. The third and fourth pairs are reduced swimming limbs that also double as gills and brood pouches where females raise their young. The fifth to seventh pairs are lined with segmented setae that allow them to grasp and anchor on hard surfaces. Their Swarmblood Art is ¡®Hypercompression¡¯, which allows them to compress themselves into extremely small sizes to hide inside other living beings¡ª]
¡°Mutant-Class sighted!¡± the lighthouse guards bellowed through their conches. ¡°All warships, fire at will! Bring it down before it can reach the city!¡± There was no hesitation. There was no delay. A hundred cannons from the dozen warships docked in front of them fired at once, cracking the sky with fiery streaks, and every last cannonball converged on the sinking warship and the Mutant standing on it. Marisol braced her arms in front of her as wooden shrapnel flew everywhere, tearing through her skin, clothes, and hair. The resulting shockwave would¡¯ve knocked her off her back, too, were she not pouring a hundred and ten percent of her focus into not falling. Gritting her teeth and covering her face, she only weathered the shockwave by skating ten more meters back. That would have killed her otherwise. But the same couldn¡¯t be said of the Mutant. Because when the smoke cleared and thunder cracked, the Mutant emerged alone, standing atop the stormy sea with twelve claws wrapped around twelve cannonballs. Then, it whipped its arms forward and sent the cannonballs flying back. Black streaks speared through a dozen warships, decimating them in one fell swoop. [... To the lighthouses, Marisol!] the Archive snapped, the little water strider poking her cheek over and over. [Get off the water! Do not engage it in battle!] It was easier said than done. Her muscles seized up as she watched the Mutant reach down, pick up an entire mast, and chuck it at one of the still-intact warships in front of them. The warship managed to fire off another volley before the mast rammed straight through, sparks of fire detonating the gunpowder on board¡ªthe cannonballs were just more fuel for the Mutant to grab onto. With a bored, idle click of its mandibles, the Mutant started walking towards the lighthouse on the left. Marisol¡¯s eyes widened. She hadn¡¯t noticed it before, but¡ªjust like her¡ªit could stand on water. It flexed two of its arms, stretched two more, and with the remaining eight it scooped up more debris from the waves to toss at the lighthouse. Most of the projectiles merely bounced off the hard white stone, but it was evidently getting irritated by the crossbow bolts and harpoons it was getting pelted with by the lighthouse guards. It lowered itself on all fourteen limbs, cracked its chitin, and then went under the water. [Marisol! Get out of¡ª] She gnashed her teeth together and flicked the little water strider, skating straight over to Enrique before grabbing him by his collar. He understood her immediately, grabbing another man¡¯s collar, and that man did the same to another man, forming a chain of six people. Quickly then, she dragged them all ashore onto the base of the lighthouse on the right, practically throwing them up onto the rocks with her superhuman strength. Then, she skated back out and did it all over again, pulling all of the surviving Guards ashore as she kept stealing glances at the Mutant approaching the lighthouse on the left. It closed the distance with ease, and then punched out a shrimp-sized hole at the base of the lighthouse. She couldn¡¯t see what was going on behind the thick white walls, but she could hear the screaming, the thumping. Entire sections of the giant lighthouse were being punched out from inside as the Mutant made its way up to the very top. By the time she dragged the last of the Guards ashore, the glass dome at the top of that lighthouse exploded with a belching roar, the entire building going up in flames. [... To reiterate, there are five grades of bugs.] [First, Critter-Class bugs are small, tiny bugs. You can see them everywhere. They are the spies and the scouts of the Swarm, but they do not typically fight or do anything normal critters do not do. As far as we care, they are bugs we squash under our boots without sparing a single glance, and eating them does not yield many points. This is because all Critter-Class bugs are ¡®unspecialized bugs¡¯, meaning they are simply generic ants, beetles, butterflies, moths, et cetera. Their Swarmblood Arts are not very impressive, and are hardly worth mentioning at all.]Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. [Once a Critter-Class consumes enough bioarcanic essence, they will become a more specialized bug, gain a more powerful Swarmblood Art, and rapidly grow in size. The fairy shrimp you slayed was once a Critter-Class shrimp. The horseshoe crab you encountered was once a Critter-Class crab. These are your Giant-Class bugs: the frontline soldiers of the Swarm. However, while their sizes can range from three meters to upwards of a hundred meters, they are still mostly unintelligent monsters who can only fight with brute force. They can still barely use or control their Swarmblood Arts, which is why I do not even list their Arts whenever I identify them in a status screen. You can simply consider them as oversized Critter-Classes, and if you are simply ¡®stronger¡¯ than them, you can overpower them. You can slay them.] [However, once a Giant-Class consumes enough bioarcanic essence, they will become an even more specialized bug, gain an even more powerful Swarmblood Art, and¡­ simply put, Mutant-Class bugs are human-like. They have human-like features. They have human-like intelligence. They typically stand on two feet and compress their incredible power into small, human-like forms. They even have full control of their Swarmblood Art, which finally allows them to use their biomagic competently in battle.] [Now, if an S-Rank Mutant-Class consumes enough bioarcanic essence, they will be given a name as an Insect God¡ªwho are capable of intelligent human speech¡ªand if they consume even more bioarcanic essence, they may even become a Greater Insect God, of which there are only seven known individuals in the entire world. One of them is ¡®Corpsetaker¡¯, the Greater Crab God of the Deepwater Legion Front.] [In sum: do not engage the F-Rank Mutant-Class wraith shrimp in battle.] [As you are now, considering your aura and attribute levels, you will not win.] The Archive had never sounded more sure and confident, and Marisol could understand why. As black rain continued battering her face, she spotted the Mutant standing on the very edge of the lighthouse on the left, staring blankly down at all of them. They were separated by a hundred meter distance of churning, wreckage-filled waves, but even from here, she felt an indescribable tightness in her chest as she locked eyes with it¡ªit was the shrimp¡¯s aura. It was killing pressure. It was fear she thought she¡¯d cast away when she first performed the War Jump, and the emotion stabbed at her gut, freezing her on the spot. She knew she had to do something. She could prioritize the safety of the Guards. Skate them somewhere safe. Heck, the smart thing to do was run away herself¡ªbut she knew she couldn¡¯t. The Archive knew it, too. And as Enrique and the Guards glared daggers up at the Mutant, she dragged one glaive back and leaned forward. What happens if I don¡¯t try to fight it? [The Guards in the lighthouse above you are most likely beginning the evacuation protocol. They will enter conch shell shelters, bolt the door shut, and drop themselves into the ocean in an attempt to survive the Mutant-Class. They will definitely try to get the captain and his Guards into the shelters as well.] How long would it take them to get all that done? [Three minutes.] And how long did it take that Mutant to completely decimate that lighthouse over there? [Two minutes.] Silence. Neither of them said anything, nor did they need to¡ªthey hadn¡¯t spent the past few months stuck to each other for nothing. I¡¯ll buy them two minutes to get inside the shelter and evacuate. The Archive didn¡¯t blink. [But you will die in the process.] What are the chances? [Ninety-nine percent chance of death. Its attribute levels are much higher than yours.] She couldn¡¯t resist a short laugh as she forced a small, quivering smile onto her face. You could¡¯ve said one percent of survival, she thought. I really have corrupted you with my own principles, haven¡¯t I? [... All good Hasharana do,] the Archive said, bowing deeply. [Without exception.] As the gate at the bottom of the lighthouse opened behind them¡ªa dozen lighthouse guards rushed out to drag the Guards inside. Their rescuers shouted at them to evacuate or something of the sort. Marisol paid them no mind. She took off onto the stormy sea to begin her interception mission. The Mutant pounced straight at her, a hundred meters across, and she launched into the War Jump. Four spins. Five spins. She kicked out at the last moment, putting rage and sadness into her attack. Her focus was on her glaives, and she slammed them into its segmented torso. But her eyes widened in horror as its body simply folded around her glaive, and six arms punched out at the speed of a blink. Shit! She jerked her head and evaded, though just barely. One of its fists grazed her cheek. Her lungs were tight. She spun an extra time and flung the Mutant off her glaive, sending it flying into a sinking warship. Through the waves, the lightning, and the rain pelting her face, it chucked volleys of wooden debris her way. She heard the projectiles whistling through the air before she saw them. She launched into a Whirlwind Spin to kick up a small cyclone of water, blocking the first few projectiles. When more came, she knew defensive tactics wouldn¡¯t help. She¡¯d be overwhelmed. She hissed, dodged, and skated around, trying to put some distance between them. It pursued her, diving in and out of the sea like a burrowing worm occasionally popping up for air. It¡¯s fast, tough, and strong! How do I usually beat types like that? [With your speed and speed alone.] She glanced behind her, growling as she vaulted onto a sinking ship. She grabbed a harpoon from a crate, and chucked it back at the Mutant as she backflipped over the railings on the other side. The Mutant simply grabbed it out of the air and chucked it back, the spear tip whizzing past her ears. I¡¯m not fast enough! I need information! Tactics! Weaknesses to exploit! [It is an F-Rank Mutant-Class wraith shrimp. Its limbs are highly dexterous, each of the seven pairs possessing its own specialization, and from what I have been able to observe, it is also able to manipulate each individual arm like they have their own minds. They are nothing like the whale lice¡¯s clumsy appendages. Each of its limbs are as precise and powerful as the Whitewhale Marauder captain.] Weaknesses! Stop telling me¡ª [We are quite fortunate that normal wraith shrimps are quite poor swimmers, so you are only slightly slower than the Mutant-Class.] [If all you do is keep skating away, you can easily buy two minutes before it will eventually catch up to you.] Of course. But that didn¡¯t mean she wasn¡¯t going to try her damndest to put a dent in it somehow. As she skated through the sea of wrecks, she pivoted here and there to kick chunks of debris back at it, trying to poke holes in its defenses. It easily swatted away her projectiles with its upper pairs of arms. Its legs and lower pairs of arms were more for running, swimming, and diving. It didn¡¯t seem to have any ranged capabilities like the barnacles or the Blackclaw Marauders, but it more than made up for it with immense physical power. She dodged, spun, and launched in a desperate dance across the wrecks. Her own speed surprised even her¡ªshe hadn¡¯t known she could go this fast if she really, really needed to. To a certain extent, she was elated. She was exhilarated to be going this fast, to be dancing on the edge of a storm¡­ but it¡¯d be a lie if she said she was happy sharing a stage where more eyes were on the Mutant then her. So the Archive counted¡ªone minute, two minutes¡ªand when she spotted what looked like half a dozen giant conch shells dropping out the top and bottom of the lighthouse, she pivoted and spun a full half-circle to face the Mutant head-on. She hadn¡¯t come to a stop, no. Her momentum was still there. Her grit was still there. If ¡®misfortune¡¯ was to catch up to her no matter what, then she¡¯d reach it first, and she¡¯d kick it too. The Mutant reared only one of its fists back for a punch as it pounced at her. She launched into the War Jump, spinning five times in sequence. I got this, I got this, I got this! Finish the routine with a bang! But she was tired. She was exhausted. She was hurt, wounded, and she misjudged the distance. The Mutant''s fist slammed into her right glaive just as she tried to kick out faster than it could punch. Her chitin shattered as the Mutant broke her leg with a sickening crack. She barely even felt pain as the force from the attack sent her flying down into the sea, cold and dark water enveloping her senses, fogging her mind. There was only silence as she sank. She lost her speed. She lost her balance. And she¡¯d known, from the very beginning, that she wouldn¡¯t be able to climb up if she ever sank into the abyss. Chapter 38 - Lightning At Her Heels Sinking into the cold and quiet abyss, Marisol was calmer than she would¡¯ve thought. It was a combination of a few things¡ªthe fact that this wasn¡¯t her first time sinking in reality, and she¡¯d felt the embrace of the sea in her nightmares many, many times before. A familiar sensation that was an inevitability as a water strider. It could be the cold keeping her heart rate low, or her fatigue stopping her body from trembling. Neither one of those factors could compare to the simple fact that she really, really had fallen more times in the past ten years, than most of her desert townsfolk had fallen their entire lives combined. The fall didn¡¯t scare her, and the sink didn¡¯t frighten her. This¡­ was just the sea. She closed her eyes and refused to take in the few shafts of moonlight piercing through the surface. There was nothing for her to see. Her right glaive was broken, the chitin shattered, cold water clinging to her raw, fleshy muscles and making them sting. If she opened her eyes now, she was sure to see a hundred, a thousand giant bugs sharking around her in a cyclone¡ªwhat would be the point of seeing her nightmare come to life without her being able to do anything about it? She couldn¡¯t swim with one broken leg. She¡¯d run out of air pretty soon, too, though a second felt like an eternity. Time could very well be passing normally above the surface, but down here? It was a completely different world. Funnily enough, she felt she could hear mama¡¯s voice in her head. What was her mama saying? She kept her eyelids sealed and held her breath.
¡°... I don¡¯t need a different job, mama.¡± Twenty-four-year-old Marisol sighed, slamming a cabinet closed as she found her first comb. ¡°I even worked construction in the afternoon and manned the bread ovens at night, so I¡¯ll have you know I am, in fact, perfectly fine with sand-dancing¡ª¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be,¡± her mama said, lips puckered, eyes sunken. ¡°There¡¯s no future in sand-dancing anymore, Marisol. Times have changed. It doesn¡¯t have the same flair it once had. You see men flying on their moth wings and leaping across mountains with their cricket legs, slaughtering hordes of giant monsters with their bare hands, and you think people will want to pay to see a barefoot desert girl dance pretty on the sands?¡± ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± Marisol muttered, slamming a second cabinet closed. ¡°You were the steel-toed queen of the desert. People travelled from halfway across the continent just to catch a glimpse of you doing a camel spin in a sandstorm with one hand tied behind your back. If it ain¡¯t for your ailment, you¡¯d still be¡ª¡± ¡°And that¡¯s exactly why you cannot make sand-dancing your life,¡± her mama said, clicking her tongue irritably as she pointed at her crooked legs, lips twisted. ¡°You''re twenty-four. You have energy. You have pride. The Great Makers know you love what you do and you¡¯re all the more beautiful for it, but the desert is a cruel mistress. It knows in your heart when you think you can outrun it, and then it¡¯ll swallow the ground beneath you, just like it did when I made my final jump. You wanna live the rest of your life on a bed?" Marisol groaned, slamming a third cabinet closed. ¡°Your legs healed in a month. You were just¡­ it was just pure misfortune you caught an ailment on top of that injury.¡± ¡°That ¡®misfortune¡¯ befalls all Sand-Dancers who live on the edge of their feet sooner or later,¡± her mama muttered. ¡°There¡¯s a reason why no lady does this job past thirty.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°It¡¯s a child¡¯s dream, Marisol. ¡°Why do you insist on sand-dancing so much?¡±
¡­ Twenty-year-old Marisol looked down at her hands as she felt warm drops falling onto them. Disappointment flared up inside of her alongside fierce anger and shame. To fall in front of the crowd during her very first show of the day meant nobody would have any expectations of her being able to finish a routine for the rest of the day, and that meant she was out of a job. She wasn¡¯t going to be earning a single Scale today. She¡¯d told her colleagues manning construction and the bread ovens that she wouldn¡¯t be coming in today because she was going to dance. So, what in the Great Maker¡¯s good name was she going to do now? Stay hunched over on all fours at the edge of the town, tearing up, throwing a pity party for herself while passersby averted their eyes and tried to resist throwing her a bone? ¡°... Screw that,¡± she whispered, wiping her nose and slapping a handful of sand into her mouth, making herself choke and cough. The people around her gave her strange looks, but having a dry mouth gave her the will to claw to her feet, glaring up at the top of the dune. She may not get a single Scale for doing another show today¡ªit was tradition, after all, that the moment a Sand-Dancer fell, the ¡®misfortune¡¯ of the fall would carry over to all those who were watching¡ªbut that wasn¡¯t any reason to not practice for tomorrow. Trudging back up to the top of the dune, she squinted up at the morning sun and lifted her leg, keeping it parallel to the ground. The whirlwind in her chest had refused to settle, so she used the turmoil, launching into an immediate double spin jump without any forward momentum¡­ and landed it on the tip of her toes. She continued on with the rest of her routine. Glide. Spin. Pause, raise arms. Twirl and caper. Sharp turn. Sharp pivot. Then jump¡ªsoar. Land. Steady. Quick steps, bend low, stretch arms. Twirl again. Faster now. Sharp turn. Sharp pivot. Jump again¡ªgraceful. The frustration from the early morning failure didn¡¯t leave her. It made her cheeks red with embarrassment and her knuckles white as she clenched her fists with effort. She¡¯d already fallen twice this month. That was three days out of thirty-three days¡¯ worth of Scales down the drain. If she kept this up, she¡¯d miss practically an entire month¡¯s worth of pay every year, and it¡¯d continue to compound, year after year after year. She couldn¡¯t afford to fall again if she wanted to earn enough to pay for her trip to the Whirlpool City within the decade. Only the Great Makers knew how long her mama had left. So she danced until sundown, twirled like her life meant it, and she didn¡¯t once stop for a water break. She didn¡¯t leave the edge of the dune for a single loaf of bread. Sweat had long since evaporated off her skin and her clothes were fused with her, her lungs grasping for thin, flaky air. Still, when it came time for her routine¡¯s finishing technique¡ªthat backflip kick she¡¯d failed just this morning¡ªshe managed to do it for the hundred and tenth time today, landing perfectly on the tip of her toes. In the same, swift motion, she bowed to an invisible audience. There wasn¡¯t a single man on the streets at this time of day. It was midnight. Far past bedtime even for the worst of dreamers. Many eyes may have flitted to her during the day, but for well over the past few hours, she¡¯d been dancing all alone. But¡­ that wasn¡¯t quite right. From the shadow of an alley, a single silver coin flew out and landed at her feet. She lifted her head and immediately looked up, trying to see who it was¡ªbut whoever it was wasn''t holding a firefly lamp. She felt she¡¯d just be a bother if she ran in and tried to figure out who it was. She¡¯d just be a bother, right? ¡°...¡± She bowed and began her routine once more.
¡°... Marisol Vellamira! Come here!¡± her mama shouted, and sixteen-year-old Marisol scowled as she glanced back through the doorway. ¡°What?¡± she shouted back. ¡°I''ve to dance now, mama! I promised that kid yesterday that I¡¯d be there after I get out of school today! He said he¡¯d give me two coppers if I¡ª¡± ¡°Come here!¡± her mama snapped, and Marisol couldn¡¯t help but shiver at that tone; she grumbled and dropped her donation basket and walked back into her house, fingers fidgeting as she glanced at the quickly dimming sun. ¡°What?¡± Marisol muttered. ¡°It¡¯s almost sundown. I have to be there. If I can get at least two coppers, I can make up for the ten days I skipped sand-dancing for that old motley crew from the western harbor¡ª¡± Her mama lifted the crumpled sheets of paper she¡¯d tucked behind the bed, and her blood froze. ¡°Explain,¡± her mama said, voice cold as steel. ¡°What¡¯s up with these test scores?¡± ¡°... What about it?¡± she mumbled, her face falling as she looked away. ¡°It ain¡¯t important anyways. Who cares about some distant war fought between the Worm God and the Swarm God? Who here in this town has seen the Thousand Tongue slaughter the final Magicicada Witch? If I¡¯ve got better things to do with my time than memorizing useless facts about the outside world, I could be¡ª¡± ¡°With high scores like these, why stick them in the back?¡± Her mama slapped the papers on the bed before pointing out the window, scowling mightily. ¡°Go! Leave! Amadeus Academy is recruiting new students for the¡­ what¡¯d they call it? The ¡®Eternal Summer Trimester¡¯? Take these papers and go already! They¡¯ll take you in in a heartbeat¡± Marisol clicked her tongue in irritation, snatching the papers and tearing them to shreds. ¡°No. I don¡¯t need school. I need¡ª¡± Her mama tossed a pillow at her. ¡°Like hell you don¡¯t!¡± her mama snarled. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you? A golden apple¡¯s dangling in front of you, and you ain¡¯t taking it? Amadeus Academy has everything anyone from this shoddy old town wants! Free student housing! Full-ride scholarship! Hell, if you go there, you can curry favors with the Thousand Tongue and his entourage¡ª¡±Stolen story; please report. ¡°And what''ll I be doing there, and for how long?¡± Marisol snapped back, tossing the pillow over her mama¡¯s head. ¡°It¡¯s at least six years there for the full basic course, right? Who¡¯s got the time for that? You know, I bet I¡¯ll get roped into some stupid research project that¡¯ll take an additional six years to finish, and what¡¯ll I come home to then, huh? Nothing! The bed stolen and the nameplate painted over, that¡¯s what!¡± ¡°So you¡¯ll do¡­ what, exactly? Sand-dance the rest of your life?¡± Her mama scoffed. ¡°Grow up, Marisol! Come on! You ain¡¯t ever gonna earn enough dancing for a bunch of old-timers in this town! Stop looking back and just! Go!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get other jobs! It ain¡¯t like I¡¯m putting all my eggs in the same basket! Ain¡¯t papa had multiple jobs back when he was still healthy and kicking? I¡¯ll just do what he did!¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t bring your papa into this! He knew he was overworking himself, but¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªin fact, if I spend six years at the academy and end up getting nothing out of it, then it¡¯ll be completely wasted time! I could¡¯ve been working instead¡ª¡± ¡°Like I care! Take your papers to the letter¡¯s guild now! Get them to glue the shreds together and take the earliest caravan to Amadeus Academy tomorrow! I ain¡¯t seeing you tomorrow, you hear me?¡± ¡°Yeah, sure!¡± Marisol clenched her jaw and kicked the shreds around, storming out of the house. ¡°You won¡¯t be seeing me tomorrow! I¡¯ll just bunk at Auntie Arana¡¯s until I get enough to pay for the ship fees!¡± Her mama screamed out at her. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare inconvenience Arana! Get back here, Marisol!¡± For the first time in her life, she didn¡¯t turn around. She stormed off into the sunset and cried all the way until the edge of the dune. The boy who¡¯d made her promise she¡¯d be there wasn¡¯t there himself.
¡­ It was the middle of the day, and it was the darkest, nastiest, most violent sandstorm ten-year-old Marisol had ever seen. The entire town was plunged into darkness. She could barely see sunlight filtering through the swirling winds and sand, but her mama was insistent¡ªhand-in-hand, they trudged out to the edge of the town and climbed a dune. When they reached the top, her mama told her to sit there and watch. Sand blew through her scarf and dried up her mouth, but she remembered shouting, telling her mama they should go home. Men had died much worse for much less, and it was suicide trying to sand-dance in the middle of the storm. Her mama ignored her, though. She¡¯d never seen her mama so adamant and stubborn about something. Squinting, little Marisol got down on her stomach and kept herself as low as possible, holding her veil over her head to keep sand from blowing into her eyes. Maybe her mama just wanted to show her something cool and then they¡¯d go home, sharing a warm meal over a fire. Oh, she was so, so hungry¡ªshe felt she had a bottomless appetite for just about anything right now. She was half-distracted with idle thoughts about skewers and sallets when the wind picked up speed. The dust devil was fast approaching their dune, as though the desert god knew they were there. Waiting for it. Taunting it. Marisol noticed almost immediately and widened her eyes. Her mama was standing on the edge of the dune, back turned towards the whirlwind; she screamed and shouted and tried to get up on her feet, but it was no use. She was too tiny, the winds were too strong. She¡¯d be knocked down the dune if she tried to stand. But her mama stood perfectly still, and when she raised her knee before spinning in place¡ªshe kicked the dust devil away with the tip of the toes, making it swerve away from the town. Just like that. And while the sandstorm still churned around them, the big bad was already gone. Her mama was unchallenged, undefeated; the steel-toed queen of the desert. A twirl, a caper, and a step¡ªher mama turned with her arms crossed over her head, shooting Marisol a wink underneath her veil as she began her routine for real. Land. Steady. Quick steps, bend low, stretch arms. Twirl. Faster now. Sharp turn. Sharp pivot. Jump again¡ªgraceful. Glide. Spin. Pause, raise arms. Twirl and caper again. Sharp turn. Sharp pivot. Then jump¡ªsoar. Little Marisol¡¯s face lifted, bright with some unplaceable emotion. Her mama was¡­ like a fairy. Her cloak fluttered behind her like wings, and she was flying on the sand, but not with wings. Just her feet. Just her fingers. She spun so fast, like a whirlwind herself, and her hair was all swishy and swooshy. Her arms looked so soft and delicate but so firm and strong at the same time. Her silhouette looked so sharp and smooth, and for the life of her she couldn¡¯t figure out how she made dancing on sand look like she was skating on water. Was her mama really human, or was she a living miracle in disguise? Whatever it was, though, Marisol wanted to learn this art of the sand. She wanted to learn this dance of the sea. Her mama always told her, after all: she was ¡®Mar¡¯, of the far western sea they came from, and ¡®Sol¡¯, of the far eastern sun they lived in. It didn¡¯t matter if she was only ten years old. If she wanted to fill her bottomless appetite, she had to start learning now.
Sixteen-year-old Marisol didn¡¯t look back at her house, even if the boy who¡¯d made her promise she¡¯d be here wasn¡¯t here himself¡ªshe danced anyways for a crowd that didn¡¯t care if she existed or not. A Sand-Dancer would never look behind her.
Twenty-year-old Marisol performed one more routine for the boy she knew was watching her from the shadow of an alley. After all, she was a lady of the Vellamira household who held herself to the utmost standard. She was graceful. She was infallible. And Marisol Vellamira, born of the sands and the seas¡­
Dances with lightning snapping at her heels. Something sharp and painful flared inside her. Her blood felt hot in her veins. Very hot. She ripped her eyelids apart and glared up at the distant shafts of moonlight. The pounding anxiety and fear from facing the Mutant hadn¡¯t disappeared, no¡ªthey¡¯d merely settled into the pit of her stomach. Oddly, it made her feel all tingly inside¡ªbut what sort of Sand-Dancer would she be if she couldn¡¯t even make her mama happy to see her again? She didn¡¯t need anyone to see her dance. She didn¡¯t need anyone to know how strong and fast she¡¯d gotten. If she sank here, she wouldn¡¯t be able to avenge Catrina and the Harbor Guards. She wouldn¡¯t be able to get a vial of healing seawater back to her mama¡ªand that, above all else, was the one thing she couldn¡¯t accept. She was a lady of the Vellamira household. Her blood boiled with determination. And if she said she was going to go home¡ª
[Biological Compatibility with the Water Strider Class has reached 100%] [Swarmblood Art Unlocked: Storm Glaives] [Brief Description: You can electrify your blood with bioarcanic essence and spark lightning around your glaives. When activated, your speed will increase by fifty percent] [Grade: B-Rank Giant-Class ¡ú S-Rank Giant-Class]
She was going to go home. At her will, her glaives suddenly crackled with blue and pink swirls of lightning. They were so bright and glaring they made her wince. She had to blink and command them to stop crackling almost immediately, because that split second of electrocuting herself underwater with her own electrified blood was super, super painful. But that split second of intense light was all ¡®something¡¯ needed to locate her in the abyss. [... Whitewhale aura detected.] [Brace yourself, Marisol Vellamira.] She was about to follow up with a question when something rubbery slammed into her from below, and then she started rising, rising, rising. The sudden decrease in water pressure made her ears pop and her skull feel like bursting, but she gritted her teeth and bore with it. The pain was nothing. Here, in the great blue, the resolve to live on the edge was everything. So, when she burst onto the surface after what felt like ten eternities underwater, she sucked in the greediest breath of air she¡¯d ever taken. Cold water washed from her hair and cloak and clung to her skin like sap. The giant whale she was lying on expelled a warm gale through its blowhole. The wind dried her in an instant, peeling her lips back and making her cheeks ripple in the process. It was pointless, really. There was still a storm around her and black rain was pelting her from all around, but¡­ the wind felt nice. She felt warm for the briefest of moments, like she was back in the desert. She supposed she had the whale to thank for that brief sensation of home. You¡¯re¡­ that whale whose marauder town I wrecked? As she fell onto its back once more¡ªletting out a soft oomph as she did¡ªshe felt the whale cleaving through the stormy seas, heading straight towards a familiar silhouette in the near distance. With her still on its back, she managed to look up ever so slightly and frown. And those are¡­ giant trees? Mountains? But the Dead Island Straits are over there, and there ain¡¯t any other islands¡­ nearby¡­ But there was one island she knew that could swim, and when she was close enough to see the silhouettes of children waving at her from the black sand ¡®beach¡¯, the whale suddenly buckled and sent her flying ashore. It wasn¡¯t a long flight. Ten meters, two seconds, and she landed arms-first onto the beach with a dozen crab children immediately rushing in to surround her. Ow. [The Whitewhale was still lingering around after you freed it from the marauders, and the children of the horseshoe crab¡­] Marisol could almost feel the Archive struggling to process what it was seeing. [The horseshoe crab must have decided to escort you and make sure you got to the Whirlpool City by yourself? Even if it meant it had to leave its preferred territory?] [A Sand-Dancer¡¯s misfortune is¡ª] Ow, ow, ow, ow. ow. Lots of sticks poked her spine. Lots of hands grabbed her cloak, trying to pull her up to her feet. She felt she even heard a familiar voice calling her name, but, with every bit of strength left in her arms, she swatted all of them away and grumbled under her breath. No. I¡­ I can get up by myself. She meant it, and she had a plan. Inhaling deeply, she willed that crackling sensation to life again¡ªlightning swirling around her glaives. Underwater, she may very well have been electrocuted the first time she used her biomagic, but on land? She could tolerate that little bit of pain. It was nothing compared to falling over and over again. This is¡­ my Swarmblood Art. [It appears so.] [The ability to electrify your own blood with bioarcanic essence.] Lightning at my heels. Lightning. Lightning! Just one leg. Her broken right glaive. Her chitin plates were gone, and now her right ¡®leg¡¯ was more like strands of lean muscles woven together in the shape of a blade. She had no idea how long it¡¯d take her to regenerate the chitin¡ªmaybe it wouldn¡¯t even regenerate like normal human skin¡ªbut since it was only ¡®broken¡¯ in the sense she couldn¡¯t muster any strength into tensing its muscles, she only had to make it move another way. She bit her tongue and stifled a scream as she electrified her right leg, making her muscles pull themselves taut, straighten under the knee. The children gasped and jumped back all at once, but she wasn¡¯t done yet. She punched the ground with her fists. She pushed her upper body up, spat a mouthful of blood, and took to a kneel with her left glaive first. Then, she took the plunge. She sprang up on her left glaive and stood on the tip of her electrified right glaive. Her chitin-less right glaive didn¡¯t crumble beneath her, and now both her glaives were swirling with streaks of bluish-pink lightning¡ªbrighter than any of the torches any of the children were holding in the rain. There were so, so many things she wanted to tell Kuku, who was standing right in front of her with dozens of cooked crab legs in his arms, but they could talk another time. She whirled around and glared at the tiny lights flashing on the horizon¡ªthe Whirlpool City¡¯s guards firing on the advancing Mutant, no doubt, and the battle was only three, at most, four kilometers away. She hadn¡¯t drifted that far away. So it was, when the island rumbled and everyone stumbled for a good few seconds, that Marisol watched a giant spiky tail lifting out of the sea in front of her. It was the tail of the horseshoe crab, and it was shaped like a hundred-meter long ramp, reaching towards the sky. ¡­ Archive. [One hundred and ten percent.] A small, sparkling smile took her face. I ain¡¯t even asked my question yet. [You are a very predictable girl with very predictable questions, and I did predict you would eventually ¡®figure out¡¯ what your Swarmblood Art is by pure instinct, did I not?] [Now go.] [Show me what you are made of, Marisol Vellamira.]
[Objective #10: Survive the F-Rank Mutant-Class Wraith Shrimp] [Objective #10: Slay the F-Rank Mutant-Class Wraith Shrimp] [Time Limit: 10 minutes] [Reward: Vengeance for the fallen] [Failure: Irrelevant] Chapter 39 - Storm Strider Climbing up a colossal tree with a black storm roaring around her wasn¡¯t how Marisol wanted to end her day, but if she wasn¡¯t this high up, she wouldn¡¯t get enough momentum to skate up the giant horseshoe crab¡¯s ramp-like tail. [What a stupid, dangerous thing to do,] the Archive muttered. [But I suppose you would not be Marisol if you were not a speed demon.] Reaching the top of the tree with her palms glued to the bark, she turned and looked down, swallowing a hard gulp¡ªit was a fifty-meter-tall fall down to the black sand beach, and then she¡¯d have to backflip, land on her glaives, and maintain the forward momentum until she crossed the beach and reached the base of the tail. Then, she¡¯d have to skate all the way up the hundred-meter-long tail and glide all the way back towards the Whirlpool City¡­ and in this storm? With this sort of wind swirling across the great blue? Oh, she knew it was going to be dangerous. Coward. [Reckless.] Number-obsessed. [Pragmatic.] Not pragmatic enough to ditch me a long time ago. The Archive chortled as she dragged her left glaive black, putting her right glaive crackling with lightning in front. The crab children fed me lots of crabs as well. [They must have sensed you were going to be washed ashore, so they were waiting for you with lots of points.] How many do I have now? [Three hundred and fifty-five. You ate enough crabs in the past twenty minutes to give you severe food poisoning for the next month,] the Archive said plainly. [But you are not one to care for that as long as you can reach the Whirlpool City, right?] That¡¯s right. Raise my dexterity and perception to level four, and put the rest into my wings.
[Dexterity: 3 ¡ú 4] [Perception: 3 ¡ú 4] [Basic Wings Lvl. 2 ¡ú Basic Wings Lvl. 5] [Aura: 1,484 (+30) ¡ú 1,835 (+30)] [Points: 355 ¡ú 4]
And then a second status screen popped up next to her head, showing her the branch mutation options for her wings.
[First Branch Mutation Selection available for T3 Core Mutation ¡®Basic Wings¡¯] [First Branch Mutation Option: Streamlined Wings] [Brief Description: Your wings will become more streamlined with a swept-back, diamond-shaped design, further enhancing their aerodynamic properties and allowing you to glide even faster] [Second Branch Mutation Option: Flexed Wings] [Brief Description: Your wing joints will evolve smaller flexion coils for improved flexibility, allowing for sharper turns and better control during gliding] [Third Branch Mutation Option: Stabilizing Wings] [Brief Description: Your wings will develop automatic balancing mechanisms, allowing you to stand or move on turbulent water surfaces without easily sinking or tipping over]
But this time, unlike when she had to decide between ¡®Attracting Hydrospines¡¯ and ¡®Repelling Hydrospines¡¯, her decision was obvious. She was a Sand-Dancer, a speed demon who lived on the very edge of her feet. She needed speed. Give me ¡®Streamlined Wings¡¯, Archive. [Understood.]
[Basic Wings Lvl. 5 ¡ú Streamlined Wings Lvl. 5] [Brief Description: You have grown short, diamond-shaped wings especially specialized for gliding between your shoulder blades. These wings are incapable of flying. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from using your wings]
[Stimulating release of perception-enhancing compounds,] it said, vanishing off her shoulder as she felt her wings growing sharper. [Activating and maintaining your Swarmblood Art may increase your speed by fifty percent, but it will drain your bioarcanic essence greatly, so you have around ten minutes before you run out completely. Slay the Mutant-Class before then.] Inhaling deeply, Marisol willed more lightning to harden her broken right glaive. Raw muscle strands pulled themselves taught. Drying blood evaporated off her tiny cuts here and there, and a cool wind ran over her skin, ruffling her curly locks of hair. She exhaled. Then she relaxed her basic setae and let go, falling down, down, and down the colossal tree¡ªonly to do a backflip and stab the bark mid-fall, lightning speeding her trail as her glaives cleaved through the tree. She split the tree down in half as she reached the black sand beach in two seconds flat. Light twisted around her. The world became a blurry mess. She kept her momentum as she sped straight towards the giant horseshoe crab tail¡ªpassing Kuku and the cheering crab children as she did. With great concentration, she began skating up the tail, her eyes focused solely on the dark clouds she was heading towards. Darkness enveloped her as she went faster and faster. She lost sense of herself, her body. Her mind was racing with a million thoughts, but at the same time, it was so quiet her panting breaths became the only noise she heard. Then they, too, went silent. The ¡®void¡¯ came as the world blurred. It was almost familiar at this point, so she didn¡¯t lose herself in it. Far from it. As she neared the tip of the tail, leaning dangerously forward and hissing out every drop of air in her lungs, her glaives left the ground and she whipped her wings out. She caught the winds as she pressed her limbs together, turning herself into an arrow. Lightning at my heels! Go!
[{Temporary} Speed: 5 ¡ú 7]
Black rain lashed at her face like needles and the wind howled in her ears. The clouds swirled in violent spirals above her. The churning seas raged far beneath, giant waves crashed and swallowed each other. She refused to let the night take her again. With bluish-pink lightning crackling around her glaives, she was sure she looked like a shooting star¡ªstreaking across the night sky. She left a trail of stardust in her wake¡ªand just the thought of it made her all giddy inside. She was sure she¡¯d never looked so pretty before. How far until the lighthouse where I was, Archive? [Three kilometers. Estimated time until arrival: one minute.] Thunder boomed around her, rattling her bones, but she pressed on with her teeth gnashed together. Even from a distance, she could squint and see the flashes of cannons firing in vain, more beams of light swerving from the backline lighthouses in an attempt to locate their target. The Mutant-Class shrimp was moving with terrifying speed, though. It¡¯d dismantled the second, third, and fourth lines of warships defending the Whirlpool City with a series of deafening cracks. She didn¡¯t even need to see its silhouette, exactly. Her eyes followed the floating wreckage and the sea of debris as she soared over them, and eventually she was close enough.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. She saw the tiny, segmented back of the Mutant several hundreds of meters away, and she raised her wings to adjust her gliding path. I ain¡¯t settling for a shitty, boring entrance, then! Archive! [What?] More adrenaline! [Stimulating release of focus-enhancing adrenaline.] The whole way down, her pulse was pounding in a painful, electrifying rhythm, but she wasn''t going to lie: this was easily the most exhilarating thing she''d ever done. She shot through clouds and narrowed her eyes at the quickly-rising Mutant beneath her. It was still sprinting towards the Whirlpool City a few hundred meters in front of it, but it''d annihilated every warship in its way. Every lighthouse was toppled. The only person who could intercept it before it could reach the city was none other than her. So, the moment before impact, she flipped around and aimed her glaives at its back. A hundred and ten percent! Lightning at my heels! The Mutant whirled, beady red eyes widening in surprise as she slammed into its torso. White-hot lightning exploded outwards as she cleaved through a pair of its blocking arms, screeching to a halt and kicking up a massive wave of water behind her as she did. She clawed the surface with her fingers, vibrating her hydrospines to maintain her balance and clicking her tongue in irritation at the same time. The Mutant had just barely dodged and deflected her impaling kick by sacrificing two of its arms. Tch. The audience shouldn¡¯t dodge out of the way when I¡¯m doing fanservice, you fucking bug. She didn''t let her momentum completely screech to a halt, though. Twirling around to face the Mutant head-on, she immediately skated to the right while it dived to the left, her eyes glaring daggers at its shadow beneath the surface. It had the advantage of being able to strike her from below, so she couldn''t ever stay still to take a break, but when had she ever stopped moving on water anyways? Arms spread out, fingers twirling as though she were paddling through water, she skated hard right while the Mutant pursued her from the left. They were opposites of the same maelstrom. Lightning electrified the sea in her wake while the Mutant¡¯s subsurface swimming kicked up giant waves, and she wasn¡¯t slowing down. She had a routine to follow: Glide. Spin. Pause, raise arms. Twirl and caper. Sharp turn. Sharp pivot. Then jump¡ªsoar. She finished skating a whole circle back to where she first landed after twenty seconds, and then she repeated the routine, making the Mutant chase her in circles over and over again. By the time the Mutant popped out of the churning waves and stood perfectly still to look around, it was already too late. She¡¯d picked up so much momentum, skated so fast in circles that she¡¯d kicked up a roaring waterspout around them, and it was a circular barrier of wind and electrified water that kept the Mutant from leaving the hundred-meter-wide arena. If it thought she was an annoying pest and wanted to continue towards the Whirlpool City instead, it¡¯d have to wait out the lightning, but with her still skating non-stop? It¡¯d have to fight her. And now I move in! Glaring at the Mutant in the center of the electrified arena, she kicked in with a burst of strength, leaning dangerously forward. It picked up two broken halves of a warship and sent them cleaving through the waves towards her, but she jumped and drop-kicked through the hull, shooting through the halves before landing on her glaives. The Mutant flung more debris at her¡ªcrates, cannons, planks, even entire masts with the ratlines still attached. She dodged and spun and twisted through them all, shrapnel cutting her skin, drawing blood. Each and every last projectile it flung at her was deadlier than any opponent she¡¯d ever faced. The Mutant¡¯s tossing strength was unbelievable, so she had to get up close and personal. Closer! Get in melee range! She staggered through the barrage, then arrived under its giant form. Its eyes weren¡¯t catching up to her. It was still staring forward at where she was a split second ago, so she kicked at its torso¡ªand its segmented body folded around her glaive, lightning zapping its internal organs as it punched at her in the same motion, trying to trade blows with her. But she¡¯d seen this attack before¡ªit¡¯d folded itself around her glaive not too long ago¡ªso she let her apiclaws spring out and slashed her arms in a cross, severing two of its punching arms. It immediately recoiled with a pained screech, darting underwater, and that was the first time she¡¯d heard it make a sound. She sharpened her claws against her glaives as it surfaced a good twenty meters away, its eyes fully alert and opened now. How¡¯d you like that, bug? She sneered, shooting it a thumbs-down. Your arms themselves ain¡¯t so tough, huh? Sucks to be you! I¡¯ve already carved a shrimp before! The Mutant folded backwards and cracked each of its segments¡ªthe same way she¡¯d bend backwards and stretch her spine every morning before performing a routine¡ªand then it charged. Faster, wilder, and more wrathful than it¡¯d ever been before. Dipping in and out of the water to make itself harder to track, it burst from under her like a geyser, punching out with all eight arms in a flurry of strikes. She fanned her wings out and jumped up, kicking its arms away with a sharp exhale. Two legs was all she needed to match eight arms; she was fast enough, though her right glaive was still obviously fractured. She needed to electrify her own muscles just to keep it from bending the wrong way. Backflipping off its final punch and landing ten meters away, she immediately skated in for a counterattack. It reared its arms back, ready to intercept. She smirked and screeched to a halt five meters in, splashing a wave of water into its face. When it tried to punch through the wave anyways, she met it with a Whirlwind Spin, kicking and slicing off four more arms with flashes of lightning. Again, it cast out a fist, and this time it caught her in the middle of a spin¡ªshe gasped as one of its claws stabbed through her right elbow, halting her momentum in an instant. With its claw still in her arm, it jerked itself forward and followed up with more punches. She ducked, she bobbed, she weaved, but two more claws stabbed into her left forearm, and now it had both her arms in its grip. Shit! She hissed, lifting her glaives and trying to kick it straight through, but it snapped its torso segments to the side and evaded swiftly. It really is a skeleton! So thin¡ª It didn¡¯t let her think. It could¡¯ve ripped her arms off their sockets, and she certainly felt her muscles tearing for a split second, but then she flapped her wings and vibrated her hydrospines as violently as she could to make the water it was standing on wobble. It lost its balance, albeit only slightly, but it bought her enough time to kick and sever two more of its arms with her apiclaws instead. Dropping her with yet another pained screech, it skidded back on all four remaining limbs and snarled at her, cracking its head left and right. She did the same, leaning forward and raising her back leg parallel to the sea as well¡ªand she watched, for what she hoped was the final time, as the Mutant dipped under the surface and swam to the edges of the electrified arena. It swerved at the last second to begin charging straight at her. [It wishes to challenge you,] the Archive said plainly. [Slaughter it head-on with your speed and speed alone.] She coughed out a laugh, scowling at the charging Mutant. I don¡¯t need you to tell me that. Who do you think I am? The Mutant kicked up violent waves wherever it swam. It took its sweet time circling around her in the center of the makeshift arena, just like when she¡¯d done the same to it minutes earlier. She didn¡¯t reciprocate in kind immediately. She took one slow step forward, keeping her body extremely low to the surface with the Silent Step, and started skating in small circles around where she stood. She calmed her breathing. She steadied her heart and mind. What did her mama look like that day, when the dust devil was kicked away in the middle of a sandstorm? [Would you like me to put her ghost in front of you?] She shook her head slowly, a soft smile rising onto her face. I remember. And, you know, if I have to keep seeing my mama¡¯s ghost just to perform a technique, that¡¯s like admitting I won¡¯t go home to see her in person. She exhaled coolly, raising one knee as she spun idly in place. No more ghosts. No more bugs. I am here. And when the Mutant pounced at her from behind¡ªthe ripples from its movements having reached her long, long ago¡ªshe performed the War Jump, accelerating from zero into an explosive, graceful launch. She spun six times in total, and her electrified glaives came down like a hammer against a nail¡ªbisecting the Mutant down in half and slamming against the sea, a crack of thunder on the distant horizon accompanying the strike. Marisol stayed balanced on one glaive, head lowered after the downwards kick, exhaling slowly as she did. She watched the halves of the Mutant fall apart, sink into the abyss, and only once she was sure she¡¯d killed it did she deactivate her Art. The moment she did¡ªthe moment lightning left her entire body, not just her glaives¡ªshe crumbled like a puppet with its strings cut off, falling over backwards and sinking alongside the Mutant she¡¯d given her all to slay.
[Objective #10 Completed: Slay the F-Rank Mutant-Class Wraith Shrimp] [Reward: Vengeance for the fallen] [Grade: S-Rank Giant-Class ¡ú F-Rank Mutant-Class]
¡­ Sinking into the cold and quiet abyss for the second time tonight. She wondered, briefly, if anyone was going to come get her. She was this close to the Whirlpool City, after all¡ªit¡¯d be a complete shame if that ¡®Black Storm¡¯ protocol or whatever meant she couldn¡¯t get in. She¡¯d come such a long way. It would be a shame, wouldn¡¯t it? How far, Archive? How long? [Four thousand two hundred and eighty-six kilometers in three months, one week, and one hour.] [You have finally arrived at the Whirlpool City.] She blinked slowly underwater, feeling her mind drifting asleep. You know, you still have a lot to explain to me. About the anomalies that keep happening to me. About that Mutant. About the Water Strider Class. About my Swarmblood Art. About¡­ everything that¡¯s been going on in the Deepwater Legion Front. But her thoughts trailed off as the little water strider jumped off her shoulder and pointed upwards¡ªat the shadow of a man diving in after her, backlit only by cold shafts of moonlight. She couldn¡¯t see who he was, or even make out any of his facial features with her vision being so blurry and hazy, but she saw the flag he carried on his back billowing in the underwater currents¡­ and it was an insignia she¡¯d recognize anywhere in the world. She hadn¡¯t spent ten years saving up for her trip to the Whirlpool City to not recognize the nine-headed serpent twisted in the shape of a sword, after all. ¡­ Oh. A Harbor Imperator. You know, if there was one out here, maybe he should¡¯ve¡ª [He just got here, and he is no Harbor Imperator,] the Archive grumbled. [His identity is of no concern to you right now, though. I am certain he will be your guide once he drags you inside the Whirlpool City, whether he has to lose a few limbs pushing through ¡®Black Storm¡¯ with sheer brute force or not.] [For the time being, simply close your eyes and rest, Marisol Vellamira.] [Your journey to the Whirlpool City ends here.] [Whether you can get a vial of healing seawater from Depth Nine of the Whirlpool City is another matter altogether.]
Volume One, End Chapter 40 - Victor Morina The Harbour Imperators¡¯ conference room at the top of the Whirlpool City was as circular as the volcano city they overlooked. A golden lantern hung from the ceiling. The walls were glass, etched in spiralling patterns to mimic the flow of water, and moonlight filtered through them from every conceivable direction. Six lighthouses were built at the edge of the crater to overlook the ever-churning whirlpool in the centre of the dormant volcano¡ªthis way, they had eyes on anything that could claw out of the whirlpool at any given location¡ªbut there was no doubt that Lighthouse Seven, where all six Lighthouse Imperators were currently gathered in, was the safest place in the entire city right now. All in total, six of them sat along the dark, polished wooden table in the centre of the room. Faint scents of seawater lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy smell of aged wood and the metallic tangs of armor that the six of them wore into attendance. ¡®Black Storm¡¯ was still active outside, after all. They must¡¯ve rushed through pouring rain just to get to Lighthouse Seven in time for their weekly meeting at nine. ¡­ All of you smell. Go take a shower first, you gu¨¢calas. Victor Morina and two dozen Harbour Imperators stood along the walls of the conference room, behind the seated Lighthouse Imperators, and at the very least, he probably wasn''t supposed to be here. The weekly meetings at nine were usually reserved only for the Lighthouse Imperators and the Harbour Imperatrix¡ªthe One-Eyed Lord of the Whirlpool City seemingly dozing off at the end of the table¡ªbut tonight was a bit of a special night. Even someone like Victor was called in to attend with his other Lighthouse Seven colleagues despite not possessing the proper rank to do so, which meant this meeting was serious business. He should be paying more attention. Rather, he should¡¯ve paid more attention, because the Lighthouse Imperators had each already given their reports already, and he¡¯d kinda slept through most of them while leaning against the glass wall. Yawning with his arms crossed, he glanced out behind him and pursed his lips. It¡¯d been nearly two months since they activated ¡®Black Storm¡¯, engulfing the entire city and the seas around it in a never-ending downpour. Through the rippled glass, he could just barely make out the houses and buildings that clung to the volcano¡¯s sides, rooftops slick and shining under the relentless rain. The sloped streets spiralled downwards, five hundred metres to the bottom where the harbours were, and anytime now their canals would overflow with torrents of water. The city wasn¡¯t built to endure such harsh rain for longer than a month, let alone nearing two. ¡®Black Storm¡¯ has to come down soon, he thought, glancing back at the seated Lighthouse Imperators as he did. The city¡¯s self-sustainable, but not for an eternity. Give or take eight more months, and we¡¯ll be in deep shit if the storm still hasn¡¯t come down. ¡°... So, to sum, we can¡¯t risk lowering ¡®Black Storm¡¯ until we¡¯re certain what Corpsetaker and his Leviathans are doing in Depth Nine,¡± the Third Lighthouse Imperator said. ¡°But we do know what he¡¯s doing down there, don¡¯t we? He¡¯s calling Mutant-Classes from all over the Deepwater Legion Front to the city. He wants them to come and free him from the outside while he and his Leviathans continue to assault us from the inside.¡± The Fifth nodded. ¡°That wraith shrimp nearly did in the Harbour Guards stationed outside the city alone. More will come. I do not know how it managed to get so close to the city without any of us detecting it, but I propose we keep ¡®Black Storm¡¯ activated until we stop getting reports about Mutant-Classes decimating our fleets across Deepwater Legion for at least a month.¡± ¡°And when will that be, Rei-Rei?¡± the Second muttered. ¡°Trade¡¯s gutted. ¡®Ah ain¡¯t had marlins in my dinners for an entire month already. Ye want me to go without marlin for at least another two months?¡± ¡°It is the safe option. That Mutant-Class got dangerously close to the city without any of us noticing. Even with ¡®Black Storm¡¯ activated, it would have managed to reach the lower city and wreak minor havoc before any of us could have responded to it¡ªand let us not forget how atrocious our response time to that Mutant-Class was.¡± The Third shrugged. ¡°True. But we were all still diving in the whirlpool, and it¡¯s not exactly in our job description to defend the city from external threats. We¡¯re Harbour Imperators. We stop bugs from crawling out of the whirlpool, and the Harbour Guards stop bugs from crawling in from everywhere else. If anyone needs a lecture, it¡¯s the Guards¡ª¡± ¡°Ya can¡¯t expect my Guards to deal with a F-rank Mutant-Class. They¡¯re trained and equipped only to deal with normal crustaceans, and ninety percent of ¡®em standin¡¯ guard by the lighthouses back then weren¡¯t at all prepared for one to make it so close to the shore,¡± the Fourth said, putting her feet on the table. ¡°A lot of Guards died during that shrimp¡¯s attack, ya know? Spare ¡®em the lecture. I¡¯ll take up personal trainin¡¯ for the lot of ¡®em when I¡¯ve free time on my hands, though don¡¯t expect ¡®em to suddenly be able to beat a Mutant-Class in just a month or two even if I feed ''em the shrimp. Ain¡¯t like most Imperators can confidently beat a Mutant-Class solo, either.¡± The room went quiet as the Fourth brought the point home. Victor sighed quietly. The city had lost a lot of Harbour Guards a month ago¡ªtwo hundred and three men, to be exact. Replenishing those numbers would be an arduous task for Lighthouse Four. They¡¯d probably see incredibly low new recruits this year, perhaps even the lowest it''s ever been in decades¡ª but that¡¯d simply be the natural result of a colossal screw-up that should¡¯ve never been allowed to get that close to the city in the first place. ¡°... We need new recruits,¡± the Third muttered. ¡°Both for the Guards and the Imperators. If we have enough numbers to hold the city on the surface, then all of us Lighthouse Imperators can just get together, dive to Depth Nine, and fuck things up a little down there. We can at least stop Corpsetaker from calling other Mutant-Classes over for maybe a few years, and then we can lift ¡®Black Storm¡¯ to resume trade¡ª¡± ¡°Then why the hell are we skirtin¡¯ around the real reason why we¡¯re here tonight?¡± The Second raised a finger, chuckling under her breath. ¡°Ain¡¯t like none of us heard what happened. A Mutant gettin¡¯ close to the city ain¡¯t all that uncommon, really¡ªwe always manage to slaughter it in the lower city even if it gets ashore¡ªbut this time, it¡¯s that guy who slaughtered it we¡¯re all here to talk about, right?¡± The Third narrowed his eyes at her. ¡°It¡¯s a lady. Even younger than you were when you killed your first Mutant-Class, I think.¡± ¡°Hah? Ain¡¯t no way¡ª¡± ¡°Dethroned as the former precocious child of the Imperators. What a cruel world.¡± The Third sighed, glancing at the Fourth as he did. ¡°The Guards she sailed here with gave their testimonies, didn¡¯t they? What¡¯d they say about her?¡± The Fourth scratched the back of her head. ¡°Not much. That Enrique fellow ain¡¯t really talkative this past week since he¡¯s still stuck outside with ¡®Black Storm¡¯ activated, and apparently, that was his daughter the Mutant-Class shrimp burst out of. It¡¯s hard tryin¡¯ to get anythin¡¯ outta him. Even harder since we can only communicate with the Guards stuck outside by tradin¡¯ cannonballs stuffed with handwritten letters, and damn if that ain¡¯t annoyin¡¯ to do day in, day out¡ª¡± ¡°Okay, okay. And?¡± ¡°... Accordin¡¯ to Enrique, the girl¡¯s some sort of ¡®Sand-Dancer¡¯ from a desert town on the mainland continent,¡± the Fourth said, shrugging nonchalantly. ¡°No combat experience. Knows next to nothin¡¯ about bugs. She told him she was headin¡¯ to the city to get healin¡¯ water for her sick mama back home, but four months ago, the ship she was on got capsized by a giant shrimp before she even really left the Harbour City.¡± ¡°Four months ago¡­¡± the Fifth mused, hand on her chin. ¡°That was when reports of Mutant-Classes acting up all over Deepwater Legion started coming in from all over as well. It may not have been a coincidence that her ship was attacked during that tumultuous time.¡± ¡°It ain¡¯t. And get this: there was a Flower Cape on her ship at the time, and while Enrique ain¡¯t able to tell me much, I¡¯ve run through the records myself. Four months ago, there was supposed to be a ship with a Flower Cape on board arrivin¡¯ at the city, so I ran through the list of Flower Capes who¡¯ve worked with us before¡ª¡± ¡°Antonio Saranno,¡± the First said, and everyone glanced at the old man. His eyes remained closed as he leaned back in his chair, hands clasped in his lap. ¡°He¡¯s worked with me for years. I know the man. Good bug-slayer. Fierce bug-slayer. If we haven¡¯t heard from him in four months, I assume he went down that day with his crew.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Victor dipped his head as the Fourth nodded slowly. ¡°Aye,¡± she said slowly, ¡°or, at least, we¡¯re pretty sure he¡¯s dead. ¡®Cause the girl has an Altered Swarmsteel System. Only person she could¡¯ve gotten that from is another Flower Cape.¡± The Second whistled. ¡°Sick. So she took the system, got a class, and then flew west until she found Enrique¡¯s ship? That still don¡¯t explain¡ª¡± ¡°She skated here,¡± the Fourth interrupted. ¡°Accordin¡¯ to Enrique, she¡¯s got the Water Strider Class.¡± Victor¡¯s ears perked, and the Harbour Imperatrix¡ªthe silent, sleeping lord at the end of table¡ªopened his eye. The other six at the table didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°Water Strider Class?¡± the Fifth mumbled. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­ that silly class literally all of humanity stopped production and distribution for a decade ago?¡± The Fourth tilted her head. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s what Enrique wrote to me. ¡®Sides, just the Water Strider Class by itself ain¡¯t too strange¡ªapparently, she skated through a storm, landed on a giant horseshoe crab island, fucked up a bunch of Blackclaw Marauders who were hidin¡¯ out there, and then ¡®sailed¡¯ their ship by herself until she reached Enrique. By the way, Enrique and his crew were already eaten by a giant remipede at that point, so she bumped into that thing and got herself eaten as well.¡± ¡°... And?¡± the Third asked. ¡°And she led the crew outta the giant remipede as well,¡± the Fourth said, shrugging again. ¡°We¡¯ve confirmed the death of a Giant-Class remipede in that area four days ago. She blew it apart from the inside-out, picked up Enrique¡¯s pregnant daughter driftin¡¯ on the surface, and then continued sailin¡¯ with Enrique¡­ and then they ran into the Whitewhale Marauders.¡± ¡°Oh my,¡± the Second murmured. ¡°So they sailed into Dead Island Straits, came in contact with the Damselfly Oracles, and fucked up that one whale that followed them in as well,¡± the Fourth finished. ¡°Ye know the rest, don¡¯t ya? They left the Dead Island Straits, sailed straight here, got stopped by the lighthouses, and then the Mutant-Classes showed up. She ended up killin¡¯ it herself.¡± ¡°Wait, wait.¡± The Third scrunched his brows and held up a hand. ¡°How did that Mutant-Class get past us, anyways? The Worm God was watching, wasn¡¯t he? Shouldn¡¯t he have told us a Mutant-Class of that calibre was getting that close to us?¡± ¡°... This is just me guessin¡¯ based on Enrique¡¯s story,¡± the Fourth said, ¡°but I think this is how it went: that wraith shrimp led a buncha giant shrimps to attack Antonio¡¯s ship on its way to the city, probably thinkin¡¯ Antonio will at least continue towards the city by himself. Y''all know how that Worm God¡¯s perception work? He knows when powerful bugs are comin¡¯ by perceivin'' their auras. A Mutant-Class is pretty strong, so it¡¯ll naturally give off a strong aura, but what do ya think would happen if a Mutant-Class specialised in suppressing its own aura sticks close to a Flower Cape who also has a decently strong aura?¡± The Fifth frowned. ¡°The Mutant-Class¡¯ aura would be camouflaged alongside the Flower Cape¡¯s. The Worm God would not be able to notice the shrimp easily, and then he would not be able to alert us to its coming.¡± ¡°Right. So the shrimp''s plan was probably somethin'' like this: destroy Antonio''s ship, get him to go to the city alone to report what happened, and then follow him all the way here so it can slip through our defences,¡± the Fourth said. ¡°Unfortunately, it probably didn¡¯t expect Antonio to die in that very first attack¡­ but that girl inherited his Altered Swarmsteel System, and surprise surprise, she ain¡¯t that weak herself. So, it must¡¯ve been followin¡¯ her the entire time she was headin¡¯ towards the city, usin¡¯ her aura as camouflage. Then, when it found Enrique¡¯s pregnant daughter drifting on the seas, it decided, while she and Enrique and the rest of the crew were still screwin¡¯ around inside the giant remipede¡ª¡± ¡°The shrimp folded itself into a tinier form with its Swarmblood Art, ate its way into the daughter¡¯s belly while she was still dehydrated and delirious from having been drifting on the seas for a week, and hoped it could just hide inside the daughter the rest of the way here," the First finished. "There was a reason why the daughter didn''t get attacked by anything on the surface of the great blue for an entire month while the girl and the Guards were inside the giant remipede. Everything nearby knew there was a Mutant-Class inside that belly, so they steered a wide berth from her." Silence. The Fourth scowled, baring her teeth at the First in what could be a smile, what could be a show of irritation. ¡°Ya heard the story from Enrique, too? How¡¯d ya know what I was thinking, old man?¡± The First dipped his head slightly. ¡°The Mutant-Class was a wraith shrimp. It¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve heard of one with a Swarmblood Art that lets it parasite off fetuses or pilot half-dead humans by replacing its host''s skeleton. The captain''s daughter may very well have been half-dead for a long time, but she just didn''t know it herself¡ªmost parasites put a lot of effort making sure their hosts don''t know they exist before they''re ready to reveal themselves.¡± He didn¡¯t say any more than that, so the Fifth coughed and turned to look at the Fourth again. ¡°After that¡­ the shrimp stayed inside Enrique¡¯s daughter until it realised we were not going to let them into the city because of ¡®Black Storm¡¯,¡± the Fifth said. ¡°So it decided to pop out, fight its way through the final stretch, and then¡­ the girl killed it? Alone?¡± The Fourth pulled her head back, looking down on the Fifth. ¡°She killed it. Cut off all its arms. Split it down in half with lightnin¡¯ glaives for legs. Ain¡¯t such a silly class if she¡¯s got an Art that puts fuckin¡¯ lightnin¡¯ on her legs, eh?¡± Victor snorted as the conference room fell silent again for what felt like the fifth or sixth time the past few minutes. They¡¯ve always been like this, I guess, he thought. So indecisive. Just say something already, someone¡ª ¡°Well ,¡®ahm assumin¡¯ the real point of this meetin¡¯ is to see who gets to take charge of the girl, yeah?¡± the Second said, leaning forward in her chair with a sharp, shining silver glint in her eyes. ¡°Lighthouse Two will take her. We need new recruits for deep dives, anyways. Ah¡¯ll whip her into shape for underwater missions.¡± ¡°Who died and made ya king?¡± The Fourth scoffed. ¡°Lighthouse Four is takin'' the shrimp''s carcass¡ªwe need the flesh to replenish the strength of the Guards who were seriously injured durin'' that fight¡ªand we''ll also be takin'' the girl. She already has experience workin¡¯ with the Guards, so if we have her join them, they¡¯ll also have someone who can help them deal with invadin'' Mutant-Classes. We won¡¯t have to worry about the city gettin¡¯ attacked from the outside while we¡¯re all divin¡¯ down the whirlpool.¡± The Third whistled, shaking his head. ¡°Objection. Lighthouse Three will take her. We¡¯ve just had a bit of internal restructuring, so she¡¯ll fit in perfectly with all the new recruits under my command. Having her go with either Lighthouse Two for deep dives or Lighthouse Four for city defence is much too complicated for an untrained warrior. I¡¯ll start her off with simple Depth One to Three patrols, how about that?¡± The Second and Fourth clicked their tongues at once. ¡°Rejected.¡± ¡°Now, now. She¡¯s gonna die if you make her deep dive right off the bat, and she¡¯s also gonna die of boredom if you make her play security guard, so¡ª¡± ¡°Lighthouse Five will take her,¡± the Fifth said stiffly. ¡°She is not a trained combatant, period. She is a civilian. We cannot involve her in any dangerous activities, so if she desires, I can offer her a simple administrative job at my lighthouse until ¡®Black Storm¡¯ is lifted and she can return home. It will be a safe job, at the very least.¡± The Second glanced at the Fifth. ¡°The girl sounds like a whack job with a thing for danger, Rei-Rei. She ain¡¯t gonna like sittin¡¯ at a desk.¡± ¡°You and your Imperators in Lighthouse Two are the whack jobs, Mari," the Fifth muttered. "And? What do the two of you think? Where should she go?¡± The First didn¡¯t bother responding, and the Sixth¡­ wasn¡¯t here. A spinning chair was left in his wake, and everyone but Victor and the Imperatrix blinked. They started looking around for the man who¡¯d left halfway through the meeting without making so much as a squeak. Victor had seen him leave, though. He¡¯d even shot both Victor and the Imperatrix an acknowledging nod before disappearing through one of the windows. ¡°Hah. Guess he got bored.¡± The Fourth chuckled, shaking her head in dismay. ¡°So, Lighthouse One and Six don¡¯t want her, but the rest of us do. We¡¯ll duke it out, then. Get your arcana cards out. We¡¯re playin¡¯ basset until one of us gets three wins¡ª¡± But then the Harbour Imperatrix stood up, making the entire room rattle, and the four Lighthouse Imperators who were busy pulling their decks of cards from their pockets froze where they sat. ¡°... You were the one who ran out and dived in after her, weren¡¯t you?¡± the Imperatrix rumbled, glaring at Victor with one ocean-blue eye. The other was sealed behind a black eyepatch made from the chitin of an Insect God, and it was etched with the pattern of a nine-headed serpent. Victor simply smiled and bowed halfway, one arm folded before his waist. ¡°I was,¡± Victor said plainly, and he grinned under his full-body bandages as he looked up at the Imperatrix. ¡°Dragging her into the city through ¡®Black Storm¡¯ took a few years off my life, but, man, I can¡¯t say it wasn¡¯t a hell of a thrill pushing through the storm.¡± ¡°Where is she now?¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s been a month since she killed the Mutant-Class, and¡­ uh, a few things have happened.¡± Victor bowed again, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°We¡¯re detaining her in a cell for now. She¡¯s right in the lower city, so you wanna meet her or something?¡± The Imperatrix snorted, turning his back against the table as he faced the window on the opposite end of the room, overlooking the churning whirlpool in the crater of the volcano. ¡°You¡¯re the one who dived in and dragged her here, so you¡¯ll take responsibility,¡± the Imperatrix said. ¡°She has one of those things. An ¡®Altered¡¯ Swarmsteel System. It¡¯s only fitting for a Flower Cape to take care of another Flower Cape, isn¡¯t it?¡± Victor chuckled as he pushed off against the window, picked up his walking cane, and headed out of the lantern room with every Imperators¡¯ eyes on his back¡ªhe was used to being stared at as the only ¡®Flower Cape¡¯ stationed in the Whirlpool City, but he wondered, very briefly, if the girl he was going to visit would be able to endure the same sort of wary gazes. If she skated all the way here with the Water Strider Class, then¡­ perhaps? She did punch a Guard in the face, though. Maybe she¡¯s gonna be a pain in the ass to deal with. He hummed all the way down the spiralling stairs, his cane clacking against cold stone in a rhythmic one-two, one-two beat. ¡­ Well. First, I need to know her name. I ain¡¯t young enough to call her the ¡®Storm Strider¡¯ like the kids down in the lower city are calling her. Chapter 41 - Prison Glide. Spin. Pause, raise arms. Twirl and caper. Sharp turn. Sharp pivot. Then jump¡ªsoar. Ow! Marisol rammed the top of her head against the ceiling as she jumped, wincing on the way down. She landed on the tip of her glaives nevertheless, holding one leg parallel against the ground as she did. It was still a graceful recovery, and now she¡¯d finished her most basic step-routine for the four hundred and fifteenth time in her tiny prison cell. The cell itself was barely larger than a pantry, the cold cobblestone walls closed in like a tomb. Water droplets clung to every surface, and the air was thick with the smell of metal and mildew. It was difficult enough balancing on uneven stone as was, but when the ground beneath her was also slick with moisture? Hell for a Sand-Dancer. It was almost as tough as training on loose sand. [... I simply cannot believe, after four thousand two hundred and eighty-six kilometres, that¡ª] ¡ªoh, shut up¡ª [That this is the obstacle barring you from reaching the whirlpool,] the Archive sighed, shaking its head from the steel bars above her head. She looked up and scowled. The shaft of moonlight falling into her cell was the only source of light she had, and the few candles in the hallway outside were pathetically weak, so she was sure she¡¯d be plunged into darkness the moment the midnight storm clouds decided to blot out the moon. She was not looking forward to spending another night in this cell. What was I supposed to do, huh? she grumbled, plopping down cross-legged with her back against the bars, staring up at the moon. Ain¡¯t like I got all the time in the world to spare. I need that vial of healing seawater, and I need it quickly. [So you punched a Harbour Guard for it?] He was¡­ that guy was¡ª [Stupid,] the Archive said, reappearing on her shoulder and poking her cheek with multiple sharp legs. [Stupid. Stupid. Stupid¡ª] She growled and tried to swat the Archive off her shoulder, but it simply skated around her, continuing its barrage of insults that made her feel¡ªstrangely¡ªmore at ease. It almost made her think she¡¯d been thrown into an overnight cell for a petty crime instead of¡­ well, punching an esteemed Harbour Guard of the Whirlpool City. It ain¡¯t my fault, though. I woke up three days ago in an unfamiliar infirmary¡ªafter spending basically an entire month in a coma¨Cwith a bunch of needles and tubes stabbed into my legs, so obviously, I was disoriented and sickly and I wanted fresh air. [Uh-huh.] And it was the middle of the night without any doctors nearby to help me get up, so I just pulled everything out myself and went outside. ¡®Black Storm¡¯ was active, so I couldn¡¯t see really well out on the streets, and couple that with my insane headache, the super steep streets, and the fact that I had no idea where I was really going¡ª [¡ªlet it be known I tried to stimulate your adrenaline output to clear your head¡ª] How the hell was I supposed to realise that guy with the crab head who rounded the corner looking for me was a Harbour Guard, and not some sort of Mutant-Class? Seriously! And after I hit him once on instinct, he even drew his sword on me, so of course I¡­ [...] ¡­ Kicking him a few more times as he went down was a bit excessive, I guess, she muttered, sighing as her head lolled down and she put her face in her hands, curling up into a ball. The chitin plates on her right glaive had all but regenerated while she was in a coma, so it didn¡¯t hurt touching it anymore. Dammit. And then the rest of them just threw me in here without letting me explain anything. They even took mama¡¯s book and all my Swarmsteel from me. [On the bright side, spending three days in this cell has worked wonders for your patience,] the Archive offered, reappearing and tapping on her shoulder in consolation. [You also understand my current explanation of your ¡®anomalies¡¯, yes? Do you understand what happened with Antonio¡¯s ship and the Mutant-Class wraith shrimp¡¯s appearance now?] Her lips thinned into a line, but she nodded slowly. You¡¯re saying¡­ it followed me all the way from Antonio¡¯s ship to the city because it wanted to camouflage inside my aura, and when it found Catrina that first night¡ªthat husk that was standing over her¡ªit decided to eat inside her belly for even better camouflage. Its Art allowed it to compress itself into a super tiny form.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. And when it decided we wouldn¡¯t be able to carry it all the way into the city because of ¡®Black Storm¡¯, it came out to try to force its way in. Catrina¡­ and the Guards who were with her¡­ they¡­ Her eyes closed softly as she raised her head, leaning against the cold bars behind her. ¡°... Who could¡¯ve guessed that the Whirlpool City¡¯s prison food is so mushy?¡± she said, not bothering to glance back as she let out another heavy sigh. ¡°The textbooks all speak of the city¡¯s legendary cloves and cinnamon, gazpachos and marzipans¡ªnone of this watery broth you¡¯ve been making me drink the past three days.¡± The man behind her let out an amused hum as he sat down cross-legged, placing something long and sharp horizontally across his lap. A blade? Or a walking cane, maybe? ¡°How¡¯d you know I was coming to visit you?¡± he asked, and his voice was dry, raspy. He sounded like a weary man in his forties, his lungs scratched and eroded by coarse sand grains. ¡°The prison floor¡¯s infused with ground-up slimewood, which makes it so vibrations don¡¯t travel very easily. After all, the Guards keep all sorts of prisoners with all sorts of abilities in here. Frankly, it¡¯d be horrifying if even half of them could tell via vibrations whenever a Guard¡¯s coming around. Think of all the breakouts that could occur.¡± She snorted with her arms crossed. ¡°Ripple and vibration sensors ain¡¯t got anything to do with it. You¡¯re a light walker, like you¡¯re used to stepping on thin sand, but your head ain¡¯t swinging and distributing your weight correctly. Your balance is off, and you¡¯re probably injured from head to toe, too. I can hear someone who¡¯s trying to be quiet but failing so miserably from rooms away.¡± The man was quiet for a moment. Then, he harrumphed and laughed at the same time. ¡°You speak of sand and swinging heads, and your skin is tanner than most. You¡¯re an honest-to-god mainlander, then,¡± he asked, accompanied by the sound of him shaking his head. ¡°A Sand-Dancer, perhaps. From the Sharaji Desert? A bit more to the east? A bit more to the west?¡± ¡°... More to the west,¡± she said, shaking her head in return. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know its name, but its name is the Luzde Desert.¡± ¡°No, I know of it. I¡¯ve been there before.¡± ¡°You have? Tell me one thing about the local oasis town, then.¡± ¡°It¡¯s pretty, but it¡¯s also pretty boring. And the oasis barely has any water in it.¡± ¡°Huh. You have been there before.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve been to many deserts before. My question is, what sort of oasis town breeds a Sand-Dancer talented enough to slay a Mutant-Class without proper combat training?¡± the man asked, and she clicked her tongue in exasperation. ¡°Name: Marisol Vellamira. Age: Twenty-four. Education history: Eight years in your local general school. These were the only things you were able to tell the Guards¡ª¡± ¡°And what more do you want to know?¡± she snapped. ¡°I¡¯ve told the Guards over and over, but none of you believe my story. Fine. I¡¯ll ask my question, then: where¡¯s Enrique and the rest of the Harbour Guards I was sailing with? Are they alright? Are they safe?¡± ¡°Captain Enrique and the two dozen men he was with are, indeed, safe. Though they are still stuck outside the city with ¡®Black Storm¡¯ underway,¡± the man answered promptly, and it made her eyes widen. None of the Guards before him had answered any of her questions. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that dragging you¡ªand only you¡ªinto the city through ¡®Black Storm¡¯ cost a lot from us. There are Guards outside asking why you¡¯re the only one who gets preferential treatment, so imagine my surprise when I heard the first thing you did after waking up was punching a Guard in the face. Not good for your rep.¡± She groaned under her breath. ¡°I told you guys over and over. He had a crab head. My instincts told me to¡ª¡± ¡°You also told the guards before me that you skated all the way to this city in hopes of obtaining a vial of healing seawater for your mother,¡± he interrupted. ¡°I assume you crawled out of your cosy little bed in the infirmary that night to get a lead on that front?¡± ¡°I¡­ yeah.¡± ¡°And do you realise you don¡¯t have a single coin to your name? Could you have afforded a single vial even if you got to the only place in the city that sells healing seawater?¡± ¡°I had the Scales before I set off on my trip. I was thinking I could just¡­ you know. Find a good spot, dance my heart out, and get as many donations as possible before¡ª¡± ¡°Stupid.¡± [Stupid,] the Archive echoed. ¡°I don¡¯t need you telling me, too,¡± she grumbled, glaring at the Archive on her shoulder as she did. ¡°Now, I ain''t got a clue what you guys are still holding me here for, and it ain''t seem like there¡¯s anyone else in here with me, anyways, so would you mind just letting me go? I won¡¯t punch anyone ever again, and¡­ please tell that Guard I¡¯m sorry. I ain''t meant what I did.¡± The man sighed aloud. ¡°Assaulting a Harbour Guard, mistake or not, is a serious crime in the Whirlpool City. As busy as all of us already are, you¡¯ve gotta wait five days before appealing in a trial.¡± ¡°Two more days? In here? I can¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Of course, I¡¯m not with the Harbour Guards, nor am I with the Harbour Imperators, so I¡¯ll give you¡­ ten minutes,¡± the man said nonchalantly. ¡°The place that sells vials of healing seawater is at the very top of the city. It¡¯s called ¡®Lighthouse Seven¡¯. If you can get there before the time limit¡¯s up, I¡¯ll convince the Imperators there to give you a spare vial for free. I¡¯ll also return your possessions, clear all of your charges, and find a way to get you out of the city, no questions asked.¡± ¡°... What?¡± She jumped onto her glaives and whirled around in the same motion, but by the time she managed, the man was gone¡ªand the thick steel bars were cut open in the shape of a rectangular doorway. Then, the bars that¡¯d been tossed into the air clattered loudly against the floor, raising a bunch of suspicious shouts from the Guards standing by in the next room over. ¡­ Huh? What did he¡­ where¡¯d he¡ª [Well, he gave you a way out, and I detected no lie in his voice,] the Archive said plainly. [Updating objective now.]
[Objective #11: Escape the prison and reach the top of the Whirlpool City] [Time Limit: 10 minutes] [Reward: A vial of healing seawater, return of all your possessions, and a free ride back home] [Failure: Indefinite imprisonment] Chapter 42 - Arcana Hasharana Shouts came from the dimly lit room down the right end of the hallway, so Marisol poked her head out of the cell and looked left. There was a blue and green stained window at the left end of the hallway, and it was looking really, really easy to smash through. ¡­ Do I go? [I know that man,] the Archive said plainly. [There is a one hundred percent chance he told you the truth. If you can reach the top of the city where vials of healing seawater are sold by the Imperators, he will let you go free.] [What will it be?] [If you stay, the Harbour Guards could charge you with destruction of property and attempted escape. If you leave¡ª] Marisol didn¡¯t hesitate. There was an out, so she took it¡ªskating out of the cell and zooming down the hallway, launching shoulder-first through the stained window. It wasn¡¯t like she didn¡¯t think she couldn¡¯t get to the top of the city in ten minutes. Greeted with a rush of cold, rain-soaked wind, she fell two stories and screeched to a halt in the middle of a steep inclined street. Black rain struck her skin like icy needles. ¡®Black Storm¡¯ was still very much alive¡ªthunder rumbled low and distant, the winds howled between tightly packed buildings, rainwater gurgled down narrow canals running along both sides of the street. Frankly, she wished this wasn¡¯t how her first good look of the legendary Whirlpool City was going to go. The sprawling, lantern-lit city was built up the side of the water volcano; the streets were winding and climbing in steep, crooked paths. Terracotta houses were stacked upon one another, clinging to the volcano side like barnacles on a ship¡¯s hull. Wooden shutters rattled everywhere, iron balconies jutting out over the main street, and large stone watchtowers were erected here and there as though to serve as checkpoints between each section of the city. It was all quite pretty, and she would love to just stand in the pouring rain, taking it all in, if not for the Guards shouting at her through the broken window. You have a map of the city, right? she thought, stretching her arms, legs, and glancing down the street as she did. She was close to the harbour at the bottom. Twenty metres down the street and she¡¯d be at the docks lined with moored ships, warehouses, and distant lighthouses. [It is five hundred metres to the top of the city,] the Archive answered, pointing straight up. [There is no need for directions. See the giant lighthouse at the very top of the crater?] Yeah? [That is your target.] [Go.] She didn¡¯t need telling twice. Just as half a dozen Guards burst out the steel gate on her left, she took off skating, dashing up the cobbled street with lightning charging her veins¡ªmetaphorically and physically. It felt good to be stretching her limbs again. As she hurtled up the street, she cut across closed stores with carved seashells on their iron-wrought signs, blacksmith forges with steam hissing from chimneys, and countless ¡®potion¡¯ stores with their windows alive with light. The potion stores she paid the most attention to. Jars and vials of luminous, glowing liquids lined the display shelves, and they were multicolour blurs of light in the corners of her eyes as she skated by. The main street was ten metres wide, five hundred metres long, and there was so much more to stare at: taverns with bolted chairs and tables spilling out halfway onto the street, pharmacies overrun with vines and alien plants growing down the storefront, and even a triple-story cafe with far-northern oriental architecture that stood out amongst the sea of two-story buildings like a sore thumb. Variety wasn¡¯t lacking. The only thing that was missing were the people, and for good reason. The midnight storm was simply too much for anyone to brave, so she almost felt like she was running up a ghost city with all the doors locked shut, the window shutters sealed, and a dozen Guards roaring at her to stay still from below. They¡¯re keeping up surprisingly well, eh? They¡¯re used to running on water. Glancing behind her, she spotted the Guards practically skating up the flooded street as well, and their mutation traits were all manners of ants, crabs, lobsters, whatever else a guard could be without looking too monstrous. Their heads were still normal human heads for the most part¡ªthat crab-headed man she decked three days ago was probably just an anomaly¡ªand they still held a big advantage over her head: they knew the lay of the land, and before long, she was reaching the first set of watchtowers at the two hundred metre mark. A dozen Guards stood in her way, wielding crab-pincer spears and arranged in a wall-like formation. By the scowls on their faces they were fully intent on matching her head-on, a very movable wall versus a nigh-unstoppable spear, so even if she could be cleared of all charges by reaching the top of the city¡­ she didn¡¯t quite want to bowl right through them like she¡¯d done with the Whitewhale Marauders. They were the good guys. She wasn¡¯t. Not in this situation. As she neared them, they shouted at her to slow down. Maybe. She couldn¡¯t really hear them over the thunder and the pouring rain, so just before she could run right into their spears, she launched into a mid-air spin and landed glaive-first on the wall of an adjacent building¡ªskating over their heads as she continued her gravity-defying journey to the top. They¡­ ain¡¯t really good at stopping me, she mused, glancing behind her as she skated sideways on the walls, dropping back onto the street once she was well past the checkpoint. Are they really the esteemed Guards of the city? Do they¡­ you know, have any way of actually catching someone like me? [In their defence, people like you do not show up very often,] the Archive remarked. [Maybe once or twice a year, and even then, there are three ¡®sections¡¯ to the city. The Harbour Guards have jurisdiction over the lower city¡ªwhich is the bottom two hundred metres of the city consisting all the docks and factories and lower status households¡ªbut the Harbour Imperators have jurisdiction over the upper city, which is the three to four hundred metre section of the city consisting of higher-class stores and households. Past that checkpoint you just crossed, you have now entered the upper city. The Harbour Guards will not pursue you any longer.] Sweet. And terrible. Does that mean¡ª The answer to her question showed itself as her senses caught wind of someone running alongside her, in the street next over. Her ears perked as she tried to squint between the buildings, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadow, but she couldn¡¯t see them.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Even if it was a Harbour Imperator, though, she wouldn¡¯t let them catch up to her. But¡­ It really is much prettier around here, ain¡¯t it? As she pressed up, she noticed the upper city¡¯s buildings stood taller, more elegant, more graceful. Grand arches framed the entrances to manor houses, and she passed by lush courtyards, gardens of cypress trees, and even fountains spurting glowing aquamarine water. It was so, so different from the lower city below her. The water-draining canals weren¡¯t overflooding. The street itself was wider, paved with smoother stone and engraved mosaic tiles. She could hear clinking of glasses inside the houses and laughter that echoed faintly through the run, and she knew¡ªthis was a part of the city where ¡®Black Storm¡¯ was but a mere backdrop to opulence. There were disparities between households everywhere on the continent, her own desert town notwithstanding. The Whirlpool City simply didn¡¯t bother with trying to hide it. Once she passed the second checkpoint of watchtowers¡ªand this time, there were neither Guards nor Imperators standing in a wall trying to block her way¡ªshe was well on her way to the very top of the city. Her eyes immediately sparkled as she caught sight of her destination: the colossal half-metal half-stone lighthouse that stretched fifty more metres into the sky, a giant banner with the crest of the Harbour Imperators hanging on the wall. The sides of the street leading up to it were all sorts of armouries, barracks, or a combination of the two. This was the final hundred metre stretch to the swung-open front gates. If she could just get inside, her ten-year-long dream would come true. But, of course, it wouldn¡¯t be a fitting end to a ten-year-long journey without a final obstacle. Right before the entrance to the lighthouse, a man stood in the rain with both hands clasped over his walking cane. His long, bluish-gold flower-patterned cloak was tattered, his trousers were shortened to the knees, and he was bandaged in white from head to toe¡ªquite literally, she might add. There wasn¡¯t a single inch of his skin exposed to the rain, and coupled with the feathered cavalier hat he was wearing, he looked like one of those ''Tamera'' bug-trainers from the far east: exotic, eccentric, and prone to bust out a magic trick to catch her off-guard. Still, she couldn¡¯t help but shiver as she skated up towards him, flickers of lightning sparking around her glaives. She had no doubt he was the man who¡¯d talked to her and broke her out of prison, so the fact that he was standing up there and she was still down here, well¡­ Somehow, she didn¡¯t like the idea that a fellow speed demon would be her final obstacle. Archive! The Archive sighed on her shoulder. [Just do it. War Jump the hell out of that guy. If you can get past him, he¡¯ll certainly pay for your vial and your ride home.] I wasn¡¯t asking for permission! Storm Glaives! A dream ten years in the making. Three whole months on the great blue. She was attacked by a fairy shrimp, Blackclaw Marauders, a giant remipede, Whitewhale Marauders, and even a Mutant-Class on her way here, so she put all of her strength, her speed, and her desperation into one explosive launch. She spun the final ten metres up with her arms crossed over her torso, tears squeezing out of her eyes. She¡¯d do it. She¡¯d felled even a Mutant with her lightning glaives¡ª ¡°You ain¡¯t half-bad. You really do have the Water Strider Class after all.¡± And then it happened in the blink of an eye. The man whipped his walking cane out, and it was with speed like nothing she¡¯d ever seen before. He slapped her kicking electrified glaive away, poked her three times in the chest, and then he took a step past her to hook her neck with the curved handle, jerking her down to the ground. Wha¡ª Her momentum was cut short. Her eyes felt like they damn near popped out of their sockets as he slammed her spine-first into the ground. Her back arched, a gasp of pain tearing through her throat. She was about to groan and try to claw back up when she felt the handle of a cane pressing against her neck from above. The man was already standing over her, staring down at her. Black rain trickled off his feathered hat and onto her face, making her wince and squeeze her eyes half-shut. ¡°Since you attempted to escape from the Harbour Guards, though, you¡¯ll now be subjected to the full force of their laws: escape from custody, attempted escape, destruction of property, and public nuisance. Just to name a few,¡± he said, shrugging nonchalantly as she glanced down the street. There were Imperators clad in blue and white uniforms running up with firefly lanterns in their hands, trying to catch up to the two of them. ¡°The Imperators ain¡¯t gonna be happy you trespassed in the upper city without a proper permit, either. You did kinda break through the checkpoint with brute force. Most likely, they¡¯ll toss you in a cell and leave you there for at least a few weeks, so it¡¯ll be a while before you get a chance to dance in the rain again.¡± She growled at him, trying to slide her neck out from under his cane to no avail. He tracked her movements perfectly even through his bandages. ¡°And what are you hassling me for?¡± she snapped. ¡°Just¡­ let me go! I¡¯m this close! This close! I don¡¯t care who you are or what your job is, but my mama¡­ my mama¡ª¡± ¡°You have an Altered Swarmsteel System in your neck,¡± he said bluntly. ¡°It may be unofficial, and you may be unregistered, but you have gotten this far only because your Archive recognised you as the legitimate successor of Antonio Saranno. Let¡¯s say you are a Flower Cape and recognise yourself as one. If you do, I can place you under my ward and keep you out of any cell, Imperator-run or not.¡± ¡°... And what do you want with me?¡± she asked, narrowing her eyes. ¡°I just want a vial of healing seawater and go home. That¡¯s it. I ain¡¯t no bug-slayer or anything¡ª¡± ¡°There¡¯s a reason why ¡®Black Storm¡¯ is still underway,¡± he said, glancing around at the stormy winds as he did. ¡°The Whirlpool City¡¯s in grave danger, and we need all the manpower we can get. Now, the Imperators want to use you for free labour, but I don¡¯t want them to have you¡ªthey can be quite the problematic bunch for free-spirits like us¡ªso I¡¯m giving you two options: I can step aside and let those Imperators drag you back to your cell, or you can say you¡¯re a Flower Cape and I¡¯ll protect you. What¡¯ll it be, Marisol Vellamira?" She looked back and forth between him and the Imperators, gnashing her teeth together. There was no real choice here. ¡°Fine,¡± she hissed, grabbing his cane as she glared up at him. ¡°I¡¯m a Flower Cape or¡­ whatever the hell that is. I¡¯ll stick with you for now. Happy? Now get me up and¡ª¡± He yanked his cane up and her along with it, pulling her up so fast she barely even registered she was now standing on her glaives. The three Imperators screeched to a halt just a few metres below her as the man held out his cane, stopping them in their tracks¡ªand then he grabbed the top of her head with an iron claw, making her bow and yelp in pain simultaneously. ¡°Unfortunately, she¡¯s a Flower Cape,¡± he said, shaking his head in feigned dismay as the Imperators scowled at them. ¡°She¡¯s got one of them thingies in her neck, you know. An Altered Swarmsteel System. She¡¯s too dangerous for you lot to handle, so I¡¯ll take her back to the inn and question her until she¡¯s cleared.¡± One of the Imperators clicked his tongue irritably. ¡°She broke out of the lower city prison. By law of the Whirlpool City¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s late, boys and girls. Just take it up with Lighthouse Seven tomorrow if you¡¯re so inclined,¡± the man cut them off, dragging her by the collar down towards the upper city with a dismissive wave. ¡°Besides, the laws of the Whirlpool City don¡¯t apply to those with special exemption¡ªcase in point, the Flower Capes within the Worm God¡¯s ranks. You do know the Imperatrix personally told me to deal with the lass, right?¡± The man laughed as the Imperators stood around awkwardly, not running after the two of them, but not exactly going anywhere else, either. Marisol simply glanced behind her while rubbing her throbbing back, wondering why the legendary Imperators she¡¯d read about since she was a child were so powerless in the face of a¡­ well, a living bandage of a man. So, as he continued dragging her back down the street, she shook his hand off her collar and mumbled ¡®I can walk by myself¡¯. She wasn¡¯t a child, and she didn¡¯t need his coddling. Still, she was a little curious about the man who¡¯d chased her all the way up to the top of the city, and she remembered what the Archive had said before she broke out of prison. You said you know him? What¡¯s a Flower Cape? [It is just what the locals call the Hasharana.] Is he a Hasharana as well, then? [... He is Victor Morina,] the Archive said, appearing on the back of his feathered hat. [As of Year Ninety-Four, he is one of the ¡®Arcana Hasharana¡¯, the nineteen strongest bug-slayers in the entire world. More commonly, they are also known as the nineteen strongest humans in the entire world.] [He is titled the ¡®Chariot¡¯, ranked sixth amongst the Arcana Hasharana.] Chapter 43 - Highwind Inn There were a thousand and one questions Marisol wanted to pepper Victor with as she followed him down the upper city, but it was nearing midnight, and the pouring rain was starting to sting against her skin. ¡®Black Storm¡¯ may be a hundred times fiercer outside the city in order to stop anything from sailing in, but the stray winds churning inside the city were still more than enough to make her shiver. Her teeth chattered and she hugged herself as she trudged along, wondering just where the man was taking her¡ªbut she had to skate no further. It was only five minutes away from the top of the city, and for a few seconds, while Victor walked right through the front door unbothered, she stayed outside to stare at the front of the building. The little hand-wrought iron sign hanging out the front door wrote ¡®Highwind Inn¡¯¡ªshe wasn¡¯t sure if the Archive was projecting translated words for her or not¡ªand the building by the side of the main street was immaculate, the entire front styled in classical western architecture with whitewashed walls accented by deep terracotta tiles. Arched windows adorned with silver grilles lined the exterior, and the alabaster front doors were swung in, letting out a warm orange mist. Not a single part of the building screamed ¡®tavern¡¯ to her, in all honesty, and it was by far the most lavish building she¡¯d ever seen¡­ but Victor was impatient. He trudged out, grabbed her collar, and dragged her in with a grumble. Hey, let me gawk at it for a bit¡ª ¡°Chill, boy and girls,¡± he said, waving down the three Imperators who immediately shot to their feet the moment he entered the foyer with her in tow. He thumbed back at her, clicking his tongue as he did. ¡°She¡¯ll be coming in and out with me from now on.¡± For her part, though she was still gawking around with wide eyes, the foyer was a combination of white, sapphire blue, and onyx black stone, all smooth and exceptionally polished. Brass lanterns with gold-hued glass hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm, inviting glow over the foyer. The sweeping marble floor was patterned in shades of deep blue and cream, reminding her of the great blue. At the end of the foyer was the reception counter, carved from rich walnut wood, and behind it were shelves upon shelves of keys, scrolls and ledgers bound in leather, meticulously organised. The Imperators had just been sitting and relaxing on the velvet sofas by the walls of the sofa next to the counter, but it didn¡¯t seem like Victor¡¯s words placated them. They still got in his way, the tassels on their shiny uniforms swishing around as they prepared to unsheathe their blades. Instinct told Marisol to be prepared to bolt outside, but the posh reception lady with her long blonde hair tied in a bun cleared her throat, making the Imperators glance back and frown. Her eyes were closed as she gave all of them a soft, courteous smile that didn¡¯t carry the meaning behind it. She looked as though she was going to kill all of them if they made a fuss for the rest of the customers in the middle of the night. ¡°... Let them pass,¡± a stiff voice said from the bottom of the stairwell to the left, making all of them turn again. Marisol narrowed her eyes at the fourth Imperator: another pretty lady in full white and blue uniform, her white cape lined with silver silk flowing from her shoulder down to her calves. Her sleek blonde hair was tied in a single braid, and her sharp eyes gleamed with irritation. She leaned against the stair railings with her arms crossed, scowling straight at Victor. ¡°And you. Stop throwing doors open like that in the middle of a storm. Rain will get all over the foyer and¡ª¡± Victor disappeared for a single blink, and Marisol heard the doors slamming shut behind her a fraction of a second after he reappeared next to the lady. What. That speed doesn¡¯t even make sense¡ª ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Reina!¡± he said, opening his arms for a hug, and Marisol swore she saw a smile under his bandages. ¡°How¡¯ve you been? Was Depth Five fun? Did the other Imperators in Lighthouse Two bully you? Just say the word, and I¡¯ll go over right now and¡ª¡± A black scorpion tail swerved out from Reina¡¯s back, pushing Victor''s head away as she nodded at the other Imperators. ¡°I will escort the two of them to their room. Why are the three of you here, anyways?¡± One of the Imperators spoke up. ¡°We received a report that Victor Morina broke the prisoner out, so we came to intercept him when he inevitably returns to this¡ª¡± ¡°I will deal with him and the prisoner,¡± Reina interrupted curtly. ¡°Return home and rest, initiates. Your presence is not required any longer.¡± Judging by the suspicious looks the Imperators gave Marisol, they didn¡¯t exactly trust her to not cause a ruckus again, but unlike Victor¡¯s casual authority, there was an air of gravitas around Reina. The Imperators left begrudgingly¡ªexiting the inn¡ªand they remembered to close the doors behind them as they departed. Victor chuckled as Reina beckoned the two of them up the stairs, and the reception lady shot Marisol a knowing nod as she left the foyer. Best to skate lightly, eh? she thought. Don¡¯t wanna mess up the pretty marble floor they¡¯ve got going here with my glaives. It was a quick trip to the third and highest floor of the inn, and at the end of the cosy wooden hallway was Victor¡¯s spacious room. Like the foyer downstairs, the decor was smooth and polished. A pair of candles was the only source of light in the room. The single bed in the far corner was covered with a soft blue quilt in the pattern of swirling waves, accompanied by a dresser, a closet, and an ornately carved wooden desk facing out the window. Fragrant potted plants gave the room a sweet-smelling scent to hide the humidity of the city outside, and¡­ there was also a door right next to the front door connecting to a different room. While Reina and Victor stepped inside, she peeked inside the second door, marvelling at the sparkling white tiles of the room¡¯s private bathroom. How much does it cost to stay here overnight? Back where I live, a room with a private bathroom like this would cost¡ª Reina hooked the front door shut with her scorpion tail and then coughed into her fist, making Marisol snap her head over. The pretty lady stood leaning against the closet, arms crossed and brows furrowed as ever. Victor took the chair, legs up on the desk as he stared out the window facing the main street, and if the heavy tension in the air meant anything at all¡­Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Marisol tried to take the only seat remaining¡ªright on the soft quilted bed¡ªand was immediately whipped at by Reina¡¯s tail, the stinger wagging at her to stay off the comfy-looking fabric. ¡°Go take a shower first,¡± Reina said plainly, glaring at Victor¡¯s back the entire time. ¡°There are spare clothes inside the bathroom. I will have the staff give your tattered clothes a deep wash, and I will also have your possessions delivered here by the end of the week.¡± Sensing hostility, Marisol quickly ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, looking around at the expensive amenities she could never even dream of owning back home. As she bumbled around the bathroom trying to get the water faucet flowing¡ªat least, the golden tap-looking thing above the drain looked like a faucet¡ªshe listened attentively to the furious conversation that exploded into being the moment she stepped out of the picture. ¡°Victor.¡± ¡°What¡¯s up¡ª¡± ¡°What happened to procedure? What happened to talking things out with the Harbour Guards? What, you think you can just break someone out of prison and not expect the Guards to get pissed off about it?¡± ¡°The Imperatrix told me to take her in. If we wanna be technical about it, the Guards were the ones obstructing my duty by making me sign this and that, like¡­ dammit, Reina, it¡¯s the middle of the night. Ain¡¯t nobody wanna sign a million forms just to pick up a girl from her cell. It¡¯s quicker to just bust her out myself.¡± ¡°Even still. You must get a signed and stamped letter from the Imperatrix¡ª¡± ¡°Eh. You deal with it. You¡¯re the Lighthouse Imperator here, anyways.¡± A pause. Marisol stopped scrubbing herself with the bar of soap to not fill in the silence. ¡°... Back on topic, uncle,¡± Reina sighed, and Marisol heard her clicking her tongue aloud. ¡°The girl. Marisol¡­ Vellamira? Of the old Vellamira Household? Lighthouse Five has records of her family residing in the city three decades ago, but they left during the old war like most other lower city households.¡± ¡°Really? News to me.¡± ¡°You know she killed a Mutant-Class, right?¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± ¡°And that she¡¯s supposedly stolen an Altered Swarmsteel System from a Flower Cape?¡± ¡°Well, Antonio must¡¯ve authorised the transfer, so I dunno anything about ¡®stealing¡¯. I¡¯d say it¡¯s more like a inheriting a distant cousin¡¯s distant cousin¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°Uncle. Corpsetaker¡¯s been acting up this past decade, and his Four Leviathans are starting to move as well. They¡¯re calling Mutant-Classes from all over the Deepwater Legion Front to swarm the city on all sides, and that girl¡ªthat shrimp she brought with her¡ªcould¡¯ve killed a lot of people in the lower city by coming here on that ridiculous-looking warship. We¡¯ve got no idea if she¡¯s hiding something more from us. Have we even checked her for another Mutant-Class parasitising her on the inside? Didn¡¯t she punch a Guard a few nights ago?¡± ¡°Calm down. She¡¯s fine. I would¡¯ve killed her myself if she were carrying a Mutant-Class inside her.¡± ¡°... And? What about everything else? Her background? Her story? You¡¯re telling me you¡¯re placing her under your ward when she could very well¡ª¡± ¡°If she meant any harm, she wouldn¡¯t have killed that Mutant-Class, and she damn well would¡¯ve kicked her way out of that cell once she fully recovered from her coma. Like those shoddy steel bars were actually keeping her locked up.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s late, Reina. This old man needs his beauty sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow over some flan and pudding.¡± ¡°Not so fast. At least tell me what you¡¯re planning on doing with her. Even if the Imperatrix gave you permission to take her under your wing, I doubt the other Lighthouse Imperators are happy with¡ª¡± Marisol finished changing into her plain-white bathrobes and pushed the door open, her curly hair steaming and wrapped up in a bundle of towels. Victor and Reina held their tongues and looked at her the moment she burst back in, and for Reina¡¯s part, she didn¡¯t look as though she realised just how loud they¡¯d been talking. But Marisol had heard everything, and now there was a small blush on her face as she turned away. On the other hand, Victor seemed to be smirking under his bandages. He knew very well that Marisol had heard it all, so he spun around in his chair to face her, hands clasping as he leaned forward. He didn¡¯t say anything. He wasn¡¯t the one with questions. After all, Marisol still had a thousand and one questions she wanted to ask him, but right now¡ªafter hearing their conversation¡ªthere was only one question she wanted answers for. ¡°... I want my vial of healing seawater,¡± she said, looking between the two of them with her jaw clenched. ¡°It ain''t my business to care about what sort of politics y''all are dealing with, and I ain¡¯t some born and bred bug-slayer. I just¡­ I just want my vial of healing seawater, and I need to get it back to my mama." Victor tilted his head at Reina in a ¡®I told you so¡¯ gesture, and after a few moments, Reina sighed and dipped her head slightly. ¡°Defense Protocol ¡®Black Storm¡¯ emits a storm away from the city, not towards,¡± Reina said. ¡°Currently, it is not possible for people and vessels to leave the city. More importantly, I am unsure about what Victor told you, but there are no vials of healing seawater for sale." Marisol blinked. "What?" "All healing seawater originates from Depth Eight of the whirlpool, and since Protocol ''Black Storm'' was raised, we have been unable to send even a single dive team down there. We do not currently have any vials of healing seawater on the surface." Marisol¡¯s face was reflected in Reina¡¯s shimmery, sky-blue eyes, and she could tell even without the Archive running emotional calculations for her: the Imperator wasn''t lying, and the fact that Victor wasn''t looking straight at her only made the revelation that much worse. ¡­ So she nodded slowly, closing her eyes as she bowed at Reina. ¡°Then let me go down there myself,¡± she breathed, "I''ll do whatever it takes. I''ll get my own vial of healing seawater from¡­ ''Depth Eight'' or whatever you call it.¡± In response, Reina actually looked a little dumbfounded¡ªbrows raised, lips pursed¡ªand Victor had to dart up from his chair to push his niece out of the room, waving back at her as he did. ¡°We can talk more once I get your ''breakout'' settled with the Imperators. They''re gonna wanna detain you, but don''t worry. I ain¡¯t gonna let them,¡± he said, ignoring Reina¡¯s protests as he glanced over his shoulder. ¡°Stay here. Don¡¯t leave the room until I come fetch you in a few days. You¡¯ll be given three meals a day by the innkeeper, and someone will come up to swap out your sheets and towels every single morning, so¡­ I dunno. Entertain yourself somehow. Have your Archive fill your head with fun facts about the city while you¡¯re staring out the window.¡± Marisol opened her mouth in an attempt to stop the two of them from leaving, but they hooked the door shut with a quiet slam. By the time she yanked it back open, they were already nowhere to be seen along the lengthy hallway. ¡­ Like uncle, like niece, I suppose. [Most Imperators are fleet-footed like that.] Sighing, she pulled the door close and leaned against it, looking tiredly around her room as she wondered about her next move. And¡­ there really wasn¡¯t one right now. She¡¯d overheard Victor and Reina''s conversation while she was taking a shower, but it wasn¡¯t nearly enough for her to get a proper picture of what was actually going on. Regardless, she wasn''t going to leave the city without her vial of healing seawater, and if there wasn''t one for her to buy, she''d dive into the whirlpool and get one herself. But not tonight. Her body still ached all over, and she felt¡ªfor how hard Victor had slammed her against the ground¡ªthat she''d be lying in bed for the better part of the next week. [I suppose now is as good a time as any to brush you up on the workings of the Whirlpool City, then.] [Please pay attention. I will now explain the birth and origin of the legendary city of the Deepwater Legion Front¡ª] Not now, she thought, grumbling her breath as she slid forward and collapsed face-down on the impossibly soft bed. Her muscles immediately gave out; she was more tired than she¡¯d thought. Tell me¡­ tomorrow. Sleep right now. [... As you wish.] And tonight¡ªfor the first night in a long, long while¡ªshe didn¡¯t have any nightmares as she slept. Chapter 44 - Whirlpool City [... Year Zero. Flesh rained and mandibles the size of mountains stabbed into the earth. They descended from the stars, and they took humanity by complete surprise¡ªthey were strong, quick to reproduce, and utterly obsessed with tearing human civilization apart. Winter was catapulted into summer from the sheer mass of heat and life that arrived on our world, and every continent that could afford to send a report spoke of the same occurrence: they were material creatures, like humanity, but that was where the similarities ended.] [They were called the ¡®Swarm¡¯.] [Year Zero. The Mori Masif Moths tore through the far eastern continent with their sky-spanning wings, their hunger for human flesh insatiable. The Colossal Attini Ants drove the hermits out from mountain hollows and claimed the far southern continent for themselves. The Deepwater Crustaceans decimated the far western continent before the great cities could even mount an evacuation, the cyclones they made felt even across the vast marina seas. The Hellfire Beetles siphoned magma from the volcanoes in the far northern continent, freezing a good quarter of the world. Many, many more bugs invaded each of the border continents, but there was little humanity could do to hold them. They came too quickly. Human weapons were ineffective against their biomagic, and their numbers were too overwhelming.] [By Year Ten, all but the Brightburrow Continent in the centre of the world was overrun. The Swarm conquered the rest of the world, and the sheer mass of bugs that converged towards the Brightburrow Continent became ubiquitously known as the ¡®Crawling Seas¡¯, an endless wave of bugs throwing themselves at the continent from every conceivable direction.] [By Year Eleven, the first Swarmsteel Systems were created by infusing blank biometal vessels with the bioarcanic essence of the Swarm, and humanity managed to launch the first successful counterattack against the Swarm. Humanity managed to stabilize¡ªfor a while.] [The ¡®Six Greater Insect Gods¡¯ appeared in Year Thirty-Three.] [Unlike Mutant-Classes, which are human-like bugs capable of using Bioarcanic Arts, and unlike Insect Gods, which are even stronger bugs with the capability of human speech, the Greater Insect Gods are, frankly speaking, invincible. ¡®Regalia of the South¡¯, ¡®Black Witch of the Southeast¡¯, ¡®Mammot of the Northeast¡¯, ¡®Star Flame of the North¡¯, ¡®Pestilence of the Northwest¡¯, and ¡®Corpsetaker of the West¡¯ were thus named the evil gods of the Swarm for their sheer destructive power, and they each led their own pantheons of Insect Gods who fought at their beck and call.] [By Year Thirty-Five, the Six Swarmsteel Fronts were established along the borders of the Brightburrow Continent. They were the fiercest battlefronts between humanity and the Swarm, and each front had their own form of resistance against their encroaching Great Insect God. The Igniscale Warriors of the Hellfire Caldera Front in the north are primarily composed of fire-based classes to combat Black Flame, the De Balla of the Rampaging Hinterland Front in the northeast are primarily composed of transformation-based classes to combat Mammot, so on and so forth¡­ and when Corpsetaker arrived at the far western shoreline of the continent in Year Seventy, it was the Harbour Imperators with water-based classes who met it at the edge of the Deepwater Legion Front.] [Back then, Corpsetaker was considerably weaker. The Harbour Imperators sacrificed many in the process, but with the Worm God¡¯s assistance, they managed to ensnare it and punch it down into a volcano on an island in the middle of nowhere, creating a brand new whirlpool nine thousand metres deep where it was trapped at the very bottom. Since there was already a small port city constructed around the island with the necessary infrastructure in place, the Harbour Imperators expanded on it and built an even larger city around the island, quickly establishing a system of containment for the bugs trapped inside the whirlpool. By diving into the whirlpool at the top of the volcano to periodically whittle down the giant bugs spawned by Corpsetaker and his Four Leviathans, the ¡®Whirlpool City¡¯ newly constructed in Year Seventy effectively became the capital bastion of the Deepwater Legion Front, as well as the headquarters for the Harbour Imperators¡ª]
¡°Okay, okay, okay,¡± Marisol grumbled, sitting upside down on the ceiling with her eyes closed and her arms crossed, ¡°I knew you¡¯d talk my ear off once I actually have time to just sit around and listen to you, but¡­ when I said I wanted to learn about the Whirlpool City, I ain¡¯t meant I wanted you to start that far back. I¡¯ll have you know I graduated from general school with perfect scores in history.¡± [Truly?] ¡°Uh-huh. Next, you¡¯re gonna say something along the lines of¡­ the Swarm God showed up in Year Seventy, threatened to destroy all Six Swarmsteel Fronts by herself by working with the Six Greater Insect Gods, but then the Worm God¡ªthe legendary human who¡¯d been fighting the Swarm since Year Sixty¡ªshowed up and beat her ass. After that, he also showed up in the Deepwater Legion Front, created the Whirlpool City, trapped Corpsetaker at the very bottom, and then established the wandering bug-slayer faction known as the Hasharana and gave them all special systems. Case-in-point, you. The Archive.¡± [Correct. Most soldiers and warriors in the Swarmsteel Fronts¡ªincluding the Harbour Guards and Imperators¡ªhave their own Swarmsteel Systems as well, but only the Hasharana have ¡®Altered¡¯ Swarmsteel Systems,] the Archive said curtly. [As a reminder, one of two big differences between the two systems is the existence of the ¡®Archive¡¯, which functions as an artificial intelligence capable of exchanging and extracting information between those who also have Altered Swarmsteel Systems. However, since you are currently an unregistered Hasharana, I do not have access to any updated information, nor can I connect to any other Hasharana in the vicinity.] ¡°Of which there is only one.¡± [And even if you were registered, you would not be able to connect with Victor Morina unless he accepts your connection request anyways,] the Archive added. [I mentioned he was one of the nineteen Arcana Hasharana, who are the very elites of the elites. The only thing you need to know is that he is not like other Hasharana. You would not be able to connect with him unless you are an Arcana Hasharana yourself.] ¡°Well, I wish I could¡­ send him a mental letter or something,¡± she mumbled, cracking her neck left and right as she did. ¡°What¡¯s taking him so long? The hell is he doing wherever he is?¡± The Archive shrugged on her shoulder, and she opened one eye to peek out the window. It was a really, really pretty day outside. ¡®Black Storm¡¯ still hadn¡¯t receded outside the city, but within, it¡¯d been nothing but never-ending drizzles and brilliant shafts of sunlight falling through small gaps in the clouds. She could see the bustling main street right out the window, and that made her all the more impatient, all the more irritated. The man hadn¡¯t even bothered visiting her once the past week she¡¯d been cooped up here. Cabin fever was real. And she¡¯d gotten used to talking aloud to the Archive instead of simply thinking in her head. Though she''d spent most of the past week sleeping the last bits of drowsiness from her coma off, she simply felt she¡¯d go insane if she didn¡¯t hear someone¡¯s voice every once in a while... so it might as well be her own, given the innkeepers didn¡¯t seem so inclined to talk whenever they showed up to deliver her meals and change her sheets. To entertain herself whenever she wasn''t sleeping, she¡¯d spent a fair amount of time skating up the walls and sitting upside-down on the ceiling. Honestly speaking, being able to sit upside-down on the ceiling with her ¡®Basic Setae¡¯ mutation was incredibly fun. It was now her favourite pastime. Her next goal was to be able to sleep upside-down. At least the meals are nice and the room is comfy. But Reina still hasn¡¯t returned mama¡¯s book or any of my Swarmsteel, and this ain¡¯t¡­If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡­ She missed home. She missed that little one-room sandstone house at the edge of her desert town. She wanted to see her mama again. ¡°¡­ That¡¯s it,¡± she muttered. ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡± The Archive snapped its head at her as she dropped from the ceiling and flipped around, landing softly on her glaives. [How? And where?] ¡°Through the window. Duh. And I ain¡¯t leaving the city. I just wanna¡­ you know.¡± She skated towards the window, throwing the glass panes open and sawing slowly through the steel bars with her elbow apiclaws. ¡°Anyone will go insane being kept in solitary confinement for seven days straight. I just wanna look around a little, have some fun, do a bit of sightseeing¡­ maybe I¡¯ll even dance a little for a crowd! I bet most of these folks ain¡¯t never seen a Sand-Dancer before!¡± [They have likely seen more impressive things than a Sand-Dancer. You realise they live on an island city that is the bastion against the entire southwestern branch of the Swarm, correct?] She smiled a little, yanking in the hacked-off steel bars one by one and stuffing them under her bed. ¡°They ain''t gonna know what hit them, then. You think they¡¯ll toss me a few coins if I do a good job?¡± [Sure they will. Not enough to bail you out of prison if you get caught, though.] ¡°It ain¡¯t a crime if nobody finds out. Come on, Archive¡ªthirty minutes, in and out. Nobody will even know.¡± [... Well, Victor Morina will probably bail you out no matter what you do at this point,] the Archive sighed, waving her off. [Do as you will.] And, with the Archive¡¯s ¡®permission¡¯, she flung herself out through the window and onto the curved roof on the other side of the main street. Her whole body relaxed immediately. The drizzle falling upon her skin was cold, but not freezing¡ªit was rain at just the right temperature to make the air feel cool and crisp. Quickly then, she slid down the side of the building and stumbled into the main street as discreetly as possible, not wanting to be spotted trespassing on private rooftops or something of the sort. Now, she finally let herself marvel at the city built around a volcano, eyes wide and sparkling. [Welcome to the Whirlpool City¡­] the Archive muttered, [for the third time, I suppose. The first time when you knocked out the Harbour Guard did not count, and the second time when you were being pursued by the Harbour Guards also did not count¡ª] Oh, shut up. It was morning, just thirty minutes after she had her breakfast. She assumed most people had finished theirs as well, because the main street was already bustling with activity: shops and restaurants flung open their doors, the scents of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, and herbs wafting through the air. Down the street, cafes and taverns placed their tables outside beneath colourful canopies, and patrons sat sipping on wine, nibbling on tapas, and watching the city stir to life. The grand upper city was regal in the afternoon light. Women were draped in flowing silks and embroidered clothes, walking arm in arm as they admired the latest fashions displayed behind panes of crystal glass. Men, too, were dressed in tailored tunics and coats the likes of which she¡¯d never seen before, browsing the stores with casual affluence. Streetside jewellers showed off necklaces that sparked with oceanic gems, artisans gathered crowds around them by openly painting seascapes and volcanic sunsets, and the perfumers¡ªMarisol coughed as the perfume store right next to her opened its window shutters, letting out strong floral fragrances her nose was sorely not used to. But it was all so pretty, and it was all so new. She cast only one last look at the Highwind Inn before skating down the street, weaving through the crowd at breakneck speed. The air here¡¯s really fresh, ain¡¯t it? she mused, sniffing as she skated past sparkling fountains, slanted gardens and plazas. She felt revitalised just being out in the open, and it wasn¡¯t because she¡¯d spent the past week cooped up in a little room. It¡¯s like¡­ well, it ain¡¯t briny. Not salty or anything of the sort. It¡¯s kinda like¡­ like¡ª [So close to the ever-swirling whirlpool where Corpsetaker is contained, the air in the Whirlpool City is always flowing naturally. There will never not be any wind in this city,] the Archive explained. [Because the wind always blows clockwise around the whirlpool, the scent of the air is the same no matter where you are. It mixes every scent from every corner of the city, which most people here call ¡®Nota Sutil Del Mar¡¯¡ªthe Subtle Note of the Sea.] She drew closer and closer to the lower city, and eventually came upon a checkpoint¡ªthe same one she¡¯d darted past a week ago¡ªso to get around it, she slipped into a back alley, scaled a building, and then slid down. She ended up a good fifty metres away from the checkpoint before dropping back down onto the main street, laughing under her breath. Even the terracotta roof tiles and the cobbled streets of the lower city felt smooth to skate on. More! What else is there to see? The style of buildings gradually changed from elegant stonework to rougher and weathered buildings as she skated deeper into the lower city. The main street here was narrower, but more cluttered with shops and stalls with charming hand-painted signs. Freshly caught seafood were displayed on wet shelves, bundles of herbs and spices hung from reed cords, and most windows were covered in grime and morning dew. But the streets here were more alive with people. Fishermen, sailors, street urchins, and merchants of all kinds went about their morning with boisterous shouts, going here and there with a sense of urgency, with a sense of purpose. It wasn¡¯t the same as the refined men and women in the upper city. They haggled with merchants, they slunk through the alleys, and they navigated the thin spaces between crates and barrels just like she was. She immediately felt more at home in this part of the city. There was the air of grit and survival, camaraderie and the raw energy of life spilling out onto the streets. She had half a mind to just find an empty spot, set up a donation basket, and start putting on a show like some of the street performers juggling twelve torches with four insect hands, but then she skated past a particularly eye-catching building squeezed between two fish markets. The walls were shabby and daub, exposed timber beams jutting out the collapsed roof¡ªit was evident nobody lived inside anymore¡ªbut the front door was still intact, albeit a little cracked and splintered from decades of neglect. Something about the subtly different scent wafting out the top of the abandoned building had given her pause, and it wasn¡¯t until she squinted at the little iron plate on the door that she realised who the building once belonged to. [... The city still hasn''t forgotten the Vellamira Household, I see,] the Archive murmured. [Your mother and your grandparents must have been rather well-liked by the people around here if this dreary house is still standing nearly two and a half decades since it was vacated. Perhaps you could reclaim it by filing a reacquisition request with the Harbour Imperators.] She skated up the porch and touched the iron plate, wiping dust off the carved ¡®Vellamira¡¯ name. If her mama hadn¡¯t left the Whirlpool City, this two-story building would¡¯ve been her home, and the fish market folks her neighbours. In another life, would she ever have somehow discovered Sand-Dancing if she¡¯d grown up in the Whirlpool City? ¡­ I wanna go home. Her lips twisted, her eyes watered, and she had to force herself to turn away from the old Vellamira Household. I¡¯m sure the city¡¯s pretty and all, but¡­ I wanna see mama again¡ª ¡°And it ain''t like we ain''t gonna let you go home at all,¡± Victor said, and his voice made her whirl. The bandaged man was leaning against a stack of crates with a bottle of ale in his hands, and he took a swig by pouring the ale right through his bandages as she scowled. ¡°Sorry about the wait. Took me... a while to put things in order, what with the... Guard you punched... and the prison cell I cut through. Right now, though¡­ the reason why we can¡¯t let you leave¡­ well, there¡¯s many reasons, first being the fact that you physically can''t leave with ''Black Storm'' active¡­ but the main thing is¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªfinish your drink first¡ª¡± ¡°The Imperators could use your help,¡± he finished, tossing the glass bottle into a back alley where it shattered faintly. ¡°No matter what anyone says about you, you did kill the Mutant-Class shrimp without any formal training, and that makes you an indispensable asset in the Imperators¡¯ eyes. They''ll force you to fight for them. They''ll make you work yourself down to the bone for as long as you¡¯re alive, and while being an acting Flower Cape under my protection will give you a considerable degree of freedom most Imperators don¡¯t have, it won''t be easy.¡± She scowled even harder and frowned at the back alley. ¡°I can tell you guys are really busy.¡± The old man ignored her. ¡°You ain¡¯t trained for this, lass. Just say the word, and I''ll pull a few strings to get you out of this. Just stay a civilian and wait until the Imperators deal with ''Black Storm'', and then the city will resume selling vials of healing seawater again. You can spend your time up here earning enough Scales to pay for it once the store reopens." She pursed her lips as he crossed his arms, waiting for the response he already knew he was going to get. ¡°... But what if I wanna help?¡± "You ain¡¯t trained for this." "But if I help, I¡¯ll get to accompany the Imperators on their missions down into the whirlpool?" ¡°Yeah." "And if I help, I can get down to that ''Depth Eight'' or whatever myself?" "Sure." "And if I get there, no one will mind if I, you know, secretly bottle a vial of healing seawater myself?" "I suppose you won''t have to work for Scales up here if you bottle it directly at the source." "Then I''m helping," she said firmly. "I''m diving down to Depth Eight whether you want me to or not. My journey ain''t over until I''m back home, sand-dancing with my mama." In response, he smirked under his bandages as he pushed off the crates, trudging slowly up the main street while beckoning her to follow. ¡°Then take it up with the Harbour Imperatrix in Lighthouse Seven,¡± he said. ¡°He wants to meet you, in any case. And do be polite. He''s only the most powerful man in the entire city." Chapter 45 - Lighthouse Marisol followed Victor reluctantly up the main street, and along the way, they picked up Reina¡ªwho scowled at her by the entrance of the Highwind Inn¡ªas well as the three Imperators who¡¯d intercepted her at the foyer a week ago. The trio was two men and one woman, and they all shared the same suspicious look Reina had as Victor waved cheerily at his niece. Fidgeting nervously and looking away, Marisol averted her eyes from the four Imperators as they continued trudging up towards ''Lighthouse Seven'' at the very top of the street. She¡¯d been told not to leave her room, after all, but things should be fine. Victor was here. He¡¯d deal with all the irritating bureaucracy for her. [Well, try not to push him too much. He could get annoyed as well and leave you out to dry.] No way, right? [...] Right? Receiving no response from the Archive, she grumbled under her breath as they neared the entrance to Lighthouse Seven. Much like most buildings in the city, calling the lighthouse ¡®big¡¯ would be an understatement. At fifty metres in height, the half-stone half-metal construct was easily the largest building she¡¯d ever seen, and the giant blue banner with the crest of the Imperators hung on the wall was so bright she could see its wrinkles from fifty metres away. It was still early in the day, but she had no doubt the lantern at the top would sparkle like the moon at night¡­ and for a brief second, she had to remind herself the lighthouse most likely wasn¡¯t built just as a landmark. As Victor and Reina beckoned her through the massive archway, up a spiralling flight of stairs, and into the glass lantern room at the very top of the lighthouse, she quickly understood why there were lighthouses built around the volcano¡¯s crater. Whoa. The city¡¯s really big, ain¡¯t it? She was dumbstruck. The glass lantern room at the top of the lighthouse was, as its name suggested, made entirely out of glass. Beyond the fairly large conference room where a long rectangular table and half a dozen chairs sat, there was the entire rest of the volcano to stare out at¡ªshe wasted no time glueing herself onto one of the glass walls, first taking in the view of the sprawling Whirlpool City running five hundred metres down to the harbour beneath her, and then taking in the view of the rest of the volcano. More specifically, she took in the massive kilometre-wide whirlpool in front of the lighthouse. Instead of magma in the volcano''s crater, it was just water. Sparkling, frothy, swirling water. The roar of the whirlpool was so loud she could hear its relentless growling even fifty metres above the surface, and the current moved with a rhythm that made it seem as though a giant monster was breathing in and out right beneath the surface. The water near the core was much darker than the water near the perimeter as well, the blue fading into a deep, inky black. She almost lost herself staring into the abyss when she noticed six more identical lighthouses built along the circular crater, evenly spaced so as to provide a lookout for any crustaceans that might be trying to crawl out of the whirlpool. Each of those must be an Imperator Lighthouse just like this one, then. Seven colossal lighthouses overlooking a single whirlpool¡­ Do they really got enough eyes on the whirlpool to keep the city safe? she thought, glancing at the Archive on her shoulder as she did. This is an awfully wide whirlpool. The textbooks ain¡¯t did it any justice. Even that giant remipede stretched out to its full length wouldn¡¯t be able to touch opposite ends of the whirlpool at once¡ª [Please refrain from disrespecting the Imperatrix in his own lighthouse.] [Look in front of you.] At the Archive¡¯s suggestion, she tore her eyes away from outside the lighthouse to look inside instead. And she gulped. Immediately. Victor had taken one of the chairs and was already lying face-down on the rectangular table, snoring loudly. The three Imperators who¡¯d tried to intercept her stood along the glass wall behind him, frowning at his distasteful behaviour. Reina was the only one still standing next to her, beckoning her towards the end of the room where a large man in a fur coat stood with his back against all of them. His bright blue mantis shrimp arms were crossed behind him as he stared quietly down at the whirlpool, and even without speaking a single word, the small hairs on her nape lifted. Her arms itched to extend her apiclaws, and her glaives tried to spark lightning by themselves. Fear coiled so thickly inside her she felt sick, and she couldn¡¯t take a few steps forward to greet the man properly. What¡¯s the ¡®proper¡¯ greeting in the Deepwater Legion Front, anyways? Do I bow? Should I have bought a gift? Do I break out into song and dance and¡ª With her scorpion tail, Reina slipped a wrapped candy into Marisol¡¯s trembling hands and nodded. Then, the prim and proper lady backed off, joining her three subordinates behind Victor as Marisol stared back at her blankly. ¡­ She ended up taking a deep breath and sighing reluctantly, squeezing the candy in her palm. What am I, a child? she grumbled, unwrapping the amber-coloured candy and popping it into her mouth as she skated forward, her heart still hammering against her ribs. The candy¡¯s really sour though. Who would¡¯ve guessed a prim and proper-looking lady like Reina would like sweets like this? [Most inhabitants of the Whirlpool City are quite fond of sour confectionaries. This is because sea salt harvested from the walls of the whirlpool is particularly nutritious and healthy compared to every other salt on the continent, which has to do with the unique aquatic ecosystems in Depths One to¡ª] Tell me about it later.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. What do I do right now? [Just bow. The current Imperatrix is not known to be a stickler for formalities.] She stopped at the end of the table¡ªjust a few metres away from the most powerful man in the city¡ªand bowed awkwardly with one hand lifting the back of her cloak. ¡°... Um. Hello,¡± she said, clearing her throat as she raised her head and stood upright. ¡°I¡¯m Marisol Vellamira, Sand-Dancer from the Luzde Desert. It is my pleasure to be in the presence of the¡ª¡± ¡°Sit,¡± the Imperatrix rumbled, and she skated back out of fright, bumping into the end of the table which she immediately sat upon. Maybe she should do it properly again and sit on one of the chairs, but it didn¡¯t seem like he cared as long as she wasn¡¯t standing. ¡°So the rumours are true, after all¡ªa second idiot has picked the Water Strider Class, and wherever she goes, her glaives carve up and damage the floor. Just what should I do with you, girl?¡± It was a rhetorical question. She knew it, everyone knew it; she still felt compelled to answer. ¡°Maybe¡­ get a self-repairing carpet from the Rampaging Hinterland Front in the northeast?¡± she offered, throwing a nervous smile onto her face. ¡°That¡¯s the front with the most advanced bioarcanic technologies, right? I bet¡­ they have something¡­ that¡¯ll keep your floors safe from¡­ me¡­¡± She trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence. Just because he ain¡¯t a stickler for formalities doesn¡¯t mean you can joke at him like that, idiot. A soft sigh escaped the Imperatrix, and she and everyone else behind her froze. She could see little of his face with his back turned towards her, but his spiky white hair was slicked-back and his fur coat looked twice as heavy as she was¡ªhe looked like the kind of man who could snap her in half with just two of his fingers. Help me, Archive. [You brought this on yourself.] Hey, aren¡¯t you supposed to be my ally¡ª ¡°That¡¯s what the last Flower Cape with the Water Strider Class told me as well,¡± the Imperator muttered, shaking his head in dismay as he turned around. Marisol blinked. The man¡­ looked surprisingly normal from the front. He may be twice as large as any other man in the city, but his Imperator uniform was the same as everyone else¡¯s, and if not for the eyepatch over his right eye¡ªand the bone-rattling aura he gave off, she supposed¡ªthere was a decent chance she could¡¯ve mistaken him for just any old grandpa on the street. But he was no grandpa¡ªprobably¡ªand he was also the legendary One-Eyed Lord of the City. The man who¡¯d fought alongside the Worm God nearly three decades ago, when Corpsetaker first tried to take over the entire Deepwater Legion Front. ¡°... I am Andres Balboa, Harbour Imperatrix of the Whirlpool City,¡± he said, arms still crossed behind him as he glowered down at her, chin tilted up. ¡°You don¡¯t really care about me, and I couldn¡¯t care less about where you came from or what you want, so I¡¯ll cut to the chase. You were the one who slayed that Mutant-Class wraith shrimp two weeks ago, correct?¡± Marisol blinked. ¡°Um. Yes?¡± ¡°Did you have any formal training in any of the other Swarmsteel Fronts? The Luzde Desert is close to the Attini Empire Front, is it not? Were you trained by the empire?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ no?¡± ¡°So you were just a ¡®Sand-Dancer¡¯? What did you do all day? Dance¡­ on the sand?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Then you are just like that other water strider bastard.¡± Andres chuckled, and she heard Victor half-chuckling, half-snoring behind her as well. ¡°I guess the Worm God¡¯s Altered Swarmsteel Systems really only give the Water Strider Class to people with death wishes. Nobody else is capable of controlling the water strider¡¯s mutations, let alone discover its unique Swarmblood Art. I trust Victor has already briefed you on what''s going on in the city?¡± Marisol scowled back at the man whose face was still down on the table, pretending to be asleep. ¡°Not really. I know ''Black Storm'' is active because¡­ Corpsetaker and his bugs are calling bugs from all over the Deepwater Legion Front to the city, and you ain''t really know what the bugs are planning¡ª" ¡°Simply put, we¡¯re running low on manpower, and we want you to work alongside us as Harbour Imperators,¡± Andres said curtly, shooting a scowl back at Victor as well. ¡°I won¡¯t bore you with the details, but we don''t want you to be an official Imperator. We want you to join us on daily patrols, extermination missions, and investigative dives into the whirlpool, but as an acting Flower Cape not subservient to any of your commanding officers. In short, you¡¯ll be like Victor back when he was still diving with us¡ªyou¡¯re Flower Cape reinforcements sent by the Worm God, but you aren¡¯t one of us. Feel free to abandon us anytime you want, and we¡¯ll do the same with you.¡± ¡°... And you¡¯re gonna let an outsider join up with you guys just like that?¡± Andres shrugged. ¡°I heard you bought a roundtrip ticket to and from the Whirlpool City so you can buy a vial of healing seawater for your mother, but as long as ¡®Black Storm¡¯ is active, no vials will be sold, and no ship will be permitted to leave. I take it you have no plans on plucking your grey hairs out on this island of a volcano?¡± Marisol pursed her lips. The sooner the Imperators determined the city was no longer in danger from the bugs within the whirlpool, the sooner ¡®Black Storm¡¯ would be lifted. Now, there was a question as to how much Marisol could really help with the Imperators¡¯ duties¡ªshe was just one girl, for the Great Makers¡¯ sake¡ªbut if it was a toss-up between doing nothing and helping expedite her journey home with a vial of healing seawater in hand, then there really wasn¡¯t a choice here. She¡¯d already made up her mind a week ago, and she wasn¡¯t about to backtrack on it. Her journey wasn''t quite over until she could dance with her mama again. ¡°... I don¡¯t,¡± she replied, forcing a small, defiant smile onto her face as she grinned up at the Imperatrix. ¡°I want in. I''ll get my ass down to Depth Eight to bottle up a vial of healing seawater, and then I''ll get my ass out of this city right after, ''Black Storm'' or not." "You''re confident." "Four thousand two hundred and eighty-six kilometres," she said, shrugging slightly. "I''ve made it that far already. How deep and dangerous can this ''Depth Eight'' be, anyways?" Andres snorted. "I would send everyone down to figure out what Corpsetaker''s planning by calling bugs from all over if I could, but it''s not that easy for people to go that deep. It requires training. Strength of will. Even Imperators who have trained for years cannot¡ª¡± "And I¡¯ll tell you right now that I don¡¯t have any mutations fit for underwater, but I don''t really care," she finished as well, looking straight at him. ¡°I''m getting my vial of healing seawater and going back to my mama. If you''re gonna stop me, now''s your chance.¡± A pause. Tense silence. Then Andres snorted again, looking over her head. ¡°¡­ Well. I think, with our equipment, that you¡¯ll find manoeuvring in our whirlpool is not so different to manoeuvring on land or water,¡± Andres interrupted, nodding at Reina and the three Imperators beside her. ¡°Now, I''m sure my subordinates are glad you''re so eager to help us out, and Victor and some of the Harbour Guards may vouch for your skill, but I''m not so easily convinced. You must still pass my preliminary induction exam. Succeed, and I will at least acknowledge your underwater competence and let you jump in on missions in the Upper Depths first.¡± She didn¡¯t have time to ask what failing would mean. All of a sudden, Victor picked her up by her collar and dragged her towards the glass wall closest to the window, slipping a light metal harness over her torso at the same time. The straps were made of thin, flexible silver wires, and so the only heavy part of the harness was the sapphire gemstone core that went over her chest, pulsing and glowing with soft blue light. It looked rather pretty, so she didn¡¯t even protest until Victor pushed a hidden glass door open¡ªand the sharp, cutting winds of the whirlpool reached all the way up here. As Victor fastened the final straps on her harness with a happy hum and Reina guided her three Imperator subordinates forward¡ªwho were also wearing identical harnesses¡ªAndres, the stern-looking old man, looked up at the giant clock dangling from the ceiling. ¡°... There is no time limit, but only you or the three new Imperator recruits will be climbing out of the whirlpool on two feet,¡± he said, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips as Victor pushed her out of the lantern room, so quickly and suddenly she didn¡¯t have the time to react at all. ¡°I don¡¯t care what strategy you use as long as only one side emerges from the whirlpool victorious. Defeat the three of them in a mock battle, and I will allow you to join our ranks as an acting Flower Cape. If not, you will sit in this city and do nothing until ''Black Storm'' is deactivated.¡± And then she fell, blinking in confusion all the way down until her back hit the swirling whirlpool. Chapter 46 - Pistol Shrimps Marisol definitely tried to land on her glaives, but the swirling winds made it so she couldn¡¯t reorient herself mid-air. She slammed painfully down onto the whirlpool on her back, and then the strong current sucked her underwater, her hydrospines doing nothing to keep her on the surface. Shit! Archive! I can¡¯t breathe underwater for that long! What do I¡ª [Relax. At level two, your ¡®Basic Gills¡¯ mutation will let you breathe underwater for two minutes,] the Archive said. [Besides, the candy Reina gave you is called a ¡®skyball coral¡¯, which are consumable corals biologically engineered by the Percebe Perfumers to give people thirty minutes¡¯ worth of oxygen underwater. You only ate that piece of candy five minutes ago, so combined that with your gills, there is no need to worry about oxygen for the time being.] True to the Archive¡¯s words, she didn¡¯t immediately feel like she needed to kick back up to the surface. It was like her lungs just didn¡¯t need air anymore, so she let the violent currents pull her down, down, and down until she eventually came to a gentle halt¡ªand then she forced herself to open her eyes, vibrating her hydrospines over her irises to help her see better underwater. The first thing she did was gulp, looking straight down. She glimpsed the maw of the seemingly endless abyss below her, stretching farther than her eyes could see. If she remembered her textbooks correctly, the whirlpool at the centre of the city was nine kilometres deep, one kilometre wide, and the Lower Depths were almost impossible to reach without specialised mutations and diving equipment. Now, she was no stranger to seeing an abyss below her¡ªshe¡¯d already fallen into the great blue once¡ªbut what she didn¡¯t expect was the fact that the walls of the giant whirlpool weren¡¯t barren rocks. Not at all. As she started sinking slowly, she noted the dense underwater forest growing horizontally on the circular walls, absolutely teeming with life. Giant seaweeds swayed gracefully in the gentle deepwater currents, reflecting bright sunlight in watery, mirage-like shimmers. Vibrant moss and kelps sprouted from the rocks like fields of grass, and fish of every shape and size darted through the undergrowth, scales shimmering like multi-colored gemstones. It was an aquatic ecosystem. [... It is true that the whirlpool is nine kilometres deep, and that every kilometre, there is a different unique ecosystem prospering and propagating on the walls,] the Archive explained, as she twirled around and marvelled at the strange creatures swimming around her; she recognised a few of them as clusters of jellyfishes and schools of serpentine eels, but many more she didn¡¯t recognise. [Each kilometre of the whirlpool is assigned a ¡®Depth¡¯ number, and the first kilometre below the surface is known as Depth One, the ¡®Seagrass Meadow¡¯. It is the safest Depth with very little bug activity, making it an ideal harvesting environment for many commercial fishermen and weed farmers. Now, would you please tap your harness¡¯ sapphire core in the middle three times as hard as you can?] The Archive appeared over the gemstone on her chest, tapping its little legs, so she obliged¡ªalmost in a daze¡ªand immediately felt her personal gravity shift. If she was sinking slowly towards the bottom of the whirlpool before, she was falling fast towards the closest wall of the whirlpool now. Falling felt weightless here. It was smooth, it was gentle. Within ten seconds, she landed glaive-first on the mossy ¡®ground¡¯ of the whirlpool, and she didn¡¯t even need to consciously stick to it with her setae. The humming and whirring gemstone on her chest did all the hard work for her. [Designed by the legendary ¡®Stellerin Family'' of the Rampaging Hinterland Front, this harness is used by the Harbour Imperators whenever they have to dive into the whirlpool,] the Archive said, and she stood up straight, tugging on the straps as she whirled around to gawk at the seaweed forest. Ignoring the fact that she could look straight up and see the exact same seaweed forest a thousand metres away on the opposite end of the whirlpool¡ªand the fact that she was underwater¡ªit almost looked as though she were standing in any normal forest. [There are only three controls you should know about: tap the bottom third of the gemstone, and your personal gravity will make you sink ¡®down¡¯ to the bottom of the whirlpool. Tap the middle, and your personal gravity will make you sink towards the closest wall. Tap the upper third, and your personal gravity will flip, making you rise towards the surface rapidly.] And¡­ it ain¡¯t need no energy to do all that? [It does not work outside the whirlpool,] the Archive said plainly. [The whirlpool has many, many peculiar properties. For one, the pressure per volume of water is far lower than the seas outside. The average human body cannot normally withstand even three hundred metres¡¯ worth of underwater pressure, but combine both the relatively low pressure and the innate enhanced toughness of most people who dive into the whirlpool, the Harbour Imperators can withstand up to nine kilometres¡¯ worth of underwater pressure. In short, the harness is not all-powerful. It merely capitalises on one of the whirlpool¡¯s many peculiarities.] A magic whirlpool¡ª [Focus, now.] [They are coming.] The moment the Archive pointed up was when she saw the three Imperators stabbing through the surface, descending rapidly towards her. Now, the surface was technically two hundred metres ¡®up¡¯, but the Imperators were in front of her as long as she was standing on the wall¡ªand quickly, she saw them tapping their harnesses as well, orienting themselves to the Seagrass Meadow¡¯s gravity. And¡­ are we really gonna fight? She gritted her teeth, looking around the dense seaweeds as she tried to focus on her senses. The whirlpool¡¯s currents weren¡¯t as strong down here as they were on the surface, but they still took up a significant portion of her senses, making it impossible for her to locate the Imperators. We¡¯re underwater. If one of us gets knocked out, wouldn¡¯t we be in danger of falling somewhere nobody else can find and drown? [They are Harbour Imperators with Crustacean Classes. Even if the three of them are only new recruits, they most likely have high-level gill mutations that let them breathe underwater for extended periods of time.] Oh, so they¡¯re fine. What about me? A status screen popped up next to her head.
[Objective #12: Defeat the Harbour Imperators] [Time Limit: 22 minutes] [Reward: Induction into the Harbour Imperators] [Failure: Possible suffocation]
¡­ Cool. So they''ll be fine if they get knocked out, but it¡¯s all risk for me. [You live your life on the very edge, do you not?] She scoffed, contemplating swatting the Archive off her shoulder, but then she felt a tingle to her left.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. A shadow dashed past a clump of seaweeds and neared her. She reacted on instinct, skating a few metres back to narrowly dodge what looked like a ripple flying at her chest¡ªand she frowned immediately as the three Imperators waded out from the forest, clutching their giant shrimp claws with their normal human hands. All three of them were young, their hair tied in braids so they couldn¡¯t whack their own faces. They were two men, one woman, and all three seemed to have the same Shrimp Class with only one visible and evident mutation manifesting on their body: all of their right hands were giant orange claws, disproportionately large even compared to the crab claws she¡¯d seen on the Blackclaw Marauders. They were almost like cannons strapped to their arms, and she couldn¡¯t help but shiver when they pointed their claws at her again, their free hands clutching the back of their claws as though to brace themselves for recoil. ¡°... It ain¡¯t personal, kid,¡± the man on the far left said, narrowing his deep blue eyes at her. His voice was somehow louder underwater, making her wince. ¡°We respect what you did to keep the lower city safe from that Mutant-Class. Really. We¡¯ve all got family who live down there, and it would¡¯ve been a real big mess if you hadn¡¯t been there¡­ but we ain¡¯t about to let a no-name stranger with no official training show us up.¡± ¡°Raise your arms and yield,¡± the lady in the middle said, tilting her chin back. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you¡¯re breathing underwater¡ªor if the Water Strider Class even has any mutations for underwater breathing¡ªbut you can¡¯t be doing this for much longer. I estimate¡­ ten? Maybe fifteen more minutes? We can breathe underwater for longer than six hours, but that''s because we have classes with specialised respiratory mutations. I don¡¯t doubt your underwater stamina is much lower than ours.¡± ¡°What the two of them said,¡± the man on the far right said, putting zero effort into the conversation. ¡­ Well, she supposed it wasn¡¯t really a conversation, and she didn¡¯t think they¡¯d hear her out anyways. Truth be told, she wasn¡¯t particularly keen on fighting humans¡ªnot after what she did to the Whitewhale Marauders¡ªbut she needed to bottle a vial of healing seawater, and there was doubt there''d be plenty of obstacles standing between her and Depth Eight. The three of them were but the first of many. So she parted her lips and tried to say ¡®no¡¯, but they must have some sort of speech-assisting mutation or something, because all she ended up doing was panic-swallowing a mouthful of seawater the moment she tried to talk. [Idiot,] the Archive muttered. [You do not have the tier four ¡®Basic Sonar¡¯ core mutation unlocked. You cannot talk underwater.] While she coughed and doubled over and tried not to gag, the three Imperators simply stared at her weirdly¡ªand that was her opportunity to bolt. Dashing back, she skated behind a clump of seaweeds as they ¡®clicked¡¯ their giant claws in unison, firing a ripple wave that tore up the ground she¡¯d been standing on. Her eyes widened as she looked briefly behind her. What¡¯s that? How are they doing that? As she skated further and further back into the seagrass meadow, the three of them fanned out to pursue. She wasn¡¯t skating as fast as she wanted to¡ªwater resistance slowed her significantly¡ªbut that didn¡¯t mean the Imperators were slow to begin with. They leapt onto swaying seaweeds, kicked off the leaves, and bounced around overhead as they fired from three separate directions. She ducked and bobbed and weaved, narrowly evading each shot, but¡­ A few ripples ¡®grazed¡¯ her, and she winced every single time, feeling her bones rattling under her skin. [It would appear they have the Pistol Shrimp Class,] the Archive commented idly, completely nonplussed as she yelped, barely evading another ripple that would¡¯ve slammed right into her head. [Pistol shrimps have a disproportionately large claw capable of snapping and producing extremely powerful ''cavitation bubbles''. These bubbles collapse immediately and send out a shockwave fast enough to break physical objects and disorient enemies, but they can also be used to interfere with underwater communication between leviathans. Fun fact: their pistol pincers can grow up to half their body sizes, and the larger the pincers, the stronger the bubbles they can fire.] Bubbles? She clenched her jaw, skating up a seaweed as the two men converged on her from opposite directions, both trying to grab her collar with their bare human hands. I thought bubbles were, like, round and soft and pretty! What do you mean they¡¯re making and collapsing bubbles? [Waves travel much faster underwater,] the Archive explained. [On the surface, their pistol pincers would not be able to produce physically striking waves. I imagine they would still be quite noisy, but many crustaceans have mutations and abilities that only properly function underwater¡ªfor people with Pistol Shrimp Classes, the underwater shockwaves they can produce via their bioarcanic cavitation bubbles are powerful enough to rupture your entire body from the inside out. That is their Swarmblood Art known as ''Snapstrike''.] [Here are their status screens and their estimated attributes.]
[Identification Complete] [Identities: Harbour Imperator Recruits] [Grades: A-Rank Giant-Class] [Classes: Pistol Shrimp] [Swarmblood Art: Snapstrike] [Auras: ~1,800] [Strength: ~5, Speed: ~5, Toughness: ~6, Dexterity: ~5, Perception: ~6]
¡­ Aw. Their biomagic¡¯s kinda cool, actually. Since they all have advanced classes, they¡¯ve all unlocked up to their tier five mutations? [No. Normal systems that give generic classes like ¡®Shrimp¡¯, ¡®Crab¡¯, and ¡®Lobster¡¯ have two Class Mutation Selections after unlocking all their tier three and tier five mutations respectively. For these three, they must have started out with the generic Shrimp Class, then after unlocking all of their tier three mutations, they picked the Pistol Shrimp Class or their First Class Mutation Selection. Once they unlock all of their tier fives, they will be able to pick from further specialised classes like Automate Shrimp Class or Rupture Shrimp Class.] So they get to upgrade their classes twice? Why do I only get Class Mutation Selection after I unlock my tier fives? [Because I am an advanced Archive that can read your biological information to determine what class would be best suited for you, and I offered you the Water Strider Class right out of the gate. For your reference, if someone with a normal system were to want to obtain the Water Strider Class, they would first have to obtain a Drift Bug Class¡ªwhich is the generic term for true bugs that live on the surface of water¡ªand then be offered the Water Strider Class during the First Class Mutation Selection. All Archives offer their user specialized classes from the start so they have immediate access to more specialized Arts.] Ah. So every Hasharana just skips right to the Second Class Mutation Selection? [Indeed. Now focus. Apart from their claws, the recruits also have normal weapons like¡ª] Whips. Chainwhips. She was about to backflip off the seaweed she was skating up when she suddenly found her arms bound to her sides, a metal chain with a small anchor at the end twirling around her torso at a blurry speed. The lady who¡¯d flicked the anchor at her immediately jerked her down, yanking on the chain with both hand and pincer as she was slammed into the ground a good thirty metres away¡ªkicking up a foggy cloud of moss and stone dust as she did. As she groaned and lay there on the ground, all trussed up, the three Imperators banded together in the distance and approached her slowly. ¡°Stay there and yield,¡± the lady called out again. ¡°A civilian should not be interfering with Imperator duty. You are unfit for the job. We have had training as Harbour Guards since we were children, and then we trained several more years just to be initiated into the Imperators. A girl who merely picked up a system cannot compare to us.¡± ¡°It ain¡¯t all about individual strength and speed down here, either,¡± one of the men said. ¡°No Imperator dives alone. Not even the Lighthouse Imperators and the Imperatrix himself. Things can go very wrong very fast even if you¡¯re with a full team, and the deeper you go, the worse your decision making because of Corpsetaker¡¯s aura. It clouds your judgement. It instills the fear of death in your heart. How do you think you would react when you are inevitably confronted with the fact that the bugs of the Whirlpool City are far, far more powerful than you could ever imagine?¡± ¡°What the two of them said,¡± the other man said, putting zero effect into the lecture. ¡­ And Marisol clicked her tongue in irritation, extending her apiclaws with a loud snap to sever the chains binding her arms. The lady who¡¯d been holding the other end of the chain took a step back, startled, and the other two stepped forward to guard her. For her part, Marisol simply climbed onto her glaives and stretched her shoulders, arms, waist, and legs¡ªpopping every joint she could pop and making sure she was in tip-top condition to dance. ¡­ I¡¯m looking ¡®up¡¯ at them, right? she thought. The surface is behind them, so if I tap the top of my gemstone, will my personal gravity change and make me rise towards it? [Correct.] Then screw this underwater resistance shit, making me slow and all. Sharpening her eyes, dragging her right glaive back with a loud screech, she leaned dangerously forward and prepared to charge headfirst at the Imperator man on the left. Then she tapped the top of her gemstone three times and immediately felt herself falling ¡®forward¡¯. Talking like I ain¡¯t know fear, this lot. They ain¡¯t ever seen ¡®speed¡¯ like mine. Chapter 47 - Mentor Marisol¡¯s harness dragged her ¡®up¡¯, giving her a stronger kick off the ground as she launched into a mid-air quadruple spin, blurring across the Seagrass Meadow. She didn¡¯t need to charge her glaives with lightning. Her non-fatal War Jump kick smashed into one of the Imperator men¡¯s head and she screeched to a halt twenty metres behind them, quickly tapping her gemstone three times to revert her personal gravity to ¡®normal¡¯¡ªthat was, glaives on the ground and eyes level with the Seagrass Meadow. Her apiclaws carved through the ground as she slowed her momentum with them, all four limbs close to the ground. The Imperator she¡¯d kicked with the flat end of her glaive was still wobbling around, clutching his head in pain, so before any of his companions could realise what she¡¯d just done, she did the exact same thing again: blurring forward by reversing her gravity for additional speed. This time, she didn¡¯t hold back. Charging her glaives with lightning was one thing, but kicking the already wobbly man a second time with all the strength she had was another thing. She already knew he wouldn¡¯t die. Judging by the Archive¡¯s estimation of their attribute levels, none of them were that weak. The flat end of her glaive slammed into his temple, driving him into the ground, and then she skated back to where she first started off. One down. As the lady immediately dropped to her knees to check on her fallen companion, the other Imperator raised his claw at Marisol, snapping it hard. Her ears popped. Her senses flared. She felt like she could see the shockwave flying at her before it even appeared, so she spun and kicked in place, vibrating her repelling hydrospines to send a ripple back. Her ripple wasn¡¯t nearly as powerful as the pistol shrimp¡¯s shockwave¡ªnor could she really ¡®fire¡¯ hers in a concentrated direction while she was underwater¡ªbut what she did manage was a ripple barrier as she spun in place, dispersing the non-fatal projectile with an ear-rattling warble of water. While the second Imperator men blinked at her, looking confused, she skated in one more time to knee him in the jaw, felling him just as quickly as the first. The Imperator lady tried to grab her ankle as she flew by, but she was too fast. Too nimble. She didn¡¯t really even have an ankle, so she simply ended up landing on a clump of seaweed, looking directly up at her final opponent with a thrilled grin. They¡¯re definitely strong, Marisol thought, as the Imperator lady seemed to realise there¡¯d be no waking up her companions anytime soon. She shot to her feet, raising her shrimp claw as Marisol gritted her teeth. But¡­ screw your ¡®official training¡¯ and ¡®years of experience as Harbour Guards¡¯. Do any of you know what it¡¯s like to dance barefoot on the blistering sand? The heat is suffocating. Sand blows under your eyelids all the time. You¡¯re always sweaty and heavy and you need specially tailored clothes just to keep them from tearing all the time. Compared to the desert, it¡¯s always cool down here. Your mutations let you see and breathe underwater. You¡¯re always wrapped in water and your weight is lower and you can wear whatever you want without being bogged down by them. Hell, you even got these harnesses that let you move like you¡¯re on land. Compared to the desert, ain¡¯t we all actually a bit stronger down here? She said none of that out loud, of course. Her words would only come out as choking, gargling bubbles, but her glaring eyes got the message across to the lady¡ªand both of them dragged one leg back, ready to launch their strongest attacks at each other. ¡­ And I ain¡¯t that much younger than all of you, either. Don¡¯t call me kid. I''m getting my vial of healing seawater no matter what.
The seven lighthouses built around the crater were Imperator bases. The bottoms could open up and release small vessels capable of sailing atop the ever-swirling whirlpool, and each of those vessels could lower a dozen diving bells fitted with image-transferring lenses, allowing Imperators in the lighthouses to surveil everything going on within Depths One to Three like reverse periscopes. Now, it was still far too early in the morning, so there weren¡¯t any vessels and diving bells lowered into the whirlpool right now, but that didn¡¯t stop Victor and Andres from looking down at the churning whirlpool with their plain, human eyes. It wasn¡¯t like Victor could see the battle between Marisol and the new recruits¡ªhell, he could barely see a hundred metres in front of him with the bandages over his eyes¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t like Andres could, either. The mutations of the Imperatrix¡¯s Hammer Shrimp Class certainly gave him a keen sense of vision, but not to the extent he could peer a thousand metres deep into Depth One where Marisol probably was. In that case, there was only one reason why they were standing behind the glass wall at the top of Lighthouse Seven, pretending like they could actually see anything. ¡°You don¡¯t think the lass will pass your little test?¡± Victor asked, both hands clasped on his walking cane. He didn¡¯t look at Andres as he spoke. ¡°Reina gave her a piece of skyball coral in candy form just now, so she won¡¯t drown. I reckon she¡¯ll drag herself back up in ten minutes.¡± ¡°But you don¡¯t want the girl to pass my test,¡± Andres replied plainly, arms crossed behind his back. He didn¡¯t look at Victor as he spoke, either. ¡°You know, I caught a glimpse of thunder from all the way up here back when she killed the wraith shrimp, so I''m certain she¡¯ll win. Even without using her Art, she''s strong. The recruits will underestimate her in a moment of arrogance, and I reckon she¡¯ll drag herself and the three of them back up in... around five minutes.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Victor snorted. Reina, who was still standing behind the two of them with her arms pressed to her sides, stiffened in response to Andre¡¯s statement. She probably didn¡¯t want her juniors to lose¡ªespecially considering this was probably Marisol¡¯s first go at fighting underwater¡ªbut the result had been determined the moment Victor brought Marisol up to the lantern room and he saw her reaction to the whirlpool. Most people, new Imperator recruits included, would flinch and look hesitant at the thought of diving down there. But Marisol¡¯s eyes had looked lost in the swirl of the whirlpool, almost as though she¡¯d been thinking about how she could skate on top of it. The ¡®test¡¯ was really just a formality. ¡°... I was the one who noticed her falling, dived in, and dragged her in against ¡®Black Storm¡¯. You know how tough that is on my body? I can barely walk as I am, so why would I have risked my life dragging her in if I didn¡¯t want her to pass?¡± Victor asked, shrugging nonchalantly. ¡°Why, if she¡¯s gonna beat your new recruits, you might as well just make her a fully-fledged Imperator while you¡¯re at it. Take her off my hands. Just think of the Archive as a bonus y¡¯all can use to your advantage¡ª¡± ¡°If you¡¯re trying to shove her into my Imperators hoping I¡¯ll force her to fit in with the rest of them¡ªin turn, pushing her to adhere to our military traditions¡ªthen you¡¯re sorely mistaken,¡± Andres said calmly, lifting his chin slightly. ¡°She¡¯s a Flower Cape. She can¡¯t be controlled, and she shouldn¡¯t be controlled. Free spirits like her only learn when her life¡¯s on the line, so thank the grand creadors she¡¯s even more antsy about us and this whole city than you were when you were first assigned here.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t antsy.¡± It was Andres¡¯ turn to shrug. ¡°Even if she fails the test and you pawn her off to me, saying she¡¯s too ''weak'' to be your disciple, I¡¯ll just let her do her own thing. She¡¯ll certainly try to dive down to Depth Eight even if she''s not given permission, so if she''s going to be interfering with our duties anyways, you might as well be her mentor instead of me. Flower Capes take care of Flower Capes, no?¡± Silence. Victor held up his smile, lifting his chin slightly as well. ¡°Mentor?¡± he murmured, the word coming out soft and stilted. ¡°I ain¡¯t mentoring anyone no more, Andres. Least of all another water strider. After the last two¡ª¡± ¡°Felipe and Rico had never fallen prior to the moment they did, so they died. But the girl¡¯s different, no?¡± Andres interrupted. ¡°Her palms¡¯ calluses got calluses. She¡¯s a ¡®Sand-Dancer¡¯. She¡¯s clawed her way to the surface after sinking once, so even if she runs straight into a bug and falls, she¡¯ll fall right through it instead of back." "She''s a civilian." "Who killed a Mutant-Class with zero military training. A once-in-a-generation talent. You do remember we are fighting a losing war against the Swarm, yes? Tens of millions across the Deepwater Legion Front are at risk of getting overrun by Corpsetaker and his brood every single day, and if this city falls, we stand to lose the western half of the Deepwater Legion Front. Maybe you''ve gone soft over the decades, but I¡¯ll gladly make her fight and suffer if it means her life can protect millions. As do the other Imperators. We''re not picky about reinforcements at this point." "She ain''t at all prepared for working with you lot. She''s a Sand-Dancer who''s never left her shitty desert town before all this, for god''s sake.¡± "And I''m saying she¡¯s a real daredevil, Chariot. Nothing like your pitiable disciples back then¡ª¡± Victor''s cane cracked the floor. ¡°This lighthouse is too small for the both of us, Imperatrix. Perhaps you¡¯d like to jump out the window and see the battle below the whirlpool up close and personal?¡± Another silence. Reina fidgeted behind the two of them, taking a step back out of caution. ¡°... Hmph. You¡¯d take up too much space yourself, too, if you weren¡¯t on edge,¡± Andres said, the corner of his lips twisting into a smirk. Victor smiled cheerfully. ¡°Says the man twice my size and half as broad as your mother.¡± ¡°Just mentor the girl,¡± Andres muttered. ¡°You know she¡¯s got the aptitude to go faster than Felipe and Rico combined, and with you still tied up by your wounds like that, we could use a little reckless water strider in our ranks.¡± ¡°There are still twenty-one other Flower Capes across the Deepwater Legion Front. All of them may be stuck outside the city because of ¡®Black Storm¡¯ right now, but if I send the message, you know they¡¯ll claw back here with everything they¡¯ve got, tooth and nail¡ª¡± ¡°Please. Like they won¡¯t be bedridden with injuries for an entire year after trying to force their way through the storm,¡± Andres said, giving his proposal a dismissive wave. ¡°Right now, the only Flower Capes in this city are you and that girl, and you¡¯re still pathetically weak. How many more times can you use your Art again?¡± Victor tilted his head back. ¡°Two times. Well, it¡¯s been two times for an entire decade, but I used it once when I dragged the girl into the city. Couldn¡¯t have made it through the storm otherwise.¡± ¡°So, one more time and you''ll drop dead?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t count on you to get shit done if worse comes to worst, then.¡± Andres sighed, shaking his head in dismay. ¡°As long as you¡¯re like this, you can¡¯t help us out by diving alongside us. You can¡¯t go deep underwater anymore, either, so if anything out of the ordinary happens while my Imperators are down there¡ªand strange things will happen down there in the coming months, mark my words¡ªI want a Flower Cape down there with my Imperators.¡± ¡°So she¡¯ll be bait in case you need your Imperators to run away?¡± ¡°So my Imperators can be bait while she runs away,¡± Andres said, voice low and quiet. ¡°You Flower Capes are heroes of humanity. The people of the Whirlpool City love you. They look up to you. And since you haven¡¯t been diving seriously for a decade now, I was thinking she could take your place as the new ¡®hero¡¯ of the Whirlpool City¡­¡± Andres trailed off, narrowing his eyes. Small bubbles were popping on the surface of the whirlpool directly beneath them, and Victor glanced back at Reina, nodding at her to go down and receive their returnees. ¡°... Train her, Victor,¡± Andres said, turning around to leave the room. ¡°After an entire decade of injury and not having used your Art, you finally used half of your life for that girl. You see something in her, don¡¯t you?¡± And there wasn¡¯t going to be another discussion about it. The old bastard made it clear to Victor: he was the one who¡¯d dragged Marisol in, so he was going to take care of her until the inevitable bitter end. No amount of trying to discreetly shove her off to the Imperators while staying neutral himself was going to work on Andres. To begin with, Andres already knew she was going to be an important asset, so there was no chance he¡¯d let her get out of the city or live a quiet life as long as she was here. The Imperators were bastards like that, but they were also soldiers on the side of humanity like that. ¡­ Victor sighed, leaning on his walking cane as he saw Reina running out onto the platform at the bottom of the lighthouse, receiving Marisol and the three Imperators she was dragging out of the water by the collar. Marisol tossed the Imperators over to Reina, crawled onto the bobbing metal platform, and while she gasped for breath¡ªhe caught her glaring up at him, shaking an angry fist as she shouted a slew of incomprehensible words. He was pretty sure she was saying something along the lines of ¡®I want my Swarmsteel back¡¯ or ¡®I want my mama¡¯s book back¡¯, but he¡¯d rather not strain his throat and shout anything back. ¡­ Tch. Where¡¯s my ale? When did I toss it away? Chapter 48 - Lecture Another week passed. Marisol was no longer confined in her room, but it felt like she was still trapped in some sense. Victor had told her she could walk around the city and unwind until he called for her, but her bodily aches from three months of intense and extreme physical exertion were still catching up to her. Thankfully, her mama¡¯s technique book and her Swarmsteel had all been returned to her the day after she beat up the new Imperator recruits, so she spent most of the week lying on her bed, catching up on some much needed rest while going through the remaining two techniques in her mama¡¯s book again. Even now, as she lay on her back reading her mama¡¯s book, her stomach was still throbbing, her head was still pounding, and her muscles, frankly, felt like sand-jelly. She supposed she just had to be grateful she didn¡¯t get a cramp while fighting the recruits underwater. They¡¯re still coming by every day to give me a few points'' worth of seafood, though, she thought, glancing at the cleaned plate by the study desk. The quiet head innkeeper and the receptionist, Daniela, had been diligent about keeping her well-fed this past week, and she felt it was rude to leave her plate full even if she didn¡¯t feel like putting anything in her stomach. So, she¡¯d eaten all of it. Everything. Grilled sea bream stuffed with shreds of lobster, fried squid with crabs stuffed in the tendrils, and loads of other seafood she¡¯d never tried before. At the very least, they were all novel dishes she wouldn¡¯t get tired of eating anytime soon. She wasn''t gaining nearly as many points as she used to back when she was skating on the open seas, risking her life every day, but¡­ getting points for basically free with zero effort was a little enjoyable.
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: F-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: Storm Glaives] [Aura: 1,835 (+40)] [Points: 24] [Strength: 4, Speed: 5, Toughness: 3 (+1), Dexterity: 4, Perception: 4 (+1)] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 4] [T2 Mutations | Basic Gills Lvl. 2 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 5] [T3 Mutations | Basic Apiclaws Lvl. 3 | Streamlined Wings Lvl. 5 | Basic Setae Lvl. 2] [T4 Mutations | Basic Discharge | Basic Sonar | Basic Underchitin | Basic Chitin] 500P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20] [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20)]
Twenty-four points in a week just from eating the daily meals they give me. That''s essentially free points, right? I do wish they¡¯d give me a bit more, though. [Your three-month-long journey from Antonio''s sinking vessel to the Whirlpool City, slaying giant crustaceans, destroying Marauder Fleets, and even fighting a Mutant-Class at the end is what most people would call a ''batshit insane journey''. Do you know how normal Guards and Imperators in the Deepwater Legion Front gain their points?] Uh¡­ No? [In the Whirlpool City, the only source of points for the Imperators comes from the bugs they slay during their daily patrols or extermination missions in the whirlpool. Since it is not every day they even get to encounter a giant bug¡ªand there are also laws in place that mandate partial sharing of the points each Imperator obtains with each other¡ªdo you know how many points the average Imperator is able to obtain per month?] A hundred? [Forty. Do you know how many points you averaged per month during your three-month-long journey?] I dunno. About the same¡ª [Nearly four hundred and fifty.] The Archive sighed in exasperation. [Points do not fall out of the sky, but you must be conscious of the fact that your growth is abhorrently unnatural. Out there, you were able to consume bug meat nearly every single day because there was always danger afoot, but that is not how it works in this city. No random bugs will pop out of a back alley and attack people. You will not be able to easily obtain a lot of points in this city. Bug meat may not be a particularly rare commodity, but it is valuable nonetheless.] So¡­ the fact that Daniela¡¯s even giving me free points in my daily meals is already too good for me? [Correct.] [Most Imperators don''t get daily points handed to them on a silver platter.] So if I want even more points than what I''m being given for free, I''ll have to dive down into the whirlpool and kill bugs myself. [¡­] I''m serious, Archive. [I know you are.] If I wanna get down to Depth Eight for that vial of healing seawater, I need more pow¡ª The windows opened from the outside and the light morning drizzle blew in, drenching the desk, floor, and the corners of her bed with cool water. She immediately jolted upright and clutched her book close to her chest, blinking rapidly¡ªshe felt her perception level was quite high already, but whenever it came to Victor and his peculiar brand of entrances, it was like she was no different from the average human. His bandaged hands flew over the window frame as he climbed in, dripping wet from feathered hat to pointed toe. ¡°... Get up, lass,¡± he said, thumbing out the window. ¡°You''re going to school.¡± For her part, Marisol stayed cross-legged on her bed and scowled at the old man. ¡°What?¡± ¡°School.¡± ¡°Now?¡± ¡°Ya.¡± ¡°Well, I gotta brush my hair and wash my face first, then. Get out. I¡¯ll be done in, like, thirty minutes¡ª¡± ¡°The wind¡¯ll straighten your hair, and the rain¡¯ll moisturise your skin. We''re going now.¡± He allowed her to let go of her book, but he didn''t wait for her to climb off the bed and hobble to the bathroom. Instead, he picked her up by the collar, threw her out the window, and just before she could soar over the adjacent roof¡ªcaught her by the collar again. Her brain rattled in her skull, and there was little time to comprehend just how fast she was getting dragged across the roof, and to where. She felt¡­ maybe they were descending into the lower city? Or maybe they were going up towards the Imperator lighthouses? It was still bright and early in the morning, so she''d just barely woken up.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. She rubbed her eyes groggily, not even bothering with trying to see where Victor was taking her. How''s he moving this fast, anyways? If I look down, maybe I''ll happen to see eight tentacles instead of two legs¡ª He came to a sudden halt, and the deceleration combined with her being let go of sent her flying down the roof, slowly rolling to a stop. Ow. [Your body is remarkably tough, though. It would appear you have healed enough.] I''d prefer an adrenaline boost. [If you rely on my chemical stimulation functionality too much, your body will eventually grow used to my interference.] She grumbled under her breath as she rolled onto her sides, clutching her stomach. She didn''t want to stand up. The terracotta roof was cool with light rain, and warm sunlight bore down overhead. It was comfy enough that she could just about doze off on the roof were it not for Victor sitting cross-legged next to her, tapping his walking cane on the glass ceiling in front of them. She didn¡¯t bother sitting up straight this time. She could see and hear just well enough on her sides. The two of them had landed on the roof of some sort of academy in the lower city¡ªa large cathedral-like building with tons of arches and pointy towers in the corners¡ªand peering down through the large glass ceiling in front of her, she noticed something akin to a ¡®lecture hall¡¯ about ten metres below. She knew what those looked like since she¡¯d seen drawings of them in recruiting posters from famous academies across the continents, but she¡¯d never actually seen one in person before. Dozens of men and women were seated on rows of benches arranged in a circular, tiered fashion, surrounding a wide oak podium where a professor was writing on a giant black chalkboard. From the looks of the students still settling down across the lecture hall, class was just about to begin, and the professor¡ªa middle-aged lady with two pairs of white, spindly, shrimp-like antennae¡ªsuddenly whirled around to face the class, leaning into her podium. ¡°... Welcome to Whirlpool City One-Oh-One, ya lot of new Harbour Guard recruits!¡± the professor drawled, waving at the students with all four antennae, though her actual face was stony and deadpan. ¡°I¡¯ll be yer lecturer, examiner, and tutor for the entire rest of yer time in the Harbour Guard Academy, so best get used to my volume, yeah? I¡¯m the Fourth Lighthouse Imperator, so call me Imperator Claudia¡ªanythin¡¯ else and I¡¯ll give ya the boot. Is that clear?¡± A bunch of high-energy, exuberated shouts were the students¡¯ reply, and Marisol yawned as she glanced over at Victor, whose arms were crossed and looking about ready to fall asleep as well. ¡°What am I even here for?¡± she asked. ¡°Why do I gotta sit in for some sort of¡­ introductory class?¡± Victor yawned. ¡°Just¡­ listen to Claudia, lass.¡± ¡°I want to go down and fight. Kill bugs. Get points. Get stronger until I''m ready for Depth Eight. Why am I here with the Guards¡ª¡± ¡°Not too loud, lass,¡± he mumbled. ¡°She¡¯s gonna hear us.¡± Marisol blinked. Instinct told her to pull her head back a little as Claudia suddenly snapped up, staring straight at the two of them¡ªbut it seemed like the professor just barely couldn¡¯t see them, so Marisol sighed a soft breath of relief as class resumed downstairs. Fine. I guess I¡¯ll just try not to fall asleep¡ª ¡°To all of ye who¡¯ve been livin¡¯ under a rock yer entire lives and somehow passed the entrance exam, let¡¯s get all the borin¡¯ housekeepin¡¯ stuff outta the way first,¡± Claudia said, turning around to draw the Whirlpool City on the blackboard, a piece of chalk curled in each antenna. ¡°The Deepwater Legion Front is the name of this entire region, so ye can consider the Whirlpool City the capital of this Swarmsteel Front. With our headquarters established nearly thirty years ago around this volcano island, we, the Harbour Imperators and the Harbour Guards, have only one purpose to fulfil. Anyone wanna tell me what our job is?¡± A student raised their hand in the back row. ¡°The Harbour Imperators defend the Whirlpool City from the Greater Crab God contained at the very bottom of the whirlpool, while the Harbour Guards defend the city from bugs on the outside, Imperator Claudia!¡± Claudia snapped her shrimp claws. ¡°Nice! I said one purpose, though, and ye gave me two! Simply speakin¡¯, our ultimate goal is to defend the Deepwater Legion Front and prevent giant crustaceans from reaching the mainland continent. Defendin¡¯ the city at the far western border of the Deepwater Legion Front is just the way we¡¯re currently goin¡¯ about that!¡± Marisol had to lean forward a little just to see what Claudia was drawing on the blackboard. It was a map of the Deepwater Legion Front, which was a crescent moon-shaped cove on the far western end of the continent. She already knew what the region looked like from the textbooks she¡¯d read back when she was a child, but seeing it again dredged up old memories¡ªthe days and weeks she¡¯d spent kicking her legs on her bed, fantasising about seeing the city first-hand had now come true. It was just a shame that, now, she wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of the city and go home as soon as possible. ¡°Now, inside the nine-thousand-metre deep whirlpool is an aquatic ecosystem the likes of which ye won¡¯t find anywhere else in the world,¡± Claudia continued, drawing horizontal lines across the depths of the whirlpool to demarcate nine separate sections. ¡°Every one thousand metres deep into the whirlpool is a different ¡®Depth¡¯, and the ecosystem in each one is vastly different from the others. The entire city¡¯s built to accommodate for the unique resources we can harvest from each Depth, and the legendary healin¡¯ seawater the city¡¯s so famous for? That stuff¡¯s brought up from Depth Eight, eight thousand metres below, and it ain¡¯t easy to come by. ¡°Now, it¡¯s got none to do with y¡¯all, but just know this: the deeper ya go, the higher the water pressure, the more Corpsetaker''s aura will cloud yer judgement, and the stronger the bugs yer gonna face,¡± Claudia said, slapping the blackboard violently. ¡°And what, pray tell, is aura again?" A student raised their hand again. "All living beings have aura, Imperator Claudia! It is the natural ''killing pressure'' they emit with the bioarcanic essence in their bodies, so we determine how powerful a bug is by perceiving the strength of their aura!" "Correct! Generally speaking, aura is how we determine the strength of a bug, so the more powerful the aura, the more terrified you''ll be when facing it down! ''Killing pressure'' is the right term for it! Strengthen your own aura, and the more bugs you''ll be able to stare down without being afraid!" Claudia said. "Now, Depth Nine is where our Harbour Imperatrix and the Worm God sealed ¡®Corpsetaker¡¯, the Greater Crab God and the strongest bug in the entire west, and the Imperators¡¯ sacred mission is to patrol each Depth to make sure Corpsetaker doesn¡¯t even get a chance to resurface!¡± Then, Claudia began scribbling a bunch of numbers on the board. With fierce sunlight reflecting from the glass, Marisol had to squint just to make out a few of those numbers¡­ but it didn¡¯t seem like anything particularly important, so she didn¡¯t try too hard. ¡°B-Rank to S-Rank Giant-Class Imperators can only dive down to Depths One to Three respectively!¡± Claudia said, slapping the board again. ¡°F-Rank to E-Rank Mutant-Class Imperators can only dive down to Depths Four to Six, while D-Rank Mutant-Class Imperators can dive down to Depths Seven to Eight! If ya wanna meet Corpsetaker¡ªwhich, let¡¯s be honest, ain¡¯t none of ye probably wanna do that¡ªya gotta be at least C-Rank Mutant-Class, which puts you at the level of a ¡®Lighthouse Imperator¡¯! I¡¯m one of ¡®em, and I¡¯m the weakest at C-Rank Mutant-Class! There¡¯s six of us Lighthouse Imperators in the city right now, and we¡¯re the only ones who can even think about divin¡¯ down to Depth Nine!¡± Hushed murmurs spread across the lecture hall, and Marisol listened to all of the conversations, not one in particular. If she were to be honest, the way Claudia laid the grades and Depths out for them sounded rather frightening. She had no idea what the general opinion was in the city, but she imagined most people in the lecture hall below¡ªnew Harbour Guard recruits¡ªdidn¡¯t sign up to fight Mutant-Classes or Insect Gods underwater. Hell, if Marisol could have her way, she¡¯d have stuck with sand-dancing for the rest of her life as well, not here doing¡­ this. ¡°Now, since there ain¡¯t a lotta Imperators compared to Guards in general, ye can rest assured that there¡¯s tons of privileges to be had if ye can become an Imperator!¡± Claudia said, snapping her pincers for order and silence. ¡°High salary! Free housing for yer family in the upper city! Higher priority for healin¡¯ seawater durin¡¯ emergencies! I know most of ye probably have no intentions on ever bein¡¯ an Imperator, but for the past three decades, we¡¯ve recruited at least thirty Imperators right out of the Harbour Guards every single year. To those of ye who want to make a better livin¡¯ for yerself, we¡¯re hopin¡¯ there¡¯ll be lots of prospective and ambitious soldiers within the next four years of your stay here, so do try yer hardest while yer still in the academy, yeah?¡± Claudia still seemed like she had a lot to say, and though Marisol was just starting to grow a little bit interested in the lecture, Victor evidently had enough of it. Without a word, he grabbed her by the collar and yanked her away from the glass ceiling, pulling her up the roof and back towards the top of the city. ¡°Aight. Congratulations on graduating,¡± he muttered, stifling another yawn as her glaives screeched against the roof. ¡°You understand the whole Depth thing and the hierarchy of the Whirlpool City now, right? I don¡¯t gotta sit you down and explain anything to you, right?¡± Marisol glared back at the man, scowling fiercely. ¡°I already knew half of what she said about the Depths. My Archive told me.¡± ¡°Your Archive told¡­ oh. Right.¡± He shook his head, muttering under his breath. ¡°Forgot you had Antonio¡¯s system. This was just a huge waste of time, then.¡± ¡°Wait. What¡¯d you even bring me here for, then¡ª¡± ¡°I forgot you had an Archive, so I thought you knew nothing about the city. I don¡¯t gotta do the boring lecture stuff to catch you up to speed, then.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ I know what I wanna do, but I ain''t got a clue what I¡¯ll be doing with you, though.¡± He pointed far, far up at Lighthouse Seven as he casually jumped to a different roof, holding her collar all the way. ¡°Imperatrix¡¯s orders. I¡¯ll be your mentor for as long as you¡¯re in the Whirlpool City, and I¡¯ve gotta whip you into shape so you can eventually dive down to Depth Eight without getting crushed by the underwater pressure. Basically, I¡¯m gonna turn you into a Flower Cape equivalent to a Lighthouse Imperator, and preferably, I¡¯ll have you down at Depth Eight by the end of the year.¡± Marisol blinked pointedly. ¡°By the end of the year?¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s eight months away. I mean¡­ I did accept the fact that, worst case scenario, it might take me an entire year to get back home to my mama, but didn¡¯t that Claudia lady just say it takes four years to even graduate¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be sent out on your first patrolling mission in Depth Two next week. Imperatrix¡¯s orders to see how you¡¯ll fare in an actual underwater mission,¡± he interrupted. ¡°But, since I feel you can barely move around in Depth One as is, I have exactly one week to get your body used to the underwater atmosphere. If not, I think you¡¯ll have a rather jolly old time in Depth Two¡ªso we¡¯re going back to Depth One right now. ¡°Let this old man teach you a trick or two when it comes to moving underwater.¡± Chapter 49 - Pressure Training Before Marisol knew it, Victor put a diving harness on her, tucked a box of skyball corals behind her sash, and chucked her into the whirlpool from the top of Lighthouse Seven. The strong underwater current sucked her under immediately, but it wasn¡¯t an unfamiliar sensation, nor a particularly painful one this time around. She¡¯d been prepared for water rushing into her ears, her nose, and her hydrospines were vibrating over her eyelids even before she hit the whirlpool. Everything was crystal clear as she sank to Depth One¡¯s halfway point¡ªfive hundred metres deep¡ªand then Victor tapped the sapphire on her harness with his cane, making her plummet sideways and land in the middle of Seagrass Meadow. While she bit her lip and tried to get used to that dull, throbbing ache in her head, the old man landed in front of her with both hands on his cane. The bandages were still covering every inch of his skin, and somehow, his feathered hat wasn¡¯t floating off his head. He wasn¡¯t even wearing a gravity-controlling harness like she was, so she had no idea how he was standing on the walls of the pit. He¡¯s a Hasharana, right? Can¡¯t you tell me what class he¡¯s got? Show me his status screen and estimated attributes and all that? [By the Hasharana Code, we Archives of the Altered Swarmsteel Systems cannot publicly disclose even the estimated attributes of the nineteen Arcana Hasharana,] the Archive replied curtly. [He is of a higher rank. Even if I wanted to tell you, the information would simply be redacted behind several high-level processing barriers¡ªnone of which I can even hope to break through, considering you are not even technically a registered Hasharana.] Marisol grumbled under her breath. How useful you are¡ª ¡°It¡¯s currently¡­ ten in the morning,¡± Victor said, his voice clear and concise just like the Imperators she¡¯d fought before. ¡°To get you used to moving around underwater, here¡¯s what we¡¯re gonna do: the circumference of the Seagrass Meadow is three kilometres. This means if you skate in a straight line, you¡¯ll eventually end up right where you started.¡± Then he gestured around the meadow, twirling a small circle with his finger. ¡°We¡¯ll race around the Seagrass Meadow. One lap. If you lose, you¡¯ll skate an extra lap as exercise. Got it? Three, two¡ª¡± She held up a palm, scowling at the man as she almost opened her mouth to talk. She completely forgot she didn¡¯t have a mutation to speak underwater. Even still, she was pretty sure her eyes conveyed her message quite well. Wait up, old man. Why am I doing something like this¡ª ¡°If you don¡¯t do it, I¡¯m taking my room back,¡± Victor said, plucking her question right out of her head. What do you mean ¡®take your room back¡¯? It¡¯s mine¡ª ¡°No. It¡¯s mine to begin with. I¡¯ve just been leasing it to you,¡± Victor grumbled, scratching the back of his head as he swayed left and right. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve been sleeping outside in the rain the past two weeks. Sometimes, I feel like tossing you out so I can get my bed back.¡± Marisol blinked. Can¡¯t you just get another room from the Imperators? You¡¯re a big shot even amongst the Hasharana, right? ¡°But sleeping in the rain¡¯s good for my health¡­ or so my niece says,¡± he muttered, shaking his head in dismay. ¡°In any case, registering a new room in the Highwind Inn¡¯s a hassle, and I don¡¯t wanna live anywhere, so there¡¯s only gonna be one room¡ªand we¡¯re gonna race for it.¡± I¡¯ll just get a new room myself if I get kicked out¡ª ¡°I won¡¯t let you. Now stop thinking and get ready. There¡¯s no time limit, and I¡¯m gonna leave my walking cane right here in the ground, so whoever races a full circle and touches it first wins¡ª¡± The old man answering her questions before she could even ask them in her head was getting to her, so she took off skating towards the east, blitzing through the forest of seaweeds. Unsurprisingly, it was a rather calm stroll without pistol shrimp Imperators shooting at her. She was a swirl of speed and motion as she hurtled through the Seagrass Meadow, focusing on the pure and simple motion of skating¡ªkeeping her upper body low and forward, swinging her arms far and wide, and staying light on the tip of her glaives throughout. There were little hard obstacles in her way. The entire Depth was a plain field of seaweeds, which meant there was nothing her glaives and claws couldn¡¯t tear through. It was as plain and relaxing as could be. If only her ears weren¡¯t popping and her head wasn¡¯t still throbbing, though she had no idea why she felt on the verge of throwing up. [... There is also another slight problem.] You don¡¯t gotta spell it out for me. She gritted her teeth, but there was nothing she could do about it. For how fast she was going, she couldn¡¯t help but see Victor waving at her casually every hundred metres or so, always a few steps ahead of her. One moment she¡¯d be skating through a natural corridor of seaweeds¡ªseeing him meandering around next to her¡ªand in the next she¡¯d have skated into the next corridor, seeing him meandering around again as though she¡¯d never made any progress. But she was making progress. The Archive was keeping track of the distance between her and his walking cane all the way up on the ¡®ceiling¡¯. She simply couldn¡¯t even see how he was moving so quickly, let alone come up with a plan to beat him. Archiveeeee¡ª [I cannot disclose the status screen of an Arcana Hasharana.] Then just tell me what he¡¯s doing! Is he¡­ teleporting with wormholes like the Worm God? Is he actually cheating by ¡®flying¡¯ over the meadow? What¡¯s going on?Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. [I can assure you he is doing nothing of the sort.] [He is simply faster than you, and I can count on one hand the number of humans who may be faster than him.] But you don¡¯t have hands! In three minutes, she managed to complete a full three-kilometre lap around Depth One. She could¡¯ve gone a whole lot faster, she imagined, but because underwater resistance was a drag and her morale was at an all time low, she didn¡¯t even speed up as the walking cane finally came into view¡ªbecause Victor already had his hands clasped over it, waiting impatiently for her to screech to a halt. That she did, kicking up a cloud of silt and sand in his face. ¡°... Welp.¡± Victor shrugged nonchalantly, waving the cloud away as he turned to leave the whirlpool. ¡°I¡¯m getting my room back. For your reference, there¡¯s a mound of trash bags two blocks behind Highwind Inn, and I¡¯ve been sleeping there the past two weeks. It¡¯s mighty comfortable¡ª¡± Again, she thought, growling bubbles out through gritted teeth as she stomped. One more lap. Without another thought, she sped off eastwards again, and the only thing she heard was the man¡¯s faint sigh before her ears started popping again. The second lap took her two minutes and fifty seconds. She tightened her muscles and kept her body lower than before, skating the exact same route to avoid having to cut through clumps of seaweed again¡ªbut by the time she returned to the walking cane, Victor was there again, giving her a mocking farewell wave. Again. The third lap took her two minutes and forty seconds. She forced herself to not look around as she skated. It didn¡¯t matter if she could see the man taunting her or waving at her every hundred metres or so¡ªby the time she returned, he was still there waiting for her. The fourth lap took her two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. The fifth lap took her two minutes and thirty-five seconds. The sixth, eighth, tenth lap took her two minutes and thirty seconds. She¡¯d hit a soft wall, and for the life of her, she just couldn¡¯t figure out how to overcome it. If she activated her Storm Glaives just to boost her speed by fifty percent, though, she¡¯d probably be able to supercharge her muscles to break through the two-minute barrier. No. I¡¯ll just electrocute myself if I activate that underwater. Besides¡­ I don¡¯t want to use my Art when he doesn¡¯t even seem to be using his. So she clenched her jaw and kept doing it her way: throwing herself at the wall until it shattered under raw, unfiltered power. The twentieth lap took her two minutes and twenty-eight seconds to finish. She did nothing special but focusing on the movement of her fingers¡ªinstead of just swinging her arms to her own rhythm, she imagined her hands as fins, her fingers as claws, ¡®pushing¡¯ water behind her while ¡®pulling¡¯ herself forward. It wasn¡¯t much, but she¡¯d rather have a two second improvement over nothing. The twenty-third, twenty-fourth, and twenty-fifth lap took her two minutes and twenty-five seconds to finish. Her hair felt like it was going to tear off her scalp. She felt her skin was going to peel off her muscles, her muscles were going to slide off her bones, and her eyes were going to pop for how fast she was forcing herself to go. If anything, her ears were going to tear off her head first. The popping was incredibly painful, and she felt she couldn¡¯t even hear the Archive¡¯s voice anymore. She couldn¡¯t screech to a halt upon finishing her twenty-sixth lap, and she skated straight into a clump of seaweeds with a muted boom, kicking up a massive cloud of silt and sand. ¡­ Can¡¯t breathe. While she lay tangled up in the seaweeds, she tried pushing herself onto her feet, but her hands slipped between the seaweeds and her glaives were jelly. The gravity harness did its job keeping her glued to the ground, but now she wanted to stand¡ªand she couldn¡¯t. Can¡¯t¡­ move. Something was gnawing at her mind. Her lips trembled. She couldn¡¯t breathe. Everything felt cold and warm at the same time, and even her vision was beginning to blur as shadows fluttered in and out in the corners of her eyes. It was like¡­ toxin in her veins. Adrenaline, maybe? It was an intoxicating sensation nonetheless, making her skin tingle down to her fingertips. Her body was overcome by an invisible weight bearing down on her, and¡ª Someone yanked out her box of skyball corals and shoved one of the sour candies into her mouth. The moment she started sucking on it unconsciously, her head cleared and she could see again. She could blink again. She rolled around on the clump of seaweed, flailing desperately, and somehow managed to sit up straight. Victor was standing over her with both hands clasped on his cane, looking down at her solemnly. ¡°... There is no greater killer than the comfort of being wrapped in water, pain dulled by numbness,¡± he said, backlit by the sun as he tipped his hat. ¡°The deeper you go, the heavier the pressure, and the stronger the aura given off by Corpsetaker and his brood. It''ll cloud your judgement. It''ll weaken your resolve. Headaches and popping sounds in your ears are the least of it¡ªdon''t delude yourself into thinking you''re invincible underwater just because you beat a few Imperator initiates and slayed a low-rank Mutant-Class on the surface.¡± Then he bonked her on the head once with his cane, making her wince. ¡°In any case, just pop a skyball coral whenever you feel you¡¯re losing yourself in the pressure sickness,¡± he said casually, doing a complete one-eighty on his tone as he whirled around to walk away. ¡°Remember: they give you thirty minutes¡¯ worth of oxygen in bursts, which means the oxygen¡¯ll flush out all the nitrogen building inside you. To get rid of your headache quickly, pinch your nose and breathe out as hard and fast as you can until you feel you¡¯ve equalised your pressure. Try it yourself if you don¡¯t believe me.¡± She was reluctant at first, but¡­ it was true her head was still throbbing a little, so she pinched the bridge of her nose and blew bubbles through her lips, squeezing her eyes shut the entire time. Somehow, she wasn¡¯t completely surprised when his advice turned out to be effective. It was like her headache was flushed out with the bubbles as well. ¡°See?¡± He chuckled, waving behind him as she continued shaking her head to choke out the last of the bubbles. ¡°And you already have ¡®Basic Gills¡¯ unlocked, don¡¯t you? Once the effects of a skyball coral runs out, that mutation¡¯ll let you breathe underwater for a few minutes, but the faster you move, the faster that duration counts down as well. Pay attention. Keep your wits about you, so even if you run out of skyball corals mid-mission, as long as that mutation is well-levelled with at least one branch mutation unlocked, you¡¯ll have at least thirty minutes to rush back to the surface on your glaives. At the very least, bring yourself close enough that you''ll float to the surface as a bloated corpse." Then he paused for a second, glancing back at her. "Now skate twenty-five more laps for each round you lost, and then twenty-five more for making me spend more time than I want underwater. My bandages are all soggy and wrinkly now.¡± He laughed all the way as he disappeared from view, heading back towards the surface. For her part¡­ she remained seated on her comfortable clump of seaweeds, staring until she could no longer catch a glimpse of his back or hear the solid clacks of his walking cane tapping against the ground. She¡¯d half a mind to race after him and ask if she was keeping her room, but at the same time, she wasn¡¯t that much of a sore loser. Compared to him, she was much, much slower¡ªand if she was going to be diving to deeper Depths over the course of the next few months, she¡¯d have to get used to underwater pressure quickly. ¡­ A ¡®mentor¡¯, huh? That old man? Smiling softly, she shook her head and climbed onto her glaives, wobbling around for a few seconds before she found her footing again. Since she¡¯d demolished an entire swathe of seaweed when she crashed into it, she supposed she could use it as a landmark to figure out if she¡¯d skated a full circle around the meadow. I still have around¡­ nineteen skyball corals in the box. Two minutes and twenty seconds, then. The goal today is to break three kilometres in two minute and twenty seconds. Chapter 50 - First Mission Before Marisol knew it again, a whole week passed by, and she was doing her morning stretches in her room when Victor climbed in through her window. The man was soaking wet as usual¡ªthe light drizzle never ended in the Whirlpool City¡ªbut he didn¡¯t care about getting her floorboards damp. By this point, she¡¯d grown used to him making a mess of her room whenever he wanted, so she didn¡¯t even bother looking at him as she continued stretching. Morning¡¯s the best time to skate around Depth One, after all. [Indeed. Owing to most crustaceans in the whirlpool being nocturnal bugs, underwater pressure is lighter during the day because the bugs are not actively pushing out their aura¡ª] ¡°Get out, lass,¡± Victor said, thumbing out the window. ¡°You¡¯re going up to Lighthouse Seven.¡± She hadn¡¯t seen the man in a week since he dragged her out to morning school, and now he was back with yet another bull-headed demand. ¡°Let me get my stretches and morning warm-up in first,¡± she mumbled, stretching her waist, legs, and shoulder all at once. ¡°Also, I asked Daniela for a second room, and she said she can afford to give me another. Now, I ain¡¯t gonna be unreasonably forceful like a certain old man I know, but if you want, I can ask her to give you¡ª¡± Victor clicked his tongue irritably, grabbed her collar, and chucked her out the window. Thankfully, she¡¯d expected something of the sort and was already putting on her remipede earrings, so she landed glaives-first on the main street below, scaring a thin crowd of fashionable onlookers as she scowled up at Victor. The old man hopped out half a second later and started speed-walking up, his cane tapping loudly against the cobbled street. And she hadn¡¯t been training her underwater speed the past week for nothing. ¡°... I heard from a little Archive that you''ve been asking for extra bug meat accordingly,¡± he said idly, glancing at her as she sped up next to him, half-skating, half-walking. ¡°I know you wanna get stronger faster, but the next time my Archive catches you ordering brothy lobster with rice at that posh marisqueria downtown with my money, I¡¯m taking my room back.¡± Marisol pouted, vibrating her hydrospines softly to make the rain bounce off her skin. ¡°The sooner I get stronger and get my vial of healing seawater, the earlier we can both be out of each other¡¯s hair¡ª¡± ¡°No. You''re the one who insisted on going down to Depth Eight yourself. I didn''t want you to do jack shit, so stop reaching into my wallet and ordering the most expensive point set on that menu. Get your own points from now on by hunting bugs in the whirlpool,¡± he muttered. ¡°But at least you got around five hundred points this week by exhausting my entire life savings, didn¡¯t you? What¡¯d you do with them?¡± She tapped her thighs, and he looked down to see dozens of eyeball-sized holes scattered across her glaives. They weren¡¯t see-through, no, but they could definitely give someone with a fear of clustered holes goosebumps for life. Then she took a look at the status screen that popped up next to her head before glancing at Victor, wondering if the old man could see it as well.
[T4 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Discharge Lvl. 1] [Brief Description: Your glaives have evolved small jets in them that allow you to suck in and eject air and water at will, allowing you to propel yourself underwater without kicking your legs. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from continuously discharging] [Aura: 1,835 (+40) ¡ú 2,335 (+40)] [Points: 501 ¡ú 1]
¡°New mutation,¡± she said plainly, and the two of them sped into the lighthouse, past the reception counters, ignoring everyone waving at Victor as they reached the end of the building. ¡°My Archive said this one¡¯s absolutely worth getting over any additional attribute levels and mutation upgrades if I¡¯m gonna be working underwater, so¡­ what do you think? Should I have just put my points into something else¡ª¡± ¡°This one¡¯s strong,¡± he agreed with a nod, and she couldn¡¯t help but raise a brow. He never usually agreed with anything she said. ¡°If you unlocked it only this morning, I don¡¯t suppose you have any training or practice with it. Try not to use it if you don¡¯t have to. It can fling you everywhere if you can¡¯t control it.¡± Now, she was about to ask if he could actually see her status screen when they emerged out the other side of the lighthouse¡ªthat was, the ever-churning whirlpool at the top and centre of the city. They were still at the base of the building, so the swirling water was only three or so metres below, but dozens of armoured lugger ships were already docked in the small harbours by each of the seven lighthouses surrounding the whirlpool. Hundreds of Imperators were clamouring around the ships and the harbours, racing along the edge of the crater to deliver messages between the lighthouses. It was as busy a sight as ever, and while Marisol had never gotten herself involved in actual Imperator duty before¡ªwhenever she wanted to dive down to Depth One for training, she¡¯d just jump off the top of Lighthouse Seven and bypass the harbours and the ships and all the constructs at the edge of the whirlpool¡ªbut today was different. She wasn¡¯t being dragged by Victor, she wasn¡¯t half-asleep, and¡­ she looked sorely out of place here. Every Imperator hauling crates and weapons and food supplies onto the ships was clad in pristine white and blue military uniforms, delicate gold embroideries running along the edges of their capelets. They weren¡¯t necessarily wearing armour plates like most mercenaries she¡¯d seen passing through her desert town, but they were all carrying massive weapons: halberds made of crab pincers, lances made of lobster antennae, and literal ship anchors thrice the size of their bodies. Sure, most of them were probably strong enough to wield such oversized weapons, but she still thought they were menacing as all hell. Apart from Victor, she was the only one not carrying a weapon as she trudged down the harbour, and it made her feel unprepared. They were all gearing up for war, and with her stomach showing in her Sand-Dancer clothes, she looked like she was going on vacation.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. [They can only swing their oversized weapons underwater,] the Archive reassured. [On the surface, even they would hurt their joints and break their bones trying to swing around such unwieldy weapons. The anchors and halberds are only effective against the crustaceans in the whirlpool, which are generally three to four times as large as normal terrestrial bugs on the mainland continents.] ¡­ You mentioned that before, didn¡¯t you? She thought, chewing her lip as she skated across the wobbly harbour. Victor was taking her to a small ship at the very end of the floating metal platforms, but she was too busy gawking at everyone else to see who was on the ship. That sea bugs are generally bigger than land bugs? Why¡¯s that? [¡®Deep Sea Gigantism¡¯.] the Archive said plainly. [Water supports the weight of aquatic bugs, allowing them to grow large without being limited by gravity in the same way land bugs are. Furthermore, cold temperatures and extremely high pressures found in deep waters significantly slow down metabolism, leading to slower growth rates but often larger body sizes over time, so this combined with the fact that most aquatic bugs are also filter-feeders with access to vast and relatively steady supplies of nutrients just floating around in the water¡ªwhile most terrestrial bugs have to expend more energy finding sugar and hunting prey¡ªaquatic bugs like the giant remipede are able to exist.] But I hear the Rampaging Hinterland Front in the northeast also have giant land bugs? Like, several hundreds of metres tall¡ª [The titan bugs over there are a different matter altogether. They are all the direct spawn of Mammot, the Greater Beetle God of the Northeast, but most aquatic bugs in the Deepwater Legion Front are not the direct spawn of Corpsetaker. Even, still they are consistently gargantuan,] the Archive explained, gesturing around at the Imperators, [and thus, the weapons the Imperators wield are similarly gargantuan. Water also supports the weight of giant weapons, so why not capitalise on that to live out every young child¡¯s fantasy of wielding an oversized weapon?] Marisol gave the Archive a pointed squint, but it had a point. Even if the saifs and normal-sized blades in her desert town were wielded by someone strong enough to put a dent in a giant bug, the dent would have to be massive if they wanted to actually hurt an ultra-giant aquatic bug. They just look so¡­ ungraceful, you know? [Says the Sand-Dancer without a bountiful chest.] Hey¡ª [And not every Imperator has a class with an offensive Art, like your Storm Glaives and the pistol shrimp''s Snapstrike. Oversized weapons are often necessary against giant aquatic bugs. Speaking of pistol shrimps, though¡ª] ¡°Get out of your head and pay attention,¡± Victor grumbled, grabbing her by the collar and tossing her onto the ship at the end of the harbour. She flipped mid-air and landed on her glaives again, but this time, there wasn¡¯t a crowd to greet her. Only Reina was there on the armoured deck while Victor kicked their ship off from the harbour. While the ship lurched and started swirling along the current of the whirlpool, Marisol stumbled into the railings, saved from falling overboard by Reina¡¯s scorpion tail wrapping around her waist. ¡°... It is not the end of the world if you fall overboard, but there is a chance you will get hit by another ship or a sinking diving bell on your way back up, and injuries like that happen too often for our liking,¡± Reina said stiffly, pulling her back as Marisol chuckled nervously, arms flailing slightly as she tried stabilising herself. ¡°She¡¯s been diving to Depth One by herself the past week. If she gets hit by a slow-moving ship, then she¡¯s only got her own sluggishness to blame,¡± Victor said, and the two of them whirled as he trudged around the upper deck, working the chains and masts and making sure the rope connecting the ship to the harbour was still intact. Marisol hadn¡¯t even seen him jumping on board. Wasn¡¯t he the one who kicked them away from the harbour in the first place? ¡°What¡¯s her first mission again, Reina? It ain¡¯t straight to Depth Four or something with her, eh?¡± Reina shook her head, releasing Marisol and pointing her tail at the giant diving bell dangling over the back of the small ship. ¡°Nothing of the sort. This is but a simple patrol mission in Depth Two.¡± Then she trudged towards the diving bell, beckoning Marisol to follow with a curl of a finger. ¡°The Imperators separate by grade and enter diving bells thrice every day to patrol a given Depth. The purpose is to cull any overgrown aquatic bugs and ensure the safety of any commercial divers harvesting resources down there, so there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about. This is a daily routine we have been carrying out for many, many years.¡± Glancing around, she spotted dozens more armoured ships being released from their moorings and allowed to swirl towards different spots above the whirlpool. The length of the anchoring ropes determined how far they were allowed to drift away from the harbours, so it wasn¡¯t entirely accurate to call them ¡®ships¡¯. They were more floating metal platforms with giant diving bells attached to cranes and winches, and the bells themselves were¡­ pearl-like. Dark bronze, etched with filigree and symbols of the Imperators, and tarnished by years of use in high-pressure Depths, the diving bells with circular windows of thick, reinforced glass were each large enough to hold half a dozen Imperators, maybe even a few more. But Marisol, born a Sand-Dancer with a free spirit, wasn¡¯t exactly thrilled to jump in through the opened hatch on the side. Like the Imperators¡¯ giant weapons, she was more than happy just admiring the diving bells from afar. [The whirlpool is nine thousand metres deep. Not only do these giant bells allow Imperators to quickly descend to and ascend from specific Depths, they also linger around the area where the Imperators are patrolling,] the Archive said, trying to reassure her once again as she neared the hatch. [The diving bells are rather advanced bioarcanic constructs made of crustacean parts. They are capable of equalising underwater pressure and creating air pockets in an instant, which means if anything goes wrong down there, an Imperator can take shelter inside the diving bell they descended in. Weapons, skyball corals, and first-aid medical equipment are also typically stored inside the bells, so for many Imperators who spend many hours of their day underwater, the bells serve as their second homes. I think you will find them rather cosy after a while.] I doubt that. [Just get in, coward.] You''re meaner to me now. The hatch was right over the railing, so while Victor kicked back on a chair in the middle of the deck to sunbathe¡ªbandages still covering every inch of his skin¡ªReina beckoned Marisol to climb into the dimly-lit diving bell. Perplexed, Marisol tilted her head at the pretty lady. ¡°Am I¡­ patrolling Depth Two by myself?¡± she asked. ¡°Aren¡¯t you and Victor gonna follow me? Aren¡¯t you gonna help me out in case I¡­ you know, screw up my literal first mission? How do I even patrol Depth Two? How long will I be down there for? I don¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Victor cannot dive too deep, so he will be up here monitoring your diving bell, and I will be up here coordinating the other diving bells as well,¡± Reina said, shaking her head slowly. ¡°In any case, we are not sending you down there alone. The others are already waiting for you inside, and they will tell you the mission details. You will be fine as long as you listen to their instructions.¡± Marisol was about to pepper Reina with more questions when Victor suddenly blitzed in and kicked her over the railings, into the giant bell. As she slammed against the curved inside wall, the hatch immediately slammed shut behind her, and she heard the rivets turning, the pistons sliding in place to make the whole thing airtight. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine, lass!¡± Victor shouted, and his voice was muffled through the window. ¡°Get along with those three, okay? Don¡¯t you ruin my reputation as the best mentor there ever was! I¡¯m expecting good results from you!¡± And as the man began cranking the lever to drop her into the whirlpool, Marisol turned and blinked at the three Imperators already seated on the benches by the walls of the bell. They blinked back at her, evidently just as befuddled as she was. ¡­ That¡¯s funny, old man. Just put me in an enclosed space with the new recruits I beat black and blue two weeks ago, why not? Chapter 51 - Briefing Without so much as a warning, the diving bell plunged into the whirlpool, and the sunlit world outside the window turned into a blur of movement. Thankfully, Marisol had thrown herself onto the closest bench next to one of the Imperators before water rushed up the window, distorting everything in sight. For a few seconds, the gas lanterns inside the bell flickered¡ªplunging all of them into darkness¡ªbut then the sea outside glowed with a deep, otherworldly blue, fractured beams of bluish-whitish sunlight refracting through the glass. Bubbles trailed upward past the window. The giant kelps and weeds of the seagrass meadow slipped in and out of focus as they sank, and¡­ for Marisol¡¯s part, she was just gripping the railings over her head with both hands, trying not to be shaken off her bench. It was a very shaky journey down. The interior of the spherical bell was adequately furnished with two benches on opposite sides, a large window on the sealed hatch, and a small round table between the two benches where a map of the whirlpool was pinned onto. Rusted cans of food, medical supplies, towels, and spare change of clothes were squeezed in compartments overhead and under the benches; all things considered, it was much less claustrophobic than Marisol had thought it¡¯d be. The bell was quite spacious. There was more than enough leg room for her to stretch her glaives all the way to the opposite bench, and she could probably jump normally without hitting the ceiling. Shame she was sharing the bell with three Imperators sitting next to and in front of her, glaring at her as they each held the railings above their heads with their pistol shrimp claws. ¡­ Funny, old man. Just put me in an enclosed space with the new recruits I beat black and blue two weeks ago, why not? As they descended towards Depth Two at a slow, meandering pace, she averted her gaze and tried focusing on the whirlpool outside the window. Suffice it to say, the bubbles made it difficult for her to see anything clearly, but anything was better than¡ª ¡°Do you think we¡¯re trainee brats who can¡¯t take a meagre loss?¡± the lady sitting right in front of Marisol sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. ¡°We overestimated ourselves, and you beat us fair and square. It¡¯s evident we still have much to learn.¡± Then the three of them sighed once more in unison, extending their human hands at Marisol. ¡°I¡¯m the eldest brother, Bruno,¡± said the burly, hazel-haired man sitting next to her. ¡°I¡¯m the dive leader for this patrol mission. I call the shots, and I decide if we have to abort the mission.¡± ¡°I¡¯m the middle brother, Aidan,¡± said the slimmer, but still muscular man sitting across and diagonal from her. ¡°I¡¯m the orienteer for this patrol mission, which means I gather research samples and chart navigation data for the Imperators.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m the youngest sister, Helena,¡± said the blond, braided-hair lady in front of her. ¡°I¡¯m a super new recruit, so I don¡¯t have a designated role yet, but in a few months, I¡¯ll probably be the team¡¯s combat specialist. I¡¯ll be frontlining any and all battles we¡¯re forced to fight. I presume your Archive already told you about our Arts?¡± Marisol blinked for a good few seconds. Then she brightened up, shaking all of their hands with a cheery smile on her face. ¡°I¡¯m Marisol Vellamira! I¡¯m¡ª¡± ¡°The Storm Strider,¡± they said in unison, but only Helena tilted her head as she regarded Marisol with a curious, bedazzled gaze. ¡°The children in the lower city who witnessed your fight against the Mutant-Class wraith shrimp call you that. I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s a combination of your class and your Art. The lightning¡­ thing. The magic nobody else in the Whirlpool City has.¡± Then her gaze wandered down to Marisol¡¯s glaives. ¡°I didn¡¯t think the rumours were true at first, but you do have the Water Strider Class. If you picked that voluntarily even after your Altered Swarmsteel System offered you an alternative, you must be truly insane.¡± ¡°But now we have an excuse to explain why we lost,¡± Aidan said, nodding idly as he grinned at his sister. ¡°Listen to this: we couldn¡¯t have won! She¡¯s a Flower Cape! We¡¯re just a bunch of new recruits! The kids in the lower city will totally accept our excuse, won¡¯t they?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll just need to bring you along to the lower city next time around,¡± Bruno grumbled, elbowing Marisol in the ribs and making her groan. ¡°The moment the kids see your glaives, they¡¯ll believe us. Our reputation as Imperators will be restored.¡± ¡°It¡¯s decided,¡± Helena said. ¡°You¡¯re coming with us after this mission,¡± Aidan said. Then the middle brother and youngest sister high-fived each other while Bruno reached for an overhead compartment, pulling a box of skyball coral candies down. ¡°Our mission¡¯s the same as usual: we¡¯ll patrol Depth Two and march a full circle around the walls of the whirlpool,¡± Bruno said, securing the box onto the back of her harness. ¡°The maximum duration of the mission is five hours, but patrols in Depth One to Three don¡¯t usually last longer than three, even when there¡¯s lots of research samples and navigation data to be collected. With you needing to rely on skyball corals for extra oxygen, it¡¯s better if we finish this patrol in under two hours,¡± then he looked up at his younger siblings, scowling, ¡°so no horsing around, you two. It¡¯s the Storm Strider¡¯s first mission.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Aidan gave him a mock salute while Helena nodded firmly. Marisol, on the other hand, was frowning up at the big man¡ªmore important than the details of the mission, there was something she wanted to rectify first. ¡°My name¡¯s Marisol,¡± she said. ¡°Just call me that instead of¡­ whatever you just called me.¡± It was Bruno¡¯s turn to frown down at her. ¡°But you are a Flower Cape. All Flower Capes have their designated titles.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Victor Morina is the ¡®Sea Manic¡¯, and you are the ¡®Storm Strider¡¯. All of the other Flower Capes currently scattered across the Deepwater Legion Front also have their own titles.¡± [He does not lie,] the Archive added. [All registered Hasharana are given a codename and a unique flower-patterned cape so they are more easily identified in the heat of battle. Hence, the locals call you ¡®Flower Capes¡¯. However, given you are not actually a registered Hasharana, it would appear the three of them here have misunderstood something¡ª] ¡°I¡¯m Marisol,¡± she repeated, pursing her lips. ¡°No ¡®Storm Strider¡¯. None of that. I¡¯m just a random desert lady with no formal bug-slaying training, okay?¡± ¡°... Very well,¡± Bruno said, shrugging in defeat. ¡°With that out of the way, there¡¯s¡­ not much you really need to know about a patrol mission, really. It¡¯s exactly as it¡¯s spelled out. We patrol a full circle around Depth Two and return to this diving bell.¡± He pointed at an opened notebook nailed to the side of the bell, upon which countless drawings of aquatic bugs and crustaceans were pencilled onto the pages. ¡°Typically, a patrol consists of the orienteer gathering research samples and navigation data while the rest of the team watches out for any abnormalities¡ªthat is, any bug appearing at a higher Depth than they¡¯re supposed to be.¡± ¡°You¡¯re supposed to memorise all the bugs and their usual locales in this notebook before you graduate from Harbour Guard Academy, but I don¡¯t assume you know much, so just leave the identification to us,¡± Helen said, reaching past Aidan to yank the notebook off the wall before slapping it on the table between them. ¡°The gist of it is, if we see a Depth Three bug in Depth Two, we exterminate it. If we see a Depth Four bug, then we run. It¡¯s that simple.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not playing hero, aight?¡± Aidan said, winking at Marisol. ¡°The four of us together may be able to take down an F-rank Mutant-Class, but that ain¡¯t our job. We¡¯re just patrolling, yeah? It ain¡¯t worth it if we get seriously injured and some other team has to fill in for us for the next month. Our pay¡¯s gonna get docked to all hell if that happens.¡± Marisol smiled nervously. She wasn¡¯t sure what she was expecting when she¡¯d been thrown into this diving bell, but the three siblings weren¡¯t so bad to work with, she immediately thought¡ªand that was right before the bell came to a sudden halt, the gas lamps flickering for another second as she was nearly thrown off her bench. Tightening their belts, their capelets, and polishing the chitin on their oversized pistol shrimp claws, the three Imperator recruits nodded at each other before Bruno reached for the locking wheel on the hatch. ¡°Pop your first skyball coral now,¡± Helena advised, patting Marisol¡¯s hand while miming tossing a piece of candy into her mouth. ¡°Depth Two¡¯s underwater pressure will suck for the first minute or two, but Imperator Reina told us you¡¯ve been doing pressure tolerance training for the past week, so¡­ you should be okay? I think?¡± ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± Aidan said lazily, kicking the hatch and grinning at his older brother to open it already. ¡°Two hours, in and out. We¡¯ll be back to the surface before she even knows it.¡± ¡°I assume you don¡¯t have the mutations to talk underwater either, so if you want to communicate with us, just shoot us a few hand signals,¡± Bruno said, reassuring her as he started turning the wheel and she frantically devoured her first piece of candy. ¡°Our harnesses are set so that we¡¯ll land on the walls of Depth Two the moment I open the hatch. Now, water won¡¯t rush into the bell, but I¡¯m going to push you out first so you don¡¯t get a chance to get cold feet.¡± Then he tilted his chin up, chuckling at a funny thought. ¡°I doubt someone who picked the Water Strider Class would be scared of a little water, though. I¡¯m still gonna push you out first.¡± ¡°... What?¡± The wheel turned, the hatch swung open, and a boot to her back sent her slamming face-first into a wall of water¡ªand from there, it was ¡®down¡¯, ¡®down¡¯, and ¡®down¡¯, her gravity harness dragging her all the way down to the closest wall of the whirlpool. It didn¡¯t take long before she felt her glaives stabbing into solid ground¡ªmaybe ten, twenty seconds of relatively slow falling¡ªbut while she¡¯d gotten used to the underwater pressure of Depth One over the past week, she could only describe that as ¡®gentle¡¯ compared to the crushing weight bearing down on her shoulders. Her vision blurred. Her hearing dulled. Her senses shut down as she was brought down to one knee, invisible hands tightening around her skull as though threatening to make her eyes pop from their sockets. This¡­ pressure. And you¡¯re telling me¡­ these Imperators¡­ do this every day? [They have mutations naturally suited for this,] the Archive said steadily, and faintly, she felt one, two, three people landing around her. The Imperators touched down on Depth Two without any issues. [Do not open your mouth. Do not try to breathe in. Remember: to get rid of all the pressure building inside you¡ª] Pinch my nose¡­ and breathe out until I feel like I¡¯ve equalised the pressure, she gritted her teeth, her shaky hands moving up to grab the bridge of her nose. If that doesn¡¯t work¡­ then pop another skyball coral to flush out all the nitrogen. So she squeezed her eyes shut, tried to tune out the violent pounding in her head, and breathed as many bubbles as she could past her lips¡ªand while it may have taken ten, twenty, or thirty more seconds, eventually, she did begin to adapt. The crushing pressure was no longer quite as suffocating, and the dizziness that spun her head round and round started to dissipate. She flexed her limbs. She tightened and relaxed her muscles. Slowly, steadily, she began to move, and she could open her eyes to see now. With her arms spread out, she straightened her spine and stood upright, slipping into the Sand-Dancer¡¯s neutral pose instinctively. A bit of nausea still ebbed away at her head, but she could think. Her ears were still filled with water, but she could kinda hear. Her skin still felt a little tight, but she could feel the Imperators slapping her on the back, fierce and faintly warm beams of sunlight falling on her face, and¡­ she could see the vibrant colours stretching out in front of her. [... Welcome to Depth Two, the Tropical Reefs,] the Archive said plainly. [Try not to disturb any of the locals around here.] Chapter 52 - Tropical Reef Marisol thought the Seagrass Meadow was pretty enough already¡ªshe¡¯d never been bored of the calm and quiet forest of seaweeds that swayed gently with the underwater currents¡ªbut if she ever wondered what the dried-up coral forest under the horseshoe crab island would look like if it were actually submerged underwater, she didn¡¯t have to look any further. Somehow, two thousand metres deep into the whirlpool, sunlight still shone brightly down onto Depth Two, the Tropical Reef. A forest of orange, violet, and electric blue coral formations rose like twisted sculptures around her, winding and curving in mesmerising patterns. The sand beneath her feet was soft and cool, dotted with scattered shells. Above her, fan-like sea anemones unfurled like great, colourful banners, billowing in the soft underwater currents. Ribbon-like kelp fronds stretched from the ground towards the diving bell she¡¯d dropped down from, and¡­ as she kept vibrating her hydrospines to keep water out of her eyes, she noticed the four of them weren¡¯t the only inhabitants of the Tropical Reef. Whoa! That¡¯s¡ª She backed into Helena, who grabbed her shoulder and laughed as she recoiled from a colony of tiny, vibrant shrimps swimming past her face. The shrimps weren¡¯t the only inhabitants. Among the reef, crabs with iridescent blue and emerald shells clung to the corals, picking off algae with their delicate pincers. Metre-long lobsters with shimmering gold armour crawled along the ground here and there, antennae waving lazily about as schools of bright-scaled fish hitched rides on their backs. There were even eight-limbed, jelly-like creatures darting between coral branches, their bodies shifting colours with each coral they jumped onto¡ªshe¡¯d no idea what those things were even called, but for the amount of crustaceans she was being surrounded by, there was only one real question on her mind. The Archive was a mind-reader, but the Imperator siblings who patted her back and started walking forward were mind-readers, too. ¡°Haven¡¯t you been told the ecosystem in the whirlpool ain¡¯t like anything you can find outside the city?¡± Aidan said, his voice warbling and slightly distorted as he glanced back at her, arms folded behind his head. ¡°Down here, there are just as many docile Critter-Class crustaceans as there are hostile Critter-Class and Giant-Class crustaceans. We¡¯ll never get any rest if we try to wipe all of the Critter-Classes out, so we identify and classify everything in the Deepwater Legion Almanac¡ªthat¡¯s the notebook we¡¯d pinned in our diving bell with information about every crustacean in every Depth, and it¡¯s up to the orienteer in every dive team to regularly update it by collecting research samples.¡± Helena slapped Aidan on his head, making him wince. ¡°Then get going with the sample collection already,¡± she grumbled. ¡°The patrol formation is simple: in a team of four, the orienteer is the only one who gets to stray particularly far away while collecting research samples. The other three are always close by, no further than twenty metres away from each other at all times, and they observe the crustaceans in the area they¡¯re assigned to patrol to see if anything¡¯s out of place. Simple, right?¡± Then Bruno slapped both of his younger siblings¡¯ heads, grunting as he waded forward and took the lead. ¡°Simple, but still. Keep your senses peeled. Just because anomalies have only been happening in the Lower Depths doesn¡¯t mean anomalies can¡¯t pop up here.¡± Helena and Aidan gave their older brother a mock salute as Marisol followed closely behind, the four of them patrolling the reef at a slow, meandering pace. All the better for Marisol, she supposed. She had more time to gawk at the dozens of giant diving bells still descending overhead, the bells themselves looking like shooting stars while the chains looked like their starry trails. A few of the bells came to a halt in Depth Two as well, with a few more teams of Imperators dropping out to patrol different sections of the reef, but most bells shot past them to reach the Lower Depths. She couldn¡¯t help but shudder as she realised, eventually, it would be her in one of those bells, descending to Depths where even sunlight couldn¡¯t reach. And the Imperators do this three times a day? [Correct.] How far down does sunlight go? [Only down to Depth Three. Past that, the Imperators rely on lanterns and the bioluminescent flora of Depths Four to Seven for visibility.] What about Depth Eight? The Archive hopped off her shoulder and paddled in front of her face, swimming lazily around her head. [Nobody who goes down to Depth Eight needs to see with their eyes. They all have at least one high-level vision-based mutation, and their perception levels are high enough that they can generally navigate the abyss blindfolded.] So¡­ you¡¯re saying I¡¯m gonna need a vision-based mutation? [You are putting the cart ahead of the horse. That is to say, Depths One to Three are not particularly dangerous,] the Archive said, pointing at a nearby coral they were walking by. [See those people over there?] She turned and looked, ignoring Aidan bouncing around the corals scraping algae into glass tubes. Apart from the four of them, there were groups of heavily armoured divers trudging around the corals, all of them bearing different crests on their one-shoulder pauldrons. Some wore weighted boots with tubes snaking from their diving helmets to their oxygen backpacks, cutting small branches off glowing corals before sliding them into metal boxes. Others were swimming and floating around the fan-like sea anemones, cutting off ribbons of kelps with sickles and then tying them around the oxygen tanks. She spotted even a group of children squirming between two tightly-packed corals, extracting crystalline pearls from the bed of a large anemone-like plant.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. There were delicate, practised processes everywhere she looked, and for their part, the Imperator siblings weren¡¯t paying any mind to the divers at all. Bruno and Helena were starting to stray too far ahead, so she skated quickly forward to keep up. ¡°... The Whirlpool City is, for the most part, capable of sustaining itself with the resources we harvest from the whirlpool,¡± Helena said, glancing and gesturing around as Marisol caught up with her. ¡°All a company needs to do is register for a commercial diving licence with Lighthouse Five, which is responsible for dealing with governing affairs, and then they can dive down to Depth Three depending on what resources they¡¯re trying to harvest.¡± ¡°There are about two hundred commercial diving companies in the city,¡± Bruno added, nodding at one of the divers as they passed by. ¡°There are ecological rules they have to follow while they¡¯re down here, of course, so it¡¯s part of the patrolling Imperators¡¯ duties to recognise them by their crests and shoo companies who aren¡¯t supposed to be here away. We don¡¯t want them messing with the natural regenerative cycles of the reef too much. There¡¯s a delicate balance we Imperators need to preserve if we don¡¯t want bugs acting up¡ª¡± ¡°Hungry, Marisol?¡± Aidan interrupted, darting in front of her and making all of them screech to a halt. ¡°That¡¯s the ¡®Gansas Viejo¡¯ company, who harvests and sells the best rainbow fish in the lower city. I know the boss over there, and he said you can go and have a taste of their freshest catch if you want¡ªyou ain¡¯t gonna turn free food down, are you?¡± His older brother and younger sister immediately slapped him over the head for suggesting such a thing, but Marisol was hungry, and though she couldn''t talk underwater, her stomach could growl. ¡°... Just don''t stray too far.¡± Bruno sighed, waving her off to the distant group of divers waving at her to come over. ¡°You can''t differentiate between crustaceans that are and aren''t supposed to be here, anyways, so familiarise yourself with the local fauna. You''ll make yourself more useful that way.¡± Marisol paused. The excitement she''d been trying to suppress showed on her face, and she thanked the Imperators with a small bow before darting off to the divers sitting hunched over a coral. They were supposed to patrol for only two hours, but Marisol spent the next hour bouncing from coral to coral, group after group, greeting the divers as they handed her all kinds of gifts: luminescent seaweeds that had bouncy, jelly-like textures, translucent sea grapes that looked like water-filled pearls, and pulsing pinkish-bluish petals from an underwater flower that resembled a five-pointed star. One group even offered her an entire coral lump, the lady in charge cracking a small piece off the branch before handing it to her with a knowing grin. That one was just pure, crystallised salt, though¡ªshe coughed and hacked and made the divers laugh as the Imperators shook their heads behind her, shouting at her to keep up as she visited each group one by one. [They seem to know who you are,] the Archive remarked, as she skated over to her next group ten metres in front of the Imperators. These were two children who held their hands at her, telling her to wait as they squirmed inside a coral to yank something out. [Most diving companies that harvest food and resources from the whirlpool are based in the lower city¡ªthe upper city folk don¡¯t typically risk their lives down here, however relatively safe these jobs may be¡ªso it would not surprise me if they know you as the ¡®Storm Strider¡¯, or whatever else you are being called amongst the lower city folk.] She scowled, popping a third skyball coral candy into her mouth as she exhaled bubbles through her nose. What¡¯s up with that name, by the way? How do people even know about me? [Your fight against the Mutant-Class wraith shrimp was dangerously close to the shores of the lower city. Most likely, many lower city folk watched you descend from the sky and cleave the shrimp in half with lightning swirling around your Storm Glaives¡ªand considering there is not a single aquatic class that allows its user to generate and control lightning, the lower city folk most certainly embellished and enjoyed your heroic adventure of crossing the great blue on your own as a hero of the Deepwater Legion Front,] the Archive said pointedly. [When you live on the frontline between the great blue and the whirlpool where Corpsetaker is confined to, you, too, would want heroes to look up to. The Guards patrol and guard the great blue, while the Imperators protect the upper city by diving into the whirlpool. Who do you think the lower city folk depend on to protect them, then?] The Hasharana? The Archive rubbed its legs together to make a snapping sound. [The lower city folk hardly care if you are a registered Hasharana or not. For decades, the Hasharana have had close ties with the households and establishments of the lower city. By extension, the diving companies view you as someone to respect and revere.] Then the Archive paused for a moment as the children in front of her pulled out of the coral, holding up strange, bulbous red fruits with bright smiles on their faces. [It also helps that you literally killed a Mutant-Class in front of them, so it is likely that the children, especially, look up to you as a hero.] ¡­ She had no idea what to think about that. To begin with, she hadn¡¯t been planning on staying in the Whirlpool City for long, but the more she learned about the city and the more people she ran into, the more interested she was in the place. ¡­ Maybe this ain¡¯t such a bad place to live in, after all. At the very least, after mama recovers, I should take her here for a vacation so she can see what¡¯s become of the city she left behind. Dipping her head in a show of gratitude, she accepted one of the fruits and bit into it on the spot, savouring the sweet yet mostly salty tangs that came out of the flesh. It wasn¡¯t like any fruit she¡¯d ever had on the surface, that was for sure, but it was nourishing all the same. She grinned at the children, and the children grinned back¡ªbut then a status screen popped up next to her head, making her flinch and look down at the half-eaten fruit in her hand.
[Points: 1 ¡ú 2]
The children looked just as surprised to see a little shrimp-like creature wriggling across the reddish flesh, two glowing antennae wagging left and right. ¡­ Ew. This is¡ª [Grab the children and back away from the coral.] Her body moved on instinct. She grabbed the boys by their waists and kicked off the ground, the explosive burst of speed kicking up a cloud of sand and shattered shells as her senses flared all over¡ªand the Imperators behind her immediately snapped their heads over, Bruno catching her before she could slam into another coral. While Helena and Aidan shouted at the nearby divers to run away, Marisol flung the children back as hard as possible, glaring at the cloud of sand that was beginning to warp around the coral they¡¯d just been standing in front of. [I see the Sand-Dancer¡¯s misfortune has yet to leave you even two thousand metres below the surface,] the Archive muttered, pulling up a status screen next to her head. [Prepare yourself for combat. Detecting four thousand Critter-Class pests ahead.]
[Objective #13: Defeat the B-Rank Critter-Class Copepod Brood] [Time Limit: Undefined] [Reward: ~300 points] [Failure: Death] Chapter 53 - Copepod Swarm The cloud of sand rose to five metres, then ten metres, then finally fifteen metres¡ªcasting a wide shadow over Marisol as she clenched her throat in anxiety. It wasn¡¯t a cloud of ¡®sand¡¯, to be exact, but rather a swarm of finger-sized crustaceans stuck together to take the form of a bioluminescent, bluish-purplish-reddish tree.
[Identification Complete] [Common Names: Copepods] [Grades: 4000x B-Rank Critter-Classes] [Aura: ~6,000] [Strength: ~5, Speed: ~4, Toughness: ~1, Dexterity: ~2, Perception: ~3] [Brief Description: Slender, double-segmented, and clustered. Copepods are deep sea crustaceans distinguished by their light-producing glands. They emit striking bioluminescence used primarily for predator evasion through distraction and counter-illumination. Their antennae are also prominent and feathered, aiding in both propulsion and sensing changes in their environment as they move through the sea, but when they are gathered in numerous clumps and clusters, they become highly aggressive]
¡°... Critter-Class copepods,¡± Aidan mumbled, patting her shoulder from the back as the three of them walked past her, shrugging their pistol shrimp arms. ¡°They¡¯re the most generic aquatic bugs you¡¯ll find down here, and while they ain¡¯t particularly dangerous in clumps of a hundred or two, when they¡¯re all clumped up in the thousands like that, they can easily rend all flesh from your bones in under a minute.¡± ¡°There¡¯s not supposed to be so many of them just hiding up in Depth Two, though,¡± Helena said, driving her heel into the ground and casting her free hand back, telling Marisol to stay where she was. ¡°Either they drifted up here incidentally, or they were starving for planktons down in Depth Three. Whatever the case, this is the point of the patrols: we get rid of any bugs that are out of place.¡± Finally, Bruno glanced back at Marisol and gave her a curt, confident nod. ¡°We¡¯ll handle this and show you how it¡¯s done. They¡¯re a poor matchup for you, so stay back and support us if we¡ª¡± The cloud of pulsing, glowing copepods was impatient. Hundreds of them shot towards the Imperator siblings like a dozen living roots, and in turn, the siblings whipped their shrimp claws towards the copepods. [Marisol.] Got it! She already knew what to expect, so she clamped her ears and winced as the three of them clicked their claws, using their Arts and releasing a burst of shockwaves. Water trembled around her as the living roots broke apart. The waves may not do any damage above the surface, but down here? She had no doubt they could pop her skull if she ever got hit by one of them directly, and the copepods weren¡¯t any different. A hundred of them were immediately crushed and flattened by the waves, making the entire copepod tree reel and wobble in the distance. While the commercial divers fled and scrambled away, Bruno shouted orders at his younger siblings. Helena fanned out to the right, blasting several copepod roots away as they tried to go for the divers. Aidan leapt onto a coral on the left and blasted down several more, taking a higher vantage point. From three separate points, Bruno gave the order again¡ª¡°fire¡±¡ªand they sent three coordinated blasts at the trunk of the copepod tree, wedging a significant chunk of biomass off the clump. ¡°Estimated number of B-Rank Critter-Class copepods: four thousand or so, all streaming out from that conch-like shell!¡± Aidan shouted from the left, blasting several more roots without looking as he glared at the copepod tree. ¡°Core located! Highest density congregation cluster is ten metres up, halfway point within the ¡®crown¡¯ of the tree!¡± ¡°No distress pheromone signals have been sent away from this sector, either!¡± Helena shouted from the right, covering the retreat of the last of the divers. ¡°It¡¯s just us and the copepods! No other Giant-Class crustacean is in the vicinity or coming to its assistance!¡± Bruno stomped down on a living root, blasting a hundred or so copepods to shred underfoot. ¡°Begin Critter-Class Extermination, Protocol Five! Aidan, Helena, to me¡ª¡± ¡°Here!¡± In the blink of an eye, both younger siblings dashed back in front of Bruno, shrimp claws braced in front of them. Bruno passed his own giant claw between the two of their heads, and when he clicked his to send a giant shockwave the copepod tree¡¯s way, the two of them clicked theirs as well, softening their waves such that Bruno¡¯s attack folded theirs into the mix. A combination attack of resonating waves. Marisol¡¯s eyes widened as the resonance shockwave slammed into the root of the tree, dispersing at least a thousand copepods and scattering them like a mound of sand being hit with a child¡¯s foot. They¡¯re good. [Of course they are,] the Archive murmured. [Even if they are only new recruits, they are still Harbour Imperators trained to fight aquatic bugs, chosen and promoted from the best of the Harbour Guards. They may be weaker than you individually, but if they were to fight you again with full knowledge of your speed and agility, they will certainly not be taken off-guard.] Really? The Archive shrugged, pointing at their backs as they dashed forward as one unit. Helena and Aidan batted away any living roots that tried to intercept them while the copepod tree regenerated its sturdy form, regathering copepods around its central cluster, but all of it was just a bit too slow for the Imperators. The younger siblings were the ram, the spears and the shields, and the eldest brother was the charging cannon. Dozens of roots stabbed at them from the sides, none even coming close to breaking their formation as they slid to a halt right under its exposed trunk. They hadn¡¯t come to a complete stop yet when all three of them lined up their claws, clicking in unison to decimate the trunk from within¡ªfast, bold, and extremely painful for Marisol¡¯s ears even from a distance. Her vision blurred as she stumbled a few more steps back, watching the shockwave rip through the top of the tree before dispersing the entire copepod cluster. None of the smaller clumps of copepods immediately swam to regather with the other clumps, and the Imperator siblings high-fived each other as they trudged back towards Marisol. [Critter-Class copepods are not typically aggressive in small numbers, but when they congregate in dense swarms¡ªespecially in nutrient-rich waters where food is abundant and ripe for the taking¡ªthey can form giant clusters that attack every living being on sight,] the Archive explained. [Destroy the dense core of a cluster, and the rest will lose their will and instinct to fight. After all, they are as generic and basic as aquatic bugs go.] Marisol couldn¡¯t smell very well underwater¡ªbecause she wasn¡¯t even inhaling¡ªbut she still felt she was catching the thin, subtle undertone of some sweetly sick pheromone swirling around her. You sure about that? I feel¡­ like I¡¯m smelling¡ª She didn¡¯t get to finish her thought. Whatever she and the Imperator siblings expected to happen, it wasn¡¯t three more copepod swarms bursting out the corals around them with muted booms, the dense clusters sucking up the survivors of the first tree as they each became fully-fledged trees of their own. Helena didn¡¯t see one of the trees firing a living root at her head, but Marisol did. She kicked off the ground, spun mid-air, and smashed the root apart with the War Jump while she dragged Helena back to safety, holding the lady in a princess carry.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°... That ain¡¯t four thousand or so, brother,¡± Bruno grumbled, backing up towards the two of them alongside Aidan, the brothers¡¯ claws poised before their faces. ¡°What, the clusters are smart enough to launch coordinated attacks now? Do they have a super cluster beneath us or something?¡± ¡°I ain¡¯t no whirlpool carcinologist. Hell if I know what the fuck this is,¡± Aidan mumbled back, eyes narrowing as the three copepod trees grew larger, larger, and larger. None of them were quite as imposing as the first one, but they were still five-metre-tall monstrosities each with writhing, living ¡®roots¡¯. This time, the copepod trees launched a volley of two dozen roots at them. Some came from the left, some from the right, but most streaked down the centre. The Imperator siblings exhaled sharp bubbles and met the first volley with a resonating wave, scattering half the roots in a single blow. The other half that didn¡¯t scatter reeled back like worms, swirling over and around them until the second volley came. Bruno didn¡¯t ask for it, and he didn¡¯t need to. Marisol jumped into the fray and skated a full half-circle around the Imperators¡¯ backs, lifting her glaive and cutting through the roots that tried to stab them from behind. It was like a hot knife through butter, but she immediately understood what Bruno had meant when he said the copepods were a poor matchup for her. Realistically, she only killed a few dozen copepods with her devastatingly powerful kick, because the rest simply reformed a few seconds later and stabbed at them again. They¡¯re so small! I can¡¯t get a good hit in! Gritting her teeth, she spun and lashed out with her glaives again and again, intercepting as many backstabbing roots as she could. The Imperators weren¡¯t faring so well against the front-facing roots, though. The trees were only a short ten strides away, and while that meant the Imperators could probably blast them apart much easier, the fact that they were closer also meant the travel distance for the roots was much, much lower¡ªand the constant stabs were suppressive, keeping the Imperators from training all their claws on one tree at a time. If even just one of the siblings stopped firing defensive waves and batting away attacking roots, they¡¯d all be impaled to death. ¡°Not good, brother!¡± Helena shouted, grimacing as a root cut her on the cheek, neck, and shoulder, drawing thin and wavy streams of blood. ¡°It¡¯ll take more than the three of us to dislodge the three of them, and we ain¡¯t got the firepower! Even if we manage to blast one apart, we can¡¯t blast the other two quick enough, and the first one will reform with so many copepods in the vicinity! Either we get all of them at the same time, or we run!¡± ¡°The commercial divers have yet to evacuate completely!¡± Bruno snapped, growling as he caught one of the roots with his bare human hand, crushing a dozen copepods into a murky cloud of blood. ¡°We stand our ground and fight a war of attrition. Sooner or later, we will whittle their numbers down!¡± But Aidan didn¡¯t need to speak, and Marisol didn¡¯t need the Archive to tell her. All three siblings were already bloody, worn-out, and they wouldn¡¯t hold for much longer. The roots were attacking so fast and violently that they were beginning to blot out sunlight, slowly wrapping them in a living, thorny cage. If there was some way to gather all three copepod trees in a straight line, then¡ª [There is,] the Archive interrupted. [The new tier four core mutation you unlocked just this morning.] Marisol almost opened her mouth to speak, but fortunately, she was dashing and kicking around too much to unclench her jaw as a status screen popped up next to her, reminding her of her newly unlocked mutation.
[T4 Core Mutation: Basic Discharge Lvl. 1] [Brief Description: Your glaives have evolved small jets in them that allow you to suck in and eject air and water at will, allowing you to propel yourself underwater without kicking your legs. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from continuously discharging]
The Archive had advised her to unlock it first thing in the morning, and Victor had said it was a strong mutation as well, but¡­ Ain¡¯t it just for moving around underwater? How am I gonna gather all the copepods with this? [It is not only ¡®air¡¯ that you can store and eject at will,] the Archive said, [you can also suck in water and eject them at high speeds.] [Do you understand what I am talking about?] A switch flicked in her head as her eyes lit up briefly. What I did back then, when I cornered and boxed in the Mutant-Class wraith shrimp. [That was on the surface where you could freely activate your Storm Glaives without electrocuting your entire body, but down here, even without your Storm Glaives¡ª] I can still box the copepods in with this. Maybe she could¡¯ve tried to say something to the Imperator siblings even without ¡®Basic Sonar¡¯ unlocked, but frankly, they had neither the time nor the energy to listen to her plan. They were trained professionals, so she¡¯d just have to trust they¡¯d follow up on whatever she did. Without a word, she kicked away from the three of them and skated to the far right, cutting through the dense wall of copepod roots with her apiclaws. A dozen more roots immediately chased after her, but she still remembered the step sequence for her fastest skating routine¡ªglide, spin, pause, raise arms, then twirl and caper as the basic form¡ªand underwater, above the water, there was very little difference in how the dance was performed. She just needed to put more speed and strength into her moves. Arms spread out, fingers twirling as though she were paddling through water, she skated around the copepod trees until she¡¯d spun a full clockwise circle around them. She caught the copepods¡¯ full attention. Every root that¡¯d been battering the Imperator siblings zipped after her instead, and some of them were dangerously close to stabbing through her back. Tightening her throat, she willed her right glaive to ¡®gather¡¯ droves of water through the jets in the chitin, and then ¡®discharged¡¯ them as violently as possible from the left side of her left glaive. She didn¡¯t stop skating in circles around the trees as she did, and the result was immediately apparent: the trees were being shoved closer and closer together by her discharging water, and it was like they were being constantly blasted by a torrent of underwater waves from every direction. She grinned, spinning a full circle around them every three seconds or so, and the propulsion, the circular motion, just the speed of it all¡­ her perception level almost matched her speed, but with the propulsion added on top of it, she could barely even see her own arms in front of her. [Careful now, Marisol.] [Victor told you as much, but if you cannot control your rate of discharge, the propulsion will fling you to the other side of the whirlpool.] I¡­ know! But¡­ if I go back to the surface¡­ and skate with this mutation¡­ just how fast do you think I can go? It was a pointless question that didn¡¯t need to be asked now, but the rush was getting to her head, and the copepod trees were shrivelling under her constant discharge of water¡ªso the Archive sighed in response, sounding only slightly amused. [This is a new top speed, even for you. Perhaps now you will be able to dodge Victor grabbing your collar in the mornings.] [Now duck.] She did as instructed, stopping the discharge from her glaives. They were instantly beset with muscle cramps and fatigue the likes of which she¡¯d never experienced before, but she¡¯d already done her part. The waves had shoved all three copepod trees close together, and their trunks were almost touching. The Imperator siblings had long-since recovered, gathered their energy, and now they were lining up their claws to fire in a straight line. ¡°Not bad, Marisol!¡± Bruno bellowed, grinning through bloody teeth. ¡°We¡¯ll take it from here!¡± Their outstretched claws rippled with energy as they punched forward all at the same time, throwing the shockwave out like a javelin, and the resonance wave tore through all three trees with a nasty, bone-rattling shockwave. So close to the impact, Marisol had to clench her ears with her arms and bury her face in the ground just to avoid getting caught in the shockwave¡­ but after all was said and done, she lifted her head slowly, groggily, and saw the big cloud of copepods dispersing for good. All that was left were clumps of tiny, free-floating copepods as a status screen popped up next to her head.
[Objective #13 Completed: Defeat the B-Rank Critter-Class Copepod Brood] [Reward: ~300 points]
[... Even down here, I see anomalies still swirl around you like a never-ending storm.] The Archive sighed, shaking its head as it floated by her nose. [Though multiple copepod clusters appearing at once is nothing new, it is most certainly a strange occurrence by Depth Two standards. Imperators and Guards will collect the copepod carcasses for you afterwards so you get the points, but for now, you must get up and continue patrolling. There may be other commercial divers who require assistance¡ª] Not good. Her ears were twitching. Her vision was swimming. She felt lightheaded and heavy as lead at the same time, and though she tried to crawl onto her feet, her harness only dragged her back down to the ground. Need¡­ oxygen. Skyball corals¡­ where¡­ are they¡ª Someone ripped her box of candies from her back and stuffed a piece of sour candy into her mouth between her gasps, forcing her to swallow by keeping their hand on her mouth. She choked and coughed and instinctively exhaled through her nose, squeezing her eyes shut as she expelled the excess pressure in her head. She felt much better by the time she peeled her eyelids open, and Helena smiled down at her, flicking her gently on the forehead. ¡°Not bad at all,¡± Helena said, as her older brothers patrolled the area and checked the nearby corals for any more copepod clusters. Marisol didn¡¯t smell any, and Aidan didn¡¯t raise his voice either. ¡°We¡¯ve still gotta finish our patrol before we can head back up and make our report¡ªand we¡¯ve gotta check on the commercial divers, too¡ªso do you think you can continue walking, or do you have to rest in the diving bell for a bit?¡± Marisol blinked tiredly up at Helena before looking down at her shaky glaives. Mama always says it¡¯s not good to just collapse after an exhausting dance, after all. Get up and stretch your legs, Marisol. So she pulled herself onto her glaives, groaning all the way. The siblings looked at her, impressed. [... That was not a bad first underwater extermination mission, all things considered.] [Perhaps you may actually have a knack for fighting underwater?] Chapter 54 - Coordinated Damages The rest of the patrol was uneventful, but the ascent in the diving bell was cheerful. Aidan popped open bottles of fresh fruit juice from the overhead compartments, Helena gawked and peppered Marisol with questions about the exact workings of her glaives, and Bruno smiled softly as he turned the small crank to pull them back up. If the Imperator siblings had any doubt Marisol was going to be of any use underwater, they didn¡¯t seem to doubt her a single bit now. For her part, Marisol was still a bit light-headed. It wasn''t Aidan chugging two bottles of juice at once or Helena poking the holes in her glaives that made her dizzy. Simply having spent two hours in Depth Two sapped all the strength from her, and the lingering pressure on her shoulders still made her body tremble slightly; this wasn''t something she could get used to quickly. [On the bright side, nobody was seriously hurt.] Yeah. [All of the commercial divers were safe and sound, the siblings got off with light injuries, you¡¯ll receive a share of the rewards equally distributed between the four of you, and you found a new use for your new tier four mutation.] Did you already know ¡®Basic Discharge¡¯ could be used that way? I was only planning on using it for speed. Never in a million years would I''ve thought about using the discharge as a ranged attack. None of the siblings could see the Archive floating in front of her, pulling its front legs apart as though trying to shrug. [It is not exactly uncommon for aquatic bugs to have some form of active propulsion mutation. Furthermore, the last Water Strider Class user before you had managed to unlock the ¡®Basic Discharge¡¯ mutation, so the records of its potential applications were already in my database.] But¡­ a while back, I thought you said there were only a few Hasharana before me who were also offered the Water Strider Class. [Correct.] And even though some of them managed to survive long enough to unlock ¡®Basic Discharge¡¯, none of them ever figured out Storm Glaives was their Art? [As far as I know¡ªthough certain information may be redacted for me¡ªno. You are the first person to have reached one hundred percent biological compatibility with the Water Strider Class.] She didn¡¯t know if she should feel proud or disappointed by that fact. On one hand, she¡¯d blazed a new path for all future Water Strider Class users, but on the other hand, it meant nobody could help her figure out how to use her Art underwater without electrocuting herself. ¡­ Oh, well. Ain¡¯t like there ain¡¯t no charm in being the ¡®first ever¡¯ for something as grand as the Water Strider Class. [Certainly. Being a daredevil has its advantages.] Quick question, though: you said the only way to get an Altered Swarmsteel System is by passing the super tough Hasharana Entrance Exam, right? [The only normal way, yes.] And the people who participate in this super tough exam typically already have normal systems and classes, right? [Correct. Even though ninety-nine percent of participants already have classes by the time they enter the first stage of the exam, the fatality rate of the entire exam is still ninety-eight percent.] How do they... uh... like, they already underwent the surgery to implant their normal systems into their necks, right? And they''ve probably already been using their class for a while, right? Then what happens if they¡ª [If they pass the exam and consume the Altered Swarmsteel System, the altered system will devour the implant that is already in their necks, taking its place and allowing them to retain their mutations, attribute levels, points, and Art, while also giving them their own personal Archive. A less-specific class can be upgraded to an equivalent or more specific class of the same species¡ªmeaning, someone with a normal Ant Class or a more specific Fire Ant Class could be given a Bullet Ant Class if the Archive determines they are best fit for its mutations¡ªbut drastic class changes have never happened before. This is because the more mutations you unlock with a certain class, the more difficult it is for the Archive to remove those mutations and give you a completely new mutation tree without harming you during the mutation removal process. The Ant Class and Fire Ant Class mutation trees are not vastly different from the Bullet Ant Class mutation tree, but if you already have two moth wings, eyes, and antennae... removing those so we can give you a Beetle Class¡¯ mutation tree is not going to happen.] So if you were always destined for the Water Strider Class since you were a child in all aspects¡ªphysically, biologically, bioarcanically, personally¡ªbut you were forced to receive a Moth Class because you had strict parents and unlocked all the way to your tier five mutations to undergo the Second Class Mutation Selection¡ª [Well, if you are able to pass the super tough ninety-eight-percent-fatality-rate exam with your Moth Class that you supposedly hate so much, can you really say the Moth Class is not destined for you as well?]Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ... Sucks for those people, though. What if they just really, really, really wanted to skate on water? [You are the only one who has ever thought that.] Can''t be true. [Is.] Isn''t. [Speed masochist.] Not¡ª The diving bell rattled as they broke the surface, and the colour of sunlight streaming in through the latch window turned from pale blue to a harsh, warm orange. Marisol nearly lurched off her bench as her head immediately throbbed. While Helena and Aidan hurried to swipe all the empty bottles in a bag under the small table, Bruno continued frowning out the window, muttering something under his breath as he turned the wheel to pop open the latch. Marisol didn¡¯t hear much of anything afterwards, because the moment Bruno shoved the latch open to let in a wave of fresh, brine-scented air, she was assaulted with the blaring sirens of half a dozen armoured ships approaching them from afar. Reina was waiting for them on the platform right outside the bell, and her face was ghostly white as she frantically rushed towards them.
¡­ Victor¡¯s hands tightened on his walking cane as he stared down at the whirlpool from the top of Lighthouse Seven, watching the medics struggle to pull bloody Imperator initiates out of their diving bells. It was sharp at noon, but he¡¯d barely even touched his brunch an hour ago when the first incident report surfaced: an unnatural cluster of copepods appeared in Depth One and attacked a team of four initiates patrolling the area at the time, forcing them to end their patrol early. Soon after, three, four, five more diving bells surfaced earlier than usual. By noon, all in total, the diving logistic officers reported sixty-four initiates and commercial divers gravely wounded, all of them having barely escaped their attacks by the breadth of their hairs. Chaos reigned below. The Imperators always had half a dozen medical ships on standby during the morning, afternoon, and nighttime patrol sessions in case any team needed to surface early due to injuries, but they didn¡¯t have enough ships to attend to sixteen diving bells at once. The result was apparent. Shouts and screams for volunteer medical aid from the upper city resounded across the whirlpool below, and for Victor¡¯s part, he could do nothing but watch as bloody initiates were yanked out of their diving bells and placed on stretchers, being ferried to shore as quickly as possible. He wasn¡¯t alone atop Lighthouse Seven, of course. He had an old friend to commiserate with. ¡°Only the Imperator teams patrolling Depths One to Three were attacked,¡± he murmured, glancing at the Imperatrix standing next to him as he did. ¡°What do you see with that eye of yours, Andres? Think it ain¡¯t nothing but a coincidence?¡± Andres scoffed, face hardening as one of the medical ships below waved a red flag up at them: the signal that someone had perished inside a diving bell. ¡°As if this could¡¯ve been anything but a coordinated attack. Corpsetaker is behind this. First, the Harbour Guards outside the city report Mutant-Classes are heading towards the city from all over, and now a third of our initiates are benched for at least a month?¡± ¡°What¡¯s our move?¡± ¡°No commercial diving company is to be allowed in the whirlpool for the next three days, and all morning, afternoon, and nighttime patrols in Depths One to Three are to be reinforced by at least one S-Rank Giant-Class Imperator for the next two months,¡± he said firmly, glaring at the officer who just barged into the room behind them with more miserable reports to offer. ¡°We¡¯re splitting our Depth Four to Six patrol forces in half. Tell the standby teams on afternoon and nighttime patrols to figure their allocations out by themselves.¡± The officer paused, saluted, and raced out of the room before he could even deliver his report. Victor sighed, pulling the brim of his feathered hat down. ¡°You don¡¯t want any of the initiates diving by themselves for the next two months?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the rational move to prevent bleeding out our young buds.¡± ¡°And if half of the teams who are supposed to be patrolling Depths Four to Six aren¡¯t there, you could stand to lose the other half from another coordinated attack,¡± Victor said plainly. ¡°If anything jumps the weakened Depth Four to Six patrol teams, there won¡¯t ever be enough high-rank Imperators nearby to immediately reinforce them. You¡¯ll prioritise Depths One to Three over them?¡± ¡°The city cannot sustain itself if the commercial divers aren¡¯t allowed to harvest,¡± Andres replied steadily, a small scowl on his iron face. ¡°We protect the livelihood of our citizens first and foremost. Does a Flower Cape prioritise slaughtering bugs before safeguarding human lives?¡± Victor threw the man a sardonic smile, though it was largely hidden behind his bandages. ¡°We¡¯re the wandering bug-slayers. Nothing else. Nothing more. I¡¯d leave you dead in a ditch if it means I can get a clean hit on Corpsetaker or any of his Leviathans.¡± Andres¡¯ expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°Asshole.¡± ¡°Bitch.¡± ¡°This is why you never get invited to any of the annual Arcana Hasharana meetups. Enki and Zora still find you irritating.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a compliment to have annoyed the great Worm God and the Thousand Tongue for over four decades.¡± Victor shook his head, a smaller, genuine grin rising onto his face as he spotted a particular medical ship being pulled back to the bottom of Lighthouse Seven. ¡°In any case, there are only three initiates and an acting Flower Cape who seem to have gotten out of their copepod attack relatively unharmed. Who do you think you have to thank for that, hm?¡± The Imperatrix clicked his tongue, waving Victor away dismissively as he turned to leave the room. ¡°The reports claim the unnatural copepod hordes originated from somewhere within Depth Three,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll have a few scouts investigate, and once we know where they¡¯re coming from, the three uninjured initiates plus your water strider girl will enter Depth Three to deal with the source of the copepods. Have Reina go with them to err on the side of caution. Reina alone can take down a low-rank Mutant-Class no problem, but I¡¯d like to see what those initiates and your girl can do in Depth Three as well.¡± Victor looked over his shoulder, squinting at the Imperatrix. ¡°It¡¯s too early for her to be down in Depth Three. She doesn¡¯t even have her sonar mutation unlocked yet, so she can¡¯t even speak underwater¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be a while before the investigations wrap-up,¡± Andres interrupted. ¡°At the very least, she¡¯ll have enough time to join a few extermination missions and get enough points to unlock the sonar mutation." Once the Imperatrix made up his mind, there wasn¡¯t going to be any arguing back¡ªso Victor simply let the man leave as he continued surveilling the whirlpool, lips tightened in a thin line. The day we let the girl dive on an actual mission, the copepods attack. Was it fortunate we put her with a team of initiates so she could protect them, or was the ¡®plan¡¯ to injure all the other initiates so Andres will definitely send her down to Depth Three as part of an extermination force? But the whirlpool, like the great blue, had a mind of its own, and no doubt the hermit king lurking in the abyss had something to do with the attacks. ¡­ Which one of the four is it, Corpsetaker? And how did you even know that weakling of a lass has an Altered Swarmsteel System? Chapter 55 - Highwind Doll After a week-long questioning session by the Imperators¡ªduring which she was made to recount everything that¡¯d happened down in Depth Two with excruciating detail¡ªMarisol was finally allowed to sleep in late for once at the Highwind Inn. Of course, she didn¡¯t choose to sleep in late. Sharp at eight in the morning, she was already stretching on the flat roof of the inn, getting warmed up by the light morning drizzle and sunlight falling softly over the volcano city. The upper city crowd on the streets below were as loud as usual, doors and windows being thrown open as businesses hung their signs out to sway in the wind. She hadn¡¯t been to the lower city recently, but she was sure the people there were just as carefree and nonchalant. None of them knew what¡¯d transpired just a week ago in the whirlpool, and perhaps it was for the better that the city didn¡¯t start panicking. Fifty-nine Imperators initiates gravely wounded. Five dead. That¡¯s a third of the Depth One to Three patrol forces relegated to the infirmary beds for the next month, huh? She stretched her arms wide, pulled one glaive skyward, and then brought it down with a sharp exhale. The mechanical doll in front of her dodged to the left, its glaives for legs sliding to the edge of the roof with an ear-grating screech. [... It is certainly fortunate that the Imperator siblings were teamed up with you during the copepod attack, but I do not see how this training is helping you.] Ain¡¯t it obvious? The nicknamed ¡®Highwind Doll¡¯ was something Daniela, the innkeeper, lent her a week ago at her request of wanting an opponent to train with: tall, mechanical, and crafted from bronze and iron with gear arrays visible in the joints, it was a humanlike construct designed to imitate a Mutant-Class with four arms and two legs. Each arm was a little different. One ended in a wide, flat surface for blocking, another had a blunt fist for counterstrikes, while the other two sported claw-like grips allowing it to grab and swipe at her. Its legs were glaives like hers, though it probably wasn''t based on a Water Strider Class user as much as the simple fact that glaives allowed it to slide around the wet roof easier. According to the Archive, the dolls were rather standard issue constructs the Imperators used for training when they weren¡¯t on patrol, and they were small-scale versions of the giant ¡®Inorganic Armours¡¯ used to combat titan bugs in the northeastern Rampaging Hinterland Front. Depending on how far she turned the little dial on their backs, she could set them to automatically dodge her attacks at the speed of an untrained child, or at the speed of an E-rank Mutant-Class¡ªmeaning, at its current dial setting of five out of ten, she wasn''t even coming close to landing a kick on it once. Sliding around the roof and missing kicks were all she''d been doing the past week. If it ain''t for ¡®Basic Discharge¡¯, I''d have been completely useless against the copepods. Gritting her teeth, she darted in with the War Jump, trying to cleave the doll''s head off with a flurry of kicks. It sidestepped foot after foot, spinning around at the same time to land a graceful backhand on her arms¡ªwhich she blocked with her apiclaw, immediately countering with an elbow slash with her other claw. The doll was too slippery, though. Her slash missed, her follow-up kicks missed, and her scarf fluttered after her as she pursued its shadow around the roof with more swift, heavy kicks. There''ll be lots more horde-type bugs like the copepods the deeper down I go, right? [They are not called the ¡®Swarm¡¯ for nothing. It is quite rare, in fact, for there to be any one versus one battles at all. The Swarm¡¯s greatest strength is the ability to outnumber humanity and jump individual soldiers with a hundred of their own.] She grimaced, eyes sharpened and focused like never before as she tried to follow the doll''s movements. It was still a blur of motion, dancing circles around her attacks. If the Imperators hadn''t been there, I''d have been cornered by those copepod trees. I wouldn''t have been able to gather all the copepods together and deal the finishing blow at the same time. That''s why I need more speed. If I¡¯d gotten to those copepod clusters faster and destroyed them before they could wrap themselves in the giant trees, maybe I could''ve gone to help the other diving teams nearby¡ª Her senses flared when the puddle beneath her glaives wobbled, and for the first time in weeks, she managed to whirl in time to send a kick flying at Victor¡¯s head¡ªwhich he blocked with his walking cane before hitting her once on the head, once on the shoulder, and twice in the thighs, all in the same motion. Ow. She didn¡¯t fall, but she definitely hobbled away with a few pained groans while Victor straightened his collar, looking around the mess she¡¯d made on the roof. The inn had been using the roof for extra storage space, but she¡¯d since pushed the empty crates, old furniture, and stacks of terracotta bricks aside to make a little arena for her and the doll to dance in. Maybe she should¡¯ve gotten permission first, but the fact that Daniela even lent her the doll probably meant she was allowed to do that¡­ and if she wasn¡¯t, she¡¯d just tell Victor to ask for her. Whatever the case, it didn¡¯t stop Victor from shuffling over to one of the crates before plopping himself down onto it, both hands still clasped on his walking cane. ¡°... You tell me to be on standby in the inn, disappear for an entire week, and now you show up to slap me around?¡± she grumbled, rubbing her thighs as she turned away from him, ready to dash at the whirring doll again. ¡°There ain¡¯t nothing to worry about me, old man. I ain''t giving up on getting down to Depth Eight just because I got a little outmatched by a bunch of Critter-Classes. Now, if you ain¡¯t here to drag me off somewhere or give me my share of points from last week¡¯s mission, I¡¯d prefer if you didn¡¯t disturb me while I¡¯m busy training¡ª¡± ¡°It ain¡¯t always about speed when you¡¯re underwater. You¡¯re already fast enough for Depth Three.¡± He spoke, quite evenly, just as she leapt in and launched a high kick at the doll¡¯s chest. In a seamless motion, the doll bent backwards, its torso dipping just low enough to let her glaive soar over it¡ªthen she landed, kicked downwards with her other glaive, and it dodged that one with a simple sidestep too. She gasped for breath on the opposite side of the roof, while Victor was sitting close enough to turn the dial on its back with the tip of his cane. It didn¡¯t take long for its clockwork mechanisms to whir even more vigorously. ¡°... You ain¡¯t gonna find a lot of consistently speedy opponents in the whirlpool. The aquatic bugs of the Deepwater Legion Front are generally regarded as the second weakest group of bugs in the entire world, and while most of it can be attributed to their massive sizes making them rather easy to hit, there¡¯s a reason why they¡¯re still incredibly difficult to kill,¡± he said, humming delightfully as he cranked the dial up to six, seven, then eight, each turn punctuated with a loud click. ¡°On land, there ain¡¯t a lot of options for bugs to choose how they want to evade. It¡¯s either left, right, back, down, or up¡ªbut they always gotta come back down to the ground eventually. Even winged bugs gotta rest every once in a while.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Then he tapped the back of the doll with his cane, making it shoot forward with a sharp roundhouse kick. Her breath caught as she ducked at the last second, gliding under its kick to swap places with it. Now it was on the opposite side of the roof, and she was back to where she was by Victor¡¯s side. ¡°But that don¡¯t apply to aquatic bugs,¡± he said, patting her back hard with his cane. ¡°They¡¯re tough to kill because, more than any other type of bug in the world, they ain¡¯t bound by gravity. Physically and biologically, they¡¯re slippery underwater. Their movements are erratic. Hard to predict. Even winged bugs can¡¯t zip around you constantly the way aquatic bugs can with zero effort. Flying expends energy, but swimming doesn¡¯t¡ªfor most of them, being slippery is just their way of life.¡± Frustration began mounting inside her as the doll increased its speed, and her kicks struck where it should¡¯ve been, only for it to slip aside every time she thought there was no way it could dodge her strike. Its limbs could stretch and retract. Its movements were minimal and effortless. It was making full use of the fact that it was designed to emulate an aquatic bug¡ªeven if it wasn¡¯t underwater¡ªto slide, jump, and counter every conventional attack she could throw at it. The old man was right. ¡®Slippery¡¯ was the right term to describe its movements. ¡°Speed is all relative down in the whirlpool, lass!¡± he called out, kicking back on his crate as she bobbed and weaved, barely ducking under its kicks and slashes. ¡°No matter how hard you train, you¡¯re human! You ain¡¯t ever gonna be as slippery as the bugs that were born to be slippery, so don¡¯t think about how you can get faster to match its speed! That ain¡¯t happening most of the time down there! Corner it! Put it in a tough spot where its options are limited! Make the bug slow down so it matches your speed, and then it¡¯ll dance to your tune!¡± And she paused abruptly, her eyes flashing briefly blue with clarity. Victor smirked under his bandages. Slow it down, she thought, dodging the doll¡¯s next kick as she slid across to one corner of the roof, eyes scanning the terrain. A few heavy crates sat nearby, so she pivoted, shattering all the crates to scatter fields of sharp nails across the roof. The doll froze mid-dash as it reassessed the terrain, but almost immediately after, it found the easiest path to skate through to get to her with a kick. She stuck her tongue out at it as she leapt over its head, fanning out her wings for just a bit more airtime before landing on the opposite corner, kicking down a stack of terracotta bricks. The bricks went tumbling, forming small mounds; yet another obstacle for the doll to assess and navigate. I ain¡¯t done yet. She spun, eyeing a battered chair, a mouldy closet, and half a dozen old furniture pieces just sitting along the edge of the roof. Just before the doll started moving again, she kicked the chair aside, knocked the closet into its predicted path, and when it sidestepped to find a straighter path towards her, she vibrated her repelling hydrospines to send ripples out along the puddle, confusing its sensors. Then she sucked in a roaring gust of wind with the jets on her right glaive¡ªpulling in the field of nails behind the doll. The doll whirled, its single lens for an eye zooming in and out on the unavoidable wall of nails flying at its back. It didn¡¯t know where to run. Bricks and furniture flanked it on both sides, limiting its path of evasion. Obviously, a real bug wouldn¡¯t care and bash through all the obstacles in its way, but with its movements to the side limited and its ability to dash back sealed by the nails flying at it¡ªbecause its setting was on ¡®touch opponent only¡¯¡ªthere were only two possible paths of evasion. Forward and up. So Marisol leapt in with a simple jump¡ªdischarging the air she¡¯d sucked in so she had propulsion and even more speed¡ªbefore kicking her glaive from sky to ground. There was nowhere for it to go. A resounding, satisfying clank punctured through the air as her glaive smashed its head into its neck, the springs and coils inside strumming with a deep, basso tune. She recovered from her kick a half-second later, sliding back with her apiclaws dragging along the ground to slow her down. While she disabled discharge and gradually allowed herself to breathe, the doll wobbled around, trying to regain its balance. Quickly, she stopped smiling and feeling giddy about finally having hit the doll once. She didn¡¯t cleave its head open or anything, but if she damaged it, she wouldn¡¯t have to pay for repairs or fix it herself, right? [I think you would have to pay. You are not meant to actually hit the doll with all your might, you know.] Really? [Yes.] Pull some strings for me. Pay for the damages. [Clean up your own mess.] You really are meaner nowadays. Brows furrowed, face tight with worry, she turned towards Victor and looked at him with pleading eyes. ¡°... That¡¯s about right.¡± He hummed, sliding off his crate and groaning as his spine cracked. ¡°It ain¡¯t about increasing your speed all the time. Seal off the bugs¡¯ possible paths of movement, confuse them with clever and distracting tricks, and leave them only one ¡®possible¡¯ path of escape. If you do that, you¡¯ll find, someway, somehow, that you can always slowly grind the dumbasses down. They always have a glaring weakness. You¡¯re human, and they¡¯re not¡ªit¡¯s tempting to rely only on your speed once you¡¯re already this fast, but brute force and power won¡¯t carry you all the way to Depth Eight.¡± Then he glanced up at the distant lighthouse, sighing to himself as he waved her away. ¡°Good going,¡± he said. ¡°Get stronger. Feel free to hop in on patrol and extermination missions in Depths One to Two whenever you want. You have some time before Lighthouse Seven calls for you again, so make sure to unlock ¡®Basic Sonar¡¯ by the time they send you down to Depth Three.¡± Marisol¡¯s brows knitted even further. ¡°I know it¡¯s on the way to Depth Eight, but why Depth Three specifically? ¡°The Imperators are still investigating the copepods that attacked all of you a week ago,¡± he said plainly. ¡°Most likely, in a few weeks, they¡¯ll wrap up the investigations and pinpoint the general location of the Mutant-Class copepod. It¡¯s probably in Depth Three, so seeing as you and the Imperator siblings were the only ones to have come out of last week¡¯s attack safely, Lighthouse Seven will probably decide to send the four of you down to deal with the Mutant-Class.¡± ¡°A Mutant-Class?¡± ¡°Mhm. It¡¯ll probably be a Mutant-Class Extermination Mission they¡¯ll send you and the siblings on, so get your ass ready.¡± She rose to the tip of her glaives, scowling as she placed her hands on her hips. ¡°But that coordinated attack getting that much damage done to the Imperators ain¡¯t normal even by Whirlpool City standards, right? Why send someone like me down to get rid of the Mutant-Class when I¡¯m obviously weaker than some of the other Imperators¡ª¡± ¡°Do you not want to fight?¡± ¡°No. Not that. I wanna get down to Depth Eight as soon as possible, so I gotta get stronger for that, but why are the Imperators also pushing me so hard¡ª¡± He whipped his cane to the left, clearing his throat loudly. ¡°Look, a bug!¡± She snapped her head to the left, muscles tensing, but then she felt like an idiot when it was obvious there was no giant bug there. The morning in the upper city was cheerful, boisterous, and energetic. It was peaceful. The sounds of civilization were soothing. The only thing that could bring her mood down was not getting her questions answered by the old man, so on that front, at least he was kind enough not to stick around and taunt her with his presence. By the time she turned back around to scowl at him, Victor had already disappeared¡ªand the doll that¡¯d been impossible to hit was bisected diagonally from shoulder to waist, the upper half sliding down slowly before the entire thing crumbled to the ground. ¡­ [Most likely, you will have to pay for the repairs¡ª] I ain¡¯t taking a single coin out of my purse. He comes here, gives me a bit of advice, and then breaks the doll at¡­ what? Dial nine? Damnit, what class does he have, anyways? She knelt and groaned with her face in her hands, not wanting to listen to the doll¡¯s head rolling across the roof. ¡­ Hey, Archive. [Yes?] I couldn¡¯t have picked a worse time to visit the Whirlpool City, huh? The Archive shrugged on her shoulder. [Humanity is always at war with the Swarm. We are simply on yet another cusp of the Swarm developing a new strategy to escape from the whirlpool¡ªone that we have never seen before.] What horrid luck. Marisol could barely keep herself from sighing again. I think I¡¯m gonna read mama¡¯s book again. There¡¯s one technique in there that seems pretty good against ¡®slippery¡¯ opponents, so I¡¯ll probably have to use that for the Mutant-Class extermination mission, huh? Chapter 56 - Extermination Team At her request, Marisol managed to borrow two more Highwind dolls from Daniela¡ªwhile forcing the first doll¡¯s repair bills on Victor¡ªand from then on, it was nothing but travelling back and forth between the inn and the whirlpool for her. Three weeks passed. Between her daily meals, her morning beat-up training sessions with Victor and the Highwind Dolls, and her evening extermination-slash-patrol missions in Depths One and Two of the whirlpool, she had barely any time at all to sit down and breathe. Sure, she was getting paid a pretty hefty salary for every mission she hopped in on with the Imperator siblings, and it wasn¡¯t like she was being forced to go on missions, but she hadn¡¯t been this exhausted in a long, long time. Victor was the culprit for most of it. His ¡®training¡¯ sessions where he¡¯d always dial the dolls up to eleven were usually far more painful than her actual missions in the whirlpool. Thankfully, on the first morning of her third month in the city, Victor threw something at her window from outside, and it wasn¡¯t a notice to go up to the roof for training. She was already up, having finished her breakfast a while back, and doing her usual stretching routine¡ªthen her head snapped over to the window, her hydrospines standing on end. A pebble. Without hesitation, without really noticing it, she kicked the little projectile out of the air. It would¡¯ve hit her on the head, but she cleaved it in two instead and jumped out the window in the same motion, pouncing at the old man on the opposite roof with her apiclaws extended. He smirked at her, hitting her in the head, shoulder, and waist with his walking cane. Her momentum halted completely. Before she could even groan and crumple, Victor hooked the curved end of his cane around her neck and started dragging her up the city, humming delightfully with every step. ¡°Not bad,¡± he mused. ¡°You used to get hit by the pebble every morning, but now you can hear it coming and cleave it into two pebbles, which means the innkeeper will charge you more for the cleaning fees.¡± ¡°You¡¯re paying, old man,¡± she muttered, rubbing her shoulders as she let herself get dragged across the roof. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure the Imperators are paying you more than they¡¯re me nowadays, so you foot the bill.¡± ¡°Bull. How am I getting paid more?¡± ¡°I barely dive these days. Stands to reason they don¡¯t pay me as much as the new, young, pretty little lady.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re a freeloader.¡± ¡°Basically. Now straighten your back and show me your status screen. You¡¯ve gotten your share of points the past three weeks, right? Did they deliver the bug meat right to your doorstep?¡± Marisol grumbled, but didn¡¯t resist. Since he¡¯d all but admitted by now he could actually see her status screen¡ªprobably because they both have Archives¡ªshe clicked her tongue at her Archive and made her screen pop up next to their heads.
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: F-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: Storm Glaives] [Aura: 3,014 (+40)] [Points: 27] [Strength: 5, Speed: 5, Toughness: 5 (+1), Dexterity: 4, Perception: 4 (+1)] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 4] [T2 Mutations | Basic Gills Lvl. 3 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 5] [T3 Mutations | Basic Apiclaws Lvl. 3 | Streamlined Wings Lvl. 5 | Basic Setae Lvl. 2] [T4 Mutations | Basic Discharge Lvl. 2 | Basic Sonar Lvl. 2 | Basic Underchitin | Basic Chitin] 500P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20] [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20)]
All in all, she¡¯d hopped into around twenty patrol missions the past three weeks. She¡¯d teamed up with the Imperator siblings each and every time. The patrol missions pain decently well, and they were never too zany¡ªnot after that freak copepod attack three weeks ago. All she really had to do was march circles around either Depth One or Depth Two to make sure the commercial divers were safe, and that there weren¡¯t any anomalies around. If an anomaly was spotted by any patrol team, though, they wouldn¡¯t usually engage the bug on the spot. They¡¯d surface, gather information, and then the administrative division in Lighthouse Five would assign an extermination mission for volunteers to jump in on. And extermination missions were where the points were at. Marisol had no idea how frequent extermination missions popped up, but at her insistence, Bruno had snatched up every last one of them they saw on the bulletin board in Lighthouse Seven, so she completed around¡­ Five of them? Six? [Seven.] Seven extermination missions in three weeks. So they weren¡¯t that frequent, but Great Makers, there were tons more types of crustaceans she never even knew existed in the world. Over the past three weeks, she¡¯d fought two C-Rank Giant-Class hermit crabs, three B-Rank Giant-Class giant isopods, four separate clusters of B-Rank Critter-Class krills, and even chased down a B-Rank Giant-Class sea louse that¡¯d attached itself to the underside of a giant trout. That last one took a nasty long time to kill. The fish just wouldn¡¯t stay still, and Marisol had to be the one to skate after it on her glaives because the siblings¡¯ pistol shrimp claws didn¡¯t have that much range. Fortunately, the extermination missions paid very well, and the rewards were always equally divided between the four of them. At the Archive¡¯s advice, she¡¯d even written a card asking Lighthouse Five to just chop up the crustacean meat and send it over to Daniela in the inn, who would then turn the meat into scrumptious meals fit for a king. That was how she¡¯d been getting her points recently, and¡­ How much did I get? [Give or take six hundred points. Considering a third of the Imperator initiates are still in the infirmary, nobody is taking those low-rank extermination missions, so the four of you are all growing much stronger, much faster than the average Imperator.] Six hundred points was quite a lot¡ªor so she thought. In the end, she¡¯d spent five hundred points on the tier four mutation both the Archive and Victor had nagged her to unlock, and while it certainly was going to prove useful underwater¡­ she wished she had more points to put into her attribute and mutation levels. At the very least, her next goal was to get a branch mutation for ¡®Basic Gills¡¯. ¡°... I¡¯ve never tried out the ¡®Basic Sonar¡¯ mutation before, though,¡± she muttered, pulling up the status screen for that mutation as Victor continued dragging her up the street. ¡°I just unlocked it this morning, so I have no idea how it works.¡±
[T4 Core Mutation: Basic Sonar Lvl: 2] [Brief Description: Your lungs have become rippled, allowing you to project your voice underwater with sonar. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from speaking underwater]
¡°So you did actually unlock ¡®Basic Sonar¡¯ like I told you to. I was half-thinking you¡¯d just go and do some other shit with your points instead of getting the bare minimum mutations for underwater missions,¡± Victor muttered, glancing at her status screen before waving it away. ¡°Not bad, then. You¡¯ll be able to talk underwater now, so you¡¯re good to go for Depth Three.¡± ¡°I¡¯m good to go for what?¡± ¡°Depth Three.¡± ¡°I can go down there now?¡± ¡°To begin with, nobody was stopping you and your team from going down there,¡± Victor said, ¡°but Lighthouse Five has completed their investigation of that simultaneous Critter-Class copepod attack from three weeks ago. As I said, it¡¯s already been decided¡ªyou¡¯ll be a part of the Mutant-Class Extermination Mission.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
It¡¯d only been a day since Marisol last stepped foot into a diving bell, so she wasn¡¯t nearly as nervous crawling in now as she was a month ago, knowing there were more than a few familiar faces waiting for her inside. This diving bell wasn¡¯t the one the siblings usually used. It was nearly twice as large as the one she¡¯d been in, and the interior was subsequently furbished to accommodate even more people: four separate rows of padded benches lined the spherical walls, and the round table bolted to the centre of the bell was made from polished dark wood, the surface inlaid with fragments of vibrant corals and sea glass. Additional equipment was secured in proper compartments overhead¡ªcompasses, pressure gauges, and backup weapons of all sorts¡ªwhile the large windows behind every bench offered a panoramic view of the whirlpool all around. There were still gas lanterns hanging from hooks in case of an emergency, of course, but given it was bright and early in the morning, they shouldn¡¯t be lacking in natural lighting even down in Depth Three. Now, each of the four benches could fit three people, and one side was already taken up by the Imperator siblings. Helena and Aidan waved at her with warm smiles as she crawled in, while Bruno offered her a curt nod. On the opposite bench, prim and proper Reina with her water scorpion tail sat with her arms crossed, eyes closed. Her chest was moving so little it seemed like she was focused on deep meditation, so Marisol didn¡¯t quite know how to scoot around her to get on the bench between the two groups. While she stood by the latch for a few moments, someone pushed her from the back and forced her to stumble over the round table, making Reina jerk awake with a flinch. ¡°Marisol Vellamira,¡± Reina muttered, rubbing her eyes groggily as she did. ¡°You are¡­ late.¡± For her part, Marisol only gave the pretty lady an awkward, apologetic nod before whirling around, seeing another man climb into the diving bell while pulling the latch shut. Victor was right outside, waving at all of them and mouthing the words ¡®have fun¡¯ under his breath¡ªor, at least, Marisol thought he was mouthing those words. It was never quite clear with those bandages over his face. ¡°... Settle down now, young lady,¡± the man sealing the latch said, and his voice was steady, silky smooth. She shivered from head to toe as she collapsed onto her bench, facing him directly as he waved back at Victor. ¡°I pity you for having that man as your mentor, but I must admit, he is a decent bug-slayer. If he feels you¡¯re ready for Depth Three, then you¡¯re probably ready to die.¡± As the chains rattled outside and the diving bell lurched, dropping into the whirlpool, the man turned around and sat on the bench by the latch. His six hands were on his lap, and his six pearl-like eyes next to both of his human eyes wore a kind, but distant expression. Like he wasn¡¯t really looking at her. If he weren¡¯t wearing the same white and blue uniform as everyone else, Marisol wouldn¡¯t think him an Imperator at all. She hadn¡¯t met any Imperator who didn¡¯t have a Crustacean Class as of yet. Very clearly, those prickly, spiny six arms of his belonged to that of a Spider Class user. ¡°Uh¡­ who are you again?¡± she asked quietly, his face giving her the shivers once more. ¡°I know Helena, Aidan, Bruno, and I¡¯ve seen Reina around once or twice in Lighthouse Five, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve met you before.¡± The middle-aged man tilted his head and smiled for the first time, a wide, triumphant grin. ¡°I¡¯m the Third Lighthouse Imperator, Hugo, but feel free to just ignore me. I¡¯m only the vice dive leader for this mission, and I won¡¯t be accompanying you all into the depths of Depth Three. Look to the Fifth Lighthouse Imperator instead for your actual dive leader.¡± Three of Hugo¡¯s spider hands thumbed at Reina, who coughed and closed her eyes for a second to compose herself. ¡°As Hugo said, I will be the dive leader for this mission. Pleased to be working with all of you.¡± Then she bowed in her seat, water-refracted sunlight shimmering beautifully against her braided blond hair. ¡°I trust all of you have already been briefed on the details of this mission? If so, then I have no additional details to add. Prepare yourselves physically, mentally, spiritually, and if everything goes well, we will all eat lunch together on the surface in a few hours¡ª¡± ¡°Nope, nope, nope. The old man ain¡¯t told me nothing before dragging me here,¡± Marisol grumbled, crossing her arms and legs. ¡°First of all, what¡¯s a ¡®Lighthouse Imperator¡¯ again? Who are you two?¡± Helena laughed softly, and Bruno had to whack her on the head to get her to be serious. ¡°There are seven divisions within the Harbour Imperators, each headquartered at a different lighthouse surrounding the whirlpool. Lighthouse One Imperators patrol Depths Seven to Eight. Lighthouse Two Imperators patrol Depths Four to Six, and Lighthouse Three Imperators patrol Depths One to Three, while also being the lighthouse responsible for taking care of initiates and new recruits. The three of us are part of Lighthouse Three.¡± ¡°And the Lighthouse Imperators are the strongest humans in the city. The old sods running the divisions,¡± Hugo added, thumbing at himself and chuckling at the mention of Lighthouse Three. ¡°Enough about me, anyways. I¡¯m the background character here. Lighthouse Four is responsible for medical treatment and the recruitment of new Imperators, so they¡¯re also in charge of the Harbour Guards. Lighthouse Five, run by Reina, handles all administrative affairs in the city, while Lighthouse Six¡­ we don¡¯t talk about Lighthouse Six.¡± ¡°Unless you want to die, sir,¡± Bruno chimed in. ¡°Can we get a raise, sir?¡± Aidan piped up. ¡°No. Like I¡¯m not already spending a fortune trying to nurse the fifty injured initiates back to health.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not technically your fortune, sir,¡± Helena said, raising her hand. ¡°It¡¯s the quarterly budget allocated to Lighthouse Three for official duties. If funds have been misappropriated, it¡¯s the duty of us initiates to report to the administrators of Lighthouse Five¡ª¡± The ¡®boss¡¯ grinned as he flicked his hands at the Imperator siblings, tossing wads of sticky webs at their mouths to silence them. At the same time, Reina creased a single brow and glared at Hugo like she was going to kill him for adding to the ruckus, and the pressure inside the bell suddenly shifted, making Marisol¡¯s ears pop. The middle-aged man noticed. He glanced back at his fellow Lighthouse Imperator with a lighthearted chuckle, ripping the webs off the struggling siblings¡¯ faces, but for better or worse, the serious tension in the air had been destroyed just like that. This made the second instance where Marisol was surprised by how easygoing most of the Imperators seemed to be, and she didn¡¯t exactly hate that. So the Seven Lighthouse Imperators are the strongest Imperators in the city? [Six Lighthouse Imperators,] the Archive corrected. [Lighthouse Seven¡ªthe one you have been going in and out of the past two months¡ªis headed by the Harbour Imperatrix himself, and it is the division responsible for liaisons with mainland organisations like the Hasharana. However, you would not be wrong to consider Reina and Hugo as two of the strongest Imperators in the city.] She gave the irritated Reina and chuckling Hugo a long, hard look. They don¡¯t¡­ look like it. [The Lighthouse Imperators are each on par with a Hasharana, which means they are very capable of killing a C-Rank Mutant-Class by themselves,] the Archive said. [For your reference, the wraith shrimp you killed was an F-Rank Mutant-Class, and you did receive considerable help from the Harbour Guards slowing it down and draining its stamina for you. The Lighthouse Imperators, while some of them may be peculiar characters, are not to be trifled with.] She watched, eyes squinted once again, as the siblings started harassing their boss for higher salaries. Sure ain¡¯t look like that to me. It don¡¯t even feel like we¡¯re on a¡ª ¡°According to the preliminary and secondary investigations performed by Lighthouse Five, the simultaneous copepod attack on all Depth One to Three patrol teams last month was not an accident,¡± Reina said, her stern voice cutting loud and clear over the siblings¡¯ prattling. The four Lighthouse Three Imperators immediately sat back down on their benches, fixing their collars and strapping on their gravity harnesses. ¡°The pheromone trails were traced back, and the source of the copepods all appeared to have originated from within Sector Sixteen of Depth Three. We believe a Mutant-Class copepod has emerged after evolving from an S-rank Giant-Class, and is currently lurking with Sector Sixteen.¡± Can copepods even be labelled as Giant-Class? But they were so¡­ tiny. [The copepods you fought a month ago were Critter-Class, but there are bigger ones¡ª] ¡°Given the predicted strength of the Mutant-Class copepod is C-rank, Lighthouse One, Two, Six, and Seven have passed the majority vote to send an extermination team consisting of at least one Lighthouse Imperators down to deal with it,¡± Reina continued, staring daggers into Marisol as the Archive rambled off in her head. The Archive shut up immediately, as though feeling the judgemental pressure as well. ¡°It was decided by the Imperatrix that the two of us would accompany an exceptional group of initiates to form the Mutant-Class Extermination Team. Considering the four of you were the only ones to come out of last month¡¯s coordinated attack relatively unscathed, Lighthouse One and Two were very adamant in making all of you gain practical combat experience against Mutant-Classes.¡± While Marisol strapped on the harness hanging over her head hurriedly, if not only to follow everyone else¡¯s lead, Bruno gave Reina a stern look. ¡°A C-rank Mutant-Class is no joke. If Hugo isn¡¯t going into Depth Three with us, it¡¯ll just be the three of us, Marisol, and you. I know you can probably kill the Mutant-Class alone, but¡ªand I will be frank here¡ªare you sure the four of us won¡¯t be out of our depth fighting alongside you?¡± ¡°That is the point of this team,¡± Reina replied stiffly, her gaze matching his with a silent, appraising assessment. ¡°Lighthouse Two is low on manpower, so if the three of you perform well on this mission, your promotion from Lighthouse Three initiate to Lighthouse Two adept will be considered by the appropriate lady. Now, as your dive leader, I am still the vanguard, so you have nothing to worry about. I will protect you, and we will complete this extermination mission without fail.¡± And Marisol wasn¡¯t worried. Reina spoke with such elegance, such conviction, that there seemed like there was no room for anyone to argue otherwise. The siblings sighed simultaneous breaths of reliefs, and only Hugo chuckled a bit as he mimicked the way Reina said that final line¡ªwhich Marisol thought was very, very cool. She wished she could say something like that with as much conviction as Reina just did. ¡°... Of course, our target is located within Depth Three, so just follow the usual safety procedures,¡± Reina started, raising three fingers as the diving bell suddenly jerked to a halt, making Marisol lurch forward. ¡°Do not remove Hugo¡¯s tether, do not take off your harness, and under no circumstances are you allowed to stray more than ten metres away from me. This is a Mutant-Class Extermination Mission. There is no need to collect research samples. Is that understood?¡± ¡°Clear,¡± Bruno said, tightening his harness as Hugo stood, four arms turning the latch. ¡°Got it,¡± Aidan said, shooting Reina a thumbs-up as Hugo¡¯s remaining arms flicked silk threads at the back of all of their harnesses. ¡°Understood,¡± Helena said, as Marisol fumbled for the box of skyball corals overhead. ¡°Good. If there are no further questions, the allotted mission duration is two hours,¡± Reina said, curling her scorpion tail around the box of candies and pulling it down into Marisol¡¯s arms. Then the lady nodded at her, making her frown; she wondered all over again if she was actually disliked or not. ¡°Once the time limit is up, Hugo will yank us back with his silk threads regardless of whether or not we have slain the Mutant-Class. While I would say we do not exactly have to slay the Mutant-Class by today¡­ I would rather save myself the trouble of having to schedule another dive. Who likes paperwork, anyways?¡± The rest of them blinked at what appeared to be Reina¡¯s best attempt at a lighthearted, tension-diffusing joke, so Reina quickly recovered with a cough before nodding at Hugo. ¡°Drop us down to Depth Three.¡± And just as Marisol managed to pop a skyball coral into her mouth, Hugo kicked the latch open and moved out of the way as he did. Their gravity harnesses dragged the five of them out onto the walls of the whirlpool once again. Chapter 57 - Kelp Caverns It was ¡®down, down, and down¡¯ again, Marisol¡¯s gravity harness dragging her to the walls of the whirlpool as she pinched her nose and quickly huffed out a blubbering of bubbles¡ªby the time she landed, glaives stabbing into the ground of pale stone, her body had already acclimated to the pressure at the edge of Depth Two. Because there was nothing on the surface of Depth Three. Is this it? Depth Three? Squinting, staying on one knee, she surveyed the thousand-metre stretch in front of her and looked as far as she could see. The Tropical Reef of Depth Two behind her was as vibrant and teeming with life as ever, and Depth Four, in the far, blurry distance, appeared to be a land of canyons with mountains of stone jutting out from the ground, but¡­ between the two, Depth Three was nothing but an empty, barren plain of rocks, a few dead corals, and a few wilting shrubs swaying in the gentle undercurrents. It wasn¡¯t just the stretch of Depth Three in front of her that was barren. Looking up and around the circular walls of the whirlpool, Depth Three was just an entire ring of nothing. It was as if someone had plucked out all the giant corals and weeds and shells from the Tropical Reef and didn¡¯t bother reseeding the land for future harvests. Quite frankly, she was disappointed at how boring Depth Three looked¡ªand that was, until Reina and the Imperator siblings trudged past her, tapping her on the shoulder and telling her to look down at her feet. Holes. Lots of holes. Scattered across the barren surface, faintly glowing cave entrances dotted the land like strange, bioluminescent honeycombs, and Marisol took a sliding step backwards out of caution. Each one seemed to breathe faintly, underwater currents pushing in and pulling out of the caves as if they were alive. Definitely unsettling, but intriguing all the same. Curious, she followed after the Imperators and peered down the closest hole they were gathered around. The phosphorescent bluish-pink light came from glowing crystals embedded in the vast cavern walls. The cave itself wasn¡¯t particularly narrow or cramped, either. There was enough space for everyone to move around comfortably, so she didn¡¯t feel claustrophobic just looking down at it. As for how deep, how long, and where the cave connected to¡­ she had no idea. The bottom of the cave was fifty metres below, but she could tell the walls opened up down there, so there was probably an entire web of caverns just below the surface. ¡°... Welcome to Depth Three, the Crystal Kelp Caverns,¡± Helena said, glancing at her as the Imperators each whipped their hands up, catching silk threads flying at their heads without even looking. Marisol caught hers instinctively as well, but it wasn¡¯t until she turned, looked up, and saw Hugo waving down at them from the side of the diving bell that she realised it belonged to him. ¡°You just stick Hugo¡¯s thread onto the back of your harness. It won¡¯t snap unless something really powerful comes in contact with it, so he¡¯ll be able to yank us out from the winding caverns if we need to abort the mission at the drop of a hat.¡± Seeing everyone just slap the ends of their threads onto their backs, Marisol did the same, giving it a good few pats just to make sure it was secure. ¡°I thought¡­ well, I thought Depth Three was just like another Tropical Reef. You¡¯re telling me we have to fight down in these tunnels?¡± ¡°The Crystal Kelp Caverns may be buried beneath the walls of the whirlpool, but they are no less a ¡®Depth¡¯ that the Imperators must regularly patrol and keep tabs on,¡± Reina said curtly, fixing her braid into a bun as she did. ¡°I will remind you all that the allotted mission duration is two hours. I will attempt to follow its pheromone trail based on the extract the scouts let me smell prior to the mission, but whether we find and slay the Mutant-Class or not, we will not be staying within the caverns for any longer than that. Is that understood?¡± The Imperator siblings saluted with a loud ¡°clear!¡± and stepped up to the edge of the hole, rubbing the shell on their pistol shrimp claws. Reina stepped up as well, giving Marisol a plain nod before walking off the edge¡ªand the siblings followed without hesitation, their silk threads following them down the cave. For her part, Marisol turned back and looked up at Hugo again, watching him extend the threads continuously by pulling more silk from out between his gritted teeth. ¡®Go along, now¡¯ seemed to be what he was telling her with his slanted, amused spider eyes. She wasn¡¯t exactly sure why she was so worried about the whole mission, but she couldn¡¯t very well lag behind now. Taking the plunge, she let her gravity harness drag her even further down, and she made sure not to sink too fast and scrape herself on the sharp, glowing crystals. Fifty metres was a long way down, but she managed to land safely on two glaives, kicking up a small poof of sand and silt as she did. Reina and the Imperator siblings were already waiting for her, and without another word, they began heading down one of the caverns leading away from the overhead chute. So this is Sector Sixteen of the Crystal Kelp Caverns, huh? [Correct.] How many sectors are there in Depth Three? [Three hundred and sixty across the entire Depth,] the Archive answered. [For your reference, each sector simply refers to the ¡®degree¡¯ of the perfectly circular walls of the whirlpool. There are three hundred and sixty degrees in a circle, so Sector Sixteen of any Depth just means it is located sixteen degrees going clockwise, with Lighthouse Seven serving as the sun-facing zeroth degree.] Huh? [... Did you not say you went to school?]Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. For a while. I aced all my tests back then, but I dropped out early so I could work. The Archive sighed, and she resisted the urge to flick it off her shoulder. [Then the explanation is meaningless. Just know that these caverns spread out across the entirety of Depth Three, so please do not separate from the Imperators. If your thread is severed and you lose yourself down here, even I am not confident I can guide you back to the surface.] Marisol could definitely see why. Past the glowing kelp stalks, the phosphorescent crystals jutting out the walls, and the vibrant anemones dotting the ground in grassy, mossy chunks, there were dozens and hundreds of forks she could easily hurtle herself down¡ªand she could already see a thousand different things that could kill her without her even knowing they were dangerous. Thin, ghostly eels weaved between their feet. Clusters of tiny Critter-Class shrimp scuttled around the cracks and crevices of the walls. Some flowers were star-shaped with petals that curled back like meat hooks, and a few anemones released faint mist when she stepped on them, creating faint halos of light around each bloom. She¡¯d definitely kill herself if she got lost down here. ¡°The Crystal Kelp Caverns are still considered ¡®safe¡¯ by the Imperators¡¯ standards,¡± Helena said, throwing a glance back at her as she kept looking around, studying the mineralised flora with widened eyes. ¡°Commercial diving companies are allowed to dive down here and harvest the local resources, and these caverns, in particular, are especially important to powering most of the city¡¯s infrastructure.¡± Then Helene tilted her head at one of the glowing bluish-pink crystal chunks, ripping a small piece off with her claw as they walked by. ¡°You¡¯ve seen one of these around the city, right?¡± Marisol blinked back in response before focusing on her throat. ¡°Uh¡­ no,¡± she mumbled, and ¡®Basic Sonar¡¯ made her voice come out almost perfectly clear. Her words still warbled and slurred a little, but she¡¯d get better at talking underwater eventually. ¡°I¡­ haven¡¯t really gone out into the city the past month. Are these crystals supposed to be common or something?¡± Aidan and Bruno looked back at her strangely. ¡°Seriously?¡± Aidan exclaimed. ¡°The street lamps, warships, and countless other machines in the city all use encrystals as their power source,¡± Bruno said steadily, plucking another small chunk off the wall as they turned right down a crossroads. ¡°Though, I¡¯m not surprised you don¡¯t know about them. Realistically, they can only function as a light-based power source in the Deepwater Legion Front. They lose their innate heat and glow if they¡¯re away from the deep blue for too long, so they¡¯re unwieldy to transport and store anywhere else on the continent.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Thinking back on it, she¡¯d never actually thought about how the city¡¯s lamps and lanterns were kept perpetually lit even without people performing maintenance every few hours or so. There was a reason why nights were dark in the Luzde Oasis Town where she came from¡ªit was just too much of a hassle to have someone feed the braziers all-night long. ¡°So¡­ the ¡®encrystals¡¯ don¡¯t gotta be replaced ever?¡± she asked, looking at the crystals with newfound light in her eyes. ¡°That ain¡¯t bad at all. My mama would love something like that¡ª¡± ¡°They¡¯ll glow forever as long as they¡¯re in the Deepwater Legion Front,¡± Bruno explained. ¡°They¡¯ve been growing in the Kelp Crystal Caverns for several decades now, but the encrystals are by-products created by Corpsetaker''s bioarcanic essence, so they glow only when they''re close to him." Marisol tugged at the glowing crystal on her chest, pulling on the straps of her harness. ¡°And these gravity harnesses are powered by encrystals as well?¡± ¡°No. These ones are slightly different. The gravity-controlling crystals are forged with a bunch of different parts, but the most important part would have to be Venossa¡¯s scales¡ªa Damsefly God that used to live near the city, in the Dead Island Straits. The bioarcanic essence from the scales on its wings have low-gravity properties.¡± The Archive poked her cheek as though trying to jog her memory, but she remembered that archipelago too dearly. This ¡®Venossa¡¯ was the one you said the Worm God and the Thousand Tongue killed, right? It was killed so violently its parts were scattered across the great blue? [Correct.] ¡°You guys are really good at making stuff out of bug parts, then,¡± she mumbled. ¡°But if Corpsetaker dies, the encrystals ain¡¯t gonna function anymore, right? Because he ain¡¯t gonna release his bioarcanic essence anymore, and then¡ª¡± ¡°Well, yes,¡± Bruno said pointedly. ¡°But if Corpsetaker dies, there is no more reason for the Whirlpool City to exist.¡± Marisol¡¯s lips thinned into a line as they travelled deeper and deeper into the caverns, her face a little forlorn. The thought that the entire city was built just to contain a single bug¡ªa Greater Insect God¡ªwas both frightening and saddening. So the entire city will just crumble on itself the moment Corpsetaker is defeated? [Correct.] Everything they¡¯ve built here¡ªthe lighthouses, the upper city, the lower city, the diving companies, the harbours, the warships¡ªwill just cease to function the moment he¡¯s killed? [Correct.] The decades of research and cataloguing every single Depth of the whirlpool will just become completely useless? [If Corpsetaker is slain, the Deepwater Legion Front wins,] the Archive murmured. [It is the same for the other Swarmsteel Fronts. Not a single Greater Insect God has fallen in nearly an entire century. If Corpsetaker is slain, I am sure everyone in the Whirlpool City would be more than happy to return ashore¡ªthat is where their ancestors came from, after all.] Suddenly, her task of having to reach Depth Nine didn¡¯t sound so easy anymore. But before she could even think about the Greater Insect God who resided at the very bottom of the abyss, she had to deal with the Mutant-Classes in front of her first¡ªand she knew, the second all five of them stepped foot into a vast cavern where glowing crystals were the ground, walls, and ceiling, that it was a Mutant-Class behind the coordinated copepod attack a month ago. A scowl twisted Reina¡¯s face as she flicked her scorpion tail out to the side, stopping the rest of them from walking any further. The cavern may be incredibly spacious with lots of room for them to scatter wherever which way, but the fact was, the Mutant-Class with four arms, two legs, and half-transparent orange chitin was curled up in a completely defensive little ball in the centre of the cavern. It was facing away from them, and it didn¡¯t even seem like it¡¯d noticed them intruding upon its abode. Marisol couldn¡¯t help but clench her jaw and shiver in the face of another Mutant. Its aura was colourless, but it was thick, heavy, and powerful, every bit like the Mutant-Class wraith shrimp she''d fought before. Apparently, the Imperators were trained not to feel such fear. When Reina snapped her fingers almost casually, the Imperator siblings pressed their pistol shrimp claws together and clicked at once, sending a resonating shockwave towards the Mutant. The wave tore a straight line through the small crystals on the ground, but without even looking, the Mutant whipped an arm back and made a clawing motion. Half a second later, a swarm of tiny copepods burst from the ground like a living root, moving in the exact same direction as its claws to intercept the sound wave. Then, and only then, did the Mutant snap its own neck to crane its head backwards¡ªtwo bulbous white eyes boring holes into Marisol¡¯s face. ¡°... Time: Ten fifty-two in the morning, day one of Month Cicada,¡± Reina said plainly, the Imperator siblings fanning out to her sides as she reared her scorpion tail behind her like a blade. ¡°C-rank Mutant-Class copepod location confirmed and encountered in Sector Sixteen, Depth Three. Commencing immediate and aggressive extermination. I do not want more paperwork from rescheduling another mission.¡±
[Objective #21: Defeat the C-Rank Mutant-Class Redbloom Copepod] [Time Limit: 10 minutes] [Reward: 2,000 points] [Failure: Death] Chapter 58 - Mutant Copepod Marisol didn¡¯t know what to expect from an underwater Mutant-Class Extermination Mission, but it definitely wasn¡¯t this.
[Identification Complete] [Common Name: Redbloom Copepod] [Grade: C-Rank Mutant-Class] [Swarmblood Art: Morphing Shoal] [Aura: ~14,000] [Strength: ~9, Speed: ~6, Toughness: ~6, Dexterity: ~14, Perception: ~8] [Brief Description: Slender, double-segmented, and clustered. Redbloom copepods are deep sea crustaceans distinguished by their light-producing glands. They emit striking bioluminescence used primarily for predator evasion through distraction and counter-illumination. Their antennae are also prominent and feathered, aiding in both propulsion and sensing changes in their environment as they move through the sea, but when they are gathered in numerous clumps and clusters, they become highly aggressive. Their Swarmblood Art is ¡®Morphing Shoal¡¯, which allows them to summon and control any Critter-Class copepod in the vicinity with their bioarcanic essence]
The Mutant unfurled to its full height, only as tall as she was, and lashed out with four claws in their direction. A dozen living roots made of a thousand glowing, pulsing copepods each burst from the crystallised ground, burrowing and snaking towards them. The Imperator siblings each returned four-round fire bursts, carving the swathe of roots away into misty clouds of critter blood. In the same motion, Reina exhaled steadily before pivoting where she stood, whipping her scorpion tail in an upwards cleave, and Marisol watched her send a blade of screaming water back at the Mutant, forcing it to leap away with a bubbly screech. All hell finally broke loose. [Pay attention.] [Its Swarmblood Art is Morphing Shoal: the biomagic to summon and command copepods with its bioarcanic essence. The constructs it can create with its copepods are nothing like the ones you fought a month ago¡ª] The crystals around the cavern trembled as ten, twenty, thirty more copepod roots darted at them, and there was no sticking together this time. The Imperator siblings darted to the left, firing sound waves in rapid volleys, while Reina advanced slowly forward with one arm behind her back, her scorpion tail flicking around her like a flail or a protective barrier. Marisol, on the other hand, had no such interception abilities. When she felt half a dozen roots about to impale her from below, she dashed. Fast. Speeding off to the right, glaives tearing through ground, she grimaced back at the copepod roots nibbling on and devouring the crystals she¡¯d been standing on just moments ago. They¡¯re¡­ eating the crystals? Are they drawing strength from them? Her eyes darkened as the roots behind her started bulging, each individual copepod doubling in size. It was just a ¡®her¡¯ thing she had to deal with. The Imperator siblings could destroy the roots directly, and so could Reina, but when more oversized roots started chasing after her, the only thing she could do was run¡ªbut was that the only thing she could do? Fearless! A Sand-Dancer lives on the very edge all the time! The Mutant at the very back of the cavern was playing tactician. It was doing nothing more than conducting its orchestra of roots by waving its hands around, lolling its head left and right as though listening to an unheard rhythm, but she was on the run from the roots anyways. Why not bring them back to it? Leaning dangerously forward, clenching every muscle in her body, she swerved around the edges of the cavern before swerving straight for the Mutant, making its head snap towards her. She darted in, thirty metres away, and launched off the ground twenty metres in. Don¡¯t fear the spin! The copepods behind her lost focus and broke up as the Mutant was forced to stop its conducting for a moment, because her War Jump could¡¯ve cleaved its head right off if it hadn¡¯t ducked, sinking so low its stomach almost pressed flat against the ground. Screeching to a halt on the other side of the cavern, she clicked her tongue in irritation. The old man¡¯s right. It was as slippery as the Highwind Doll she¡¯d been training against the past month, maybe even more so¡ªthat was eight spins in a single War Jump, but the Mutant dodged it like a run-of-the-mill attack. ¡­ Again! While the Imperator siblings battled and distracted the vast majority of the roots coming after her, she moved in. Lightning threatened to spill from between the chitin plates on her glaives as she twirled, spun, kicked, and capered her way through flurries of attacks. Discharge allowed her to eject water for propulsion, increasing speed, but¡­ her kicks were too wild. Too much strength, too little control. She still hadn¡¯t figured out how to safely activate her Art underwater without electrocuting herself, so she couldn¡¯t just get a speed and strength boost from activating it. She was wasting her strength right now. One of her kicks impacted with the Mutant¡¯s arm and severed it like paper, but the victory was short-lasted. She barely even had time to grin before a swarm of copepods gathered around its arm, biting and linking up with each other until they turned into a functioning arm of their own. Wait. It can regenerate like that¡ª And it would¡¯ve ripped her jaw off with an uppercut slash if her month of reaction speed training with the old man hadn¡¯t kicked in, her whole body lurching backwards with a sudden, painful jolt. Her glaives screeched against the crystal ground. She licked her lips and tasted blood¡ªshe¡¯d not completely dodged its claws¡ªbut now the Mutant wanted more, thousands of copepods gathering around its legs and pushing it out like it was standing on springs. It rushed her with a maddened frenzy. She was ready to dodge, duck, and twirl backwards, and she could slap some of its slashes and punches away with her glaives and apiclaws¡ªbut she struggled to hold it back. Her counterattacks all missed. It¡¯d completely switched gears from fighting at range to fighting at uncomfortably close quarters, and while the latter should be her range of expertise, there was such a thing as too close. She couldn¡¯t catch a breath. I can see its attack coming and not die, but that ain¡¯t the same as beating it! [It is slippery, yes. As Victor Morina told you.] Then what do I¡ª [What else did he tell you about slippery opponents?] Blank-faced, the Mutant lashed out and grabbed her face with a massive copepod-formed claw. It completely blindsided her, and she kicked off its chest with both glaives, backflipping away from it. It dashed back in and grabbed her glaive mid-air with minimal effort. Shit! And as it pivoted, trying to slam her into the ground, Reina¡¯s scorpion tail severed its arm from several strides away. She was still being slammed, just not as hard, and not nearly as deadly. She cried out in pain as she hit the ground shoulder first, crystals biting deep into her right arm and shoulder. Without missing a beat, though, she pressed her palms to the ground and twirled upside-down, performing the Whirlwind Spin with her glaives. That forced it to flutter back, swimming slowly up into the centre of the cavern, and Marisol flipped back onto her feet with pained, rasping exhales. Her knees buckled and forced her to take a knee, accidentally gasping and choking on water. Ow. My right arm. It¡¯s¡­ it ain¡¯t broken, ain¡¯t it¡ª ¡°Eat,¡± Reina said plainly, shoving a skyball coral between her exhales before slapping her forehead so she¡¯d swallow. ¡°Flush out the pressure. The faster you move, the more energy you expend, and the heavier your body becomes. Do not break away from me next time.¡± As the Imperator siblings sprinted over to them, the copepod root attacks ceasing for a short moment, Marisol coughed bubbles and glared at the dive leader. ¡°It was attacking us from twenty different directions. Maybe you guys can defend yourselves by standing your ground, but I can¡¯t. I¡¯m a water strider. I have to skate away if I wanna defend myself, and I have to be fast if I wanna fight¡ª¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Then fight as you wish,¡± Reina said, glaring back, ¡°and leave the defence to us.¡± As a puzzled frown crossed Marisol¡¯s face, the crystals in the cavern darkened. Flickered. An unsettling shiver creeped down her spine as she watched six, eight, ten thousand copepods eating through the walls, gathering to form a single copepod root growing out of the ground and towards the hovering Mutant. It was thicker than any root before it. It was sharper, heavier, and brighter than any root before it. It wasn¡¯t a root at this point. It was a solid, squirming pillar of pulsing red biomass, and she could hardly think of anything or anyone that could withstand its weight. The Mutant tilted its head back and furled its lips, sneering at them as it reared all four fists back and punched forward. The giant pillar of ten thousand copepods heeded its command and thundered down on them. Marisol braced her head instinctively, squeezing her eyes shut in a moment of fear¡ªbut that was wholly unnecessary. Reina exhaled and stabbed up at the pillar, piercing the biomass head-on, and she barked an order at the Imperator siblings¡ª¡°fire¡±¡ªto have them whip out a resonating shockwave. This wave didn¡¯t hit the pillar head-on. It hit Reina¡¯s back, made the elegant lady buckle for a moment, but then it travelled along the length of her tail and made it vibrate. Her tail became a blurry spear and a thrumming blade, and with a casual, almost nonchalant spin to look back at Marisol, her tail destroyed the entire pillar of copepods in a single swipe. ¡°I was told you worked brilliantly with the Harbour Guards to dispatch the giant remipede,¡± Reina said, face steady, eyes sharp as daggers. ¡°I do not know why you fight like the rest of us do not exist, but I am your dive leader, so I will protect you. Now, has my uncle taught you how to deal with evasive opponents underwater?¡± ... Marisol laughed and nodded softly as the Mutant blinked in confusion, sinking back to the ground as it wondered where its copepods just went. ¡°Good,¡± Reina said, whirling back around to face the Mutant. ¡°Then return to formation. Helena, Aidan, you intercept any roots flying at our backs. Bruno, take care of the bigger ones for your younger siblings. The Storm Strider and I will slow it down and seal off its movements so we can all deal the finishing blow to its heart.¡± The Imperator siblings responded with a boisterous ¡°understood!¡± as they snapped back into their triangle formation, and Helena nudged Marisol¡¯s back with a gentle knee, sending her a confident smile. Marisol smiled back. Right. We¡¯re a team. The cavern¡¯s crystals trembled again as the Mutant summoned even more copepods from the ground with a deafening screech. This time, Marisol skated forth with reckless abandon, trusting the siblings to shoot down the roots charging at her, and that they did with extreme precision, opening up a straight path towards the Mutant. Reina followed her, taking slow, meandering steps in stark contrast to her speed, but¡­ that was part of the plan. She crossed her arms over her torso, spun, and leapt into a War Jump. The Mutant¡¯s antennae twitched. It couldn¡¯t summon copepods quickly enough to form a wall between them, so it had to evade. But right before her glaive could reach its head, she ejected sprays of water in front of her, decelerating, jerking herself to a halt mid-air. She froze, hovering her glaives mere inches from its face. The Mutant blinked. She didn¡¯t. Half a second later, she jerked out of the way as Reina¡¯s tail stabbed through where she¡¯d been standing, gouging one of the Mutant¡¯s eyes. It didn¡¯t see that attack coming. Screeching, stumbling back in pain, it slammed all four hands on the ground and summoned more copepod spikes from the ground. Those the siblings couldn¡¯t blast apart in time, Marisol jumped and kicked off, dashing between the spikes at breakneck speed before she¡¯d circled around to the Mutant¡¯s back. Then she leapt in again, forcing it to whirl and respond to her movement¡ªand then she stopped before committing to the full kick again, discharging water to decelerate, hovering her glaive just a single inch before its neck. It froze in place again, as though waiting for her to finish her kick just so it could evade at the last possible second. ¡°¡­ To El Borde Vellamira, Marisol, my little girl.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re reading this, it must be at least¡­ what? Four months? Five months since you left?¡± ¡°You¡¯re probably in the Whirlpool City right now, aren¡¯t you? Have you already met your fair share of arrogant, headstrong bullies who think they can push you around just because you¡¯re an outsider? The people of the Whirlpool City can be like that sometimes. It may not be the most violent capital city amongst the Six Swarmsteel Fronts, but when you live every single day in fear your house would sink and be swallowed by the abyss¡­ well, people tend to be on edge all the time. Not to be confused with living ¡®on¡¯ the edge, of course.¡± "And sometimes, there will be unwanted people in the audience. People who disrupt you. People who try to trip you up. They will do everything in their power to make your day worse, and the worst thing is, you cannot just kick them without frightening the other people in the audience who are here to support you with everything they have." "You may find these people incredibly difficult to deal with, but have no fear, my little girl.¡± ¡°Bullies are only bullies. They may criticise you with words, they may look down on you, and they may push you around like you¡¯re some doll to play with, but they are living beings just like you¡ªand if even you, my brave little girl, can feel fear at times, what is to say they cannot be made to feel fear as well?¡± ¡°They¡¯re not enemies to be killed with the War Jump, no.¡± ¡°I call this technique the ¡®Homeward Pause¡¯.¡± She didn¡¯t move. The Mutant didn¡¯t move. They stared each other in the eye for a good fraction of a second¡ªand she could practically hear the thoughts trying to move inside its head, wondering why she wasn''t kicking so it could evade last second¡ªbut then Reina stepped in slowly with another slash, cutting off one of its arms. It was forced to dash back. Marisol followed again, speeding up to its face, kicking out at its waist¡ªthen pause. Hovering her glaive an inch before contact. Reina slashed again, severing another arm, and they pressed on. Refusing to give it regeneration time. ¡°This isn¡¯t so much a ¡®new¡¯ technique as it is a variation of how you can end the War Jump. A feint technique. Right before your kick lands, simply clench all your muscles, stop your breathing, and hover your leg a fraction of an inch before their face¡ªbut don¡¯t touch them. You absolutely cannot touch them. You hit them, it¡¯s your fault. The Harbour Guards won¡¯t care who started it. They¡¯ll come and lock you up for assault.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°You put the fear of a Sand-Dancer¡¯s kicks in their heart, and you stare them in the eye for as long as you can stop yourself from blinking.¡± ¡°You say nothing.¡± ¡°You do nothing.¡± ¡°You tell them to go home where the Sand-Dancer cannot reach, and I promise you there¡¯ll be a lot more soiled pants that night out at the bar than when the day started.¡± ¡°... But don¡¯t come back with a drinking addiction, now.¡± ¡°I know the wine selection in the Whirlpool City can be very addicting, so just don¡¯t. I¡¯m throwing you out if you come back with a bottle of wine instead of my vial of healing seawater.¡± Marisol smiled to herself as she repeated the process over and over¡ªkicking rapidly, missing most of her attacks rapidly, then pausing right before she could land a kick to make the Mutant freeze up in confusion, not knowing whether to dodge or not. Then Reina would come in with an attack so slow it could barely perceive, and that attack would land. [The Mutant-Class is used to your speed. It knows how fast you can go and it knows how to evade all of your attacks last second, but if you suddenly decelerate and feint your kicks every once in a while, changing up your pattern, it will freeze up for the briefest of moments because it does not know how to react.] [Take the initiative. Create your own pattern for it to observe, study and adapt to¡ªthen disrupt your own pattern to give it a fright.] [That is the opening.] ¡®Confuse them with distracting tricks¡¯. [¡®Grind the dumbasses down¡¯,] the Archive finished. [Victor Morina is correct. You are human, and they are merely human-like forms. Mutant-Classes have yet to become truly intelligent creatures. They may be faster and stronger than you, yes, but that gap in power can be overcome with a bit of creativity and a bit of human trickery.] Ten more kicks. Ten more evades from the Mutant. With one final kick aimed at its chest, Marisol grinned and bared her teeth at the Mutant¡ªthen she feinted her kick with discharge at the last second, and she savoured the blank, befuddled look on its face as it failed to notice Reina stabbing out its heart from behind. Just for good measure, Reina lifted the Mutant up into the air and waved at Marisol to get down. She did, and immediately, the Mutant was blasted with volleys of pistol shrimp shockwaves from afar, snapping every appendage and breaking every chitin plate across its body. By the time Reina slammed it back down, the Mutant was already disfigured, lifeless, and lightless. Its half-transparent chitin lost its already dull orange hues. If it had any more regeneration tricks to show off with its copepods, it¡¯d be using them now. But it didn¡¯t. [... And of course, a bit of teamwork as well.]
[Objective #21 Completed: Defeat the C-Rank Mutant-Class Redbloom Copepod] [Reward: 2,000 points] [Grade: F-Rank Mutant-Class ¡ú E-Rank Mutant-Class]
Sighing a breath of relief, Marisol stumbled back and tripped on a crystal shard, landing hard and painful on her rear. The Imperator siblings laughed as they trudged forward to high-five each other, and when they got to Reina¡­ well, they didn¡¯t even try. But even the prim and proper lady had a small smile curling the corners of her lips as she surveyed the rest of the cavern, watching the remaining copepods disperse and scurry on back to their small cluster abodes. Without a Mutant-Class to coordinate them, they were just normal Critters-Class bugs an Imperator patrol could easily deal with. Mission successful. They¡¯d won. ¡°... Time: Ten fifty-nine in the morning, day one of Month Cicada,¡± Reina said, her voice wavering and warbling a little as Helena and Aidan grabbed her shoulders, shaking her left and right in cheery celebration. ¡°C-rank Mutant-Class copepod encountered and defeated in Sector Sixteen, Depth Three. Beginning extraction from the Crystal Kelp Caverns. Bruno, Aidan¡ªstop shaking me for a moment¡ªgo and carry the Mutant-Class carcass with us. Lighthouse Four will want to dissect it and figure out why this particular Mutant-Class was so powerful¡ª¡± ¡°And here ¡®ah thought ¡®ah could get all of ye without havin¡¯ to show myself.¡± The small hydrospines on Marisol¡¯s nape lifted, and all of them whirled at once, pincers and tail and apiclaws sharpened. None of them had felt it. Marisol¡¯s reaction speed training hadn¡¯t prepared her for this. But the half-destroyed body of the Mutant-Class copepod¡ªwhich, by no means, was in any condition to move¡ªslowly floated onto its feet, and in the gaping wounds across its body where Reina had hacked and slashed and stabbed through, there were dozens upon hundreds of writhing barnacles. Each barnacle had an eerie human eye, and they all blinked, none in sync, as the Mutant-Class copepod¡¯s head popped off only to be replaced by a young man¡¯s head. His head had the shape and proportions of a human¡¯s, but every detail was formed from tightly clustered barnacles. A textured surface of a hundred overlapped shells. His flowing locks of hair were coral-like fibres. His ears were hollowed ear-shaped barnacles. His eyes sat deep in their sockets, round and stark white without pupils, and when his slit for a mouth parted¡ªseveral glowing thread-like hairs stuck out in place of a single tongue, vibrating as it let out a contented sigh. Marisol''s limbs locked up. Its killing pressure was like nothing she''d ever felt before. [... Prepare to¡ª] ¡°Prepare to evacuate,¡± Reina whispered, her voice tight as she slowly pushed the rest of them back with her scorpion tail, lips quivering. ¡°That is Rhizocapala, weakest of the Four Leviathans¡ªthe Barnacle God born of the Deepwater Legion Front.¡± Chapter 59 - Barnacle God Marisol clenched her jaw as Rhizocapala popped out of the dead Mutant-Class copepod¡¯s carcass like he¡¯d been wearing it as a second skin. He may be man-shaped with two arms and two legs, but his entire body was built with a hundred writhing shell-like barnacles, their eyes opening and closing lazily as they tasted the water. His head was disturbingly human, though slightly off. He had hair, a nose, two ears, two eyes, and a mouth, but that was the extent of his mimicry. Like the rest of his body, every part of his facial features was made out of a thousand tiny cluttered barnacles taking different shapes, different forms, and when he spoke¡ªhis warbling, rippling voice didn¡¯t come from his mouth. All of his barnacles spoke at the exact same time, and it wasn¡¯t just Marisol. He was everything a human wasn¡¯t, so heartbeats thundered in the ears of every human in the cavern, ribs crushing lungs, cold slithering through guts. It was unavoidable, really. They faced the killing pressure of a Barnacle God.
[Identification Complete] [Name: Rhizocapala] [Grade: F-Rank Warform Barnacle God] [Swarmblood Art: Shellblight Bloom] [Aura: ~50,000] [Strength: ~12, Speed: ~10, Toughness: ~10, Dexterity: ~14, Perception: ~16] [Brief Description: First observed as a Critter-Class barnacle in Year Sixty-Four, he evolved into a Mutant-Class after consuming the flesh of an Insect God known as ''Venossa'', who was defeated by the Worm God and the Thousand Tongue. His attacks as a Mutant-Class began with northeastern fishing villages, eventually leading to his overtaking of Port Amorasa''s fleet in less than a day. Attempts to halt his spread across the Deepwater Legion Front with conventional forces failed, with entire battalions¡ªestimated 6,239 Harbour Guards in total¡ªfalling victim, their bodies encrusted and immobile in parasitic barnacle shells. In Year Seventy, he was finally cornered and trapped in the whirlpool alongside Corpsetaker and the other Four Leviathans by the Worm God, where he remains to this day. His Swarmblood Art is ¡®Shellblight Bloom¡¯, which allows him to spawn barnacles on any surface his bioarcanic blood touches, and his barnacles can shift between three forms: close-ranged jaw-chomping form, medium-ranged tendril-grabbing form, and long-ranged spine-shooting form]
¡°... One, two, three, four water bugs,¡± he mumbled, counting their heads as he pointed at each of them with a clawed finger. His eyes lingered on Marisol¡¯s for a bit longer, making her core shiver. ¡°And¡­ a strider. Ah. Under the tutelage of that man? ¡®Ah can see why the copepod lost. Mind, ¡®ah wasn¡¯t even half-focusin¡¯ on the fight when ye woke me up¡ªah¡¯d thought the copepod could beat ye even without my interference¡ªbut ah¡¯ve seem to come out to a pretty interestin¡¯ bunch, don¡¯t ye say?¡± Marisol blinked. He was talkative. A bug was speaking in a human tongue. [One of the main distinctions between a Mutant-Class and an Insect God is their ability to speak,] the Archive said, voice tight and urgent. [Do not listen to it. Focus. I am dampening your natural fear response to its killing pressure as much as I can, and the five of your auras combined are somewhat preventing you from clamming up completely, but at Reina¡¯s command, you must evacuate immediately¡ª] The water in the cavern flashed white as Rhizocapala leapt at them, bowling straight at Marisol with a cannon-shaped arm made out of barnacles. Water swirled and churned around the tip of his arm-cannon, and just being the target of his gaze seemed to siphon vitality from her body, sapping her strength, making her lethargic. She twitched an eye and raised her apiclaws to block, but that was all she could do to defend herself. ¡­. Move. Move. Y-You gotta move, Marisol. That ain¡¯t¡­ you can¡¯t block that¡ª Reina moved nimbly, her cape fluttering behind her as she yanked Marisol out of the way before counterslashing with her scorpion tail. Rhizocapala¡¯s cannon arm shattered into a hundred clattering barnacles as she cleaved through it like butter, making him hum in delight. He didn¡¯t stop his advance. The shattered barnacles swirled back in to reform his arm as if he¡¯d taken no damage at all, but now he¡¯d slipped past Reina¡¯s tail, standing right between the five of them as he pressed the tip of his cannon down at Marisol¡¯s skull. ¡°Yer fast, water scorpion girl, but ye ain¡¯t the one,¡± he said, a wicked grin parting his lips as his barnacle-made face practically split in half. ¡°Yer the one we have to kill. Yer the one with that¡­ oh, what do ye humans call those little things again? An... an ¡®Archive¡¯? An artificial clone of the Worm God in yer heads? ¡°That won¡¯t do. ¡°Ye ain¡¯t disturbin¡¯ my king while he works¡ª¡± Storm Glaives! Lightning crackled around her glaives and electrocuted both of them, but it stunned the Barnacle God for a second while she recovered in half a second. She¡¯d electrocuted herself once before, after all¡ªback when she first activated it¡ªso by the time he fired a high-pressure blast of water down at her skull, she¡¯d already skated back with her apiclaws dragging through the ground. In response, the Imperators immediately thwacked the silk threads on the back of their harness, and Reina thwacked hers along the way as Hugo started yanking all of them out of the cavern. Blinding motion. Dizzying motion. Marisol clamped her hands over her mouth and tried not to hurl as her harness jerked her back, into the crystal tunnels, and out of the light. It was dark in the tunnels. The encrystals that¡¯d been glowing so brightly all around them on the way in were flickering red and purple now, the evil colours of the Swarm, and as the entrance to the cavern became a tiny dot in the distance, Rihzocapala laughed¡ªa booming, bellowing sound that travelled far too fast underwater. ¡°... Swarmblood Art: Shellblight Bloom.¡± Their threads yanked them around a corner and out of Rhizocapala¡¯s line of sight, but his biomagic persisted. Ten, twenty, thirty chunks of crystals around them morphed into giant barnacles, and all of them had milky white eyes that stared at them as they flew by. Most were like the ones inside the giant remipede, too¡ªMarisol¡¯s senses flared as they fired spiny projectiles at her, forcing her to twirl in the Whirlwind Spin just to deflect half of them. The Imperator siblings fired at the barnacles, as did Reina help her intercept with a blinding flurry of tail slashes, but no matter how fast they were being pulled through the tunnels, it wasn¡¯t enough. The barnacles just kept popping up around them, staying right on their tails, and Rhizocapala¡¯s laughs always seemed to be just around the corner. [Rhizocapala¡¯s unique biomagic,] the Archive said, injecting a dose of adrenaline into her head as a projectile grazed her cheeks, making her hiss. [Apart from possessing strength, speed, and stamina far above any Mutant-Class, he is also nigh-unkillable. His body is composed of thousands of tiny barnacles, but the real Rhizocapala¡ªhis ¡®heart¡¯, you may call it¡ªis but one of those thousands, hiding somewhere inside him. He is much like the Mutant-Class copepod in that sense, though taken to the very extreme with ¡®Shellblight Bloom¡¯ to boot, which allows him to trigger barnacle growths on any organic material his blood has touched-¨C]Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. And how do you know so much about that¡­ thing? [He is one of the Four Leviathans of the whirlpool,] the Archive said plainly. [How many Harbour Imperators and Hasharana do you think have lost their lives fighting him over the decades?] [There is no beating him here, Marisol.] But¡ª she trailed off, hissing as a whole line of spiny projectiles stabbed into her thighs. Reina slashed those barnacles apart a second later, but the damage was already done. If we don¡¯t stand our ground and fight, the barnacles will get us eventually! This is way too many projectiles! [You cannot. The exit to the Crystal Kelp Caverns is only thirty more seconds away. Grit your teeth, endure the pain, and survive the extraction.] But¡ª [He is the Barnacle God, Marisol!] the Archive snapped. [It may have been different decades ago, but as the years go by, the overall strength of the Swarm increases exponentially! It would take no less than three Lighthouse Imperators or two Arcana Hasharana working together¡ªout of a total of twenty on the entire continent¡ªto take down even a single F-Rank Insect God, and need I remind you how many Arcana Hasharana have been assigned to the Deepwater Legion Front?] ¡­ Just the one. [And the old man is getting on in age.] [Ignore Rhizocapala. Focus on surviving for now. This is not a foe you can defeat by¡ª] ¡°¡®Ah sense yer Archive¡¯s sayin¡¯ somethin¡¯ terrible about me. Let me in on the small talk?¡± They were ten metres from shooting up the vertical exit chute when Rhizocapala punched through the wall on her right, sharp rocks spraying against their skin as he snapped his fingers, commanding a whole legion of wall-clinging barnacles to fire at their threads. The threads were tough, but not that tough. A dozen spiny needles severed their only link to safety with soft thwips and sent them all tumbling to the ground, their momentum cut completely short. And before any one of them could even recover, Rhizocapala fired his cannon-arm at the ceiling behind them, collapsing the rocks to block their way into the exit chute. ¡°Ah¡¯ll admit, ye got me good with that¡­ lightnin¡¯ around yer glaives,¡± he growled, kicking Marisol in the stomach as she tried to crawl onto her feet. A pained gasp escaped her, and she flew back into the collapsed rubble, spine smashing hard against the stone. ¡°Ain¡¯t a lotta bugs in the world that can use lightnin¡¯ to¡­ well, that ain¡¯t really true, either. Them fireflies in the north got lightnin¡¯ as well. Hey, how¡¯s the Greater Firefly God of the North doin¡¯ up there? Ye guys killed him yet?¡± Shit! She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and clutched her stomach in pain. Her right arm was already broken, but something in her chest was definitely broken as well, and she just didn¡¯t know what. Need to¡­ I gotta¡ª ¡°Nah. Of course not,¡± he said, shrugging as he aimed his cannon-arm past the rest of the fallen Imperators, completely ignoring everyone but her. ¡°Humans don¡¯t beat gods. Just because yer a little fast ain¡¯t mean yer an exception.¡± She saw the attack coming before it even fired. She could see the result. The compressed water he was about to fire would decimate the entire cavern and all of them along with it, and there was nowhere to run. Forward? Could she stand up now and go forward in this state? Could she really say she had the nerve to match that God face-to-face again? ¡­ It didn¡¯t matter in the end. When Rhizocapala fired, it was Reina who whipped her tail to the ceiling, cleaving the projectile before it could gather momentum and turn into a swirling missile. The rest of them groaned and tried to claw to their feet as Rhizocaphala clicked his tongues in irritation, firing again. Reina wobbled to her feet, bleeding from a dozen different cuts, and flicked her tail at him again. Back and forth. Projectile to nothing. Rhizocapala took a step back and snapped his fingers. Twenty giant barnacles immediately bloomed around the walls of the tunnel, and all of their eyes were staring pointedly down at Marisol. But Reina didn¡¯t even hesitate, and for thirty whole seconds, the Lighthouse Imperator fought. The four of them initiates were sprawled out on the ground close together, so Reina stood right in front of Marisol, twirling and capering and whipping her tail every which way to intercept twenty projectiles. It was speed, precision, and control unlike anything Marisol had seen before. Her tail moved in blinding arcs, making the very water scream. Rhizocapala occasionally butted in with a swirling missile of his own, fired from his cannon-arm, but she¡¯d intercept that too before yanking her tail back to defend the four of them¡ªand her eyes were blazing blue, marred with nothing but scorn and disdain at the bug standing in front of her. For her part, Marisol was still trying to push herself up, her lungs grasping for air she wouldn¡¯t get without her skyball corals. Reina¡­ is¡­ I won¡¯t¡­ let her¡ª ¡°¡®Ah already said ye had a modicum of skill, water scorpion,¡± Rhizocapala said, letting out a disappointed sigh as Reina¡¯s movements started slowing. Projectiles grazed her neck, arms, and legs, ripping through her uniform, tearing up her cloak. It was all the Imperator siblings could do to fire a few blasts at a few barnacles, trying to help out however they can. ¡°And you are Rhizocapala, weakest of the Four Leviathans,¡± Reina said with a pained, scornful voice. ¡°For what reason¡­ are you pursuing one of our own?¡± ¡°The strider girl? Ain¡¯t no need to pull the wool over my eyes, scorpion. ¡®Ah know she ain¡¯t one of ye,¡± he said casually. ¡°She¡¯s a Flower Cape with an Archive to boot. She¡¯ll probably be annoyin¡¯ if we leave her be for too long, so say, why don''t the rest of ye just step aside and let me kill her? Ah¡¯ll let ye live if ye do that.¡± ¡°As if letting humans walk is ever on the table with the Swarm.¡± ¡°Well, ye ain''t really got a choice here, so ah''ll give ye ten seconds to turn around," he said, pointing a finger gun at them. "Ye turn around and walk, maybe ye get to live. Ye don''t turn around, ye die for sure. Life¡¯s a gamble¡ª¡± ¡°And is that what you said to my dad?¡± The projectiles didn''t stop firing, and Reina didn''t stop whipping her tail around the four of them to intercept every last one, but Rhizocapala certainly paused for a moment. ¡°Have we met before?¡± he said, tilting his head in genuine, sincere confusion. ¡°¡®Ah don''t know ye. Sorry. ¡®Ahm kinda bad with names¡ª¡± ¡°Figures,¡± Reina growled, and her tail''s movements became more frantic, erratic. It wasn''t a good thing. She wasn''t as precise as before, and that meant more projectiles pierced her body, drawing more blood; she didn''t seem to register even a single one. ¡°Be that as it may, yer still gonna step aside. Leave that girl to me. Hand on my heart, blood to my king, ¡®ah ain''t really interested in killin¡¯ the rest of ye. Just let me have her and her alone.¡± ¡°And I know you heard me,¡± Reina whispered. ¡°I am Reina Torrealba, Dive Leader of the Mutant-Class Extermination Team, and I will protect my team.¡± As Marisol looked down at the ground, chest burning with energy, Rhizocapala¡¯s other arm broke apart so it could reform into a second barnacle cannon. ¡°Shame, then.¡± He pressed both cannon-arms together, raising them straight ahead at Reina. ¡°Ah¡¯d never had a successful negotiation with any human before, and ¡®ah was hopin¡¯ today could be the day, but evidently not¡ª¡± He was interrupted. A crack. Light leaking through the collapsed rubble behind them. Half a dozen silk threads whipped through the tiny gaps in the rubble and yanked the five of them up the exit chute, making them wince from the sudden jerking motion. They shot past the edge of the hole just as Rhizocapala fired up the chute, but someone else was already waiting for them at the edge of the hole, and he smacked the tunnel-decimating missile away with a simple walking cane. Rhizocapala clicked his tongues again. ¡°Tch.¡± Sunlight bore brightly down on the whirlpool. There were twenty diving bells hovering above them, fifty Imperators armed to the teeth clinging to the sides of those bells, and Hugo flung them back into open waters where half a dozen medics immediately swam towards them with boxes of sweet-smelling herbs in hand. Everyone else was glaring down at Rhizocapala at the bottom of the hole, but Rhizocapala, with his glowing white eyes, only had attention to spare for the man standing right at the edge of the hole. The feather-capped man sneered down at the bug, though it wasn''t very obvious with extra layers of bandages wrapped around his face. ¡°... Still alive and kickin'', Victor?¡± Rhizocapala said, putting his arms on his hips as he grinned up at the old man. ¡°When are ye gonna kick the bucket, man? Ye know how long we''ve been waitin¡¯ for ye to just die of old age? What are ye even turnin¡¯ this year?¡± Victor shrugged. ¡°Fifty or sixty or seventy something. Can''t really keep track.¡± ¡°Goin¡¯ too fast?¡± ¡°Going too slow,¡± he replied, tapping his walking cane once against the ground and making the water around him swirl with alien, oily colours. ¡°It ain''t too bad, though. A boring life''s got its own merits. For one, not diving as much means I don''t gotta change out of wet bandages as much.¡± ¡°Oh, that sure sounds like a bother.¡± Rhizocapala snapped his cannon arms up at the man, sneering back. ¡°¡®Ah can help ye with that, though. Just stand there for a second and stay really still¡ª¡± ¡°Do you really want to have our rematch right here, Rhizo?¡± The Barnacle God narrowed all hundred eyes at once, staring pointedly up at the Imperators behind Victor. Maybe it¡¯d take two Arcana Hasharana or three Lighthouse Imperators to take him on, but fifty Imperators was enough to almost blanket the entire sector of Depth Three in their shadow. Marisol couldn¡¯t even imagine about fighting more than three Imperators at once, and Rhizocapala? He was imagining it. He was actually thinking about it. And eventually, he decided to simply laugh and let live. ¡°... Well, ¡®ahm not in a hurry,¡± he said, crossing his arms behind his head as he strode back into the caverns. ¡°Yer gonna have to come to us anyways. ¡®Ah was just seein¡¯ if there was a chance I could nip the bud at the source. ¡°It was nice seein¡¯ ye again, Victor Morina. ¡°But ¡®ah bet ah¡¯ll be seein¡¯ ye again soon.¡± Victor didn¡¯t pursue the Barnacle God into the caverns, and that was the end of it. Marisol, too, didn¡¯t stay awake for much longer after that. Chapter 60 - Prayer ¡°... We¡¯ve been gathering up here for tea time more often nowadays, hm?¡± Andres said. Victor wouldn¡¯t say he ¡®stormed¡¯ to the top of Lighthouse Seven. He wasn¡¯t that young anymore. All he did was scare off Rhizocapala, made sure his lass and his niece got into their diving bell safely, and sprinted all the way up here from Depth Three within three minutes. Oh, he could¡¯ve gone a lot faster if he were just a bit younger and a tad bit more flexible, but he didn¡¯t want to scare the gathering Imperators as he exploded onto the surface. His problem wasn¡¯t with the Imperators, but with the man standing with his arms crossed behind his back, staring down at the whirlpool with a grim light in his only eye. ¡°It¡¯s as I expected, then,¡± Andres said quietly, refusing to turn away from the glass wall as Victor trudged forward, his walking cane clacking hard against the floor. ¡°The Barnacle God has returned. Rather, he¡¯s made a move yet again. How long has it been since he last appeared? Four years? Five years? And here I was hoping he¡¯d upped and died of old age¡ª¡± Once he was close enough, Victor hooked the back of a chair with his cane and flung it at Andres. The big man didn¡¯t even flinch as the wood shattered against his shoulders, but he did have to punch a mantis shrimp arm out to catch Victor¡¯s cane flying at his neck¡ªand Victor gave the man a barbed smile, though he was quite sure his wet bandages made it difficult to see. Not that Andres was looking at him, still. ¡°You sent her down there to kill the Mutant-Class copepod because you knew something was going to happen,¡± he said, his arm quivering as he pressed his cane deeper into Andres¡¯ neck. ¡°You knew, you son of a bitch. And you dragged my niece into it. Now look at what you¡¯ve done by moving the rook when we¡¯ve got exactly zero pawns to play with. What do you think would¡¯ve happened if I didn¡¯t feel something was off and went down there myself?¡± Andres curled a lip and glanced back at him, giving him half a scowl. ¡°You think I tried to sabotage your girl? Why would I try to kill a Flower Cape who has been taking on more extermination missions these past three weeks than any other initiate?¡± ¡°Bullshit.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the truth.¡± ¡°That you made up five seconds ago when you realised this old man is only slow in flesh, but not in mind,¡± Victor growled. ¡°Come on, Andres. It¡¯s just you and me here. Zora¡¯s not here to cut through the bullshit, so I¡¯m going to need you to tell me exactly what you were planning by putting her on that mission you knew was going to go wrong.¡± Silence for a moment. Then Andres let out a soft sigh, dropping his arm so Victor could smack him on the back of his neck with the cane. ¡°I wasn¡¯t lying,¡± he muttered, rubbing his neck as Victor stormed forward to join him by the glass wall. ¡°That coordinated copepod attack on all our initiates a month ago was too timely. The girl¡¯s first patrol down in the whirlpool, and a freak copepod attack just happens to come up? No way. I figured whatever was behind that attack had something else up its sleeve, so I sent her down to kill the Mutant-Class partly because she needed the training, because I knew she could handle it, and because I needed Corpsetaker and his Four Leviathans to spring whatever trap they were planning on her.¡± Victor pursed his lips. ¡°You knew it was going to be a trap, then.¡± ¡°That it was going to be more than just a single Mutant-Class copepod in Depth Three?¡± ¡°But you didn¡¯t know what that trap was.¡± ¡°That was why I sent Reina and Hugo down there to support her.¡± ¡°But that ¡®trap¡¯ turned out to be Rhizocapala himself.¡± Andres clenched his jaw, gnashing his teeth together. ¡°I would never have sent her and your niece down there if I knew the trap was the Barnacle God. Do you think I would¡¯ve risked losing two Lighthouse Imperators, three promising initiates, and an honest-to-god Flower Cape down in Depth Three?¡± And Victor could believe that. After all, the Harbour Imperatrix cared more for his Imperators than his Whirlpool City, a fact he¡¯d never admit even if an axe was about to lop off his head¡ªand that was how Victor knew he was telling the truth. It was eleven in the morning. Prime brunch hour. Right here, right now, the two of them could see everything going on below them, and it wasn¡¯t a pretty sight. A month ago, they had half a dozen medical ships swirling around the whirlpool to pull up the initiates¡¯ diving bells. Now, they had over a score of them attending to diving bells being yanked up from Depths Four to Seven, and those same screams and shouts were filling the air again. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Even Victor could smell the blood wafting from the ships, and he was all the way up here. He could hardly imagine what it was like for the medics actually pulling the dead out of their diving bells. What a round of misery yet again. ¡°... Reports have come in already,¡± Victor said quietly, stabbing his cane before him as he pressed his forehead against the glass. ¡°While the lass and my niece were down in Depth Three fighting the Mutant-Class, the morning patrol Imperators in Depths Four to Eight were all killed. That¡¯s seventy-two Imperators dead, Andres. Not injured like the initiates from a month ago. They¡¯re dead.¡± ¡°What did them in?¡± Victor scowled. ¡°The rest of them,¡± he said, clasping his hands over his cane. ¡°Rhizocapala, the weakest of the Four Leviathans, was lying in wait for the lass and my niece in Depth Three. What did you think the other three were doing?¡± Andres grimaced. ¡°Details.¡± ¡°Eurypteria slaughtered everyone in Depths Four and Five, but she stuffed their bodies back in the diving bells before letting them surface. Kalokas swallowed all but one diving bell in Depth Six, but let¡¯s just say we won¡¯t be using that disfigured bell anymore. Marculata didn¡¯t even bother returning a single diving bell to us, but we can reasonably assume the Imperators down in Depths Seven and Eight are all dead.¡± ¡°They¡¯re dead. Marculata doesn¡¯t take prisoners¡ª¡± ¡°All four at once, Andres,¡± Victor snapped, clicking his tongue in irritation. ¡°The Barnacle God, the Water Scorpion God, the Remipede God, and the Mantis Shrimp God. When¡¯s the last time they coordinated an attack like this? I¡¯ll have you know, big man, that the readings of Corpsetaker¡¯s aura also exploded in concentration four minutes ago. We¡¯ve lost all our navigation data between Depths Four to Eight, and we don¡¯t have a single man down there right now. They¡¯ve retaken over half the whirlpool in a single hour.¡± ¡°Which they couldn¡¯t have done on a whim,¡± Andres muttered. ¡°No shit. Corpsetaker and his Four Leviathans own Depths Four to Nine now. Whatever he¡¯s planning down there, he doesn¡¯t want us knowing, and I¡¯ll bet my right eye the Four Leviathans¡¯ only goal from now on is to stop us from reaching him.¡± ¡°We won¡¯t take that sitting down,¡± Andres said, cracking his neck. ¡°We¡¯re putting a stop to all patrols between Depth Four to Eight. All Imperators are to only undertake missions three Depths above their level, and we¡¯re prioritising protecting the Depths we still have. Depths One to Three cannot be allowed to fall.¡± ¡°And? ¡°This applies to the other Lighthouse Imperators, too. From now on, nobody¡¯s going below Depth Four without my explicit permission. I¡¯ll handpick my scouts and send several dive teams down for recon in Depth Four, but they¡¯ll always be backed by at least one Lighthouse Imperator.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the big plan?¡± ¡°The big plan?¡± Andres narrowed his eye at the sole Depth Six diving bell being hauled onto a medical ship far below. ¡°We¡¯re besieging the whirlpool from top to bottom. If Corpsetaker wants to own this city, we¡¯ll hold the line at Depth Three and stop the Swarm there. Have the Harbour Guards line the Upper Depths with heavy anti-chitin cannons. I want five cannons in every sector and a third of the garrisoned Guards on standby in the lighthouses, and then we¡¯ll retake each Depth one by one¡ª¡± Victor clicked his tongue. ¡°I¡¯m not your bitch. Tell Hugo to play courier for you. I¡¯m asking what I¡¯m doing.¡± Andres threw him a scowl. ¡°We need time to figure out what¡¯s going on in the Middle Depths now that we¡¯ve lost control of them. My handpicked scouts will dive overtime to collect more information, but it¡¯ll be just like before. It¡¯ll be at least a month or two before I¡¯m confident enough to send an elite team down to spearhead the reclamation of Depth Four, which means¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re gonna send the lass again.¡± ¡°She¡¯s strong, Victor. I¡¯m sure Reina did her part protecting her team against Rhizocapala¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªyou bet your ass my niece put her life on the line to get them out of that situation¡ª¡± ¡°But this whole thing revolves around our dear ¡®Storm Strider¡¯, and whether we want her to or not, she will get her vial of healing seawater,¡± Andres finished, shaking his head as he turned to walk away. ¡°So train her harder. Make her stronger. I¡¯m putting her in every single elite vanguard team starting with Depth Four, so she¡¯ll either crush her way down to Depth Eight or die trying.¡± Victor thought about hooking another chair so he could fling it at the man, but decided against it at the last moment. The chair next to the Imperatrix¡¯s seat was his favourite chair. ¡°... It¡¯s time, Victor,¡± Andres said, waving behind him as he left the room. ¡°Quit it with the beating around the bush. She¡¯s a fully-fledged Hasharana now, so stop letting her run around with an unregistered Altered Swarmsteel System already. Bring her to see him. He¡¯s the only one who can unlock the full potential of her Archive, isn¡¯t he?¡± And so, like every other discussion they¡¯d had over the past two months, it ended the way it always did: Victor alone at the very top of Lighthouse Seven, staring down at a whirlpool that demanded his absolute attention. Camila. [Yes?] He didn¡¯t turn to look at the little bug on his shoulder. He¡¯d been looking at her for decades, and the novelty of it had already worn off long ago. How¡¯s the lass doing? [Unconscious. But the same can be said of the Imperator siblings, and your niece isn¡¯t doing so well, either.] Will they recover? [Eh. They didn¡¯t sustain any life-threatening injuries, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking, so Claudia will get them up on their feet in a week or so.] Then clear my schedule in a week. The moment the lass is well enough to walk, I¡¯m taking her to meet him. [Who?] He smiled and prepared to flick Camilia off his shoulder, so she stammered and backtracked quickly, holding up her little forelegs to protect herself. [Kidding, kidding!] she said, sighing as she did. [I¡¯ll set up a meeting with the Worm God. Pray he¡¯ll actually wake up to entertain her a little.] Chapter 61 - Leviathan Conclave (I) Depth Eight. Eight kilometres below the surface. It¡¯d been a while since Rhizocapala went this deep. He¡¯d spent most of the past decade lurking around the Upper Depths, licking his wounds, gathering his strength¡ªhe was pleasantly surprised to see Depth Eight hadn¡¯t changed much at all. The humans on the surface called it the ¡®March of the Dead¡¯, and it wasn¡¯t an inaccurate description: it was a dark, barren wasteland of pressure-crushed corpses, bugs and humans alike, all strewn across the ashy walls of the whirlpool like tombstones in a twisted graveyard. Each body was tied down and kept from drifting away with ropes woven from shells. Only a few dead coral shards poked out from the ground here and there like broken teeth. Fragments of armour, discarded weapons, and shattered carapaces¡ªremnants of battles long lost to time were all buried just beneath the sand, worn down by salt and age. His feet made soft crunches as he walked over stray shells and bones. There¡¯s a lotta new graves since the last ¡®ah visited, though. He looked left, right, up, and around the circular walls of the whirlpool. Sunlight couldn¡¯t reach this deep into the whirlpool, so he and the others had stabbed small lamps filled with tiny, glowing copepods into the ground, letting faint and bioluminescent bluish-pink light wash over the entirety of the graveyard¡­ but it wasn¡¯t like that was a lot of light, still. He had to squint, he had to estimate, and he had to do a bit of maths in his head. Across the entire graveyard and accounting for its whole circular length, there had to be ten or twenty thousand more ¡®tombstones¡¯ since the last he visited. And he wasn¡¯t the one who¡¯d filled in those empty spots in the graveyard. ¡°... Ye¡¯ve been hard at work, hermanas.¡± He whistled, strolling deeper and deeper into the graveyard. He only had all of his eyes set on the very end of the Depth, but it seemed there were other pairs of eyes that weren¡¯t nearly half as focused as he was. ¡°Hey, can ye give me one of yer offerins¡¯? ¡®Ah ain¡¯t got nothin¡¯ with me but good news, good news, and good news. Now, ¡®ah bet fifty barnacles of mine our king will be more than giddy to hear what ¡®ah have to say, but ¡®ah still kinda wanna get him a gift¡ª¡± The ripples came from thirty metres away to his left. He didn¡¯t bother dodging. A scorpion tail whipped through a hundred ¡®tombstones¡¯ and split them open like cracked shells. Armour and carapaces shattered, limbs torn free, and fragments of bone and blood erupted into the water in chaotic bursts. A cloud of pretty red bloomed through the water, and through that, the tail extended and cut into his neck¡ªmoving too fast for even him to react. In a single, messy stroke, the tail decapitated him. The shockwave continued to his right, ripping deep cracks and trenches across the seabed, chunks of stones and shells flying outward as the destruction spiralled out. Welp. He sighed from his chest as the tail retracted and red haze drifted through the water. Silence returned once the shockwave to his right faded, and his severed head scattered into a hundred writhing barnacles as it started sinking slowly. It took him five seconds to push out a new head made of barnacles, and he made a big show of cracking his neck, groaning in exaggerated pain just to appease his sister. ¡°¡®Ah said fifty barnacles, not a hundred,¡± he said, continuing his stroll down the graveyard. ¡°Why, hermana, ye oughtta work on yer temper every once in a red moon. The humans call it ¡®abuse¡¯ whether it¡¯s the younger or the older one who punches up or down.¡± The Water Scorpion God, Eurypteria, emerged from the red bloom to his left, and she glared at him as she marched alongside him thirty metres away. She didn¡¯t want to get any closer than that. She didn¡¯t need to get any closer than that to kill him. ¡°And what foul body are you infesting this time, brother?¡± she muttered, matching his pace, her tails swishing aimlessly behind her and cleaving through shells and bones. That thing was as carelessly destructive as ever. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that¡¯s the Mutant-Class copepod we sent up there to distract the humans. You killed it? You? If you¡¯d just left it alive, it could¡¯ve be a thorn in their side for just a few more days¡ª¡± ¡°It ain¡¯t me,¡± he mumbled back, kicking a fossilised crab pincer out of his way. ¡°The copepod would¡¯ve died either way. Ah¡¯d been infestin¡¯ it since the day it was born, so even if it killed the Flower Cape and the others, ah¡¯d have to kill it on my way out.¡± ¡°Instead, it didn¡¯t kill the Flower Cape, and you didn¡¯t kill her either.¡± He whistled, bubbles coming out of his barnacle lips. ¡°Wowwa. Ye heard? ¡®Ah didn¡¯t peg ye for someone who listens to the goins¡¯ of the Upper Depths, but maybe ah¡¯ve always underestimated ye.¡± The water around him rippled as she threatened to cleave him with her tail again, so he threw up his arms and protested, backing away from her with a nervous laugh. ¡°Nah, nah! Of course ye heard! Why wouldn¡¯t ye have?¡± he said in a sickly sweet voice, shifting the barnacles in his chest and relocating his heart quietly. ¡°Now, ¡®ah did say ¡®ah come bearin¡¯ only good news, so let¡¯s stay off the handsy until we get our audience with our king, eh? ¡®Ah bet a hundred barnacles he ain¡¯t gonna care so much about a simple Flower Cape once we make our full report¡ª¡± ¡°You had one job,¡± Eurypteria growled, and her killing pressure slammed into him from thirty metres away, making him giggle in delight. ¡°Kill the Flower Cape, crush her Archive, and come back unharmed. You¡¯ve only done one of those things.¡± ¡°Hey, ¡®twas Victor up there who stopped me. Do ye wanna fight him? Ye can switch places with me if ye want.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s Victor or Andres or the entire Deepwater Legion of a thousand Imperators and Guards. Crush them. Are you not a god?¡± ¡°Easy for ye to say when ye ain¡¯t the one starin¡¯ the old man down. Now, yer gonna get a move on or not? ¡®Ah bet two hundred barnacles the others are also gonna be late¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re damn right we¡¯re late. Now get your ass up here.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The voice came from below. Beneath the ground. Beneath the graveyard. A valley of chitin spikes exploded from the ash between them and rose like a wall, making him smirk. He jumped onto the armoured head of the Remipede God, Kalokas, at the same time Eurypteria did, and the giant remipede accelerated, undulating across Depth Eight and tearing through an entire section of the graveyard as she did. With nothing better to do, Rhizocapala sighed and plopped himself down on Kalokas¡¯ head, crossing his arms. ¡°Ay, other hermana! How¡¯s it goin¡¯? Last ¡®ah saw ye was a decade ago, right? Ain¡¯t ye a bit chubbier and¡­ uh, rounder near the tail? Ye big with children or what? Ah, ye should¡¯ve told me if ye were gettin¡¯ hitched! ¡®Ah would¡¯ve come to paid a visit down in Depth Seven¡ª¡± ¡°Shut the fuck up,¡± she grumbled, and her reverberating voice make his barnacles clatter in pain. Eurypteria curled her tail under her and sat next to him, wincing slightly as well. ¡°And I¡¯m not ¡®big with child¡¯. It¡¯s called a growth spurt. I¡¯ve grown an additional twenty-five segments since we last met, which is¡ª¡± ¡°Twenty-five metres?¡± Eurypteria offered. ¡°Big with child?¡± Rhizocapala offered. ¡°Five hundred metres, assholes. I¡¯m nearly as big as that Greater Beetle God of the Northeast now.¡± ¡°Big don¡¯t always mean strong,¡± Rhizocapala said, shrugging as water whistled past his ears, the three of them nearing the end of the graveyard. ¡°And speakin¡¯ of strong, where the hell¡¯s Marculata? Didn¡¯t ye pick him up on the way down here? ¡®Ah don¡¯t see him anywhere.¡± ¡°Right in front of us,¡± Kalokas muttered. ¡°He¡¯s never late.¡± Both Rhizocapala and Eurypteria squinted as Kalokas slowed to a screeching halt, her giant legs and mandibles kicking up a tidal wave of ash and dust at the end of the graveyard. At the end of Depth Eight, beyond the final line of tombstones, was nothing but an immense, gaping darkness. None of them crossed the border between Depth Eight and Depth Nine. The ¡®Abyss¡¯ seemed to extend endlessly downwards, a black so absolute it absorbed every bit of light coming from the copepod cages in the graveyard. It was like the world had decided this was it. This was the point of no return, and past it, there was just going to be nothing¡ªno sounds, no movement, no life. A stretch of nothing no eye, human or bug, could penetrate. Rhizocapala closed all but two barnacle eyes as he frowned down at the Mantis Shrimp God sitting cross-legged in front of Kalokas, back turned, punching the ground every ten seconds and making the entire whirlpool rumble. ¡°... So it¡¯s ye, hermano. Yer still makin¡¯ these thumps and callin¡¯ in bugs from all across the great blue?¡± Rhizocapala said, forcing a casual, careless grin onto his face. ¡°Ain¡¯t like me to ask, but can ye, like, tone it down a little? Ah¡¯ve been tryin¡¯ to sleep the past month, but when there¡¯s this constant thump, thump, thump in my ears, it gets just a tad bit annoyin¡¯, don¡¯t ye think?¡± Marculata didn¡¯t respond. He didn¡¯t even turn around to address Rhizocapala. He continued punching exactly once every ten seconds, his oversized shrimp arms cracking the ground beneath them, so Rhizocapala tilted his head back. Maybe he could shoot the shrimp in the back with a giant bony spine. That¡¯d ought to get his attention¡ª ¡°What is it, my children?¡± Two giant blue eyes lit up in the Abyss like miniature suns in the far distance, and killing pressure wrapped around Rhizocapala¡¯s heart like a vise, crushing and squeezing blood out of his chest. He immediately shot to his feet alongside Eurypteria, standing at attention. Kalokas dipped her head ever so slightly in a gesture of respect. For his part, Marculata didn¡¯t stop punching the ground. He simply froze and missed the timing for one of his punches before resuming the steady thumps, and there was no doubt about it now; he¡¯d been ordered by his king to never stop punching. And the two blue eyes swung forward like they were hung on invisible strings, their king¡¯s killing pressure growing stronger and stronger until he suddenly stopped right at the edge of the graveyard¡ªbetween Depth Eight and Depth Nine, where the Swarm ruled. He didn¡¯t cross into the light. He didn¡¯t so much as let his silhouette be shrouded in shadows. Two cold, unfeeling eyes glared down on all four of them, and for the second time today, Rhizocapala felt like crawling under a rock just to get away from his scrying gaze. ¡°... I bring you land, my king,¡± Kalokas said, stabbing her giant antennae into the ground before her as she dipped her head even further. ¡°I have swallowed every last human construct in Depths Seven and Eight. We own the Frozen Abyss and the March of the Dead now.¡± ¡°I bring you blood, my king,¡± Eurypteria said, kneeling slowly with her tail curled around her neck. ¡°I have slain every patrolling Imperator in Depths Four, Five, and Six. We own the Whispering Canyons, the Sulphur Fields, and the Vent Gardens now.¡± ¡°¡®Ah bring ye good news, my king,¡± Rhizocalapa said, bowing slightly with his arms crossed behind his back. ¡°Now, it¡¯s true ¡®ah ain¡¯t managed to kill the Flower Cape and crush the system in her neck, but¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªlet¡¯s see lil bro talk his way out of this one¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªhe¡¯s basically a dead barnacle walking¡ª¡± ¡°Shut the fuck up,¡± he snapped, stomping on Kalokas¡¯s head for a second before covering his mouth with a hand, looking coyly up at his king. ¡°¡®Ah don¡¯t mean ye, of course. And while ¡®ah didn¡¯t manage to shove the humans out of Depth Three, either, ¡®ah did touch and infest Depths Four and below with my barnacles. They¡¯ll be our static defences. Eurypteria and Kalakos may have wiped out the humans, but ¡®ah secured Depths Four and below, and my barnacles will automatically mess up every scout and construct the humans send down here to investigate.¡± ¡°... And what does that do for us?¡± Corpsetaker rumbled. Rhizocapala put on a nervous grin. ¡°Buyin¡¯ time. We need the rest of the year to make sure my plan can actually go off without a hitch, but we ain¡¯t doin¡¯ that if the Imperators are sniffin¡¯ anywhere close to Depth Six and below¡ªso my barnacles will slow them the fuck down. If they wanna figure out what we¡¯re plannin¡¯, they¡¯ll have to recapture the whirlpool Depth by Depth, section by section, and they¡¯re already distracted enough as is by the Mutant-Classes yer callin¡¯ from all over the great blue. Ain¡¯t that right, hermano?¡± It would be great if Marculata could back him up a little, but the Mantis Shrimp God was still just punching the ground, muttering ¡®Worm God, Worm God¡¯ under his breath. Rhizocapala sighed. No backup after all. ¡°Marculata¡¯s been punching the ground since Year Seventy-One,¡± Eurypteria muttered, shaking her head slowly. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re planning, Marculata, but I assume calling bugs from all over the great blue is just a side effect of your punches. We¡¯re not breaking out of the whirlpool that way, though. We can¡¯t break the walls.¡± ¡°...¡± Eurypteria clicked her tongue when Marculata didn¡¯t respond. ¡°Just join the three of us, Marculata. We could use your help once we come out swinging¡ª¡± ¡°Marculata is working for me,¡± their king said, and Eurypteria shut up immediately. ¡°He will be sitting out of your plan this time, so it will be just the three of you dealing with the humans. I trust you will succeed nevertheless.¡± The three of them dipped their heads at once. Rhizocapala stole one last glance at Marculata¡¯s back before peeking up at their king, raising a barnacle brow. ¡°Would ye like to know the details of my plan, my king?¡± he asked. ¡°This is a big undertakin¡¯ with lots of movin¡¯ parts. ¡®Ah know ye and Marculata ain¡¯t involved in it this time around, but¡ª¡± ¡°Will the success of your ¡®plan¡¯ lead to a better future for the bugs of my kingdom?¡± Rhizocapala paused. Then he lifted his head and smiled from ear to ear, sticking out all of his tongues. ¡°Of course. Ye ain¡¯t gotta doubt that.¡± ¡°Then I do not care,¡± their king said, blue eyes blinking slowly once before he turned around, returning to the depths of the Abyss. ¡°Do as you will, Rhizocapala. Bring glory to the good name of ¡®Corpsetaker¡¯, and to the Swarm of the Deepwater Legion Front.¡± There was no room for further discussion. Unlike Marculata, their king was a quiet god, and he valued the peace in his Abyss more than anything else in the world. It was the Four Leviathans¡¯ birth duty to protect his peace. ¡°... We will, my king.¡± Rhizocapala laughed softly as he thumped his heart with a fist, Eurypteria and Kalakos doing the same. ¡°The whirlpool will be yours by the end of the year.¡± Chapter 62 - Candy House It was almost a ritual, at this point, for Marisol to descend to the lower end of the upper city after her daily afternoon training sessions with the Highwind Dolls. The seafood Daniela fed her were very nutritious, but ever since she started eating those sour skyball corals, she¡¯d been craving sugar like never before. She supposed this was what her mama wanted to warn her about¡ªthe food selection in the Whirlpool City was very addicting. Sharp at six in the evening. One week after the extermination of the Mutant-Class copepod, and just two days after she¡¯d woken up from her five-day-long coma in the Highwind Inn. Apparently, she and the Imperator siblings had fallen unconscious because of aura poisoning¡ªRhizocapala¡¯s killing pressure was too overwhelming strong for all of them¡ªwhich was why she¡¯d been told by Daniela to lay off the points for another week. She needed time to eat veggies, fruits, and other healthy, ¡®normal¡¯¡¯ human food products. The point rewards from the Mutant-Class¡¯ carcass would come later. That was fine with Marisol. She didn¡¯t really feel like eating crustacean meat for a while. Marisol jumped off the roof of the inn and skated down to her favourite candy house in the upper city. Owing to the incredibly rich variety of resources that could be harvested down in the whirlpool, there were plenty of shops that served sweets and desserts exclusively, and ¡®Para¨ªso Dulces¡¯ was the one she frequented the most. Tucked away in a relatively quiet alley, the quaint wooden sign painted in swirling letters swayed gently back and forth, golden lantern light spilling through the fogged glass windows. She skated up the little stairs, pushed through the front door, and the ring of a bell told the storekeeper she was here again. She smiled when she realised she was the only one here. A few small tables with cushioned chairs sat by the windows, fogged by the light evening drizzle outside, and potted plants dangled from chains on the ceiling. Small lanterns were hung on hooks on the clean white walls. The floor was laid with clean mosaic tiles. She followed the seams and skated between the tiles, throwing herself onto the window seat by the corner of the little store with a pleasant sigh¡ªmaybe it was unseemly for her to sprawl out on her stomach across the sofa, but she was tired, and the storekeepers had grown used to her. As long as she kept her patronage, they didn¡¯t quite care what she did in their cosy little store. And she didn¡¯t even have to look at their menu as she made her order. ¡°Miss Suneria! I want three plates of flakey pastelitos with powdered sugar, two plates of caramel-dipped figs, one bowl of glittering gumdrops, and¡­¡± she trailed off, turning her head to squint at the storekeeper behind the counter. ¡°What¡¯s new today? Any recommendations for a noisy customer like me?¡± Miss Suneria dipped her head. ¡°Almond turrones in caramel glaze.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get one plate of that, too!¡± While she rolled back over to plant her face in the sofa, Miss Suneria raced into the back kitchen to whip up her orders. Very soon, there¡¯d be more part-time workers and customers arriving, so she was glad she got here early. For the time being, she had the whole store to herself. I wish I could just move my room here. [The scent of sugar in the air will gradually dull your senses.] Don¡¯t care. [Take off your remipede earrings. They are giving you one level in perception, thereby enhancing your sense of smell, so take them off, and maybe your senses will dull slower while you are in this house of opulence.] Don¡¯t wanna. [Then suffer.] You¡¯re super mean to me now. While the Archive prattled on and on about her unhealthy eating habits as of late, the doorbell rang again and someone walked in. She didn¡¯t pull her face out of the cushion she was hugging. She was melting in the velvet, and it was like her fatigue and all her aches just faded away in the softness¡ªso when she finally heard Miss Suneria coming back out of the kitchen with her trays of sweets, she shot upright and drummed her table in a steady, bouncy beat. Her face immediately blanked when she noticed Reina sitting across her table, reading the menu as Miss Suneria served her dishes. ¡°... Um,¡± she said, raising her hand as she glanced at Miss Suneria with a furrowed brow. ¡°There are other empty seats around here. Like, every other seat. Is she¡ª¡± ¡°The window seat is mine,¡± Reina said plainly, not tearing her eyes from the menu. ¡°Miss Reina has been coming here once a week for the past six years,¡± Miss Suneria said politely, bowing slightly before returning behind the counter. Marisol was tempted to scowl at the Lighthouse Imperator and wave her off, but¡­ the prim and proper lady wasn¡¯t in her uniform this time. Her light and flowing cerulean blue dress was perfect for an evening night out. A dark sash cinched her waist, tying at the back in a giant bow, and her usual ponytail was let loose, just a few wisps falling around her face. This wasn¡¯t Lighthouse Imperator Reina. This was casualwear Reina. Marisol looked down at herself and frowned. In stark contrast, she was still in her Sand-Dancer¡¯s outfit: her form-fitting black top was cropped to show her midriff with short, flared sleeves that rippled like waves whenever she moved. Her pants were snug at the waist but widened slightly down at the knees where her glaives started. Painted gold and silver strips helped break up the evenness of the black, but it¡¯d be a dull outfit if not for her bright pink scarf and dancer¡¯s cloak around her neck. She really, really didn¡¯t look the part in the upper city, but sitting across Reina like this truly brought that point home for the first time. [The Imperators pay you quite generously. Use it to fashion yourself a new outfit.] I don¡¯t wanna, though, she grumbled. I¡¯ve been wearing this outfit for almost an entire decade. [It explains why your top is so tight, then.] As she flicked the Archive off her shoulder and reached for her bowl of glittering gumdrops, Reina put her order in with Miss Suneria. Saffron-infused caramels, rose-petal nougats, and almond pralines dusted with cinnamon¡ªthe lady had good tastes. Marisol savoured each and every bite of her gumdrops as her whole body tingled, the sugar stabbing into her brain so sickly sweet, and for a few moments, she forgot she was even sitting across the table from a Lighthouse Imperator¡­ but she paused mid-bite just as Reina finished putting in her order, her pasty white bandages unmistakable and unmissable from this distance. Like Marisol¡¯s broken right arm that was still in a sling, Reina had three or four whole rolls of bandages running around her neck, down her back, and probably around her entire waist underneath that pretty blue dress. ¡­ Marisol savoured the rest of her sweets and dessert in a low, sombre mood. She¡¯d spent the better part of the past week unconscious, so all she really knew about what had really gone down last week came from Victor¡¯s inconclusive mumblings. She was sure she¡¯d be called in for debriefing soon enough, but she wasn¡¯t that ignorant. There was a quiet, teeming tension in the city¡ªlike people just knew the endless drizzle was about to be replaced by an endless storm¡ªand all of it was a result of her encountering that Barnacle God. The Barnacle God Reina had nearly died protecting her from. These sweets ain¡¯t so sweet anymore, huh? She couldn¡¯t help it. She sulked a little as she scooped up a chunk of her sugar-powdered pastelitos, putting it to her lips with a heavy heart. If she had time and spare room in her stomach to eat sweets like this, she should be filling her stomach with bug meat instead. [Nobody can blame you for running from Rhizocapala.] [He is a Barnacle God. He has slain and devoured more humans than you have seen bugs in your entire life. Not even the Imperators can easily¡ª] And I¡¯m the one who said I¡¯d get down to Depth Eight by the end of the year. That goal was looking more and more impossible by the day. To think Rhizocapala was but the weakest of the Four Leviathans¡ªjust how strong would she have to be if she wanted to get down there and bottle her own vial of healing seawater? How long would that actually take her? [... I must commend you, nevertheless, for still wanting to dive down there and potentially face him in battle again.] [Not many Imperators will voluntarily stay Imperators after surviving an encounter with an Insect God.] The Archive¡¯s kind words made her next bite of pastelitos a little sweeter. Thanks. But it¡¯s still¡­ it doesn¡¯t seem¡­ I don¡¯t know¡ªIf you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. [Just know that you are not alone when it comes to wanting to slaughter that Barnacle God.] [For every hundred Imperators who are frightened into retirement, there is one who pushes herself forward and strives to take down an Insect God even if it means spelling her own demise.] Marisol stole a glance at Reina, who was still reading the menu with childlike glee in her eyes even after she¡¯d already put in her order. Frankly, Marisol could hardly believe this was the same stern-looking lady who¡¯d put herself between a deadweight and a walking god¡ªand Marisol couldn¡¯t forget what she¡¯d said down there, either. The Lighthouse Imperator¡¯s snarling, twisted face of rage in the presence of Rhizocapala wasn¡¯t one anyone could easily forget, she imagined. She lost herself peeking at Reina, though, and the lady suddenly looked back at her with a suspicious gaze, making her look away in a panic. She pretended to be engrossed in her pastelitos as she wolfed down the rest of her plate, hoping Reina hadn¡¯t actually noticed she¡¯d been staring. But she wasn¡¯t let off that easily, of course. Reina tried to go back to reading her menu for a few seconds before sighing softly, closing her eyes, and setting the menu down on the table. ¡°... My mother used to be a confectioner, while my father used to be an Imperator,¡± Reina said, her eyes opening with that sharp, stern look Marisol was more used to. ¡°Victor Morina is not my real uncle. He was simply a good friend with my father, who he used to dive with frequently. That means I am not his real niece, either. I do not know if he has told you otherwise.¡± Marisol blinked, holding her breath for a second, but then she exhaled softly, sat up straight, and looked Reina in the eye. ¡°The old man doesn¡¯t tell me anything about himself,¡± she muttered. ¡°And you know, I was thinking you two don¡¯t look anything alike. Either you¡¯re adopted or he¡¯s adopted, and I ain¡¯t like the image of him having a loving wife he goes home to.¡± Reina chuckled. ¡°He does not have a partner. Never had one. Never will have one.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s someone in the city who¡¯ll take him.¡± ¡°Not my mother. He tried to steal her from my father many, many times when they were younger, but he was rebuffed every single time.¡± ¡°Even though he¡¯s super strong?¡± ¡°Because he is strong,¡± Reina said, shaking her head. ¡°For better or worse, the ladies of the Whirlpool City are all hopeless romantics. It happens when we all live on a relatively tiny island where we have to look out for each other. Nobody wants to be a widow, and the life uncle led when he was younger was not very¡­ attractive. He was reckless. Took more dangerous missions than anyone else. It turned a lot of his Imperator friends¡¯ children away from wanting to become Imperators themselves, and that included me.¡± Marisol pushed her clean plate of pastelitos away, planting her cheeks in her hands as she leaned forward. ¡°You didn¡¯t want to be an Imperator?¡± ¡°It is indeed a great honour, and my father being who he was, I had a headstart compared to most other people who had to start with Harbour Guard training,¡± she prefaced, ¡°but I wanted to be a confectioner like my mother. I had seen my father returning from his missions all bloodied and battered, and I had seen my mother worrying to death for him¡ªit was not a pretty sight.¡± Then her gaze wandered outside the window, lingering on the dropping sun. ¡°I did not want whoever was to be my eventual spouse to have to worry about me. My father was unhappy with my always skipping out on training, but uncle always helped me get out of the scolding. He likes getting people out of trouble at the last moment for the most dramatic entrance possible.¡± Marisol was inclined to laugh a little, but she couldn¡¯t help but notice the bandages under Reina¡¯s dress again. Reina noticed she noticed. ¡°... Twelve years ago, a ¡®breach¡¯ occurred, and a legion of two thousand Giant-Class crustaceans managed to escape from the whirlpool,¡± Reina said quietly. ¡°Three of the Four Leviathans¡ªRhizocapala, Eurypteria, and Leptostrasa¡ªwere responsible for the Breach. While uncle and the Imperatrix dealt with Leptrostrasa, the rest of the Imperators tried to shove Rhizocapala and Eurypteria back into the whirlpool. My parents were caught amidst the chaos. They were slain by the two, who were not even aiming for them specifically. Eurypteria was just swinging her tail around.¡± Marisol lowered her head, and she didn¡¯t speak. She still had a few plates of pastelitos and figs in front of her, but she didn¡¯t really feel like eating anymore. ¡°I was caught in the attack, too,¡± Reina said curtly. ¡°Our house was brought down during the breach, and my legs were crushed under debris. I could not move. I waited for death, and¡­ Eurypteria appeared.¡± Then she paused, eyes faintly bleary for a moment before she continued. ¡°I do not know why she did what she did, but when she gave me the option to die or to drink her blood, I took it. Even if I did not have a system back then, consuming extremely concentrated bioarcanic essence from an Insect God would make me stronger immediately, make me mutate insect traits immediately, and I thought¡­ maybe there was a chance I could take her down right there and then.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°I never did manage to do that.¡± She shrugged, smiling wistfully. ¡°While I began mutating under the debris, screaming my lungs out, another Imperator came by and fought Eurypteria off. By the time I awoke in the infirmary, the breach was already over. Uncle and the Imperatrix managed to kill Leptostrasa, but uncle suffered major injuries in the process and could no longer dive as a result. The Imperators managed to stabilise most of the city¡¯s crumbling infrastructure, but a third of the city was still destroyed. I had grown a wild water scorpion tail that did not heed my command, and the Imperators did not think I could be saved. I could not control my tail without a system to help regulate my intense bioarcanic essence for me, and since there was no Water Scorpion Class system at the time, the Imperators debated killing me before I could lose my humanity and hurt the people around me.¡± Marisol frowned. ¡°So how did you¡ª¡± ¡°Uncle and the Imperator who saved me from Eurypteria fought for me,¡± Reina said, leaning slightly back in her chair. ¡°They told the Imperators that I was not a lost cause¡ªthat they could forge an entirely new class just for me because uncle managed to hack off a single part from Eurypteria during the attack¡ªand then uncle spent the next year going to hell and back, looking for a competent bioarcanic engineer on the mainland continent.¡± She shifted a little bit to the side and raised her scorpion tail, letting the stinger curl around her neck like a scarf. ¡°Uncle told the Imperators I was not going to be a threat to humans, but I was going to be a threat to Eurypteria. He argued the Water Scorpion God was too powerful; that she could not be killed by anyone who does not also have the Water Scorpion Class, so I could be the first of many future Water Scorpion Class users to come.¡± ¡°... He wanted to use you as a prototype weapon against Eurypteria.¡± Reina chuckled softly again. ¡°You make my uncle sound like a villain, putting it like that.¡± ¡°You know I ain¡¯t meant it like that¡ª¡± ¡°I know. He made sure nobody touched a hair on my body while he ran around the continent looking for someone who could help him forge a Water Scorpion Class with nothing but the single chitin plate he managed to hack off Eurypteria¡¯s body,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°Two years later, he succeeded. Somehow. He came back to the Whirlpool City with a never-seen-before system infused with Eurypteria¡¯s bioarcanic essence¡ªwhich he somehow extracted enough of off that one little plate of chitin, when most systems require at least several carcasses¡¯ worth of bioarcanic essence to be successfully infused with a class¡ªso reluctantly, the Imperators allowed me to undergo a surgery that gave me the Water Scorpion Class.¡± ¡°And because of the blood you drank from her, you were able to survive and adapt to the system¡¯s bioarcanic essence.¡± ¡°I did.¡± Reina unfurled her tail from her neck, rubbing the dangerously sharp stinger like she would a cat as she folded it behind her back. ¡°And I also made a promise to my uncle back then that I would wipe out the Swarm in the Deepwater Legion Front, if not only to repay him for what he did for me¡­ so I must apologise to you, here and now, for failing to defend you and the Imperator siblings back then.¡± Marisol blinked. Miss Suneria swerved by at this exact moment to drop off Reina¡¯s orders, and Reina immediately pushed those dishes forward, dipping into as deep a bow as she could muster with the bandages around her torso. ¡°... What?¡± Marisol breathed. ¡°I was the dive leader,¡± Reina said curtly. ¡°I should have seen Rhizocapala coming, and I should not have allowed him to touch even a single hair on your body. The great blue¡¯s fortune smiled upon me that none of you were killed during our extraction, but the fact remains that none of you should have needed to run in the first place. I am sorry. I was not a dependable Lighthouse Imperator¡ª¡± ¡°Bull.¡± Grumbling, Marisol grabbed a nougat from the plate in front of her and stabbed it in Reina¡¯s face, making the lady reel back with a flinch. ¡°If you¡¯re ¡®undependable¡¯, then I was downright useless against that walking barnacle,¡± she said, glaring at Reina as she did. ¡°But you stood over me while I crumbled and protected me. You protected all of us. You think stalking me and treating me to a round of sweets while bragging about how ¡®weak¡¯ you are makes me feel any better?¡± Reina returned a genuinely perplexed frown. ¡°I did not mean it like that¡ª¡± ¡°Then I¡¯m already over what happened,¡± she growled. ¡°Rhizocapala showed up, beat the crap out of us, and scampered off like a bug the moment the old man showed up¡ªbut he¡¯s still gonna stand in my way to Depth Eight, so I gotta deal with him eventually. Does a Sand-Dancer stand still and dwell on the past, or do they continue to dance forward on the edge, lightning snapping at their heels?¡± It was Reina¡¯s turn to blink. ¡°I¡­ what?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a Sand-Dancer.¡± ¡°What is that?¡± ¡°Oh. Right. That ain''t a thing here.¡± ¡°It is not¡ª¡± ¡°My point is,¡± she mumbled, leaning forward to shove her nougat into Reina¡¯s mouth. ¡°I¡¯m a Sand-Dancer who wants to go home, and you¡¯re an Imperator who wants to kill Eurypteria. We both want to get down to Depth Eight. Let¡¯s not bog ourselves down with regrets and focus on what we¡¯re gonna do the next time we run into Rhizocapala, yeah?¡± Reina was quiet for another moment before she started chewing, slapping Marisol¡¯s hand away with an amused scowl. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ touch my sweets if you don¡¯t want them, then,¡± Reina muttered, pulling her plates back in. ¡°Also, don¡¯t tell Miss Suneria this, but if you want better pastelitos, there¡¯s another shop two blocks away with a little sapphire lamp hanging outside the door. The pastries there are a bit pricier, but it¡¯s well worth the price.¡± Marisol licked her lips as she leaned back, pulling her own plates closer. ¡°You¡¯ll have to show me where. I ain¡¯t a local. ¡®Two blocks away¡¯ means nothing to me.¡± ¡°You have an Archive, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°What about it?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t it show you the map of the Whirlpool City?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± [About that,] the Archive muttered, [I hate to interrupt your date in this quaint little candy house, but that old man is fast approaching¡ª] Someone suddenly pounded the window next to them, making them jump in their seats. Reina dropped her nougat and Marisol almost activated Storm Glaives out of fright, which would¡¯ve definitely destroyed the pretty tiles beneath her. And she and Reina both knew the old man wasn¡¯t going to pay for anything, even if he was the one who gave them both a fright. ¡°It¡¯s time, lass,¡± he said, voice muffled as he wiped away the droplets from the fogged glass, peering into the store with a scrunched, bandaged face. ¡°What the hell are you doing with my niece, anyways? Are those dishes on my tab? What¡¯d I tell you about using my name for unnecessary shit like this?¡± Marisol groaned as Reina apologised to Miss Suneria for dropping the nougat, the hardened sugar stick cracked and scattered all over the floor. ¡°I didn¡¯t use your name for this. I paid for these myself¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn, lass. Get your ass outta there. It¡¯s time.¡± She whirled on her Archive, and the little water strider shrugged nonchalantly. [He speaks the truth,] it said plainly. [You would rather be there early than late, no?] Tch. Damnit. ¡°I¡¯m coming back after this, so save the sweets for me in a little bag, will you?¡± she muttered, bowing to both Reina and Miss Suneria as she skated out of her seat, heading straight for the door. For her part, Reina glanced back and frowned worriedly. ¡°Where are you going?¡± she asked. ¡°What¡¯s uncle making you do this time?¡± Marisol paused at the doorknob, smiling nervously back at Reina. ¡°I have a meeting with the Worm God,¡± she said. Chapter 63 - The Worm God Tucked away in a small, abandoned alley a good thirty minutes¡¯ walk away from the bustling residential district, a cathedral made out of pure, uncorrupted alabaster loomed. Not a soul wandered this section of the city. The sharp, cold air stung Marisol¡¯s cheeks, and there were only the faint sounds of rain and waves breaking against the harbours below. The cathedral gleamed like polished bone under moonlight, and every detail¡ªevery arched window, carved saint, and worm-patterned relief¡ªwere sharpened by the silvery glow. It was a beautiful building with decades of history to be sure, but the killing pressure radiating from behind the heavy alabaster doors pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe. This is¡­ his aura? [A fraction of it. There is a reason why he lives alone in this part of the city.] [Now go in.] She hesitated, cold rain pitter-pattering against her shoulders, but Victor strode right forward and the double doors creaked open automatically. The killing pressure intensified. She winced and slid back unconsciously, her body moving on its own, and Victor had to grab her by the wrist before yanking her in¡ªshe would¡¯ve slid down the street without her knowing it otherwise. The moment she got out of the rain, the double doors slammed shut behind her. ¡­ It¡¯s even colder here. The cathedral was vast, almost cavernous in nature, and it was lit only by pale moonlight filtering through cracked, stained-glass windows. Rows of empty pews lined the hall, the wood warped and darkened by time. Tall alabaster columns rose by the sides, their surfaces etched with faded carvings of worms, while their shadows stretched across the floor, solid like actual pools of oil. There was no in-between. Either the cathedral was extremely well lit or not at all; either she endured the freezing temperature, or she didn¡¯t endure anything at all. Hugging herself, teeth chittering, shivering from head to toe, she stayed by the entrance and tried to breathe. Tried to think. Carved entirely out of even more alabaster, a throne made of twisted petrified worms sat on a raised dais at the end of the hall, and the boy sitting on it was unnervingly still¡ªbecause he was the source of the killing pressure. White hair spilled over his face, framing soft, delicate features. Four curved horns jutted from his head. Silvery veins ran under his pale biometal skin, glimmering like stars. Draped over his shoulders was a cape made of woven diamond flowers, and he had nothing more than a plain trousers underneath. His chest was bare. His feet were bare, resting lightly against the dais as though he hadn¡¯t moved in years, and that was because he probably hadn¡¯t moved in years. His eyes were closed, his cheek was propped up by a hand on an armrest. He was deep in slumber, and Marisol didn¡¯t even want to wonder what sort of dreams or nightmares the strongest human in the world had to grapple with. Could he even dream? Could he even suffer from nightmares? As Victor trudged forward, walking cane clacking softly against the hard stone, Marisol followed¡ªand she couldn¡¯t stop her heart from thumping in her chest the entire time. [He is still a human, you know.] Who can pick up mountains and throw it at an army of bugs. [He still eats and drinks sometimes.] But he prefers the blood of his enemies. [He still has likes and dislikes.] We know what he doesn¡¯t like. He hates bugs. The Archive sighed exasperatedly as the two of them neared the boy¡¯s throne. [I do not know what you have been taught or told as a child, but I am not particularly surprised. Most humans on the continent regard him as an omnipotent god, but he is just another human. As long as your mind is unable to bridge that gap, you will never be able to speak on even terms with him.] You mean¡­ he¡¯s not a stickler for formality? [No. But kneel.] Victor stopped right before the dais and knelt, both hands clasped on his walking cane. Marisol followed suit, if not only because she feared for her life. The Worm God was right in front of her. He¡¯s gonna kill me he¡¯s gonna kill me he¡¯s gonna kill me¡ª ¡°Okay, that¡¯s enough paying respects to a fucking clone,¡± Victor grumbled, shooting to his feet and taking two steps up the dais before jabbing his cane down at her. ¡°Oi, Enki. Make the lass a registered Flower Cape. She¡¯s had her Altered Swarmsteel System for months already, but she inherited it directly from Antonio instead of passing your exam. Before she goes any deeper into the whirlpool, I want her Archive to have its full functionalities back.¡± No response. Anxiously, she looked between the old man and the boy, and then Victor chucked his walking cane at the Worm God¡¯s head. The cane bounced off, ricocheted into a window to their left, and then smashed through glass to let a stronger shaft of moonlight fall into the cathedral. Marisol clenched her jaw as the Worm God suddenly cracked his neck, his lips parting slightly to exhale a cold, bone-chilling mist¡ªand without even opening his eyes, he opened his right palm and raised it in her direction. Oh. I¡¯m dead. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced her face¡ªas if that was going to protect her at all¡ªbut nothing happened. The Worm God didn¡¯t make a wormhole and shred her into pieces. He didn¡¯t stretch his arm out like a worm and grab her throat. His palm was simply outstretched, he was muttering an incomprehensible, metallic script under his breath, and he was still resting his cheek against his other hand. If she closed one eye and ignored his raised hand, she could very easily mistake him for still being asleep. And whatever he was doing¡­ she didn¡¯t feel it. Maybe the Archive in her nape was squirming or rearranging itself or literally breaking down into tiny biometallic parts, but she was still so damned cold, and the cold was all she could focus on. ¡°... Alright. Now we just sit here and wait for five or so minutes until he¡¯s done registering your Archive,¡± Victor said, shrugging nonchalantly as he sat down on the dais, just a few steps away from the Worm God¡¯s feet. She swore he looked a little miffed at the walking cane he threw out himself, but instead of going out to retrieve it, he motioned for her to stop kneeling and make herself comfortable on the floor. ¡°What? You thought he was even going to bother talking to you? Don¡¯t be silly. He¡¯s got more important things to do on the mainland.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. It took a bit of self-convincing, it took a lot of effort, but she was eventually able to stop kneeling and sit down cross-legged instead, hugging herself as she peeked nervously up at the Worm God. ¡°I thought¡­ what?¡± she muttered, her voice coming out weak, laboured, as though her mind was getting frozen over by the cold as well. ¡°I thought¡­ you know, he¡¯d interview me¡­ or something. Becoming a Hasharana¡¯s a big deal, right? Is it okay to¡­ sit there and¡­ register me just like that¡ª¡± ¡°I was the one who brought you here. He¡¯ll pass anyone I bring to him.¡± ¡°Is¡­ is that so¡ª¡± ¡°Besides, I¡¯m pretty damn sure you have the wrong idea here.¡± Victor thumbed back at the Worm God, a small smile wrinkling his bandages. ¡°This kid here isn¡¯t the real Worm God. He¡¯s just one of his ten clones scattered across the continent. I bet his real consciousness didn¡¯t even stay for long enough to take a good look at you. He just felt me hitting his head with my cane, popped in to hit you with his killing pressure, and then left.¡± Marisol blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t they teach you anything in school?¡± Victor grumbled. ¡°Year Seventy, after the Worm Mage was killed by the Swarm God, he came back as the ¡®Worm God¡¯, split himself into multiple bodies, and went to the Six Swarmsteel Fronts to duke it out with the Six Greater Insect Gods all at the same time. As of right now, there are eleven Worm Gods.¡± He raised six fingers. ¡°One clone resides in each of the Six Swarmsteel Fronts, three clones reside in the centre of the mainland continent, and one clone is free to walk around the continent helping out the Flower Capes wherever help is needed. His real body sits atop his tower in the centre of the continent, and¡­ come on. There¡¯s no way you don¡¯t know what he does up there.¡± She wracked her head, tried to come up with an answer, and found it almost immediately¡ªingrained in her head from all the legends, stories, and books she¡¯d read as a child. ¡°His strongest attack,¡± she said, snapping her fingers, her eyes lighting up briefly blue. ¡°Brightmoon Collapse.¡± Victor tilted his head. ¡°So you have heard of it.¡± ¡°He¡­ the real Worm God sits above his alabaster tower in the centre of the continent, and whenever a Greater Insect God shows itself, he arms his railgun and prepares to fire Brightmoon Collapse!¡± she breathed excitedly, reciting from the picture books every child in her desert town had multiple copies of. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ an attack that combines the weather, his wormholes, and thousands of Swarmsteel all working in sync to deliver a super fast projectile that can decimate anything in its way! I know that! It¡¯s how we still haven¡¯t lost to the Swarm yet, because none of the Greater Insect Gods want to risk getting targeted by that attack!¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s not that powerful,¡± Victor mumbled. ¡°It¡¯s true that it¡¯s a railgun that he can fire anywhere from atop his tower to deal massive damage, but there are many conditions that must be fulfilled before he can actually pull the trigger. For one, it takes him twenty-four hours to charge up his bioarcanic railgun, so any Greater Insect God that shows up must remain visible for twenty-four hours straight¡ªand Corpsetaker can wreck this entire city in well under an hour if left uncontested. By the time the Worm God charges up his railgun, it¡¯d already be too late.¡± ¡°What? But that¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s why he has a clone in each Swarmsteel Front,¡± Victor interrupted, thumbing back at the Worm God again. ¡°All ten of his clones combined make up about eighty percent of his power, so the real body only has twenty percent of his total power remaining, and this guy right here has only about eight percent of his total power. Since the Imperators have such a tight hold on the city, he doesn¡¯t even bother moving this clone unless something demands his attention, and that¡¯s nothing short of multiple Insect Gods breaching the whirlpool. In the event the city is compromised, his one and only duty is to make sure Corpsetaker doesn¡¯t reach the surface.¡± ¡°... And if Corpsetaker manages?¡± ¡°He¡¯ll try to keep the Greater Crab God distracted on the surface for twenty-four hours.¡± Victor shrugged again. ¡°Then he¡¯ll use Brightmoon Collapse and destroy the entire city, most likely. He¡¯d rather kill everyone on this island than let Corpsetaker roam free around the Deepwater Legion Front.¡± Marisol¡¯s face paled, but she wasn¡¯t sure how much paler she could go. Every word that came out of Victor¡¯s mouth sounded like a half-joke, but the Worm God¡¯s killing pressure wasn¡¯t a joke. And this is just eight percent of his contained aura? ¡°But if he¡¯s so strong¡­ why doesn¡¯t he just go around the entire continent with his real body, killing one Greater Insect God after another?¡± she managed to ask, teeth chittering, the cold starting to harden her skin. ¡°If he¡¯s that strong¡­ if humanity¡¯s god is this strong¡ª¡± ¡°He can¡¯t,¡± Victor said plainly. ¡°Brightmoon Collapse is the only attack of his capable of actually hurting the Greater Insect Gods, and it¡¯s the only thing keeping the Swarm from overrunning this continent.¡± ¡°How?¡± Victor frowned. ¡°It¡¯s a stalemate,¡± he said. ¡°The Greater Insect Gods aren¡¯t overwhelming the Six Swarmsteel Fronts because he¡¯s always watching. Say he leaves his tower and comes here with his real body. Sure, he¡¯ll be able to dive down with us on a Corpsetaker extermination mission¡ªand there¡¯s a thirty percent chance we can win¡ªbut that opens up the rest of the continent up to attack. There¡¯s no point if we literally lose the rest of the continent just to win the Deepwater Legion Front.¡± ¡°... Oh.¡± ¡°The Swarm¡¯s afraid of him, and none of the Greater Insect Gods want to die. It¡¯s as simple as that. The stalemate will be maintained as long as his real body never leaves his tower, because none of the Greater Insect Gods will show up for long, and even if they do, they have to contend with the clone that¡¯s already sitting there in each of the Six Swarmsteel Fronts.¡± Then Victor elbowed the Worm God¡¯s feet, grinning as though trying to elicit a reaction from the clone. ¡°Between this guy and the Imperators, I think we can put up a pretty decent fight even against multiple Insect Gods breaching the whirlpool. I¡¯m pretty sure the protocol for that is¡­ well, he¡¯ll transfer a portion of his consciousness in first, and then he¡¯ll wake up, and then he¡¯ll lock every invading bug into an alternate space with his wormholes, giving the rest of us time to evacuate civilians off the island and prepare our defences.¡± Marisol had heard of the Worm God¡¯s ¡®impossible defences¡¯ across the continent many, many times, and they were completely different stories every time. Once, she heard he¡¯d thrown an entire borough down a wormhole, keeping the citizens safe from a Swarm siege for three whole days while he dealt with the bugs himself. Another time, she heard he¡¯d summoned an entire wall of worms to protect an entire coastal city from a tidal wave of giant ants. Yet another time, she heard he¡¯d given every soldier in a marching army their own personal wormhole, and every time one of them were about to fall in battle, they were automatically teleported away. The casualty rate for that army¡¯s campaign ended up being a big, fat zero. So, somehow, hearing Victor say he was just going to lock any bug invading the Whirlpool City into an ¡®alternate space¡¯ wasn¡¯t so surprising. Even if the Archive said otherwise, she couldn¡¯t think of the boy in front of her as anything but the human god.
[... Altered Swarmsteel System registered] [Please fall asleep for soft reset initiation]
The status screen that popped up next to her head gave her a good jolt, and as she squinted at the tiny words, Victor popped onto his feet with a soft groan. ¡°It says you have to go to bed for its full functionality to unlock, right?¡± he said, meandering down the dais and walking past her, patting her on the shoulder. ¡°Stop training just for tomorrow. You¡¯ll wake up being bombarded by a thousand annoying notifications¡ªbecause you¡¯ve been unregistered for so long and they¡¯ve probably been accumulating in your Archive¡ªso it¡¯ll take you an entire day just to sift through all of it. Figure out your fully functional system by yourself. Kids are better with technology these days, anyways.¡± With that, the old man left her alone in the chapel with the Worm God, the heavy alabaster doors creaking open slowly before closing with a loud slam. For her part, she was still just staring at the Worm God, who¡¯d pulled his outstretched hand back and went back to sleep the moment her status screen popped up. Naturally, she had lots of questions she wanted to ask Victor¡ªand even more she wanted to ask the Worm God, humanity¡¯s greatest hero¡ªbut there was a reason why the cathedral was so damned cold, and it probably wasn¡¯t because the Worm God wanted people to just lounge around in here. Gathering herself, she scrambled onto her glaives and started tip-toeing out of the cathedral, hurrying to get away from the Worm God¡¯s killing pressure. ¡­ Archive? You there? A metallic voice buzzed in her ears, utterly incomprehensible. She winced for a short moment, hand flying to her nape, but then the little water strider phased into existence on her shoulder, looking the same as ever. [I am here.] Oh, thank god. Relief flooded into her chest as she practically dashed out the cathedral, panting for breath, savouring the cold rain on her shoulders. The old man just left me, and I doubt the Worm God would even entertain any questions I have for his clone, so if you left me as well¡ª [I would never leave you, Marisol Vellamira.] [But not to worry.] [When you wake up tomorrow morning, you will wish I were gone.] Chapter 64 - Messages Marisol awoke the next morning not to idle bird chirping or people setting up shop out the window, down the street¡ªit was a sharp ding in her head that made her eyes snap wide open, and it was a flurry of metallic voices that immediately made her wince.
[Archive registration complete] [Syncing data backlog¡­ Syncing... Complete] [Displaying 4,862 notifications]
[Weather Forecast for Whirlpool City: Gale-force winds in the upper city, rising mist levels in the lower city, and a 60% chance of mild acid rain near the Swarmsteel factory district. Suggested actions: Avoid dockside markets until after 10 in the evening] [Navigation Alert: Spiral Road submerged under rising tides. Suggested detour: Wyrmfrost Archway. Estimated travel time: +12 minutes.] [Bug Bounty Alert (176 kilometres): Titan Spiderling¡ªA-Rank Giant-Class¡ªclaimed by ¡®The Hurricane Fang¡¯. Timestamp: 59 days ago. Status: Confirmed] [Bug Bounty Alert (265 kilometres): Rile Scorpion¡ªB-Rank Giant-Class¡ªcontested by multiple Hasharana. Arbitration pending. Estimated resolution: 5 days] [Hasharana Assistance Signal Log (618 kilometres): Source: ¡®Saltcarver¡¯. Location: Glassreef Cradle, Canal De Sussoro. Timestamp: 38 days ago. Status: Ignored] [Voice Message received from ¡®Saltcarver¡¯. Playback commencing...] [¡°Where the fuck are ye, Antonio? ¡®Ahm dyin¡¯ over here. ¡®Ahm dyinnnnng. If ¡®ah don¡¯t see yer ugly mug in my face within the next three days, ¡®ahm goin¡¯ to¡ª¡±] [System Reply Sent: None. Suggested Action: Block user] [Restaurant Suggestion: ¡®El Az¨²car del Remolino¡¯. Review excerpt by ¡®Sea Manic¡¯: 4/5 stars. Comment: ¡°The nectar tea is a dream, but avoid the candied beetle husks unless you like crunching through exoskeletons¡±. Closest store location: 0.8 kilometres east. Pull up navigation map for more more accurate directions] [Death threat received from ¡®Rustspine Predator¡¯. Parsing content...] [¡°When I find you, your Archive won¡¯t even have a signal to record your screams.¡±] [Text Complaint lodged against ¡®Sea Manic¡¯ by ¡®Rustspine Predator¡¯. Parsing content...] [¡°This is the third bounty you¡¯ve stolen from me, you fucking bitch. I¡¯m coming for your ass.¡±] [Voice Message received from ¡®Gilded Widow¡¯. Playback commencing...] [¡°How¡¯s the ferrying business going, Antonio? I trust you¡¯re not just doing it for fun? Did the Worm God put you up to defending travellers trying to cross the great blue? Keep it up¡ªyour head¡¯s going to look great mounted on their wall.¡±] [Bug Bounty Alert (451 kilometres): Sunscale Scarab¡ªC-Rank, Giant-Class¡ªclaimed by ¡®Thornblade Alchemist¡¯. Timestamp: 42 days ago. Status: Reward pending collection in Whirlpool City] [Restaurant Review: ¡®Faro del Sabor¡¯. Review by ¡®Sea Manic¡¯: 1/5 stars. Comment: ¡°Unnecessarily cruel. Splitting crabs open while they¡¯re still alive is one thing, but that bass¡­ that poor bass¡­¡±] [Navigation Alert: Strong currents detected in Coralroot Boulevard. Suggested route through Tidegrove Steps. Warning: High ambush risk of mild acidic rain] [Voice Message received from ¡®Whispered Fang¡¯. Playback commencing...] [¡°I¡¯ve got a lead on something big. Meet me south of Isla Alear in two months.¡±] [Death threat received from ¡®Rustspine Predator¡¯. Parsing content...] [¡°Kill yourself.¡±] [Festival Announcement: The Niebla Marine Festival begins tomorrow in the Coral Plaza. Reminder: Increased Swarm activity reported in the area. All Hasharana must be on guard] [Restaurant Suggestion: ¡°La Caracola de Oro.¡± Review by ¡®Sea Manic¡¯: 3/5 stars. Comment: ¡°The shrimp-spider soup is worth the price, but the Ring Beetle wine is stronger than it looks. Drink at your own risk.¡±] [Distress Signal Log (1,725 kilometres): Source: ¡®Bone Weaver¡¯. Location: Salmorena Northern Stretch. Timestamp: 43 days ago. Status: Ignored] [Notification overflow. Summarising final 4,845 entries...] [1,075 Bug Bounties posted. 1035 resolved. 40 currently underway] [682 Distress Signals received. 648 resolved] [74 Death Threats recorded] [816 Text Messages archived] [79 restaurant reviews flagged as noteworthy] [182 Arbitration Cases involving ¡®Sea Manic¡¯. 0 resolved] [1,937 Local Navigation Warnings. 0 resolved]
¡­ Just kill me. [Stimulating programmed cell death¡ª] Wait. Stop. Don¡¯t¡­ you dare. The Archive hopped onto the bridge of her nose as she folded her pillow over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block out the voices in her head. They came from inside her head, so she had no idea what she was trying to do by covering her ears, but she just wasn¡¯t thinking straight anymore.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Hey¡­ can you, like¡­ turn the notifications down¡ª [Mute mode engaged for non-critical messages. Notifications will resume after manual override or upon high-priority updates.] [Real-time mode engaged.] [Welcome back, Marisol Vellamira. Do you regret having me registered now?] She had half a mind to dig her nails into her neck and rip out her system, but if she made a bloody mess on the bed, it¡¯d be her wallet on the line when the innkeepers eventually came to change the sheets. At least the Archive silenced all the ringing and voice messages playing in her head, and now, all was good with the world again. ¡°What¡¯s the difference between a registered Altered Swarmsteel System and an unregistered one again?¡± she mumbled out loud, and that was because she needed to hear her own voice to know she wasn¡¯t going insane. She kept her eyes closed, her face scrunched, her head still pounding quietly. ¡°You said¡­ back on the horseshoe crab island¡­ that I can use the most up-to-date translation features if I¡¯m a registered Hasharana, but what else is possible now?¡± The Archive poked her eyelids with its sharp little legs, making her wince and roll around and attempt to swat it off her face. [Do you want to hear all of my new capabilities? I can recite all four-thousand features in full detail¡ª] ¡°I¡¯ll kill you.¡± [Before I begin, you must first understand what an Altered Swarmsteel System is,] the Archive said, and she felt it changing shapes, morphing on her nose. She opened one eye slowly and plucked it off her nose, frowning at the silver metal worm it¡¯d turned into. [You remember this form, correct? To wit, the first Swarmsteel Systems were created in Year Eleven, which gave specific classes to people. By Year Thirty, many factions were able to mass-produce and distribute specific Swarmsteel Systems for widespread military use. In Year Seventy, the Worm God stabilised the continent and created the wandering bug-slaying organisation known as the Hasharana, and he also created us: the ¡®Archives¡¯ and the ¡®Altered Swarmsteel Systems¡¯. We can analyse our users and give them any class that has ever been created for them, while also providing intelligent support via direct communication with our users.] ¡°That¡¯s a long way of saying you yammer a lot.¡± [But what is an ¡®Archive¡¯, really?] it continued, ignoring her completely. [In short, I am a librarian. I retrieve information from a database of knowledge, and that database is constantly being updated every single hour of the day. Who do you think does the updating?] ¡°The Worm God?¡± [Stupid. The Hasharana do. We Archives are always collecting environmental data from the surroundings of our Hasharana¡ªthe temperature, the wind speed, the lay of the land¡ªand whenever we near a structure called a ¡®Worm Effigy¡¯, all of that collected information is instantly deposited, then sent out as a broadcasting signal to every other Archive and Worm Effigy in the area. Think of Worm Effigies as a bunch of really tall lighthouses along a coastline. Whenever new information is deposited, a specific frequency of light turns on in one lighthouse, and any nearby lighthouse also copies the frequency and sends it out even further, eventually spreading the information across the entire coastline.] [Since there are registered Hasharana and Worm Effigies in most parts of the continent, including the Deepwater Legion Front and the Whirlpool City, we have constant access to all sorts of live information whenever our Hasharana require it. There are Hasharana who call this continent-wide network of signals and effigies the ¡®Wormpassage¡¯, but colloquially speaking, most people know this as just the ¡®database¡¯. Are you following so far?] She smiled brightly at the worm pinched between her fingers. ¡°No.¡± [Good. Now, as you have just experienced, the live information you can access whenever you are near a Worm Effigy is manifold, including, but not limited to: weather forecasts, navigation data, bug bounties, distress signals, restaurant suggestions, pathfinding suggestions, voice messages, text messages, private complaints, public complaints, and death threats. Fun fact: a non-insignificant number of Hasharana spend more than one hour a day leaving death threats to other Hasharana for swooping in on their bug bounties.] ¡°Huh,¡± she mumbled, dropping the worm into her mouth and pretending to chew as she recalled a few voice messages she¡¯d heard during the flurry of notifications. ¡°But there ain¡¯t any Hasharana in the city apart from me and Victor, right? Because they¡¯ve all been blocked out by Protocol ¡®Black Storm¡¯? How are their messages still coming through?¡± [The Worm Effigies are scattered across the Deepwater Legion Front, and there are plenty even outside the Whirlpool City. It is not particularly difficult for a Hasharana in the Harbour City four thousand kilometres away to send a message all the way over to you, though bioarcanic transmission is not instantaneous, obviously. There will be delays depending on how far away you are from said person, and past the five thousand kilometre mark, messages don¡¯t usually get sent to the receiver. Pathfinding is a difficult script problem even for the Hasharana¡¯s brightest minds. The messages will instead remain at the Worm Effigy they were left at until the receiver enters its range, at which point, transmission will finally begin.] She thought about what that meant for a moment. ¡°So all this time, Victor has been in contact with the outside world?¡± [Yes.] ¡°And now I¡¯m also capable of sending messages to the outside world?¡± [Within the Deepwater Legion Front, yes.] ¡°Can I send a message to someone and have them deliver it to my mama, then?¡± [You would be hard-pressed to find a Hasharana willing to leave their post, leave the Deepwater Legion Front, and journey all the way to the Luzde Desert just to help out a new recruit. Perish the thought. There is no Worm Effigy near your hometown, anyways, so even if there were a Hasharana willing to help you, they would have to physically meet your mother just to deliver your message.] ¡°But¡ª¡± [I will not stop you from trying. I am simply telling you not to get your hopes up if nobody responds to your request.] ¡­ But that was better than nothing, so even if it was only the slimmest chance in the world, she wasn¡¯t about to give up at the starting line. With the Archive¡¯s assistance, she managed to record herself talking¡ªshe spoke of what happened to Captain Antonio, her journey from the sinking ship to the Whirlpool City, and both the comfortable yet uncomfortable life she was currently leading as a Hasharana of the city¡ªand there was no real planning behind what she said. She had so, so many things she wanted to tell her mama she feared the Archive wouldn¡¯t be able to record it all, but the Archive never interrupted her, and in hindsight, it shouldn¡¯t even have been a worry. This was a man-made intelligence capable of storing and transmitting information from an entire continent away at the drop of a hat. A five-minute-long message wouldn¡¯t break it. She ended up recording ten minutes¡¯ worth of her own voice, and then had the Archive send it out to the nearest Worm Effigy¡ªwhatever that looked like¡ªin hopes it¡¯d find its way to a Hasharana willing to entertain her request. ¡°What powerful bioarcanic equipment you Altered Swarmsteel Systems are,¡± she muttered, sinking deeper into her pillow as she rubbed her eyes, trying to knock the sleep out of her. ¡°Say, why doesn¡¯t the Worm God just give everyone an Altered Swarmsteel System? We¡¯d all be for the better if we could access any information we want on the fly, right?¡± [As if it is that easy. Each and every last one of us are handmade by the clones of the Worm God himself in the Hasharana headquarters in the centre of the mainland continent, and the amount of time and resources required to make even a single Altered Swarmsteel System is already far, far too much. That is why the Worm God asks so much of the Hasharana. Even the loss of one Altered Swarmsteel System is a significant blow to the organisation.] ¡°Oh.¡± [¡®Oh¡¯ is the correct response. Now, would you like to test out some of my new features for yourself, or would you like to laze around for the rest of the morning?] She shot up straight, running her fingers through her hair as she inhaled deeply. ¡°Okay, okay, I¡¯m getting up. Ain¡¯t like I¡¯m still shivering after last night, anyways¡ª¡± [¡ªthat is a lie¡ª] ¡°What do you got for me? Anything fun for me to try out?¡± The Archive didn¡¯t bother responding. Instead, it pulled up a status screen next to her face, and she blinked only once before recognising it as a top-down map of the Whirlpool City¡ªand there were hundreds and thousands of tiny labels pointing at different parts of the city, all glowing, all marking something of interest for her to explore. She could see how a Hasharana could be easily distracted by the navigation functionality. [... Victor told you to take the day off,] the Archive said plainly. [Go mess around for once in your life.] Chapter 65 - Tourist Kneeling on the window frame, Marisol let herself bask in the morning sun for a few moments, waking herself up fully¡ªand then she pulled up the map, her watery eyes immediately bombarded with a large screen that took up the better half of her vision. That¡¯s¡­ a lot of labels. How am I even supposed to sort through everything? [Very slowly.] The top-down map of the city was detailed, to say the least. The city¡¯s sloped streets coiled inward like the spiral of a seashell, with bridges crisscrossing canals, buildings casting long shadows over others, and the bright glint of sunlight reflecting off the whirlpool in the centre of the map. Her eyes immediately flitted to the map¡¯s legends in the corner. Symbols and icons peppered the map, each one marking a certain type of landmark: inns, taverns, repair shops, street stages, hidden alleyways, and lots of restaurants. Mostly restaurants. The labels and words written in the local tongue also shimmered in her vision for a few seconds before morphing into recognisable words, the Archive¡¯s updated translation feature coming into play. There was now no tongue on the continent she couldn¡¯t speak, and that¡­ still sounded rather unbelievable. Great Makers. Is this map¡ª [Accurate down to every cobbled tile? Yes. Largely speaking, there are two types of maps: constructed maps and live maps. Constructed maps are just like your hand-drawn, normal ones, but as for the live maps¡­ there are tiny, nigh-invisible biometal moths fluttering over your head at all hours of the day and night to capture a hundred percent accurate top-down view of the city. The live map is the one you are seeing right now, so try the zoom-in function.] The what? [Find the Highwind Inn on the map, then pinch, expand, and zoom in.] With one hand on the window frame, she touched the map with the other, dragging it around with a perplexed squint until she found a landmark she recognised from the top-down: the roof of the Highwind Inn where a few of her training dolls still lay broken and unrepaired. Then she did as she was told and ¡®pinched¡¯ the map, holding it tight before dragging her fingers apart. The map zoomed in. It became more and more detailed, she could now see crowds of people physically walking along the streets, and¡­ Her eyes widened as she noticed a top-down view of herself, kneeling perched on the window frame of the inn, and she immediately snapped her head in an attempt to catch the scrying eye looking at her. How the hell¡ª [The Makers of the Hasharana, the Pioneers of the Rampaging Hinterland Front, and the Starfaring Sternwart Institution of Amadeus Academy have been collaborating on hyper-advanced bioarcanic observation technologies for quite a few decades now. The Hasharana are still working on spreading the ¡®Satellite Moths¡¯ to as many places on the continent as they can, but since the Whirlpool City is the forefront bastion against the Swarm of the Deepwater Legion Front, there are plenty of invisible eyes above us to create a live map of the city as such. In most other parts of the continent, only constructed maps are available for access.] It was still unbelievable. She had to rub her eyes a good few times and blink for a few more moments before she finally came to the conclusion that she was a terribly stupid country bumpkin. She¡¯d no idea what ¡®watery fruits¡¯ were before she stepped foot on the horseshoe crab island, let alone realise such technologies had been circulating around the continent for at least¡ª [Well, the satellite moths are rather new bioarcanic technology. They have only been in service above the Whirlpool City for fifteen years, two months, and eight days.] I was still eating sand when I was nine because I thought it¡¯d make me a better Sand-Dancer. [Would you like a palate cleanser, then?] At the Archive¡¯s suggestion, the live map zoomed out a little bit to show the entire district of the upper city surrounding the Highwind Inn. Most irrelevant labels, icons, and symbols faded away, leaving only the icons of crossing spoons and forks. She recognised it as the symbol most eateries in the city had painted on their little hand-wrought iron signs. There were ten, thirty, fifty restaurants all within a thousand metre vicinity, and instinctively, she went to poke one of the particularly large flashing icons with a finger. A new status screen popped up next to the icon, accompanied by a full-colour image of the front of the restaurant.
[Restaurant: Nueva Mesa] [Location: Heart of the Spiral District, seventh street, block four, floor three, overlooking the city¡¯s Harbour Guard Academy] [Specialty Dishes: Paella de Mareas, Cochinillo al Horno, Gazpacho Azul] [Average Rating: 3/5 stars] [Top Review by ¡®Gilded Widow¡¯: ¡°A vibrant blend of rustic charm and aquatic serenity, with warm terracotta tiles, colorful mosaics of whirlpools, and lantern-lit terraces. A romantic place to break up with your lover of eleven years. The food is nice as well, I guess.¡±] [Most Recent Review by ¡®Sea Manic¡¯: ¡°Food¡¯s a little pricey, but the experience is worth every silver. The terrace view of the academy downstairs is breathtaking. Highly recommend the Gazpacho Azul for something refreshing and unique. Will definitely bill Andres the receipt and have him file the meal under business expenses."]
[For Hasharana¡ªand people with classes in general¡ªthe food they consume is very vital to their strength,] the Archive explained. [There are days when even Hasharana who have access to bug meat do not want to eat bug meat for health and digestion reasons, so what they choose to eat on those ¡®off-days¡¯ can greatly affect them. Thus, one of the more commonly used features of the Altered Swarmsteel System is the ¡®Restaurant Review¡¯ feature, in which Hasharana can view and manually update the system with their dining experiences at certain restaurants. As you can see, a few Hasharana have already had their meals at this ¡®Nueva Mesa¡¯, and the average rating is rather high. You might want to check the place out.] She blinked. Three stars out of five is high? [Most Hasharana are very picky eaters.] This ¡®Sea Manic¡¯ guy is the old man, right? [Victor Morina is a very picky eater.] Well, I¡¯d like to visit, but¡­ I ain¡¯t hungry yet. I don¡¯t even want breakfast after meeting with the Worm God last night. [Then food can wait until lunch. Is there any other place you would like to check out and visit with the map feature?] Can you locate people with the map? [Who would you like me to locate?] The old man. The map immediately zoomed out, the icons all but disappeared, and for a good few seconds, the Archive scrolled and enhanced and zoomed in and out until it suddenly stopped. Then it narrowed in on a particular roof not far from where she was, and¡­If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The old man was just lying flat on his back, arms crossed behind his back, walking cane on his chest. Haha. Is he sleeping? Give me the directions, Archive. I¡¯m gonna go and toss a beer bottle at him¡ª Victor suddenly wagged a finger up at her, and every last drop of blood in her body froze. A small smile curved his bandages as he resumed sleeping, only this time, he rolled over onto his side so she couldn¡¯t see his face¡ªbut the mental damage had already been done, and she couldn¡¯t help but hug herself as the Archive laughed in her ear. [He is not one of the strongest humans in the world for nothing. Did you think he would not be able to tell when someone is watching him?] That¡¯s just some bullshit. What¡¯s his perception level at? [To begin with, I would prefer you refrain from using the map feature to stalk people. Is there anything else you want to do or visit with your day off?] ¡­ And so began her journey across her Whirlpool City for the first time in earnest. She hopped away from her room, landed on the crowded streets below, and began skating after interesting icons of landmarks all over. The first she passed was a towering, spiralling windmill jutting out a certain district in the upper city. The status screen next to its slowly rotating blades read ¡®La Torre del Viento¡¯¡ªthe Tower of Winds¡ªa giant, mostly ornamental windmill that¡¯d been transformed from an old power source to a public art installation. The blades were made of translucent glass and woven copper, shimmering like wings in the sun, and they cast colorful patterns of light onto the crowds and cobbled streets below. A windmill that serves no purpose but to look pretty, huh? I like it! The Archive was about to launch into a history lesson, but she wasn¡¯t stopping for any long lecture. As she continued skating through winding, narrow streets, she passed ¡®La Calle de los Ecos¡¯, a street apparently known for its strange acoustics. The architects deliberately constructed it with an odd array of arches and stone corridors that amplified the sound of any whisper into an eerie, reverberating chorus, so she perked her ears and listened. Passersby, storeowners, and children alike could be heard laughing, calling out, or even singing, and their voices would echo back from every direction¡ªquite the interesting design. The city hasn¡¯t been standing for that long, right? It¡¯s incredible what the architects have accomplished in such a short amount of time. [When there is a will, there is a way.] She zipped through the city up and down, left and right, jumping back and forth between the upper and lower city. She passed by ¡®El Mercado de la Marea¡¯, the Tide Market, where stalls sold all sorts of oceanic treasures: rare seaweed, handmade coral jewelry, and fiery-hot peppers grown in volcanic ash. Local vendors shouted their wares in a lively, melodic cadence that blends with the crash of the harbour waves behind them. She crossed the ¡®El Puente del Sol¡¯, the Sun Bridge made entirely from gold and volcanic glass, and then went through a dozen more district marvelling at the sheer scale and variety of the landmarks in the city. She¡¯d explored the streets near the Highwind Inn and scoured every nook and cranny for candy houses, but somehow, she¡¯d never realised the Whirlpool City was infinitely bigger than just the main street that led her directly up to Lighthouse Seven¡ªand now she could absolutely see herself getting distracted by the map feature, because with every icon she swiped away, marked as visited, half a dozen more would pop up, inviting her for a tour. Eventually, she had to wrangle herself to a halt, grab a quick bite of a single box of caramelised almond tarts, and jump to the top of a roof in the lower city overlooking the stormy harbours. The weather inside the city may be sunny with a light drizzle at the moment, but just a few hundred metres off from shore, the clouds were a murderous grey with rain pouring, lightning thundering in the far distance in rapid intervals. ¡®Black Storm¡¯ was still keeping ships from coming in and out of the city, after all, but she wouldn¡¯t be able to tell that was the case if she wasn¡¯t sitting on the edge of the roof right now, munching messily down on her box of tarts. [... And here is the map of the Deepwater Legion Front,] the Archive said, replacing the map of the Whirlpool City with a much, much, much larger one, and she stopped mid-chew to stare at the map of the great blue. [Six months ago, you were in the Harbour City on the mainland coastline, and then you boarded Antonio¡¯s ship.] Then the Archive hopped off her shoulder, landed on the map, and started crawling a long path across the great blue. [Your ship was attacked here. You encountered the horseshoe crab island here. You rode the Blackclaw Marauder¡¯s ship all the way here before getting swallowed by the remipede, and then you rode Enrique¡¯s ship to the Dead Island Straits here, and then¡ª] It took me a while, huh? Her eyes traced the twisting chains of archipelagoes, the sprawling coastal cities, and the jagged shapes of volcanic islands. It was the first time she¡¯d seen a small part of the world beyond her own tiny, tiny desert village¡ªand for a moment, her chest tightened. She felt¡­ small. Insignificant, even. The idea of the world being this vast¡ªso many places she¡¯d never heard of, so many lives unfolding far from her own¡ªmade her feel like a grain of sand on an endless beach. The map was humbling, to say the least, but mixed with that aching ignorance was an equally powerful, quiet kind of gratitude. Because she¡¯d made it here. She was sitting on this roof, in this impossible city built around a volcano island, a place that¡¯d sounded like absolute fantasy back in her little desert town. If she hadn¡¯t left, she wouldn¡¯t have known the thrill of skating through these streets or the taste of the sea air. She wouldn¡¯t have felt the heat of the plazas beneath her glaives or the chill of the ocean spray on her skin. She doubted she¡¯d ever be able to shake the feeling of being small, but that wasn¡¯t too terrible a thing, either. ¡­ Alright. After I get my vial of healing seawater, I¡¯m bringing mama back here to visit, at least. No one was going to stop her. She¡¯d made up her mind. The Vellamira Household was still standing in the lower city. She could use her pay from the Imperators to renovate it, rebuild it from the ground up. She could pull their family house out of the gutters. Hell, she was sure someone would immediately come to her aid if she made a request to the Lighthouse Imperators right now¡ªthere were a hundred things she wanted to do with her mama around the city, and she didn¡¯t care if the trip here would be dangerous. She¡¯d protect her mama, share a box of tarts together, and maybe even do a dance or two atop a roof together. [... Lunch.] Yep. [Any specifications?] According to Hasharana reviews and ratings, what¡¯s the best lunch place in the entire city? As she folded the box, wiped her mouth, and bounced onto her glaives, the Archive pulled up the directions: a bright white thread above her head that beckoned her to follow. She slid down the roof, hopped down onto the street, and then skated leisurely to her destination, rubbing her bare, growling stomach as she did. She hadn¡¯t done any physical training the entire morning, but somehow, skating around the city like a tourist had drained more energy from her than she liked. A proper meal that didn¡¯t consist of crustacean meat would be nice for a change. The streets near the harbour were alive with noise and motion. Vendors shouted their wares, children darted between crowded stalls, and dockworkers with weathered faces trudged past in groups, their boots scuffing against the worn cobblestones. Amid the hustle and bustle of the lower city, she eventually found herself in front of a small diner tucked between two larger, crumbling buildings. The sign above the door was hand-painted, its swirling letters reading ¡°La Mesa del Familia¡± in faded teal and gold. A string of mismatched lanterns hung from the awning. The windows were framed by chipped wooden shutters painted in cheery reds and yellows, and the faint sound of laughter and clinking dishes spilled out every time the front door swung open. Hm. Looks nice enough. It was quite an inviting place. It wasn¡¯t fancy, and it didn¡¯t need to be. It was clearly a place for harbour workers, fishermen, and families looking for a simple meal, and she immediately preferred it over most of the stuffy restaurants in the upper city, so she skated up the stairs and pushed her way inside. The smell hit her first: a warm, rich aroma of spiced stews, grilled fish, and fresh bread. The interior was just as quaint as the outside. The walls were painted a sunny ochre, cracked in places but lovingly adorned with faded tapestries and paintings of ocean waves. The ceiling was low, with exposed wooden beams strung with more of those mismatched lanterns. Small, round tables filled the large space, most of them occupied by chatting patrons. There were long benches pushed against the walls and sturdy wooden chairs that creaked slightly when people shifted. In the corner, an old man strummed a guitar, his quiet melody weaving seamlessly into the hum of conversation¡ªshe smiled to herself and made her way over to an empty window seat, dodging a waitress balancing a tray of steaming bowls as she did, and sat down. As she ran her fingers over the smooth, slightly worn wood of the table, she felt herself relaxing. The menu was just to the side, so she picked it up, started scanning the items, and a waitress immediately swerved over to take her order. ¡°Welcome to the Familia, Marisol. First time?¡± the waitress said. ¡°Mhm,¡± she murmured, not looking at the waitress at first. ¡°I¡¯ll have¡­ uh, I¡¯ll have the freshest catch of the day with garlic sauce, and then I¡¯ll have crema catelana as dessert afterwards, and then I¡¯ll have¡­ the¡­¡± She trailed off, finally looking up from her menu with a small frown as she found the waitress¡¯ voice more than familiar. Helena waved back in her casual clothes, and her older brothers, Aidan and Bruno, also waved as they worked the fiery stoves in the back of the kitchen. ¡°... Hey,¡± Helena said, an amused smile curling her lip. ¡°Hey,¡± Marisol replied, tilting her head in slight, slight confusion. ¡°What¡­ uh, are you guys doing here?¡± ¡°We work here.¡± ¡°But you guys are¡­ huh?¡± With her massive but delicate pistol shrimp claws, Helena took Marisol¡¯s menu from her, and then the Imperator winked as she walked back to the kitchen. ¡°One order of pescado con ajo and crema catalana coming up.¡± Chapter 66 - Familia Marisol had to wait until the chaotic lunch hours were over in the Familia¡ªstaring longingly at the waves crashing against the harbours below¡ªbefore the owners of the restaurant finally had some free time to attend to her. There were more of the owners of the family restaurant than just Bruno, Aidan, and Helena. There were five more helpers aged ten to sixteen, working odd jobs around the restaurant, and Marisol watched them while sipping on her cold lemonade: Bruno and Aidan patted the older kids on the back as they were sent out of the restaurant in Harbour Guard Academy uniforms, while Helena straightened collars, polished shoes, and gave the younger kids tight hugs before sending them to afternoon school, wherever that was. It wasn¡¯t until three past noon that Helena finally turned over the ¡®Not Open¡¯ sign on the front door, leaving the restaurant all but empty and quiet at long last. As Bruno and Aidan sighed, working on floor and table cleanup, Helena swerved by and offered her a glass of vermouth on the house. Marisol had never heard of the drink before, but it smelled faintly alcoholic, so she declined politely. She made it a point to refuse any food that¡¯d make her unstable while skating. Shrugging, Helena took the window seat opposite from her table and slid her an extra bowl of ice cream. ¡°A type of helado artesano,¡± Helena said, tapping the rims of the bowl, ¡°flavoured with almonds, nougats, cinnamons, and figs. Four in one. It¡¯s the Familia specialty.¡± Marisol¡¯s eyes glimmered. Now, she hadn¡¯t had this before, so she picked up the small spoon and started feeding herself, the creamy ice melting on her tongue while Helena watched with a satisfied smile. Seeing the Imperator stare at her reminded her to pay for everything, because she¡¯d most definitely eaten way more than her fair share of free food in the past three hours. Even if she was a guest¡ªand everything in the menu was horrendously cheap¡ªshe¡¯d feel bad at getting all this free food without doing anything in return. ¡°How¡¯d you find this place?¡± Helena asked, propping her cheek up with her human hand. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you even ventured all the way down here just for food. Did that Flower Cape tell you?¡± ¡°Archive,¡± she said, in-between furious bites, ¡°said¡­ this place was¡­ best lunch place in the whole wide city.¡± Helena grinned from ear to ear. She looked over her shoulder and hollered at her older brothers mopping the floor, ¡°Did you hear that? Marisol¡¯s Archive says we¡¯re the best lunch place there is!¡± ¡°What about the best dinner place?¡± Aidan hollered back from several tables away, looking up from his mop. ¡°What¡¯s your friend say about the best dinner place in the city?¡± [It is also this restaurant.] ¡°It says it¡¯s here as well,¡± Marisol said, much to Aidan and Bruno¡¯s delight. The two brothers high-fived each other as they walked past, and Helena chuckled softly. ¡°Well, this calls for another celebration. Wait here. I¡¯ll go in the back and get you another plate¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m surprised, though,¡± Marisol said, wiping cream off her lips with her thumb and sucking it clean, ¡°I thought being an Imperator was a full-time job, and that all of you live up in the upper city.¡± ¡°Most Imperators are offered residence in the upper city because it¡¯s closer to the lighthouses and the whirlpool,¡± Helena corrected. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean all of us take that offer, though, especially when we have family in the lower city. Why trade what we already have for a cold, unfamiliar, albeit maybe more luxurious and secure place in the upper city?¡± Marisol leaned back against her cushion, looking the restaurant over once again. The small round tables, the painted floor, the cracked walls, the faded tapestries, and the brilliant close-up view of the harbours right below. It was a quaint little place, and Marisol wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d give this up for her room in the Highwind Inn, either. ¡°... Eight of you siblings run the restaurant?¡± she asked, taking another sip of her lemonade. ¡°Ten. The youngest are seven and eight, but they had to go to afternoon school a bit earlier today.¡± Then Helena pointed out the window, gesturing at her younger siblings meandering their way up the street towards their school. ¡°Short of an entire manor, there¡¯s no residence in the upper city capable of housing all ten of us, and the seven of them will have to change schools if they move up top. Best to stay down here where all their friends are.¡± Marisol whistled. ¡°Your mama and papa must¡¯ve had a hell of a time raising all of you, then.¡± ¡°You¡¯re an only child?¡± ¡°Only daughter.¡± ¡°It has its ups and downs.¡± Helena smiled. ¡°But I like to think we¡¯re running Familia decently well.¡± ¡°What¡¯s up with this, anyways? Don¡¯t you guys get paid well for being Imperators?¡± ¡°We do,¡± Aidan mumbled as he passed by their table, kicking Helena¡¯s legs under the table so he could mop the floor. Helena grumbled and clicked her pistol shrimp claw at his back, making him stumble slightly. ¡°But as new recruits who can only dive down to Depth Three at best, the pay¡¯s only enough for just about seven people. Granted, because of you, we¡¯re taking way more extermination missions than we used to, but it¡¯s still enough.¡± ¡°There¡¯s three more kids we have to send to school, and until the oldest graduates from Harbour Guard Academy, we¡¯ll still have to pay for their living expenses,¡± Helena said, shrugging lightly. ¡°Besides, we like to keep Familia open. The reason why we can keep our prices low is because we work for super minor profits¡ªwe pay for most of our ingredients out of pockets so the kids around here can eat for cheap.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. That¡¯s very kind of them. No wonder this place has such good reviews by other Hasharana. [The food is also good,] the Archive pointed out, [if the food were bad, the Hasharana would have slammed this restaurant regardless of how much charity work they are doing for the children around here.] Assholes. [The Hasharana are very picky eaters.] ¡°How do you guys do it, then?¡± Marisol asked, tilting her head back and looking up at the painted murals on the ceiling. ¡°Working as Imperators and as restaurant owners¡­ must be tiring. Why not let your mama and papa help out¡ª¡± [The original owners of Familia died four years ago,] the Archive said plainly, and without warning, a wide status screen popped up over the table showing aerial images of the lower city in ruins. [A C-Rank Mutant-Class managed to bypass the Harbour Guards beyond the harbours and washed ashore. The Imperators were slow to respond, and the Mutant-Class was allowed to run rampant for seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds before it was exterminated by Victor Morina¡ªduring which, it managed to destroy thirty-four establishments, injure four hundred and fifty-one people, and kill two hundred and two people in the lower city.] The unasked-for history lesson continued. Marisol blinked, her eyes swirling and stinging with information as the images on the status screen changed with rapid flickers, showing her increasingly brutal visuals of the damages caused. Cluster of colourful buildings reduced to rubble. Bodies of merchants and dockhands sprawled lifeless. Half-sunken ships in the harbours, masts jutting out like skeletal fingers from the frothing seas. Other status panels scrolled by lists of casualties and infrastructure losses¡ªclinical words for unspeakable losses. It was almost like the time when she¡¯d put on Kuku¡¯s crab helmet and experienced his past, but not quite. This time, she was but a mere observer of a more distant, cold past. Her stomach churned. A faint nausea rose as the images of the destruction set in, and she lurched forward, reaching instinctively for the glass of cold lemonade. Helena nudged it forward into her grasping hand, smiling wistfully. ¡°... Your Archive told you?¡± Helena asked, tilting her head. ¡°That our parents were among the deceased, and the three of us oldest siblings decided to keep Familia running in their stead¡ªI bet the Archive knows more about that stray attack than even we do, given I heard it can¡­ document anything and everything it can get its invisible hands on?¡± Marisol¡¯s face burned as she took a big swig of her lemonade, swallowing nervously. ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡­ trying to pry,¡± she mumbled, averting her eyes. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t realise. I should¡¯ve figured, I guess, but¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s fun watching you,¡± Helena mused, propping up her cheek with her human hand once again. ¡°So strong and so fast, but so easily made red-faced as well. You¡¯re just like our little siblings.¡± Then she turned around and hollered at her older brothers, ¡°ain¡¯t that right, Aidan, Bruno?¡± The brothers laughed heartily in response, but they didn¡¯t bother stopping their cleanup just to make Marisol feel even more awkward about prying. Helena shook her head and turned back around, giving Marisol an ¡®it¡¯s alright¡¯ look. ¡°I bet your Archive can tell you just about everything about anyone living in the Whirlpool City,¡± she said pointedly, ¡°I think, at some point in everyone¡¯s lives, they¡¯ve come in contact with a Flower Cape before, and if they¡¯ve come in contact with a Flower Cape, their names, faces, backgrounds, and general physical information have already been documented¡­ but we¡¯re, so so far from the mainland continent. If anything happens to someone, we¡¯re all we can rely on. I see no point in keeping any secrets in Familia.¡± ¡­ Marisol had a few words to say about that, but the ring of the afternoon bell shook her from her thoughts as new customers started walking in, greeting Helena as they walked by. Aidan and Bruno immediately yelled at their younger sister to help them out with the cleanup or they wouldn¡¯t be able to get tea service up in time. Helena stood up, reached into a back pocket, and handed Marisol a piece of wrapped candy. ¡°I¡¯m glad you got to try our specialty dishes,¡± she said, winking at Marisol as she left. ¡°Leave a good review with your Archive so more Flower Capes visit us with their deep pockets in the future, yeah? This meal¡¯s on the house for the ¡®Storm Strider¡¯ who defended the lower city from a Mutant-Class. We¡¯ve been meaning to invite you down here for some time, anyways, so who would¡¯ve known you¡¯d find us all on your own?¡± More and more children started racing into the restaurant, dumping their school satchels onto the cushions, and Marisol figured it was time for her to leave as well. The afternoon school children probably used Familia as a gathering spot, so it¡¯d be rude to impose on the owners any longer¡ªbut she made a mental note to herself, as she waved her farewells to Helena and skated out the front door, that she¡¯d definitely come back to visit very, very often. She didn¡¯t just like the food. Standing before the railings of the stairs leading down to the main street, she caught a glimpse of everything the lower city stood for: messy buildings painted in soft hues of terracotta, saffron, and ocean blue, standing whole again, their intricate wrought-iron balconies adorned with potted plants. The cobbled main streets, once drenched in chaos and blood, now teemed with life. Boats bobbed gently in their moorings, their sails rolled down as their crews shared stories and smoked on the docks. She took a deep breath of fresh, saltwater-tinged air, and relaxed her grip on the railings. This part of the city was what she¡¯d helped protect when she killed the Mutant-Class wraith shrimp, and the sooner she could help end ¡®Black Storm¡¯, the less the people here had to worry about carnage on the scale of what¡¯d happened four years ago. ¡­ Hey. [What is it?] Don¡¯t do that anymore. [Do what?] She narrowed her eyes at the little water strider on her shoulder, knowing it hadn¡¯t meant any real harm, but¡­ that wasn¡¯t how she wanted to use her registered system. Don¡¯t poke and pry into people¡¯s pasts. Don¡¯t just tell me things about people and dig up information like that. There are things that people should only learn by being people¡ªnot told to them by images and recordings and moving pictures. If you do things like that again without my permission, I¡¯ll flick you. The Archive dipped its head apologetically. [Duly noted.] She still wasn¡¯t quite satisfied with its casual response¡ªif there was anything she¡¯d learned about her Archive today, it was that it knew far, far too much, perhaps even more than its own good¡ªbut at the same time, she was willing to just let bygones be bygones. The map and the navigation data and the restaurant reviews were nice features to use, but having the Archive tell her things about people instead of hearing said things from said people was a no-go. Do you really understand? [... Of course.] [Now, is there anything else you would like to do for the rest of your day off?] She continued squinting at the little water strider, but only for a few moments longer before she returned to looking out at the sunlit lower city, eyes softening. I¡¯m done relaxing. Let¡¯s get back to training for the eventual Depth Four summons. Chapter 67 - Strategy Meeting Another three weeks went by in the blink of an eye, and by now, it¡¯d been seven months since Marisol received the Water Strider Class¡ªmore than half a year since she became a bit more than human, and a lot less normal by everyone else¡¯s standards.
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: E-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: Storm Glaives] [Aura: 4,539 (+40)] [Points: 12] [Strength: 6, Speed: 6, Toughness: 6 (+1), Dexterity: 5, Perception: 5 (+1)] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 5] [T2 Mutations | Basic Gills Lvl. 5 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 6] [T3 Mutations | Basic Apiclaws Lvl. 5 | Streamlined Wings Lvl. 5 | Basic Setae Lvl. 2] [T4 Mutations | Basic Discharge Lvl. 4 | Basic Sonar Lvl. 4 | Basic Underchitin | Basic Chitin] 500P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20] [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20)]
¡­ With more than a third of the Imperators out of commission, there wasn¡¯t a lack of extermination missions to go around. Far from it. To that end, she¡¯d gone on about ten of them¡ªmostly in Depth Three¡ªand they were all relatively high-rank missions against stronger bugs. A-Rank and S-Rank Giant-Classes. Since the battles had been tougher, it also stood to reason she gained a lot more points even after dividing the spoils of battle evenly between her and the Imperator siblings. A thousand and three hundred or so points. More than double what she got during her first three weeks of diving. She¡¯d increased most of her attributes and mutation levels by a fair amount, though not enough for the system to increase her grade from E-Rank Mutant-Class. If the assessment were any accurate, she still wasn¡¯t strong enough to take out the C-Rank Mutant-Class copepod alone, but she was probably on the higher end of E-Rank, which meant the wraith shrimp from a few months back should be no issue now. She was more than ready for her summons. First morning of her seventh month in the city. Victor tossed a pebble at her window from outside, but before the pebble could shatter the glass, she threw the window open and flicked the pebble back at him across the street. He slapped it away with his cane and a wry grin. ¡°Get to Lighthouse Seven as soon as possible,¡± he said, waving at her absentmindedly as he strolled up the main street, turning his back to her. ¡°And why not just send me a message with your Altered Swarmsteel System?¡± she said, grumbling under her breath as she climbed out of the window. She was already prepared to leave bright and early. ¡°I was awake. You could¡¯ve spared yourself the trouble of coming here.¡± ¡°I¡¯m old-fashioned like that. I don¡¯t like using the Archive for boring stuff like that.¡± ¡°Then what do you use it for?¡± ¡°Restaurant reviews. Now get your ass up there quickly. I can afford to be late, but you can¡¯t.¡± While he vanished with a puff of wind, she vaulted out the window and began skating up. At the same time, she looked at the status screen hovering next to her face. It¡¯d been a while since she had to choose a branch mutation, but she did tell herself a while back that she¡¯d get one for her ¡®Basic Gills¡¯ mutation as soon as possible.
[First Branch Mutation Selection available for T2 Core Mutation ¡®Basic Gills¡¯] [First Branch Mutation Option: Filtering Gills] Brief Description: Your gills will possess basic filtration capabilities, allowing you to breathe in murky water with higher levels of impurities without discomfort] [Second Branch Mutation Option: Flow Gills] [Brief Description: Your gills will evolve thin flaps that reduce drag caused by water passing through your gills, increasing your speed slightly and helping you conserve more stamina during underwater movement] [Third Branch Mutation Option: Darkwater Gills] [Brief Description: Your gills will have improved oxygen extraction efficiency, allowing you to breathe much longer in low-oxygen environments]
¡­ So the second branch mutation option will give me more speed, she thought, humming as she hovered a finger over the status screen. Should I just get this for the sake of it? [It is your decision to make. All three branch mutations are decent.] But if I¡¯m gonna be diving deeper and deeper, I should take either ¡®Filtering Gills¡¯ or ''Darkwater Gills'' instead, right? Because the water¡¯s most certainly gonna get cloudier and murkier with less oxygen the deeper down I go? [''Darkwater Gills'' is a mutation you should have if you are going to be performing deep dives, while ¡®Filtering Gills¡¯ would allow you to filter out salt from saltwater, essentially making it so you can drink seawater without any issues,] the Archive added. [On the other hand, ¡®Flow Gills¡¯ would be¡­ thematically appropriate, given you are a speed masochist. If you want to eek out every bit of speed possible from your mutations, then you can go with the second option.] Hm. Actually. My tier three ¡®Basic Apiclaws¡¯ is also at level five now, right? I¡¯ve been holding off on picking the branch mutation, so show me the options now? More status screens popped up next to her head as she sped past a Guard checkpoint, now nearing the base of the lighthouse.
[First Branch Mutation Selection available for T3 Core Mutation ¡®Basic Apiclaws¡¯] [First Branch Mutation Option: Laminar Apiclaws] [Brief Description: Your claws will become smoother and more blade-like, making your movements more aero and hydrodynamic while they are extended] [Second Branch Mutation Option: Serrated Apiclaws] [Brief Description: Your claws will develop serrated edges, making them more effective at tearing and sawing through tough materials] [Third Branch Mutation Option: Hardened Apiclaws] [Brief Description: Your claws will no longer be able to retract into your forearms, but in exchange, their toughness at maximum level will become thrice that of your toughness level]
Marisol raised her brow at the third option. ''Hardened Apiclaws'' is just ass. [Eh. It has its uses.] Can¡¯t you tell me what the second branch mutation options are for all of the branch mutations? I wanna compare and see which one I should get. [I do not know what branch mutations you will be offered for the Second Branch Mutation Selections right now. As a reminder, the offerings are based on your actions, your physiology, your subconscious preferences, and your bioarcanic essence readings at the time of the selections. Your bioarcanic essence readings tell me you would consider ¡®Serrated Apiclaws¡¯ a decent option now, but if you had suddenly developed a fear of serrated edges during the past seven months, I would not be offering you ¡®Serrated Apiclaws¡¯ now.¡± ¡°I would advise simply picking the options that appeal to you the most right now.] ¡­ Marisol sighed, clapped her cheeks, and then forced a smile onto her face as she sped past the reception in Lighthouse Seven. I want my cake and eat it too. I want both speed and utility. So¡­ give me ¡®Filtering Gills¡¯ and ¡®Laminar Apiclaws¡¯. [Understood.]
[Basic Gills Lvl. 5 ¡ú Filtered Gills Lvl. 5] [Brief Description: You have evolved tiny slits on your neck that function as basic filtrating gills. You can now extract oxygen, filter out impurities, and breathe underwater for upwards of five minutes, after which you will have to begin holding your breath. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase the amount of time you can breathe underwater. At max level, you will be able to breathe underwater for up to ten minutes]If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. [Basic Apiclaws Lvl. 5 ¡ú Laminar Apiclaws Lvl. 5] [Brief Description: You have grown sharp and smooth bones that can extend out of your elbows like blades. Their toughness is currently one and a half times that of your toughness level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase their toughness. At max level, they will be twice as tough as your toughness level]
She immediately felt the flaps on her neck and the bones in her forearm shifting, twisting, mutating, but she paid them no mind. She¡¯d check out her new and improved apiclaws later. By the time she skipped up the spiralling stairs to the top of the lighthouse, careful not to scratch up the carpet too much with her glaives, the Imperatrix and the council of Lighthouse Imperators were already scattered across the long rectangular table in the centre of the room. Hugo and Reina, the Third and Fifth Lighthouse Imperators, she immediately recognised¡ªboth were seated properly by the right of the table, backed by several of their lighthouse members standing behind them, including Helena, Aidan, and Bruno¡ªbut she didn¡¯t know who the other three were. The hunchback old man with a dull steel sword, the bandit-looking young girl with swirling blue chitin patterns on her limbs, and the drowsy lady with four incredibly long shrimp antennae sat on the left of the table. Only the lady bothered to regale Marisol with a little smiling wave as she entered the room. The other two were either hunching too far forward to see her or leaning too far backwards, the chair nearly tipping off its legs. [The First, Second, and Fourth Lighthouse Imperators respectively.] [Not to worry about any of them. They do not bite.] Gulping, Marisol paused by the door, and she didn¡¯t return the knowing smiles Reina and Helena gave her as Andres beckoned her to take a seat at the end of the table. Somehow, Victor had sped past her and was already standing next to the Imperatrix. All eyes were on her right now. She had to take her seat. ¡°... Good. Everyone is here,¡± the Imperatrix said, standing by the other end of the table as Marisol sat down. Reina¡¯s scorpion tail poked her back, making her squirm, and she glanced down with a frown to see a piece of candy being offered to her. ¡°Now that we have stabilised the whirlpool from Rhizocapala¡¯s surprise reappearance, we all have time to meet up like this. Lighthouse Imperators, report.¡± As Marisol pinched the candy out of Reina¡¯s tail and shot the lady a discreet smile, the old hunchback¡ªthe First Lighthouse Imperator¡ªbegan speaking. ¡°Five of mine are dead to Kalakos,¡± he rasped. ¡°I was the only survivor.¡± ¡°Fifty-four cut to shreds by Eurypteria,¡± the second Lighthouse Imperator said, slamming her legs on the table as she glared at Andres. ¡°Lighthouse Two¡¯s fucked. We ain¡¯t got no Imperators capable of divin¡¯ all mornin¡¯, afternoon, and evenin¡¯ now.¡± ¡°Thirteen initiates were killed by Rhizocapala¡¯s barnacles, which popped up all across Depth Three when he activated his Swarmblood Art,¡± Hugo said, his spider legs scratching his back as he cracked his neck, looking calmly furious. ¡°Thirty-four are still injured. They won¡¯t be diving anytime soon either.¡± ¡°The Harbour Guards are reporting even more intense Swarm activity outside the Whirlpool City,¡± the Fourth Lighthouse Imperator said, clasping her hands as she leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. ¡°Eleven Mutant-Classes have been subdued on their way to the city since Rhizocapala¡¯s reappearance. Seven Harbour Guard fleets have been destroyed. That¡¯s seven thousand men dead outside the city this past month.¡± ¡°In terms of food and expirable consumables, the Whirlpool City is holding on fine internally, but certain wares and trades must be allowed to move in and out by the year,¡± Reina said, sliding stacks of paper across the table with her scorpion tail. Most of the Lighthouse Imperators didn¡¯t even bother picking them up, but the Second Lighthouse Imperator picked one up, and Andres plucked one off the table and perused it with a slow, steady gaze. ¡°Most of our bioarcanic weapons, equipment, and aquatic artillery require maintenance, but the bioarcanic engineers from the Rampaging Hinterland Front are trapped outside the city. We are doing our best to keep the city running, but the longer we continue holding up ¡®Black Storm¡¯ and prevent movement in and out of the city, the weaker our defenses across the board.¡± ¡°And I¡¯ll speak for Matheo, who¡¯s not here as usual,¡± Victor said, coughing into his fist as he emulated a lower, gruffer voice, ¡°¡®Nothing important to report. Will continue to keep an eye out across the Deepwater Legion Front. Lighthouse Six, Matheo out¡¯.¡± Andres put his paper down as Marisol crunched down on her piece of honey-glazed candy quietly. The mood in the room had turned from sour to downright murderous really, really quickly, and for her part¡­ she had no idea all that had happened after she survived the encounter with Rhizocapala. She¡¯d woken up in her room after five days of coma, and then it was silent. No news, no reports, no debriefing, nothing. Sure, she¡¯d jumped into Depth Three a few more times afterwards with the Imperator siblings to take on patrol and extermination missions, but they didn¡¯t know anything about what¡¯d happened, either. As always, things in the Whirlpool City were moving along behind her back, and frankly, she¡¯d had enough of it. ¡°So,¡± she began slowly, ¡°what am I doing here, and why am I sitting at the end of this table¡ª¡± ¡°This is just like what happened twenty-four years ago,¡± Andres said, cutting her off with a stern voice as he placed both heavy chitin fists on the table. She gulped again, shirking in her chair. ¡°Before the Swarm God first appeared, there were several years, too, when the Four Leviathans all moved and acted as one. There¡¯s no questioning it now. They¡¯re planning something again in an attempt to break out Corpsetaker, the Greater Crab God of the Deepwater Legion Front.¡± Then he looked at each of them with his steely grey eye, and Marisol prayed she wasn¡¯t going to be the receiving end of it. ¡°Kalakos attacked and reclaimed Depths Seven to Eight,¡± he said, looking at the First Lighthouse Imperator, ¡°then Eurypteria attacked and reclaimed Depths Four to Six,¡± he continued, turning to the Second, then to Hugo, ¡°and then Rhizocapala took advantage of the chaos in the lower Depths to attack the Mutant-Class Extermination Team, knowing nobody from below would be able to support them. It was a well executed plan. If Victor hadn¡¯t figured something like that was going to happen, we would¡¯ve lost Reina, Marisol, and our three promising initiates down there that day.¡± ¡­ Question, Archive. [What is it?] What are the Four Leviathans again? [Corpsetaker¡¯s pantheon of direct subordinates, all Insect Gods,] the Archive explained. [In ascending order of power and appearance, they are: F-Rank Barnacle God, Rhizocapala. E-Rank Water Scorpion God, Eurypteria. D-Rank Remipede God, Kalakos. C-Rank Mantis Shrimp God, Marculata. In the past three decades, only the second, third, and fourth members have been killed and replaced by four other Insect Gods. Rhizocapala, the weakest and the oldest, has never been replaced.] [Furthermore, while they are all technically part of the Swarm, Insect Gods tend to have what humans would call ¡®individuality¡¯. Typically, they have their own objectives and desires, so it is rare, even when they are directly under a Greater Insect God, for them to coordinate any simultaneous attacks.] [If the four of them are finally working together, then¡ª] ¡°I don¡¯t think I gotta say this, but not even a single one of ¡®em can be allowed to breach the whirlpool,¡± the Fourth Lighthouse Imperator said calmly, and the Archive popped her name into Marisol¡¯s head: ¡®Claudia¡¯. Her name was Claudia. ¡°We saw what happened four years ago to the lower city when even just a single Mutant-Class managed to wash ashore, and we saw what happened twelve years ago when three Insect Gods managed to breach the whirlpool¡ªand ye can guarantee they were much weaker back then than they are now, twelve years later. Spare my Harbour Guards the painful deaths. The lot of ¡®em are still reelin¡¯ from the destruction of seven whole patrolling fleets, so those of us inside the city need to do our jobs properly.¡± The Second Lighthouse Imperator scoffed, tossed Reina¡¯s report away, and crossed her arms. Marisol received another name in her head: ¡®Maria¡¯. ¡°Easy for ye to say. ¡®Ahm the one who lost half of my lighthouse¡ªfifty-four Imperator adepts wiped out in a single mornin¡¯. If anyone needs to step up their game, it better be Lighthouse Four who sends me replacements from the Guards¡ª¡± ¡°Now, now. Lighthouse One also lost some of their elites in Depths Seven to Eight, and my Lighthouse Three also lost thirteen initiates,¡± Hugo said with a sympathetic smile, clapping his hands and spider legs together to shut everyone up. ¡°There¡¯s no need to point fingers. Reina. How goes the observation and investigations on Depths Four and below?¡± Reina narrowed her eyes, her scorpion tail coiling under her chair for another stack of papers. ¡°No information whatsoever,¡± she said, shoving the stacks at each of the Lighthouse Imperators. None of them save for Maria and Andres bothered picking these ones up, either. ¡°The combined efforts of Lighthouse One, Two, and Three have secured Depths One to Three with aquatic artillery and barricades, but anything below Depth Four is a mystery. The Swarm has a death grip on the rest of the whirlpool, and there¡¯s a mist fogging up visibility, so none of our observation drones and bioarcanic constructs can see anything down there.¡± Hugo frowned. ¡°Have you tried working with¡ª¡± ¡°The commercial diving companies¡¯ private observation drones? We have. Nothing mechanical gets past the hundred metre mark after crossing the boundary between Depth Three and Depth Four. Something lurks in the mist, and I have no doubt it is one of the Four Leviathans running interference on all of our observation attempts,¡± she said plainly. ¡°Right now, we have established heavily fortified forward outposts every three hundred metres along the walls of Depths One to Three, and we also have a temporary outpost right at the edge of Depth Three, but if we want to know what is going on down there, we need to send people, flesh and blood. Constructs and drones will not cut it.¡± ¡°And that is exactly what we will do,¡± the Imperatrix said curtly, lifting his fists off the table, and Marisol suddenly felt her breaths returning to her; she hadn¡¯t even realised she¡¯d been holding her breath. ¡°Between most of our initiates still recovering and half of Lighthouse Two taken out of commission by Eurypteria, it is imperative that Marisol Vellamira takes part in the reclamation missions from here on out.¡± Then he looked straight at her, and her breath caught again. ¡°Now more than ever, your presence will be vital to stopping Corpsetaker¡¯s plan. His Four Leviathans know this, which was why Rhizocapala targeted you. They intend to stop you from reaching the abyss.¡± Marisol pointed at herself. ¡°The Four Leviathans are targeting¡­ me?¡± ¡°You and your Archive. They know you are the only active Flower Cape in the city, and they still fear the years when Victor Morina was still active as the ¡®Chariot¡¯, ranked sixth of the Arcana Hasharana,¡± he said, glancing over his shoulder to nod at the old man. Victor nodded back, a sly grin under his bandages. ¡°They know you are his pupil. They can likely smell Victor¡¯s aura rubbing off of yours. Whether it is true or not, they believe you could pose a threat to them¡ªand that is exactly why you must take part in the reclamation missions from now on. They will make worse decisions if they subconsciously fear you.¡± ¡°Besides, it ain¡¯t like you¡¯re that weak anymore. YOu can handle Depths Four and Five, at least,¡± Victor said, shrugging nonchalantly. ¡°Who else are we going to send as vanguards to spearhead the reclamation missions, anyways?¡± ¡°Not me,¡± Claudia whistled, leaning back in her chair. ¡°I¡¯ve still got an academy to run. I ain¡¯t a combat specialist, anyways.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve gotta train up the initiates as well,¡± Hugo muttered, shaking his head as he glanced back at the Imperator siblings, ¡°can¡¯t be preparing for a death dive into enemy territory. I need to replenish our high-rank Imperators by training up our low-ranks.¡± ¡°And I must mend my wounds,¡± the First Lighthouse Imperator said plainly¡ªand Marisol blinked at the little water strider on her shoulder, wondering why the Archive wasn¡¯t telling her his name. ¡°I will patrol Depth Three to make sure nothing gets past, but that is the extent of how deep I can dive within the next few months. Kalakos¡­ did a number on me.¡± The hunchback old man didn¡¯t look like he was injured, but Marisol had learned not to judge by appearances in the city¡ªmainly because of Victor¡ªso that left only Reina and Maria who¡¯d yet to say their piece. Andres, however, didn¡¯t seem to see this as a discussion on whether or not Marisol should be diving. She was going to be diving¡ªand she wanted nothing more than to be part of expediting her journey home, anyways¡ªso with another stern glare from him, all of the Lighthouse Imperators quieted down. Only Victor continued smiling, but that was just the default face for him. For Marisol¡¯s part, she¡¯d already said her piece a long, long time ago. She wasn¡¯t going to be locked up and protected until the path down to Depth Eight was opened up for her. She¡¯d carve her own path down, and if it meant spearheading the missions to reclaim the whirlpool, she¡¯d do it. Bring it on, Rhizocapala. I¡¯ll be ready next time. ¡°... Hence, Lighthouse One, Three, Four, and Five will focus on shoring up defenses for the Depths we still have control over,¡± Andres said, nodding slowly as he saw the lightning in her eyes, and then he turned to look at the Second Lighthouse Imperator. ¡°Maria. You will dive alone with Marisol to spearhead the Depth Four Reclamation Mission next week, and the rest of us will back you two up. Make your necessary preparations before then.¡± Maria shot a glare over at Marisol, but she didn¡¯t object to the Imperatrix¡¯s orders. Marisol, too, didn¡¯t object¡ªbut that was more because the look she was being given didn¡¯t feel like one an ally should receive, and less because she had no questions she wanted to ask the Imperatrix. ¡­ Wait. I¡¯m diving down to Depth Four with her and her only? The bandit-looking girl who looks like she wants to rip me apart with her daggers for teeth? [Better get used to working with her, then.] Chapter 68 - Second Lighthouse Imperator ¡°... And why am I diving down to spearhead the Depth Four Reclamation Mission alone with her?¡± Marisol asked, groaning as she stretched her arms across the table, laying her face down on the warm wood. ¡°I know lots of Imperators are dead and injured, but¡­ this is an important important operation to reclaim Depth Four, right? Why not send all the able-bodied Imperators down with us?¡± Sitting across her table, Aidan slurped on his cold lemonade, Bruno slapped the back of his head to get him to drink a little quieter, and Helena pushed a consolatory bowl of ice cream at Marisol. ¡°We¡¯re spread very thin right now,¡± Helena said, sighing exasperatedly. ¡°All of the low-rank initiates, including the three of us, are assigned to hold the underwater outposts we¡¯ve built along Depths One to Three. That¡¯s already half of the organisation unable to dive freely. Then, half of the Imperators adepts¡ªthose who can dive down to Depths Four to Six¡ªhave been killed by Eurypteria, while the other half are all currently scattered across Depths One to Three to serve as outpost leaders. Most of them aren¡¯t free to dive as well.¡± ¡°Then what about the Imperators in Lighthouse One? They¡¯re the strongest Imperators outside of the Lighthouse Imperators, right? Why aren¡¯t they coming down with us?¡± ¡°There were never many of them to begin with. Of all the lighthouses, Lighthouse One has always had the least number of members, so with five of them killed by Kalakos, the First Lighthouse Imperator is the only one left in his entire division.¡± ¡°That old hunchback is literally the only one left in his division?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°What about you guys? Can¡¯t you come with me?¡± Aidan sent her a sly, apologetic grin, and Bruno dipped his head. ¡°We¡¯re ashamed to say it, but you¡¯ve outgrown us really, really quickly,¡± Bruno said. ¡°We¡¯re only S-Rank Giant-Class Imperators. We aren¡¯t allowed to accompany you down to Depth Four to spearhead the mission.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like the two of you will be completely alone, anyways,¡± Aidan added. ¡°We¡¯ll be several hundred metres behind you and Maria with a bunch of high-rank initiates, ready to provide supporting or retreating fire. We just won¡¯t be at the very front alongside the two of you.¡± The situation was more dire than Marisol thought. She grabbed her bowl of ice cream and started wolfing it down, savouring the sweetness while she still had time to kick back and relax in Familia. The strategy meeting this morning had completely blindsided her with all the reports of death and injuries. She¡¯d had a vague idea that other patrol teams were also attacked while she was running from Rhizocapala, but¡­ right now, based on what everyone was telling her, it almost seemed like the Whirlpool City was on the verge of breaking down. ¡°But¡­ just the two of us going ahead of all of you?¡± she mumbled, slamming her half-finished bowl down with a big, worried frown. ¡°Can¡¯t the other Lighthouse Imperators come with us?¡± ¡°You heard it yourself back in the meeting. The First has to heal, the Third has to train new initiates and quickly replenish Lighthouse Two¡¯s ranks, the Fourth is a non-combat specialist, the Fifth probably has administrative duties to handle up in the city, and the Sixth isn¡¯t even in the city anymore. I think.¡± ¡°And what about the Imperatrix? He¡¯s the strongest of all the Imperators, right?¡± ¡°Andres is fucked-up, just like me,¡± Victor chimed in, and all four of them jumped in their seats. Marisol hadn¡¯t heard him entering Familia, nor had she noticed him sliding onto the seat next to her, grinning from ear to ear. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re having frozen dulce de luna. Let me have some. You owe me for your room, anyways¡ª¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Marisol scowled, pulling her bowl away as she scowled at him. ¡°The Imperatrix¡ª¡± ¡°Is just like me,¡± he finished, pulling down the bandages over his lips as he slipped a spoonful of ice cream in. She blinked. Whirled. Her beautiful second ball of ice cream was already half-eaten. ¡°He¡¯s a bit better in the sense that he can actually fight semi-consistently, but he can¡¯t use his Art very often anymore¡ªnot at his age¡ªand he needs to rest after each prolonged dive underwater. He¡¯ll probably join the missions starting from Depth Five, but Depth Four can and should be handled by his subordinates. Rhizocapala is an anti-army Insect God, anyways, so it¡¯s best to handle him with only a small group of elites.¡± Marisol clenched her jaw. ¡°So there is gonna be an Insect God waiting for me and Maria down in Depth Four.¡± ¡°No shit. But it¡¯ll probably be Rhizocapala alone,¡± he said pointedly, raising a finger as he shoved a second spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. Marisol whirled again. Her second ball of ice cream wasn¡¯t there anymore. ¡°Official prediction: Rhizocapala is guarding Depth Four, Eurypteria is guarding Depth Five, Kalakos is guarding Depth Six, and then I¡¯ve got no clue what Marculata could be doing past that. Marculata can¡¯t seem to survive outside of Depths Seven to Eight, anyways, so Andres is basically telling you and Maria to take care of Rhizocapala.¡± ¡°But, sir!¡± Aidan said, raising his hand. ¡°If we have to get past Depth Four in order to reclaim the other depths, wouldn¡¯t all Four Leviathans be guarding Depth Four together? Why would they split up like that and make it easier for us to reclaim the whirlpool Depth by Depth?¡± ¡°Because Kalakos is massive, and even through the fog they¡¯ve deployed to interfere with our observation drones, we can track her just by monitoring her aura. We know for a fact that she¡¯s still in Depth Six,¡± Victor said, raising a second finger. ¡°Also, Rhizocapala and Eurypteria can¡¯t work together. The barnacle¡¯s anti-army, but Eurypteria¡¯s anti-personnel, so they¡¯ll get in each other¡¯s ways. They¡¯ll work reluctantly to hold their separate territories, but I can guarantee you won¡¯t see the two of them together unless they absolutely have to protect one another.¡± Bruno furrowed his brows. ¡°But what about the other combinations? It could be Rhizocapala and Kalakos together, or Eurypteria and Kalakos together, right?¡± ¡°It could be, but they won¡¯t be working together. They¡¯ll only show up to save each other¡¯s neck, not fight the other¡¯s battles for them.¡± ¡°How do you know that for sure?¡± ¡°Because I¡¯ve fought Rhizocapala and Eurypteria, killed the Insect God before Kalakos with Andres, and I¡¯m telling you right here, right now: Insect Gods are shit at working with each other. True unity is the one thing you never need to expect from the Swarm,¡± he said, and the finality in his voice made Marisol shiver. ¡°It¡¯ll be Rhizocapala in Depth Four, Eurypteria in Depth Five, and Kalakos in Depth Six, in that exact order. I guarantee it. Now, I¡¯m not saying Eurypteria won¡¯t save Rhizocapala if he¡¯s in a pinch, but at the very least, she won¡¯t show up halfway through a fight to jump the lass and Maria with him.¡± Marisol wanted to say ¡®that¡¯s not very reassuring¡¯, because that implied he thought she and Maria could actually push Rhizocapala to the point of him requiring help from another Insect God¡ªand if two Insect Gods were in the same place, there was no reason why they wouldn¡¯t just kill her and Maria while they were already there¡ªbut ¡®reassurance¡¯ was never something Marisol took for granted, anyways. It was always supposed to be dangerous, and Sand-Dancers lived on the very edge of life and death. She hadn¡¯t been training harder than ever for nothing. ¡°... With all that said, Maria wants to see you.¡± Victor slapped her on the shoulder, getting up from his seat with a heavy groan as he did. ¡°Dive down to Depth Two, halfway point. Don''t take a diving bell. She''ll be waiting for you, and you won''t miss her.¡± Marisol blinked, thumbing at herself. ¡°Now?¡± ¡°Ten minutes ago.¡± ¡°So instead of sending me a message with your Archive, you come here late, eat my ice cream, and¡ª¡± ¡°Go.¡± She shot up from her seat, shuffled past the meandering Victor, and sped towards the door. ¡°I¡¯ll pay for my lunch later!¡± she called out, glancing back at Helena. The Imperator siblings simply waved at her, wishing her good luck¡­ though she sincerely hoped she wouldn¡¯t need it. She was supposed to be allies with that bandit-looking girl, right?
Nobody stopped her as she hopped off Lighthouse Seven, plunged into Depth One with her harness, and began skating down the Seagrass Meadow. If she had any complaints whatsoever about being the only one amongst the Imperators working out of her mind¡ªand she never had any in the first place¡ªit all dispelled the moment she started skimming through Depth One. Dotting the meadow were fortified shelters, their angular, algae-coated walls a stark contrast to the organic fluidity of the kelp forest. The underwater outposts were bustling with activity, bubbles rising in constant streams as Guards and Imperators alike darted in and out of airlocks. Their equipment glinted faintly in refracted sunlight: sharp, thick diving suits designed to protect them from long-range projectile attacks, probably in response to Rhizocapala¡¯s cannon-like barnacles.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Speaking of cannons though, there were hundreds of them littered all across Depth One alone: anti-chitin artillery jutting from each and every outpost, enormous harpoon launchers and net cannons mounted on swiveling bases, ready to target anything that swam by overhead. Every hundred metres or so, trenches fortified with coral barriers were littered with explosive barrels and spiked barricades. A part of her wanted to ask the Archive why they didn¡¯t just keep these fortifications in place all year round, but the answer was obvious enough¡ªwith such heavy Imperator and Guard presences underwater, the whirlpool¡¯s ecosystem had to be incredibly disrupted. The commercial diving companies weren¡¯t allowed to dive anymore. Unique resources couldn¡¯t be harvested anymore. Maybe some of the desserts she liked eating up on the surface would be stripped from the menu for a while, too, until business could resume as usual. While she may have been told to descend forth and reclaim the Lower Depths, the rest of the city was focused on preserving the three Depths they still had. ¡­ This ain¡¯t the onset of war, isn¡¯t it? [Just the onset,] the Archive agreed, clinging to her shoulder as she skated by a number of curious faces. They whispered and squinted and kept most of their words to themselves, but she knew they knew she was being sent down to Depth Four¡ªand she was supposed to be the newcomer, the outsider. [It does not have to be war. Foil the Four Leviathans¡¯ plans before they can come to fruition, prevent them from breaching the surface, and honestly, this will just be another page in the long-winded history of the Whirlpool City¡¯s ups and downs. This is hardly the first time the Imperators have had to take such a defensive posture.] Really? [Really.] How many times have they shored up defenses like this? [Twice. Three decades ago and twelve years ago. It is dangerous territory, yes, but not exactly uncharted.] She¡¯d hold the Archive to that. As she skated past the border between Depth One and Depth Two, she was immediately met with even more shelters, outposts, and cannons being constructed across the Tropical Reefs¡ªbut, more important than what everyone else was doing, her eyes caught on a girl swimming in circles far above her head. It was a peculiar sight, seeing someone swimming so freely and leisurely while the rest of the Imperators and Guards were preparing for war underneath. The girl¡¯s body seemed built for swimming, her limbs elongated and slightly glossy. Tiny, paddle-like fins extended from her forearms and calves, slicing through the water with effortless grace. Along her back, just under the folds of her fraying blue cape and Imperator uniform, two small, chitinous wings twitched faintly. If Marisol had to guess, she was probably more like Hugo than Reina or any of the Crustacean Class users¡ªshe had a surface aquatic-type class, but¡­ what was it? [I am not permitted to show you her status screen.] Why not? [By order of the Worm God, the Lighthouse Imperators also have special immunity. I am not allowed to disclose their status screens and estimated attributes unless they personally disclose it to you,] it said pointedly, [at which point, I can reveal to you everything you would like to know about them, from their birthday to their residence to their most frequented restaurants and parlours¡ª] No thanks. I¡¯ll figure those things out myself. She dug her glaives into the sand, and right above, the girl twirled over to blink down at her. Marisol tightened her jaw. The girl didn¡¯t look like an adult. Her dark hair was short and uneven, hacked off roughly, with a few strands floating loose around her face. Her features may be sharp and striking¡ªfreckled skin, a few faint scars across her cheek, and a slightly crooked nose¡ªbut she didn¡¯t look a day past twenty. Marisol could easily see her as a kid led astray by bandits and marauders. ¡­ And neither of them spoke to each other. The water swirled in quiet tension as Marisol fixed her eyes on Maria, and vice versa. ¡°... What did you want me down here for?¡± she asked, her voice steady but firm, cutting through the stillness. Maria didn¡¯t respond. Her silver-black eyes stared into nothing, the glow of the reef lights catching on her bare, spiral chitin patterned arms. She remained unnervingly still where she hovered¡ªthen, without warning, she moved. Her body curved sharply, and she began swimming, finned limbs slicing through the water. At first, it seemed just like idle swimming¡ªnothing Marisol needed to worry about¡ªbut then her movements grew faster. And faster. And faster. Her figure blurred as she spun in tight, rapid circles around Marisol, and the water began to churn. Rage. Froth. Marisol braced herself as the currents coiled and twisted, forming a massive underwater cyclone that sucked at her limbs, dragging her into its relentless rhythm. Whoa! This¡­ is¡­ She struggled to stay upright, her glaives grinding against the sand, but it was no use. The cyclone¡¯s flow enveloped her entirely. She was trapped in it, the water spinning faster with every heartbeat, and she saw them through squinted eyes¡ªthe cyclone¡¯s currents weren¡¯t just ¡®swirling¡¯ around her. She felt like she could physically see them: the flowing streams of water taking on distinct shapes and patterns, ribbons of motion that twisted around her like living things, beautiful and terrifying. ¡®Graceful¡¯. ¡®Elegant¡¯. Marisol¡¯s breath caught. She felt small and insignificant once again, faced with this display of strength. Maria wasn¡¯t just swimming in circles really fast to make an underwater cyclone. She was commanding the natural underwater currents, moving along it, shaping it with a mastery Marisol had never seen before¡ªand by perceiving the natural currents, her speed reached a level Marisol could only compare to Victor¡¯s. She hated to admit it, even silently, but she felt a pang of doubt. Reina was strong in her own way, but this girl was much, much more powerful. Fast. Insanely fast. Her awe-struck thoughts shattered as the cyclone broke apart with a deafening rush. A shadow darted through the chaos, faster than her eyes could follow. Instinct screamed, and Marisol moved on reflex, snapping out her sharpened apiclaws and raising her arms just in time. But then Maria¡¯s own apiclaws shot out of her elbows and collided with Marisol¡¯s guard, the force of the strike sending shockwaves through the ground. She skidded backward, her glaives carving deep grooves into the sand as she winced. Maria immediately retreated and darted back into the roaring cyclone, resuming swimming circles around her. Marisol¡¯s heart thumped. If I hadn¡¯t blocked that, I¡¯d be dead. She really wants to kill me. Maria didn¡¯t relent. She lunged again, her figure a blur as she slashed from every angle. Each strike came faster than the last, and Marisol barely managed to keep up. The currents around her whipped violently with each strike. She twisted and dodged, over and over, her glaives scraping the sand as she narrowly avoided another claw that sliced through the space where her neck had been. Her breathing came fast and shallow. She couldn¡¯t just keep defending. Maria was too fast, too relentless, but staying on the back foot would only delay the inevitable. She had to fight back. Activating discharge, Marisol burst forward with an explosion of water behind her glaives, skating in circles against the clockwise flow of the cyclone. Don¡¯t try to match her speed! Slow her down so she matches my speed! She angled herself, trying to reverse the cyclone¡¯s motion as she skated on the ground, but she struggled against the resistance. The powerful currents fought her. The flow didn¡¯t break. It refused to yield. Frustration built in her chest, and she gritted her teeth, pushing harder, skating faster. This had to work. And Maria, caught in her minorly disruptive anti-flow, was flung slightly off course when she jumped out of the cyclone and tried to pounce at Marisol. The girl¡¯s body twisted, her balance breaking for just a moment. Marisol noticed. Seized the opening. She launched herself upwards, her glaive snapping out in a powerful War Jump kick aimed squarely at the girl¡¯s side. Got you¡ª But Maria didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, she whipped her head over, a gleeful expression on her face, and grabbed Marisol¡¯s glaive with a chitin-armoured hand. ¡°Not bad,¡± she said plainly. ¡°Ye¡¯ve got some potential.¡± Then, with terrifying ease, she yanked Marisol forward and swung her down. The impact hit like a wave. Marisol¡¯s back slammed into the ground, the force kicking up a cloud of sand and debris. Pain exploded through her body, and her vision blurred for a moment. She struggled to catch her breath, the weight of the water pressing against her chest. Ow. Holy¡­ shit. When the dust settled, though, Maria was sitting on top of her, one clawed hand resting on her shoulder like they had all the time in the world. The girl¡¯s razor-sharp grin widened, and her eyes¡ªno longer dull and colourless¡ªglinted with amusement. ¡°... Yer interestin¡¯,¡± Maria said. ¡°¡®Ah knew ye would be. We¡¯re fellow speed demons. That¡¯s why ¡®ah called dibs on ye months ago, back when they were discussin¡¯ whether to toss ye in jail or not for punchin¡¯ a Guard.¡± Then she tilted her head, her grin becoming even sharper. ¡°Shame Andres didn¡¯t put ye in my lighthouse, eh? ¡®Ah could¡¯ve been yer mentor instead of that old man.¡± Marisol blinked through the pain, her mind racing to process the words. Maria got up, dusting off her uniform. ¡°Name¡¯s Maria: the most talented Imperator in the city. I¡¯ve got the Whirligig Beetle Class, which lets me swim in circles really fast, and oh, before ye ask¡ªno, ¡®ah ain¡¯t a fuckin¡¯ a kid no more. ¡®Ahm thirty-eight. ¡®Ahm way older than ye.¡± For her part, Marisol only kept on staring, her breaths ragged, her limbs aching. Maria smirked and stood up straight, offering a small, mocking salute with two fingers. ¡°Nice to meet ye, Mari. Hope yer ready for Depth Four next week.¡± ¡­ ¡­ O¡­ kay. If this girl¡¯s going to be my partner going into Depth Four, I need to get a whole lot stronger. Archive. [What is it?] Is she actually older than me? The Archive sighed, sitting on the bridge of her nose as it pulled up Maria¡¯s status screen. [Considering she just told you her class outright, I can confirm that is true. She is, indeed, thirty-eight years old. Here are her estimated attribute levels.]
[Identification Complete] [Name: Maria Sangroja] [Grade: A-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Whirligig Beetle] [Swarmblood Art: Hydro Spiral] [Brief Description: The user can twirl bioarcanic essence in circles around their own body. Underwater, this allows them to swirl water and debris around their limbs like drills, or clad a water cyclone around their body like a passive, shredding barrier] [Aura: ~12,000 (+230)] [Strength: ~9, Speed: ~10 (+3), Toughness: ~8, Dexterity: ~8, Perception: ~9]
¡­ Oh, thank the Great Makers. [Why is that?] Because now I didn¡¯t get my ass handed to me by a kid. Do you think she¡¯d teach me how to go as fast as her? Chapter 69 - Currents Six days until the Depth Four Reclamation Mission. Stamina exercises, pressure acclimation exercises, strength and toughness exercises¡ªMarisol was doing them all. The Tropical Reefs seemed to stretch and distort around her as she skated in circles around the entire length of Depth Two, keeping her body low and hunched forward, her arms clawing through the water. She was getting faster and faster with every cycle, but the improvement was slight. Nigh-insignificant. By noon, five hours after she began training at the crack of dawn, she staggered into a clearing in the middle of the Tropical Reefs and fumbled behind her for a piece of skyball coral. She popped the candy into her mouth, flushed out the pressure in her head, and immediately collapsed onto the ground. Exhaustion clawed at her. Her back pressed into the soft sand as she stared up at the other side of the whirlpool. Sunlight refracted through water, shimmering in pretty, fractured patterns like shards of stained glass. She¡¯d grown all but used to the beauty of the Tropical Reefs now, and she couldn¡¯t bring herself to just relax and take in the scenery around her, even if hundreds and thousands of Imperators and Guards were still clamouring around her, constructing their outposts and reinforcing their artillery towers. She wasn¡¯t anywhere close to reaching Maria¡¯s speed, and after slamming her into the ground yesterday, the Second Lighthouse Imperator had simply left as promptly as she¡¯d been summoned. No amount of poking and prodding at the Archive told Marisol where she could find the girl again, so she was left on her own. Her eyes closed, and her chest heaved as she let out a long, heavy. She¡¯d tried everything¡ªdifferent hand strokes, glaive angles, torso postures¡ªbut there was just something about the way Maria skated, like she was part of the water itself. It wasn¡¯t just a difference in attribute levels or mutations. It was technique. It was instinct, raw and unyielding. And Marisol didn¡¯t have it. What is it? What am I missing? And if she¡¯d just¡­ stick around and teach me, I¡¯d be a stronger partner in a week¡¯s time, no? [Maria is not known to train any Imperators in her lighthouse. As something of a prodigy herself, she prefers to let her members struggle and get stronger on their own.] Yeah, but this is an important mission. We¡¯re gonna face an Insect God. If I die because I ain¡¯t fast enough¡ª ¡°Then it just proves you never had what it takes to reach the likes of Depth Eight. That vial of healing seawater you yearn for was always going to be out of reach.¡± A cold shadow fell over her face, and she peeled one eye open to see Victor standing over her, peering down at her. His grin tugged at the bandages on the corner of his mouth as he held onto his feathered hat in one hand, poking her stomach with his cane in the other. ¡°... Here to make fun of me, old man?¡± she mumbled, grabbing the tip of his cane. ¡°Yep,¡± he said, pulling out a second cane from inside his flower-pattern cane to continue poking her. ¡°The fishes told me you got your ass handed to you by Maria yesterday. I¡¯m here to see what my dearest disciple is going to do to fix my reputation as a mentor.¡± ¡°Who really told you I got beat?¡± He gestured loosely around him, and the Imperators and Guards who¡¯d been watching them in the distance suddenly averted their eyes, hurrying off and resuming their duties. ¡°The satellite moths don¡¯t work underwater, but there are still plenty of loose lips around here,¡± he said, blocking her cane as she tried to whack his head. He twisted her weapon, whacked her wrist in return, and disarmed her with a pained yelp as he caught his second cane before it could float away. ¡°Maria made you feel like you were skating through molasses, hm? Why do you think that is?¡± Marisol cracked her wrist and clenched her jaw, frustration boiling over her chest again. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t get it,¡± she muttered. ¡°Maria didn¡¯t just swim and move fast¡ªshe flowed. It was like¡­ like the water just bended around her, but I¡¯m..." Her shoulders slumped as she sighed again, exhaustion keeping her back to the ground. "It¡¯s like I¡¯m fighting the whirlpool all the time. I mean, I know the Water Strider Class ain¡¯t exactly fit for underwater movement, but I¡¯ve been getting by all this time skating like I usually do on the surface. Kinda.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± ¡°It ain¡¯t just a difference in attribute levels. I can tell that much. It ain¡¯t about mutations or biomagic, either. It¡¯s this¡­ it¡¯s this ¡®read¡¯ she has on something, but I don¡¯t even know what¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯s got a read on ¡®currents¡¯, you mean?¡± Marisol raised an eyebrow, but Victor¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift. He tapped his cane against the sand, creating a faint ripple next to her. ¡°Here¡¯s the thing, lass: you¡¯re a Sand-Dancer,¡± he said plainly. ¡°You¡¯ve spent your whole life carving paths through the earth above, and you¡¯ve spent your first half a year with the Water Strider Class fighting back. You skate against the winds. You skate against the storms. You go against anything that even remotely offers you resistance, and it¡¯s worked well enough for you so far¡ªit¡¯s made you this strong, at least¡ªbut deep underwater? In the whirlpool? Down here, you¡¯re forced into the world of real strong currents. They¡¯ll tell you where things will drift if left untouched, they¡¯ll tell you what¡¯s occupying space thousands of metres out of sight, but they don¡¯t bow to brute strength or sharp edges. Currents are the world¡¯s natural railways. You can ride the natural underwater currents and go faster, or you can fight and lose against them, because winning against them down here just ain¡¯t how it works."Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. "Then what am I supposed to do?" Marisol snapped, her frustration bubbling over. "I can¡¯t see the¡­ the currents the way you and Maria can. I still don¡¯t know what that is¡ª" Victor leaned back and twirled his cane in a slow, deliberate circle, stirring the water around them. "Currents ain¡¯t really something you ¡®see¡¯. They¡¯re something you listen to. You feel them. It¡¯s instinctual. Their movements are the rhythm of speed¡ªalways moving, always shifting. You try to fight the natural underwater currents head-on, they¡¯ll crush you. You learn to move with them, they¡¯ll carry you to places you can¡¯t reach on your own." Marisol frowned, staring at the subtle currents Victor had created. She couldn¡¯t see what he was talking about¡ªnot exactly¡ªbut she could feel just the faintest pressure brushing against her arms and legs, tugging her attention away from her exhaustion. "Maria ain¡¯t faster than you because she has higher attributes or mutations more suited for underwater movement¡­ well, that ain¡¯t exactly true, and most high-rank Imperators with Crustacean Classes do have mutations that let them feel flow easier, but Maria''s faster than you because she¡¯s spent years reading the flow of all things,¡± Victor said, barely looking at his cane as he seemingly shifted the temperature of water around her. ¡°She¡¯s learned to ride the currents. She knows where they are, she feels it, and she can slip into them when the moment is right. You lack that perceptivity. You lack that instinct.¡± ¡°... So there are natural underwater currents all over, and I just have to find them and skate along them?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°And how am I supposed to learn how to sense them in six days?¡± With a sudden motion, he whipped his cane through the water, sending a sharp current spiraling toward her. Marisol jerked away instinctively, her skin tingling as the current slammed into the ground next to her. "Feel that?" Victor asked. "Barely,¡± she said sarcastically, scowling up at him. "That¡¯s a start." Marisol remained on her back, her arms crossed as she watched Victor twirl and create another swirling currents with his cane. His movements were subtle, but the frothy white was growing in strength, twisting and shifting, curling around him like a living serpent. ¡°If I stop twirling all of a sudden, where do you think these currents will shoot out to?¡± he asked, smirking as he spun his cane in a slow circle. Marisol squinted, trying to ¡®feel¡¯ the flow of the currents as they twirled around his cane. ¡°That way?¡± she said hesitantly, tilting her head to the right. Victor gripped his cane tight to stop twirling it, and the current veered sharply off to the left instead, slamming into a giant coral and making the Guards standing under it scramble away in fright. ¡°Not even close. Try again.¡± She huffed, clapping her own cheeks and willing herself to focus. This time, she paid closer attention, watching the way the next current curved and bent as Victor twirled his cane. ¡°Left,¡± she said. The current shot to the right, slamming into an artillery cannon and making the Imperators shake angry fists at them. ¡°Right.¡± Left. ¡°Up.¡± Down. ¡°Into my face.¡± She jerked her head to the left and narrowly dodged the current punching into the ground next to her. A small stream of blood trickled out of her ear where she¡¯d been cut by the edges of the current, and seeing that made Victor laugh¡ªhe clasped both hands on his cane as he bent forward, peering down at her with a wide grin. ¡°You suck. If you can¡¯t even predict where I¡¯m going to throw my currents, how are you going to notice natural underwater currents to jump on and skate along in the heat of battle to make yourself go even faster?¡± Her fists clenched and her brows knitted together. ¡°Because there ain¡¯t no logic to it. No pattern. And I¡¯m supposed to be down in Depth Four in less than a week, so¡ª¡± Before she could finish, though, Victor reached into his cloak and dropped a small, heavy notebook on her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. She glanced down, staring at the faintly worn cover and the thick, hand-drawn lines scrawled across its surface. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± ¡°A cheat sheet,¡± Victor said, shrugging lightly. ¡°All the natural underwater currents in every Depth of the whirlpool, completely mapped out for you and your Archive to memorise. With this, you won¡¯t have to look or feel for the currents yourself. Just memorise where they are and ride the closest ones whenever you need them for now.¡± Frowning, Marisol opened the book, flipping through the pages. It was filled with sketches of the whirlpool, each layer drawn with meticulous detail: arrows, notes, and annotations filled every inch of the paper, marking the paths and dynamics of every current in Depth Two and beyond. [Oh.] [This is remarkable.] [Everything is very detailed.] ¡°... You think learning to read and perceive currents is all instinct?¡± Victor said, shaking his head in dismay. ¡°Nah. The world¡¯s too big for that. The winds, the seas¡ªtoo many goddamn currents. Even I''d have trouble finding currents to ride on if you just plucked me out the Deepwater Legion Front and planted me in your desert, but down here, in the whirlpool, it¡¯s all a stage. The currents don''t change. They haven''t changed. Depths One to Eight are the same now as they¡¯ve been for decades, and I¡¯ve spent my entire life studying and perceiving the currents down here. So, I drew them all out myself and put them in this notebook decades ago.¡± She remained silent. She didn¡¯t blink. She didn¡¯t respond. Marisol ran her fingers over the pages, her eyes shimmering as she scanned the precise, almost obsessive attention to detail. The arrows, the diagrams, the annotations¡­ they almost reminded her of her mama¡¯s hand-drawn technique book, every move and step laid out with the exact same level of care. With this notebook, she wouldn¡¯t have to struggle finding any currents to ride on. All she had to do was memorise their locations, and not even, really, since her Archive could memorise them for her. And, knowing he¡¯d helped her reach the starting point of a breakthrough, Victor turned to walk away dramatically. ¡°Study my decades-old notes. Memorise them. Know which currents go where, how they shift, and how strong they are. A true speed demon doesn¡¯t fight the world when they move¡ªthey make the currents of the natural world theirs, and they bend the world to their will,¡± he said, waving an absentminded farewell back at her. ¡°Down there, speed ain¡¯t got nothing to do with whether you have a Crustacean Class or a Water Strider Class. I¡¯ll have you know Maria¡¯s Whirligig Beetle Class is also a surface aquatic-type class, just like yours. For the sake of my reputation, don¡¯t be a drag on her when you¡¯re reclaiming Depth Four, yeah?¡± ¡­ Marisol snorted and picked up a pebble, tossing it at the back of his head. He whacked it away with his cane without even looking. ¡°For the record, I didn¡¯t get my ass completely handed to me!¡± she shouted, still lying on her back. ¡°I fought back! A little bit!¡± Victor paused, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. ¡°Sure you did, lass.¡± She couldn¡¯t quite tell if he believed her or not, but she didn¡¯t really care either way. She knew he wasn¡¯t telling the truth when he said he¡¯d written everything in this notebook decades ago, either. The ink is fresh, she mused, holding his notebook over her face as she brushed her fingers across the page. She¡¯d know it was fresh, considering she¡¯d watched her mama write that technique book with the same ink colour. He wrote this just yesterday¡­ or today, maybe. He didn''t write this decades ago. [Well, he is supposed to be your mentor, after all.] Wouldn¡¯t kill him to be a bit more honest about it. [But he is an Arcana Hasharana,] the Archive said, tilting its head. [He is just old fashioned like that.] ¡­ Six days to memorise every current in the notebook. She sat up straight, popped another skyball coral into her mouth, and got to reading with a small smile. Chapter 70 - Trio The morning of the end of the week was uncharacteristically stormy. It was the first time Marisol had to drag herself out of bed with thunder cracking and dark clouds swirling over the Whirlpool City¡ªa bad omen to kick off the Depth Four Reclamation Mission to be sure, though she couldn¡¯t say she didn¡¯t miss the the rush of adrenaline every time thunder slammed down nearby. She needed her blood rushing. She needed to be tense, electrified, bouncing on the tip of her glaives. It wouldn¡¯t feel right to dive into the whirlpool aiming to take down an Insect God on a bright and sunny morning. Maria¡¯s already waiting for me, right? [By the docks of Lighthouse Seven. Lighthouse Two¡¯s diving bell is already ready to drop.] Better get up there quickly, then. As she sped up the empty, rainy streets, she took a glance at her status screen.
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: E-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: Storm Glaives] [Aura: 5,295 (+40)] [Points: 3] [Strength: 6, Speed: 6, Toughness: 6 (+1), Dexterity: 5, Perception: 5 (+1)] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 5] [T2 Mutations | Filtrating Gills Lvl. 5 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 6] [T3 Mutations | Laminar Apiclaws Lvl. 5 | Streamlined Wings Lvl: 5 | Basic Setae Lvl. 2] [T4 Mutations | Basic Discharge Lvl. 5 | Basic Sonar Lvl. 4 | Basic Underchitin | Basic Chitin Lvl. 1] 500P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20] [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20)]
[T4 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Chitin Lvl. 1] [Brief Description: You have grown thin chitin plates over patches of your skin that are as tough as your toughness level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase their toughness. At max level, they will be twice as tough as your toughness level]
She scratched her thin chitin plates across her forearms as she skated up to Lighthouse Seven. Her newest tier four core mutation, ¡®Basic Chitin¡¯, affected her appearance less than she¡¯d thought it would. Deep blue and pink-streaked chitin plates had grown across both her arms, thighs, behind her shoulder blades, down along her spine, with one triangular-shaped plate of chitin on her forehead. None had grown on her chest. The Archive had said ¡®Basic Chitin¡¯ was a generic mutation most classes offered, though where and how many chitin plates manifested on the user¡¯s body depended on the exact class. Considering water striders weren¡¯t known to be very heavily armoured, her chitin plates were rather sparse. [The branch mutation options for ¡®Basic Chitin¡¯ are rather interesting, so it is worth unlocking.] [Besides, it is simply good to have additional toughness on parts of your body vital for movement, no?] She shrugged. Not that she cared too much about the ¡®Basic Chitin¡¯ mutation right now, really. She simply had five hundred points to spare after jumping in on seven more extermination missions in Depth Three the past week, as well as enough points to finally push her ¡®Basic Discharge¡¯ mutation up to level five. Now, and only now, was she going to stop putting off picking her first branch mutation for her ever-useful propulsion mutation. What are the options, Archive?
[First Branch Mutation Selection available for T4 Core Mutation ¡®Basic Discharge¡¯] [First Branch Mutation Option: Spraying Discharge] [Brief Description: Your glaives will evolve even more small jets, allowing you to discharge air and water as massive sprays that cover a wide area and reduce visibility around you] [Second Branch Mutation Option: Precision Discharge] [Brief Description: Your jets will evolve small funnel-like structures, allowing you to concentrate the discharge of air and water to propel yourself even faster. When using this mutation, your speed level will increase by an additional ten percent] [Third Branch Mutation Option: Rippled Discharge] [Brief Description: Your jets have altered shape, allowing you to leave wavy, disorienting ripples behind you whenever you are using this mutation]
[... As with most other branch mutations, both options will serve you well,] the Archive said curtly. [Whatever you choose, I can assure you the second branch mutation options will all be decently useful as well.] She didn¡¯t exactly need the Archive to tell her that, but this choice wasn¡¯t as easy as ¡®Filtering Gills¡¯ and ¡®Laminar Apiclaws¡¯. She may not actually rely on her gills as much as long as she had her skyball corals, and it wasn¡¯t every battle where she was pushed to the point of needing to extend her apiclaws for extra offence and defence, but discharging water for propulsion was something she used very often in her underwater missions. In fact, she probably used it more on land just to give her that little bit of additional momentum than using it underwater, because the stamina consumption simply wasn¡¯t that high. At six levels of toughness, she could basically discharge air at a low enough flow rate and keep it active for at least half the day. It¡¯d make sense for her to go with ¡®Precision Discharge¡¯, since her being able to easily keep the mutation active for half a day basically meant she¡¯d get a permanent ten percent increase in speed¡ªand that mean, at ten levels in speed, she¡¯d essentially have eleven levels in speed¡ªbut for the first time in a while, she really, really hesitated. So she mulled about it. And then she mulled about it some more before shaking her head. Confirm ¡®Spraying Discharge¡¯ for me. [... Are you sure?] I ain¡¯t taking Rhizocapala so easily, she thought, narrowing her eyes at the little water strider on her shoulder. If I get into a tough spot and need to get out in a pinch, being able to spray up clouds of air, water, and debris for camouflage could save my life. Confirm ¡®Spraying Discharge¡¯ for me. The Archive hummed lightly. [You have grown much.] [Confirming ¡®Spraying Discharge¡¯.]
[Basic Discharge Lvl. 5 ¡ú Spraying Discharge Lvl. 5] [Brief Description: Your glaives have evolved small jets in them that allow you to suck in and eject air and water at will, allowing you to propel yourself underwater without kicking your legs. You can also eject everything at once to create a temporary fog that reduces visibility around you. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from continuously discharging]
Putting the branch mutation aside, though, her grade was still far from desirable. At E-Rank Mutant-Class, she was still a long, long way off from the F-Rank Barnacle God she was going to slay, but Victor had told her to rely on her partner. In his own words, ¡®Insect Gods should never be fought alone, anyways¡¯, and he pointed out even he had help from the Imperatrix and hundreds of Imperators when he¡¯d killed the previous third-ranked Insect God twelve years ago. [Insect Gods, by nature or by design, are incapable of truly working with one another,] the Archive added. [Perhaps their specialties do not align, or perhaps their Arts clash with each others¡¯, but teamwork and synergistic attacks are advantages humanity will always have over the bugs.] [You do not have to worry about Rhizocapala¡¯s overwhelming aura. Remember: human auras can combine and strengthen each other in much the same way bug auras can combine as well.] [He may have an estimated aura of over twenty-five thousand, but combining yours and Maria¡¯s, the difference will not be as drastic as it was a month ago.] [The two of you will be fine on that front, at least.] ¡­ She¡¯d feel more assured if they¡¯d actually practised and planned out their teamwork, of course. And Marisol hadn¡¯t so much as caught a glimpse of Maria ever since the first day they met¡ªwhen the bandit-looking girl had smashed her head into the ground¡ªso she felt she was justified feeling just a bit nervous as she stepped onto the docks beneath Lighthouse Seven, spotting Victor on a ship bobbing up and down the stormy waves immediately. ¡°You¡¯re late¡ª¡± he began, to which she skated past him, took a glance at the giant diving bell dangling off the side of the ship on a crane, and cracked her shoulders. She couldn¡¯t believe she was actually looking forward to getting inside a diving bell, because the downpour was starting to make her shiver a little.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Is she waiting for me inside?¡± she asked. ¡°She¡¯s been waiting for quite a while,¡± Victor said, hacking off the mooring with his cane and pushing the entire ship away from the docks. Neither one of them wobbled as they drifted towards the centre of the whirlpool. ¡°She¡¯ll brief you on what exactly you¡¯ll be doing down there, so I ain¡¯t gonna steal her thunder and just send my pupil off with a simple ¡®good luck¡¯ charm.¡± ¡°You ain¡¯t got no charm.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right, I don¡¯t. Now get in the bell¡ª¡± Marisol¡¯s senses tingled. Someone leapt from the docks of Lighthouse Seven and landed on the back of the ship, making both of their upper bodies tilt as they turned around to look. Reina, in full Imperator uniform, breathed heavily as she strode towards the two of them. ¡°Fifth Lighthouse Imperator, Reina Torrealba, reporting for duty¡ª¡± Victor lifted his cane, tipping his feathered hat as he blocked her way towards the diving bell. ¡°And what, pray tell, is the city¡¯s foremost administrator doing out here in the storm? Don¡¯t you have mountains of paperwork to work through? New recruits to train and monitor?¡± ¡°All of my mandatory work for the day and the week afterwards have already been completed or delegated to my subordinates,¡± Reina said plainly, scowling at Victor as she curled her scorpion tail around his cane. ¡°Even if I were to trip on a rock and crack my skull, the city¡¯s administrative matters would continue to be dealt with. I am replaceable. Now let me pass and join the Depth Four Reclamation Mission¡ª¡± ¡°For the sake of the city, or for your own personal revenge?¡± Reina clenched her jaw. Marisol had half a mind to hit Victor and just drag her good friend into the bell with her, but the old man tilted his head back and looked down on Reina¡ªdisapproval plain behind his bandaged face. ¡°They¡¯re going to Depth Four, lass,¡± he said curtly, shaking his head. ¡°You ain¡¯t gonna find Eurypteria there. In all likelihood, the only bug they¡¯re going to be facing is Rhizocapala, and that water scorpion will only show up for half a minute in the event that barnacle needs help retreating to the Depth Five, at which point Depth Four is already as good as reclaimed. Go back. Save your strength. You can join the more dangerous missions.¡± ¡°So you are saying there is a chance Eurypteria will still show up in this mission?¡± ¡°Chance is a fickle thread. Don¡¯t bleed to hold onto it. You¡¯ll get another opportunity to¡ª¡± Marisol¡¯s senses tingled again, and this time, it was a silver fork that flew at the back of Victor¡¯s neck. She didn¡¯t try to catch it for him. The old man caught it on his own without looking, and both Reina and Marisol turned around to see Maria poking her head out of the latch. ¡°Just let her in,¡± Maria said, grinning from ear to ear as she waved both Marisol and Reina in. ¡°Rei-Rei can scribble up some fancy excuse for why she stormed into the mission last minute by herself. ¡¯Sides, we need strong ones to scrap with Rhizocapala, and, Rei-Rei ain¡¯t no scurvy grunt. She¡¯ll be useful when we¡¯re jumpin¡¯ that barnacle.¡± Victor was silent for a moment¡ªand Marisol, as usual, couldn¡¯t really tell if he was actually thinking or if he¡¯d just died standing up straight¡ªbut then he sighed and wrapped Reina¡¯s tail around his cane, flinging her into the diving bell with a heavy crash of glass and porcelain. ¡°... You better keep my niece safe, lass,¡± he said quietly, staring up at Maria as the girl beckoned Marisol to climb in as well. ¡°Ain¡¯t no guarantees in life, old man,¡± Maria replied, sending him a mocking smirk as she yanked Marisol in, slamming the latch shut. ¡°Such is the fate for speed demons like us.¡± Now, Marisol was interested to hear about that, but before she could settle down or even take a good look at Lighthouse Two¡¯s diving bell, Victor turned a crank outside and made the bell drop with a sudden lurch. If she hadn¡¯t known any better and wasn¡¯t holding onto one of the bars next to the latch, she would¡¯ve flown right into the ceiling. Instead, all she did was stagger around for a second or two before the world outside the window became deathly quiet. They were rapidly descending to Depth Four, and underwater, the sounds of thunder and pouring rain didn¡¯t reach. And this diving bell wasn¡¯t like the ones she¡¯d been in before. The walls were painted in soft pastel colors, brighter than the usual dull bronze. Gas lanterns hung from hooks overhead, casting a warm glow that made the space feel almost cozy. There were ribbons tied to the edges of the benches, and on one wall, a small tapestry with floral patterns swayed gently with the movement of the bell. Her eyes immediately drifted to the small round table bolted to the floor in the middle of the bell. Instead of maps or equipment, the overhead and underfoot cabinets were filled with small jars of frozen desserts and neatly arranged snacks. Lollipops, wrapped chocolates, and colorful gummy candies spilled out of a wicker basket on the table. Stacks of dainty tea cups were even laid out next to a small kettle steaming with what smelled like herbal tea, and the two ladies had already taken their seats on the soft velvet-cushioned chairs. Reina was wholly distracted with trying to unwrap one of the chocolate bars, but Maria, the ever-elusive, patted the empty chair next to her. ¡®Sit,¡¯ the gesture said. She supposed there was nothing else to do on their way down, anyways. With her shoulders tense, Marisol reluctantly took her seat and immediately sank into the cushion¡ªa surprised gasp tore past her lips as she felt the cushion massaging her back, the folds extending and pressing softly into her spine. It was almost like the chair was alive, and¡­ getting massaged by it felt really, really good. While she melted on the chair and stole a peek outside the window, watching the whirlpool pass them by, Maria gave her a strange, intrigued smile. ¡°Comfy, eh?¡± Maria said, tapping her scarred fingers against the table. ¡°That there¡¯s a self-massagin¡¯ chair. Bioarcanic furniture made in one of my family¡¯s factories. Costs a fortune, but ¡®ah make sure all my Lighthouse Two bells are kitted out with ¡®em. No better way to rest on a ride to hell, eh?¡± Marisol groaned, shifting slightly in the chair as the cushions seemed to knead gently against her back. ¡°It¡¯s... fine,¡± she muttered, not quite sure how to respond. She really, really didn¡¯t want to melt in it, but she¡¯d been more tense than she thought, and the chair was rubbing it all out of her. Maria laughed, a raspy, carefree sound. ¡°Just fine? Ye¡¯ll be singin¡¯ a different tune when it fixes that knot in yer lower back.¡± Then she reached for something under her chair, grumbling as she searched around blindly. ¡°Now, listen up, both of ya. Mission¡¯s simple, at least on paper.¡± Reina sat up straight, swallowed her chocolate bar, and nodded firmly. Marisol did her best to straighten a little in her chair, feeling the atmosphere grow heavier as Maria pulled up a long metal hoist with a rolled-up flag, slamming it onto the table between them. ¡°We¡¯re gonna get our asses to the crater at the halfway point of Depth Four, plant this flag in the ground, and then we¡¯re done.¡± Marisol blinked. Reina didn¡¯t. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ it?¡± Marisol said, squinting down at the metal hoist. ¡°All we gotta do is plant this thing? Just a completely normal flag?¡± ¡°Just a flag?¡± Maria echoed, mock offense dripping from her tone. She pointed at it with her free hand as her other hand reached for a glass jar of hard candy. ¡°This ain¡¯t some parade banner, Mari. It¡¯s more bioarcanic construct¡ªsame as yer fancy chair. Once it¡¯s planted, it¡¯ll whip up a vortex strong enough to clear out that thick-ass fog hangin¡¯ underwater down there. Once the fog¡¯s been cleared, the rest of the Imperators and Guards can move in to build outposts, set up artillery, whatever. They¡¯ll be the ones reclaimin¡¯ Depth Four.¡± ¡°So¡­ why aren¡¯t the Imperators and Guards coming with us again?¡± Reina dipped her head, taking a sip of her tea. ¡°Because Rhizocapala, the F-Rank Barnacle God we believe may be awaiting us in Depth Four, is an anti-army specialist,¡± she said plainly. Marisol had to remind herself Reina was currently in work mode. None of that sweets-obsessed nonsense was allowed here. ¡°All Insect Gods have a special classification outside of the usual grading system. They are either anti-army, anti-personnel, or anti-city. The moment we step foot in Depth Four with massive numbers, Rhizocapala will no doubt begin launching vast area-of-effect attacks that will cause significant casualties. Therefore, it is best to fight Rhizocapala with a small group of elites.¡± ¡°Rei-Rei said it,¡± Maria said, shrugging nonchalantly as she thumbed out the window. Marisol stole a glance, finally noticing about a dozen or so diving bells descending alongside them. ¡°¡®Sides, ain¡¯t like we¡¯re gonna be truly alone in Depth Four. The Imperators and the Guards¡¯ll be hangin¡¯ five hundred metres back at the edge of Depth Three, ready to cover our retreat if things go to absolute shit. The moment they have to step in, we¡¯ve either won or they¡¯ll suffer big time tryin¡¯ to extract us.¡± Marisol glanced between Maria and Reina. ¡°So what happens if something does go wrong?¡± Maria raised a brow, but it was Reina who responded steadily. ¡°If it comes to that, Maria and I will ensure you get back to this diving bell and send you up to the surface.¡± She paused and sat up straight. Peeling away from her self-massaging chair was like hell, but she had to do it. ¡°What? No. We¡¯re all coming back.¡± Reina¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°That is the plan. However, in the worst-case scenario, we will save you. You are the priority.¡± ¡°But why me? You¡¯re both Lighthouse Imperators. I¡¯m just¡ª¡± ¡°A civilian,¡± Reina finished bluntly. ¡°That is why.¡± Marisol scowled, her fists clenching at her sides. ¡°Can a civilian kill a Mutant-Class?¡± Maria leaned in closer, smirking. ¡°Look, girl. Yer real job¡¯s just to survive. That¡¯s it. Yer carryin¡¯ an Archive, and that makes ye a bit more valuable than the both of us. Rei-Rei and I? We¡¯re trained for this. We¡¯ve been divin¡¯ for years. Ye can¡¯t even read the underwater currents and use them to boost yer speed, yeah?¡± ¡°So what was your plan? It was originally just supposed to be the two of us. Were you planning on putting me in the back so you can fight and kill Rhizocapala by yourself?¡± ¡°¡®Ah was always plannin¡¯ on askin¡¯ Rei-Rei to come with me. It¡¯d be the two of us versus that barnacle, and we ain¡¯t plannin¡¯ on killin¡¯ it. Just forcin¡¯ it to back off from Depth Four is victory enough for us.¡± The air in the diving bell grew tense. Maria¡¯s smirk flickered for a moment, and Reina¡¯s jaw tightened. So that was why Reina decided to join at the last moment. To begin with, Maria had no intention of working with Marisol to deal with Rhizocapala. ¡°... But ye make a fair point.¡± Maria shrugged, leaning back again. ¡°Guess yer not just any civilian, huh? Ah¡¯ll be honest: Andres told me to let ye come with us, but ¡®ahm not a fan of lettin¡¯ a newbie fight on the frontline against an Insect God. Too risky. ¡®Ahm not a fan of havin¡¯ to protect someone while ¡®ahm fightin¡¯ somethin¡¯ strong, either, so ah¡¯ll very reluctantly let ye fight with the two of us¡­ but at the end of the day, ¡®ahm the dive leader. If ¡®ah tell ye to run, ye run. Got it?¡± Marisol didn¡¯t answer right away, but she eventually gave a slow, firm nod. ¡°Good,¡± Maria said, picking up the flag and tucking it under the table once again. ¡°Now, just relax while ye still can. Suck on some candies, massage yer aches away. We¡¯re almost there, and Depth Four ain¡¯t gonna give us any second chances.¡± The diving bell groaned as the pressure outside continued to increase. The slow, rhythmic descent was finally coming to a halt. Marisol glanced up at the ceiling. The soft glow of lanterns flickered as she tried to get a sense of where they were headed, but the walls were thick and sunlight outside the latch window was dim. She couldn¡¯t get a good read on the ecosystem outside. As the diving bell came to a grinding halt, Maria straightened the collar of her uniform, grinning at the two of them. ¡°Aight.¡± She waved down at the small table filled with scattered candy wrappers and teacups. ¡°Before we get out, help me clean up this mess.¡± Marisol blinked. Clean up? She wasn¡¯t exactly trying to protest, but before she could even say anything, Maria was already gathering up the plates and placing them back in their neat compartments around the diving bell. Reina was up and moving as well, helping to stash the snacks away into storage, her face completely impassive. So Marisol watched them for a moment, brows furrowed, unable to comprehend the Lighthouse Imperator that was Maria¡ªthe same lady who looked like a battle-hardened gangster with the scars, accent, and the attitude to match, was folding napkins and putting away candy boxes like it was the most natural thing in the world. She couldn¡¯t help but feel a little¡­ odd about Maria. It wasn¡¯t just calling her out to the whirlpool last week only to slam her into the ground. It wasn¡¯t just the sweets and desserts in the diving bell. It wasn¡¯t just the cleaning. Reina certainly didn¡¯t seem to think much of Maria, given she was already cleaning without hesitation, but Marisol¡¯s mind was turning. The way she¡¯s nagging at us to do this, do that, and even the way she said she¡¯s not relying on me at all to fight Rhizocapala¡­ Somehow, everything Maria was doing to antagonise didn¡¯t quite feel as ¡®hostile¡¯ as they should be. Maybe it was just because she looked like a kid, but was actually thirty-eight, that Marisol didn¡¯t feel as annoyed and pissed off at being called ¡®useless¡¯. Before she could think on it further, Maria pulled a small container of skyball corals from one of the overhead compartments and tossed it at her. ¡°Eat ¡®em. Get that energy. And put on your harness already.¡± Marisol caught the container and popped the top, taking one of the small, vibrant candies and chewing. It was sharp and sour, a quick burst of energy that burned as it went down. She set the container aside and quickly pulled on the gravity harness Maria handed her as well, and something finally, finally clicked in her head. She was an only child, but the way Maria spoke and acted around her felt like what a ¡®doting older sister¡¯ would act like. ¡­ [I told you most of the Lighthouse Imperators are peculiar folk.] I don¡¯t need a doting older sister. [You have one now. Just let her dote on you and protect you.] She ignored the Archive¡¯s teasing and threw another wary glance at Maria as they all stood before the latch. The soft hum of the diving bell¡¯s arrays shutting down made the air feel thicker, more suffocating. She could feel the weight of the ocean pressing in from all around, and, for the briefest of seconds, she worried the pressure of Depth Four was just going to kill her outright. But it was too late to back out now. Maria kicked the latch open, and her gravity harness dragged her out of the diving bell. Chapter 71 - Whispering Canyons For the first time, Marisol had a bit of trouble seeing underwater. Four thousand metres below the surface, sunlight was just a little scarce, a little dim. She had to blink a few times as her gravity harness dragged her down to the walls just to get used to the weaker lighting. By the time she touched down at the edge of Depth Four, she acclimated to the relative darkness, but now it felt like an invisible hand was squeezing her chest, and her ears popped with the weight of the water around her. Her body tensed instinctively, a sharp twinge of pain blooming along her ribs. Owowow. The¡­ pressure¡­ is a bit¡­ tough¡ª Maria, walking ahead effortlessly with the flag in hand, noticed her wheezing and looped back to her in one smooth motion.¡°Oi. Don¡¯t go clenchin¡¯ up like a scared crab now,¡± Maria said, slapping her back hard enough to sting, but not enough to hurt. ¡°Ain¡¯t ye a speed-demon? A dancer? Ye oughta have been prepped for this.¡± Reina was much less violent. She patted Marisol¡¯s back softly and whispered, ¡°You will get used to it in a minute or two. Just relax. You are more than tough enough to withstand this pressure.¡± Marisol gritted her teeth, but the comment hit home. She was supposed to be able to endure this pressure. She forced herself to relax her shoulders, pinched her nose, and flushed out clouds of bubbles from her lips. The pain dulled, if only slightly, but she did find it easier to move after a half a minute or so. Reina and Maria both gave her a quick, satisfied nod before walking ahead again. Marisol turned around briefly to see the dozen or so diving bells jerking to a halt behind them, a bunch of Imperators and Guards pouring out with giant anchors and harpoons. True to Maria¡¯s word, they were going to be completely alone in Depth Four. There¡¯d be a small army waiting for them right at the edge, ready to pull them out and provide retreating fire if needed. [Best not to have to rely on them, though.] No shit. If they have to move in to help us, it means we¡¯ve failed. Steadying her pounding heart, Marisol turned back around and chased after the two Lighthouse Imperators. [... Welcome to Depth Four, the Whispering Canyons,] the Archive said half-heartedly. [If it reminds you of the Dead Island Straits, then you would know to be wary. Be careful where you place your glaives.] The scenery before her was oppressive in its otherworldliness. Thick mist swirled through the water, clinging to the colossal, jagged canyon walls like a veil that obscured and revealed in equal measure. The rocks were streaked with silvery hues, porous and uneven, their textures hinting at something once organic, but were now petrified beyond recognition. Faint trails of bioluminescent algae threaded across the surfaces, glowing like ghostly veins in the dark. The faint sunlight shining down on Depth Four wasn''t enough to banish the shadows; the canyons simply stretched upward like the bones and ribs of some ancient beast. Marisol adjusted her skating to keep pace with the others, her gaze darting to every crevice and jagged outcrop as they waded right into the nearest valley. The water here felt¡­ heavier. Colder. It pressed against her skin, and the muted thrum of her own heartbeat echoed faintly in her ears. She reached out at the closest walls, her fingertips brushing the surface. The porous rocks felt smooth but unnervingly unnatural, like hardened wax. ¡°Ye ain¡¯t a tourist here,¡± Maria said, her voice echoing faintly. She motioned toward the narrow valleys ahead. ¡°We¡¯ll stick to the canyons, follow the trail, and get to the crater at the halfway point of Depth Four. Easy, right?¡± Marisol wasn¡¯t sure what about this place felt easy. As they moved deeper into the canyons, the faint sound of their skates and footsteps against the rocky surface seemed to amplify, bouncing off the walls. Every step and every shuffle was thrown back at them in distorted whispers. It was unnerving, like the walls themselves were alive and gossiping about their presence¡ªlike the three of them weren¡¯t supposed to be wading through these canyons. It¡¯s the sound, she thought, glancing at Reina and Maria, who seemed used to the echoing walls. How¡¯s the canyon picking up so much sound and bouncing them back to us? [Because of the Worm God.] Marisol frowned as she listened, her gaze sweeping the silvery rocks around her. [Have you ever wondered how this nine-thousand-metre-deep whirlpool was constructed to trap something as powerful as a Greater Crab God?] Why would I have ever wondered about that? [In Year Seventy, when Corpsetaker and his Four Leviathans were about to reach the shoreline of the mainland continent, a clone of the Worm God and the Harbour Imperators fought back. They pushed the leviathans far, far back to the west, and once Corpsetaker and his cohort were sufficiently weakened enough, the Worm God morphed into a colossal worm himself and swallowed the leviathans. Then, he found a particular volcano island far from the mainland continent and burrowed nine thousand metres below the surface. Since the body of the Worm God himself is nigh-indestructible, the only way out for the bugs trapped in this whirlpool is up, by breaching the surface at the top of the city¡ªthe ¡®mouth¡¯ of the Worm God¡¯s discarded colossal body.] Marisol blinked, trying to wrap her head around the idea.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. She glanced at the whispering rocks again, feeling a mix of awe and unease. Wait. So this canyon¡­ and these rocks¡­ and this entire whirlpool¡ª [Is the hollow carcass of the Worm God¡¯s colossal, nine-thousand-metre-long form,] the Archive finished. [Depth One is the ¡®head¡¯ of the worm, while Depth Nine is the ¡®tail¡¯ of the worm. Because the Worm God himself is quite the unusual human with quite the unusual biology, gravity, pressure, and ecosystems down here are equally unusual.] Then the Archive gestured around her at the silvery rocks. [One of the Worm God¡¯s mutations is possessing skin that can absorb sound waves and reflect them unpredictably. That is what is creating the ¡®whispering¡¯ and ¡®echoing¡¯ phenomenon you are currently experiencing in Depth Four, the Whispering Canyons.] ¡­ You know, I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re bullshitting me half the time or not. The Archive shrugged. [He is the Worm God. Humanity¡¯s strongest. Is it harder to believe he can create wormholes that distort time and space, or that this entire whirlpool and its unique ecosystems are simply part of a discarded colossal form he had once taken to ensnare Corpsetaker?] ¡­ Now that the Archive pointed it out, though it was eerily strange how smooth and circular the walls of the whirlpool were. She had no idea why she never thought, even for a single second, that the entire whirlpool was literally just the hollowed carcass of a clone of the Worm God, but just thinking about gods and fairy tale events that happened decades ago was making her head spin and throb. Maybe it was better to just take everything the Archive said at face value and leave it at that. Nobody was on the same level as the Worm God and the Greater Crab God, anyways. No point thinking about legendary stories and events so far beyond her when she was just here to kill a damned barnacle. But the more I hear about the Worm God, the Worm God¡­ he¡¯s gotta be old and dying about now, right? I mean, he looked like a kid when I saw him¡ªno older than fourteen, fifteen¡ªbut that¡¯s gotta be a mutation or something that just makes him look young, right? [No,] the Archive said plainly. [His tier one mutation prevents him from needing to eat, drink, sleep, and also stops him from aging completely. He may not be invincible, but he is immortal.] He has what for his tier one mutation? [Sucks to be you, right?] I¡¯ll flick you, she grumbled, and the three of them continued trudging silently through the canyons and valleys. Marisol¡¯s gaze flicked to Maria in front of her, who was leading the way with the flagpole, and then she glanced behind her to see Reina moving with similar caution. None of them spoke¡ªthey were probably mentally preparing themselves for the inevitable clash against Rhizocapala or some other bug¡ªbut if they knew she was chatting up a storm with the Archive in her head, would they reprimand her and tell her to focus? ¡­ Victor and the Imperatrix are super strong as well, right? [Correct.] But they¡¯re getting older and weaker, right? [Correct. They are not like the Worm God. That is why new blood is so important, especially for the Harbour Imperators where the selection of new members every year is limited, given everyone lives on a relatively tiny island. It is very rare for outsiders from the mainland continent to venture here just to join the Guards or the Imperators, so the Deepwater Legion Front is always desperate for more people like you.] And people like the two of them, she thought, looking at Maria¡¯s back as they made another turn, trudging quietly down another valley. They¡¯ve been training to dive ever since they were kids, and here I am, walking between them just half a year after getting my class. The Archive paused for a moment to look at her pointedly. [Are you afraid of facing Rhizocapala again?] [They will defend you, you know.] ¡­ It wasn¡¯t that. She was afraid¡ªit was impossible to shake the fear she¡¯d felt from the sheer aura discrepancy between her and Rhizocapala from a month ago¡ªbut more than her own death, she was simply afraid she¡¯d let Reina and Maria down and be an utter drag during the battle. She really, really didn¡¯t want to be left in the dust by Maria. I¡¯m ready. Are you? The Archive snorted. [Tell Maria to stop walking. There is¡ª] ¡°The underwater currents are fucked up here,¡± Maria mumbled, interrupting the Archive before it could even finish its warning. She held up a fist to stop Marisol and Reina in their tracks as well, and Marisol squinted down the tall, narrow valley right in front of them. They must¡¯ve walked over three to four hundred metres deep into the canyons already, and the crater they were supposed to reach at the halfway point of Depth Four was right at the end of the valley. Marisol could see a large opening just a hundred metres in front of her. But Maria was right. She closed her eyes slowly, listened deeply, and ¡®felt¡¯ the currents while she drew on the memories of the messy arrows and diagrams in Victor¡¯s notebook. Here, four hundred metres deep into Depth Four, the currents were supposed to be faintly ¡®push and pull¡¯ against her skin. Victor¡¯s notebook had described the currents here as ¡®steady in stark contrast to the sharp contours of the canyons¡¯, but as she focused, she felt the currents were overlaid with something¡­ foreign. Something intrusive. There was a slight ripple¡ªa slight turbulence¡ªto the underwater currents in this final hundred-metre-long valley to the crater in the middle of Depth Four, and all three of them felt it. ¡°... Lesson number one in the whirlpool,¡± Maria began, the corners of her mouth twitching into a faint smirk as her eyes drew a line across the valley walls. ¡°Spot the enemy before the enemy spots ye. Forget about the mission for a sec. This is trainin¡¯. What do ye see, newbie?¡± Marisol narrowed her eyes as she scanned the uneven walls on either side of the valley, focusing on the jagged outcrops and shadowed recesses. The dim light made it hard to tell if the strange lumps and shapes clinging to the surfaces were part of the canyon or something else entirely, so she shook her head after a long moment. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t see anything.¡± Reina, however, crouched down, scooped up a jagged stone about the size of her palm, and she hurled it toward the canyon walls without a word. The stone struck with a dull clink before bouncing off and tumbling down, but the sound it made reverberated unnaturally, triggering an almost immediate response. The walls of the canyon came alive. From the silvery, porous surfaces, massive shapes began to stir, shifting as if shedding their stony disguises. Dozens of Giant-Class crabs emerged, their mottled shells blending seamlessly with the canyon walls. Each of them was the size of a small building¡ªmuch bigger than the fairy shrimp she¡¯d fought before¡ªand they had thick, spindly legs and oversized claws that clicked together menacingly, creating an ear-grating rhythm that echoed through the narrow valley. Marisol took an involuntary step back, her blood racing as the crabs moved with eerie coordination, their stalked eyes swiveling toward the three of them. The tension in the water grew heavier, suffocating, as the crabs formed an intimidating blockade, but the Lighthouse Imperators didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t back off. Reina unfurled her scorpion tail, and Maria dragged one leg back, getting into a running-start stance. ¡°Our welcoming committee,¡± Maria cooed. ¡°Ain¡¯t they just adorable?¡± Then the Lighthouse Imperator glanced back at Marisol, sending her a playful wink. ¡°Race you to the end of the valley.¡± Chapter 72 - The Parts We Play [Identification Complete] [Common Name: Sponge Crab] [Grade: 32x C-Rank Giant-Class] [Aura: ~28,000] [Strength: ~6, Speed: ~3, Toughness: ~5, Dexterity: ~7, Perception: ~3] [Brief Description: Compact, highly camouflaged, and heavily armored. Sponge crabs are unique for their habit of carrying live sponges on their backs for camouflage and protection. Their powerful claws are adept at tearing through soft prey, while their stubby legs allow for steady movement across even the most uneven of ocean floors. The sponge itself often thrives symbiotically, filtering water and providing the crab with a layer of natural defense¡ª]
Marisol didn¡¯t even get to finish reading the Archive¡¯s identification notice. The final valley erupted into chaos the moment Maria and Reina took off, charging straight ahead at the Giant-Class sponge crabs. A spiraling vortex of water surrounded Maria¡¯s arms as she shot straight into the heart of the cluster on the left valley wall, her Whirligig Beetle Class in full force. Her Art had to be something like Marisol¡¯s discharge, allowing her to suck in and rotate rocky debris around her arms and legs like drills, and the moment she reached her first crab, she slammed her debris drill fist into its side. The shell burst apart, fragments spinning outward as she tore through it, leaving a jagged hole. Another crab lunged at her from the left, claws snapping wildly. Maria pivoted sharply, the spiraling currents around her leg slicing through one claw, then the other, before she whirled upward and drilled straight through its body with brutal efficiency. Reina approached from the opposite side, pouncing onto the right valley wall, her scorpion tail trailing behind her like a deadly ribbon. Whereas Maria¡¯s style was frenetic and unpredictable, Reina moved with sharp precision. Her tail flicked forward, the blade-like edge slicing neatly through the limb of an approaching crab. She dodged a retaliatory strike with a swift sidestep, her tail arcing again to puncture its soft underside. Then she slid beneath another attacking crab, her scorpion tail slashing upward in a clean arc that severed its legs. Both Lighthouse Imperators started running and sprinting sideways on the walls, and Marisol watched as they worked in tandem, synchronised dances of destruction. The crabs may be plentiful and clinging to the walls, blending into the silvery, sponge-like rocks that had concealed them moments earlier, but now it was too late to camouflage again. They were fodder meant to drain stamina¡ªthey were no match for the two ladies at all. There was nothing for Marisol to do here, so she began skating leisurely through the chaos, feeling both awe and a touch of inadequacy. She felt she could probably fight and kill the same amount of crabs if she wanted to, just not as fast and only half as violently. ¡­ I¡¯ve been meaning to ask, Archive. [What is it?] What¡¯s their status screens and estimated attribute levels like? Are the two of them on par with a Hasharana? [While the standards for becoming a Hasharana rise annually, both Maria and Reina are capable of defeating a Mutant-Class alone, which most Imperators cannot do. Yes, they are definitely comparable to Hasharana in power.] [As for their grades¡­] Status screens popped up next to her head as she dodged a giant crab carcass falling on her, continuing to skate leisurely towards the end of the valley.
[Name: Maria Sangroja] [Grade: A-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Whirligig Beetle] [Swarmblood Art: Hydro Spiral] [Aura: ~16,000] [Strength: ~9, Speed: ~12, Toughness: ~8, Dexterity: ~8, Perception: ~9]
[Name: Reina Torrealba] [Grade: B-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Water Scorpion] [Swarmblood Art: ???] [Aura: ~13,000] [Strength: ~8, Speed: ~8, Toughness: ~9, Dexterity: ~12, Perception: ~8]
Marisol frowned slightly as she looked the excerpt of their status screens over. She was only a few steps behind them at E-Rank Mutant-Class, yet it felt like there was a chasm of difference between them. [You are not a ¡®few steps¡¯ behind them,] the Archive corrected. [While you did manage to advance through every single rank in Giant-Class in three months, you have only progressed one rank from F-Rank Mutant-Class to your current E-Rank Mutant-Class in the same amount of time. This is because, starting from Mutant-Class, the gap between ranks becomes exponentially more difficult to cross, and the leap from Mutant-Class to Insect God is immense for both humans and bugs alike. I believe only Victor Morina and the Harbour Imperatrix are at Insect God grade in the entirety of the Deepwater Legion Front.] ¡­ So, that three rank difference between me and Reina¡ª [Is quite the difference. The three of you combined should just barely be enough to rival a F-Rank Barnacle God and force him to retreat from Depth Four, though Maria would have to pull and carry both of your weights by a non-insignificant amount.] Her focus returned to the fighting around her as Maria and Reina closed in on the last few crabs. Maria spiraled upward, then shot down like a drill, punching through the largest crab with a swirling torrent of debris. Reina skated low, her tail flicking to sever the legs of another crab before driving the stinger deep into its center. As the final crabs crumpled to the canyon floor, both Lighthouse Imperators hopped off the walls and returned to normal ground level, flanking Marisol¡¯s sides. Maria turned to Marisol with a wide grin, droplets of blood and shredded crab shells swirling around her like a cyclone armour. ¡°Trainin¡¯s over, rookie,¡± she said. ¡°Hope yer Archive was sayin¡¯ somethin¡¯ good about us.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡­ Marisol smiled nervously and pushed forward with the two of them, her gaze drifting to the fields of carcasses behind her. She really should¡¯ve kicked off and helped with the giant crab extermination, because now the Lighthouse Imperators could hog all of their meat for themselves, and she wouldn¡¯t get any points afterwards. [Reina will definitely give you a share of hers.] But Maria won¡¯t. [Eh.] [Just focus.] As the three of them glided out of the valley, the water opened up into a broad crater. Dim sunlight filtering through the misty depths revealed a grotesque battlefield: dozens and hundreds of Giant-Class sponge crabs carcasses sprawled haphazardly across the seabed. Some lay crushed and mangled, their porous shells shattered, while others appeared unnervingly intact, as if they''d been felled by a single precise strike. The water hung thick with a stillness that made Marisol¡¯s skin crawl. She didn¡¯t even need to consult the Archive to remind herself of how Depth Four¡¯s currents should be. It was plain and obvious nothing was ¡®right¡¯ here. The cemetery of crabs in front of them wasn¡¯t something that normally existed, and the currents in the circular crater were supposed to be swirling clockwise, not anti-clockwise. There was something within the cemetery of crabs powerful enough to reverse the natural underwater currents. So, the two Lighthouse Imperators stopped ahead of her. Reina, still composed and formal, surveyed the carnage with a tight frown. ¡°Depth Four is not exactly hospitable long-term for humans,¡± she murmured, ¡°so this many Giant-Class crabs gathering in one place is not completely unthinkable.¡± Maria narrowed her eyes, stabbing her flag into the ground. The spiraling water that had been surrounding her limbs earlier was gone, but she was still standing on the tip of her toes, ready to dash at a moment¡¯s notice. ¡°But it is weird they were just sittin¡¯ here, waitin¡¯ for us. Stay alert, Rei-Rei. That Rhizocapala¡ª¡± ¡°Is here.¡± Before Maria could finish her sentence, the mound of giant crab carcasses in the centre of the crater shifted. The sound of grinding shells and snapping chitin echoed through the crater, setting Marisol¡¯s teeth on edge as all three of them took cautious steps back. A pulse of water pushed outward from the mound, stirring the water, and the movement grew more and more pronounced as the pile of dead crabs heaved and groaned¡ªand then, from beneath the cemetery, a figure unfurled to his full height to tower over the three of them. Marisol¡¯s heart lurched in her chest as Rhizocapala rose. His bulk was as terrifying and mesmerising as she remembered it¡ªa twisted blend of organic and armored shells, human-like with hair and eyes and ears and five fingers on each hand, but she made no mistake recognising him for what he really was: just a hundred or so tiny barnacles clinging together to take the shape of a human. The aura differential may not be as much as the last time she saw him a month ago, but were it not for Maria and Reina¡¯s aura combining with hers, she might¡¯ve still buckled the moment he laid his eyes on her. ¡°... Took ye long enough,¡± he said, his voice rich and resonant, three thread-like tongues flickering past his lips as he gestured at the cemetery of crabs around them. ¡°¡®Ah was startin¡¯ to think ¡®ah wasted my time clearin¡¯ the crater for ye. Imagine if ye showed up a week or two later¡ªnot that ¡®ah woulda minded that¡ªbut ah would¡¯ve been bored outta my mind waitin¡¯ for ye.¡± Maria stepped forward, her water and debris drills swirling faintly around her limbs as she raised an eyebrow. ¡°Ye killed all these crabs yerself?¡± Rhizocapala let out a deep, gravelly chuckle, the sound more like rocks grinding against each other. ¡°Of course. Ye think they just dropped dead on their own? ¡®Ah was supposed to use them to slow ye down throughout the canyon, but they just kept clickin¡¯ and clackin¡¯ and ¡®ah got so damned irritated listenin¡¯ to them walkin¡¯ all restlessly, so ¡®ah killed them to spare us both the trouble. No point sendin¡¯ ye humans fodder to rip through and get stronger with, right?¡± [True,] the Archive murmured. [If Giant-Class crabs attacked you throughout the entire valley, all that would accomplish is giving more crab meat to the Imperators at the expense of delaying the reclamation of Depth Four slightly. If Rhizocapala already knew Lighthouse Imperators would be sent down to deal with him, sending Giant-Class bugs after them would only have made them even stronger.] So he killed his own allies? His own people? [They are not ¡®people¡¯, Marisol.] [They are the Swarm.] ¡°And ye don¡¯t sound like yer lookin¡¯ for a fight,¡± Maria said plainly. ¡°So ye knew we were comin¡¯, and ye didn¡¯t ambush us in the narrow valleys?¡± ¡°Ya.¡± ¡°Why wait for us here? It¡¯s open ground. More places for us to run. If ye wanted to kill us, it¡¯d be easier in the valleys back there.¡± Rhizocapala tilted his head, his glowing blue eyes narrowing as though seriously considering her question. ¡°But it¡¯s more dramatic to have a fight here in this arena-like place. Ye humans always manage to find the most dramatic places to have final showdowns anyways. Depth by Depth, goin¡¯ here and there, pushin¡¯ us back after we claim parts of the whirlpool¡­ it¡¯s routine by now. Predictable. How many times do ye think we¡¯ve done this?¡± ¡°Yer sayin¡¯ this is normal for ye?¡± ¡°Not normal,¡± Rhizocapala corrected, his tone almost playful. ¡°Expected. Like yer human ¡®clockwork¡¯ things. Ye descend, we resist. Ye take a little territory, we take some back. Rinse and repeat. Honestly, it¡¯s startin¡¯ to feel more like a chore than a war. My hermanos and hermanas, they still love this kind of stuff¡ªskirmishes, grand battles, all the drama. Me? Ah¡¯ve been doin¡¯ this for almost forty years now. Truth be told, all yer names and faces and fightin¡¯ styles are startin¡¯ to blur together for me. We may have made more progress this time than ever before, claimin¡¯ over half of the Depths at once, but it still feels the same to me, ye know?¡± Marisol couldn¡¯t help but glance at the hundreds of slaughtered Giant-Class crabs again, her unease growing with every word he spoke. The cemetery wasn¡¯t just a warning. It was a statement. He knew that he was stronger than each of them individually, and he had nothing to lose by talking to them like this. ¡°... So why are ye talkin¡¯?¡± Maria asked, her voice steadier this time. ¡°If yer so tired of the routine, why not just come at us now?¡± Rhizocapala leaned forward slightly, his barnacle plates creaking as he moved. ¡°Sure, ¡®ah could. We¡¯d throw hands for a while, maybe ye¡¯d get lucky, maybe not. But ah figured ah¡¯d try somethin¡¯ different this time. Spice things up a little.¡± ¡°Yeah? What¡¯s yer big idea, barnacle? Gonna ask for a truce or somethin¡¯?¡± ¡°Somethin¡¯ of the sort,¡± he said, his glowing eyes crinkling as a twisted smile rose onto his face. ¡°Let¡¯s change the rules for once. Instead of ye humans descendin¡¯ Depth by Depth like you always do to reclaim the entire rest of the whirlpool, why not hold your ground where you still have control? Let us be the aggressors this time. ¡®Ah promise ye, our plan this decade is... unexpected. At the very least, it¡¯ll be interestin¡¯. Just sit back and play defense for once and let us come to you¡ª¡± The tense water in the crater rippled as Reina suddenly stomped forward, her scorpion tail snapping to its sharpest point. Her knuckles whitened, her bladed tail vibrating faintly with restrained energy. Her usual composed demeanor had cracked, and her face was a mask of pure fury, her lips pressed so tightly together they seemed bloodless. Marisol blinked, slightly startled. She¡¯d only seen pissed-off Reina once, but the Lighthouse Imperator was just as terrifying to stand next to as the Barnacle God in front of her. Reina didn¡¯t need to say anything, either. What she was thinking was clear enough. ¡®This is absurd.¡¯ ¡®There¡¯s no point talking to a bug.¡¯ ¡­ And on that front, Maria agreed with a curt laugh, her glare at Rhizocapala sharp enough to cut glass. ¡°Even prim and proper Rei-Rei¡¯s finally showin¡¯ her teeth,¡± she said, her voice dripping with scathing mockery as water began swirling around her limbs faster and faster, turning her arms into churning cyclones. ¡°Ye think we don¡¯t know what yer doin¡¯, just tryin¡¯ to waste our time so yer boss can continue doin¡¯ whatever he¡¯s doin¡¯ down there in secret?¡± Rhizocapala returned a sly smile at the three of them. ¡°¡®Ah did mean it when ¡®ah said we¡¯re serious this time. The Imperators and the Four Leviathans may have fought many, many times like this over the decades, but ¡®ah really would recommend you go back and tell yer bosses to defend Depths One to Three instead of tryin¡¯ to reclaim the lower Depths. Ye ain¡¯t ready for what we¡¯re gonna do this time.¡± ¡°And yer so kind as to give us an advanced warnin¡¯?¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Rhizocapala shrugged. ¡°Ain¡¯t like ¡®ah can let the three of ye past Depth Four, anyways.¡± Without another word, the cemetery of crab carcasses began to rumble across the crater. Huge barnacles burst out of their carapaces, their ridged, slimy shells sprouting unnaturally fast. In moments, the entire crater transformed from a cemetery of carcasses to a jagged landscape of grotesque, very much living growths¡ªand when the hundreds of giant barnacles opened to reveal mouths full of jagged spines and teeth, the Whispering Canyons echoed the deep, guttural sounds of their hungry belches. Rhizocapala spread his arms and cackled aloud. He still hadn¡¯t moved an inch from where he stood, far above the three of them on a writhing mound of barnacles, but that was because he didn¡¯t have to move. He didn¡¯t feel like he should move. ¡°Ah¡¯ll even let the Hasharana go, so ah¡¯ll give ye ten seconds to turn around and scurry on back to the surface,¡± he said, pointing a finger gun down at them. ¡°If not, ¡®ah guess we¡¯ll all have to play our borin¡¯ parts in this war once again.¡± Chapter 73 - Thirty-Year Battle The Swarm was the aggressor, and humanity was the defender. Four thousand metres below the surface, all of them played their parts in this never-ending war once again. Rhizocapala counted down from ten, but he didn¡¯t even manage to finish ¡®nine¡¯ before Maria exploded into motion, water swirling around her limbs in tight circles as she surged forward. Her water and debris drills carved through the giant barnacles around the three of them with violent precision, leaving jagged chunks of shell scattering through the crater. Reina followed, her scorpion tail lashing out like a scythe and slicing through the snapping barnacle mouths that lunged at them. In an instant, the two Lighthouse Imperators cleared a wide berth around them, and Marisol just finished popping a skyball coral into her mouth. ¡­ Alright! Let¡¯s go! High above them, Rhizocapala remained perched on his grotesque throne of crab carcasses, his demeanor almost bored. With a lazy flick of his hand, he grabbed one of the massive crab carcasses beneath him, and with a disgruntled heave, he tossed it into the water above the crater. Then he reached for another crab and did the same, over and over again. The water churned violently as the clam-like barnacles on the hundreds of hovering crab carcasses began to swell and crack open. Giant, toothy mouths lined the insides of the shells, snapping as if hungry for blood. Rhizocapala laughed and held up a fist, and for a second, nothing happened. The hovering barnacles were still suspended far overhead like grotesque storm clouds blotting out the sky. Then, at their god¡¯s command, all hundred or so of them began aiming their mouths down at the three of them. The first volley of giant spines rained down from above, screaming through the water like jagged missiles. ¡°Move!¡± Maria barked. Reina dashed back and slashed hard right with her tail to decimate a dozen spines aimed at her, while Maria spun in place with her drill arms fanned out, destroying her projectiles as well. Marisol didn¡¯t have such luxurious defensive options. The spines the barnacles shot down were far too big, plummeting far too fast. Whirlwind Spin wouldn¡¯t be of any use here. She took off skating to the side, and as Rhizocapala roared for his hundreds of barnacles to continue raining spines down on them, she continued her mad skate around the crater. Rhizocapala didn¡¯t even need to move from his mound of giant crab carcasses in the centre of the crater. All he had to do was play conductor, pointing finger guns at all three of them to direct barnacle fire at them. I see why he¡¯s anti-army! His giant barnacles are like actual, honest-to-god cannons! [His Art is Shellblight Bloom, after all,] the Archive agreed. [He is capable of triggering barnacle growth on any organic material he has touched beforehand, and then he can command those barnacles to fire spine projectiles wherever he wants. Considering he has been observed to be able to control up to two hundred giant barnacles at once¡ªeach with the firepower of an anti-chitin cannon¡ªthere is a reason why it is generally not good practice to fight him in large numbers. His barnacles can very easily disrupt formations and cause mass confusion.] And that¡¯s why Maria and Reina ain¡¯t working together? She thought, gritting her teeth as a dozen giant spines rammed into the ground behind her. I dunno, Archive! I feel like if we had some sort of plan or strategy to work together, it¡¯d still be¡ª [Better than nothing?] [But the two of them do seem to have a plan. They just have not filled you in on it.] Halfway across the crater, Marisol threw a glance back at the ladies and scowled. It didn¡¯t seem like they had a plan. Maria was much like her, dashing and leaping and swimming and pouncing between projectile and projectile with a mad frenzy, ripping through every grounded barnacle in her way and then some. Reina was much steadier, but she was basically doing the same thing as Maria: blocking and deflecting projectiles, and then carving through the barnacles that continued to pop out of the ground like a never-ending mole hunt. Neither Lighthouse Imperator was making any progress towards Rhizocapala, who was still standing perched on his mound of crab carcasses, conducting his clouds of barnacles suspended overhead. ¡­ They wanna turn this into a battle of attrition? Kill more barnacles than Rhizocapala can summon, and then force him to retreat from Depth Four? [That appears to be their plan, yes.] What¡¯s the success rate on that? [Twenty percent.] And there ain¡¯t another method of beating that barnacle with a higher success rate? The Archive told her to focus on dodging, and she activated discharge to completely jerk her momentum to a halt as half a dozen giant spines slammed down in front of her. She immediately shuddered. Despite her increased attribute levels, she was still just barely outrunning the projectiles, and were it not for the foggy cloud of silt she just kicked up by spraying water everywhere, she wouldn¡¯t be able to stand still and gather her bearings like this. The camouflage is already paying off, huh? But Rhizocapala immediately snapped his head around and pointed a finger gun in her general direction, and half of the overhead barnacles turned on her. There was no other choice. She started skating back towards the two Lighthouse Imperators, keeping discharge activated to boost her speed even further. [Defeating Rhizocapala in a head-to-head fight is almost impossible,] the Archive said plainly. [The only way the three of you can stand a chance against him in this environment is trying to deplete his bioarcanic essence, thereby reducing his ability to propagate new barnacles, and force him to retreat before he kills all of you. The Lighthouse Imperators know this. You are unwittingly helping them carry out their plan as well, since you are taking up some of Rhizocapala¡¯s focus by dodging and skating around him like a mosquito.] But¡­ twenty percent¡­ just to make him retreat¡­ that ain¡¯t¡ª [It is the best we can do. Even Maria knows it. Two Lighthouse Imperators are not enough to defeat the Barnacle God. Just forcing him to retreat from Depth Four would be good enough.] ¡­ Good enough wasn¡¯t good enough. Draining Rhizocapala¡¯s bioarcanic essence and pushing him down to Depth Five meant he¡¯d get to live another day, adapt to their strategies, and possibly join forces with the other Four Leviathans. If they couldn¡¯t take him down here and now, they¡¯d only be dragging the siege to the bottom of the whirlpool out even longer, and in the face of the Insect God, Marisol was reminded once again that she wasn¡¯t here to have fun. She had no idea how long her mama still had. [... Loading previous synchronisation videos.] Her vision blurred briefly as the Archive began overlaying faint, fragmented images in her mind. Flickering scenes of past battles filled her head¡ªher right eye was still seeing spiny projectiles crashing down around her, Rhizocapala of Year Ninety-Four cackling in front of her, but her left eye was seeing Rhizocapala of Year Eighty-One, Year Seventy-Eight, Year Seventy-Seven. Her right eye was in the present, her left eye in the past. She saw her past dashing and fighting swiftly, her abilities powerful, but her endings always grim.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Each scene in her left eye blurred into the next, and it was a montage of failure after failure, all against the same foe. What¡­ the hell¡­ are you doing? Marisol growled, nearly losing her footing as she dodged another volley of spiny projectiles, clamping a hand over her left eye. Get those images out of my head! You were the one who told me to focus¡ª [These are recordings of previous engagements between Hasharana and Rhizocapala over the course of thirty-one years. Each recording represents a failed attempt to defeat the Barnacle God, and the death of the Hasharana who recorded it,] the Archive said plainly. [By reviewing these recordings, we can determine a more optimal strategy to avoid repeating history by attempting to slay Rhizocapala. Regardless, the chance of success is less than five percent, but I have never known you to shirk away from terrible odds.] [What will it be, Marisol Vellamira?] [Will you stick to the Lighthouse Imperators¡¯ more reliable plan to force Rhizocalapa out of Depth Four, or will you risk it all to force Rhizocapala out of the whirlpool once and for all?] ¡­ She scoffed, forcing a pained grin onto her face. When you put it like that¡ª [Loading previous synchronisation videos.] The fragmented memories resumed playing, an unrelenting stream of chaos overlaying her left eye. First-person recordings from bug-slayers long dead filled her vision in rapid succession¡ªdecades of brutal battles fought and lost against Rhizocapala. Her right eye remained fixed on the present, darting between floating barnacles and spiny projectiles raining down in sharp arcs, but it was the images in her left eye that gnawed at her resolve. The first recording showed a Hasharana barreling through a field of barnacles, their movements precise, the sawtooth blade in their hand oversized and trembling with power. They charged confidently, without fear, without worry¡ªuntil a cluster of spines erupted from the ground, impaling them mid-stride. The first recording cut to static. Marisol¡¯s stomach churned. She felt the sharp, phantom ache of those spines piercing her own body, and bile rose in her throat. [Focus,] the Archive urged, its voice steady. [The pain is not real. It is not your pain.] Don¡¯t make them any easier to watch. Next. The footage jumped to another Hasharana, this one circling Rhizocapala¡¯s writhing mound of barnacle-infested corpses. Their weapon flashed¡ªa glaive wreathed in blue light¡ªas they drove it into the Barnacle God¡¯s chest. For a moment, it seemed like they had succeeded. But then Rhizocapala exploded outward, ejecting himself in a burst of barnacle shards before lodging into a fresh crab carcass nearby. The Hasharana barely had time to react before they were overwhelmed by a barrage of spiny projectiles. Marisol clenched her jaw as pain stabbed through her temples. Despite the Archive¡¯s reassurance, each gruesome end seemed to sink its claws into her, dragging her deeper into a suffocating pit. How many more could she take? As¡­ many as I need to review! Next! The next recording was worse. A team of four Hasharana, coordinated and powerful, worked together to trap Rhizocapala. They tore through barnacles with relentless efficiency, pinning the creature¡¯s main body against a cavern wall. For a brief, heart-pounding moment, it looked like victory was within reach¡ªthen Rhizocapala ejected itself again, this time firing its heart like a cannonball into the far side of the arena. Then a fresh wave of toothy barnacles chomped down on two of the slayers from behind. The last two fought valiantly, but exhaustion claimed them within minutes. Still skating, she ducked beneath a low-hanging barnacle, her right eye still keeping track of every threat in her immediate path. Her legs burned. Her focus started to waver. Her vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall. Her chest tightened, and nausea rolled over her in waves. It wasn¡¯t just the brutality of the deaths¡ªit was the futility. Everyone last Hasharana who¡¯d gone after Rhizocapala had been strong, skilled, determined, but still they¡¯d fallen just like that. Like they were insignificant. Like they were bugs to be crushed underfoot. Give me¡­ more! The footage sped up, flashing battle after battle, all blending into a blur of pain and desperation. She did her best to pick out just one core strength of his, and she noticed one: Rhizocapala was always slippery¡ªslipperier than any opponent she¡¯d faced. Whenever a Hasharana managed to corner him in close-quarters, he always found a way to eject his heart, relocate, and outlast his opponents. His cannon-like barnacles weren¡¯t even his most powerful ability. The fact was, his real heart had never been touched in thirty-one years, and that was the obstacle no Hasharana before her had ever managed to overcome. And that, in itself, implied a few things. ¡­ One: if he gets cornered and feels threatened, he¡¯ll eject his heart from his human-like body. [Two: Rhizocapala is not actually that competent in close-quarter combat. He can rearrange the barnacles across his human-like form and create cannons on his arms, but compared to the likes of anti-personnel specialist Eurypteria, both Reina and Maria would be more than enough of a threat to him. His main strength comes from his endless barrage of barnacle spines and his ability to escape from the narrow jaws of defeat as long as he is surrounded by water.] And what¡¯s the one thing I have that every other Hasharana in the past thirty-one years didn¡¯t have? [Lightning at your heels.] Her glaives pulsed and crackled with lightning for a brief moment as she skated straight at Maria and Reina, who¡¯d barely moved from where they started off. Her mind was still racing, struggling to piece together every recording of every old battle against Rhizocapala while she was still fighting in the present, but here¡­ surrounded by carcasses and barnacles, canyons and craters, it was a perfect arena to box an Insect God in with. The idea hit her like a spark to dry tinder. You said, a long time ago, that there ain¡¯t a single underwater Crustacean Class that can generate lightning as part of their Swarmblood Art. [Correct. Because generating lightning underwater would just electrocute themselves and knock them out cold.] But what if I can do that thing I did to the wraith shrimp again, just underwater this time and on a much, much, much larger scale? [You can trap it and prevent it from ejecting its heart anywhere,] the Archive muttered. [And how exactly, are you planning on using your Swarmblood Art underwater without killing yourself?] Mama¡¯s fifth and final technique. It has to work. A spine grazed her arm, slicing through her sleeve and drawing blood. She hissed, but didn¡¯t falter, pushing the pain aside as she altered her course, tackling Maria and Reina with discharge boosting her speed just as another volley of spines rained down on them. The two of them would¡¯ve been completely fine, of course¡ªthey would¡¯ve reacted in time¡ªbut now she¡¯d already thrown them over a small mound of giant crab carcasses as cover, and the two ladies glared at her as determination knotted in her chest. She had to do it. She couldn¡¯t afford to waste any more time. ¡°What the hell do ye think yer doin¡¯?¡± Maria snapped, grabbing her by the collar. ¡°Stick to the plan! We keep fightin¡¯ the long fight, drain its blood, and once the projectiles start slowin¡¯ down, we jump on him and threaten him just enough to make him back off¡ª¡± ¡°I have an idea to kill Rhizocapala.¡± As dozens more spines rammed into their cover of crab carcasses, Reina gave her a long, hard stare. ¡°And is this ¡®idea¡¯ something you came up with,¡± Reina asked, ¡°or something your Archive came up with after analysing our environment?¡± She grinned back at Reina, her head pounding from the strain of processing the decades¡¯ worth of battle footage, but she pushed it all down and explained her plan as quickly as possible, as efficiently as possible. At some point, she even let the Archive choose her words for her, and for their part, both Lighthouse Imperators listened as intently as they ever could in the heat of battle. ¡°... So the formation is simple,¡± she finished, thumbing over the carcasses. ¡°Reina will charge out at Rhizocapala as the main distraction, while Maria and I will run circles around the crater in the same direction. All Reina has to do is distract him for long enough while we do our thing, and by the time he notices what¡¯s up, it¡¯ll be too late for him to even think about escaping. He ain¡¯t gonna be getting away. How¡¯s that for a plan?¡± The two stared at her, their silence stretching like a taut wire. Maria¡¯s eyes were sharp, calculating, her lips pressed into a thin line. Reina, meanwhile, was twirling the edge of her tail in slow, restless circles, her expression unreadable save for the faint twitch of her jaw. Surprisingly, it was Maria who broke the silence first. ¡°What¡¯s your Archive think about the success rate?¡± Marisol hesitated. ¡°Five percent,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe less.¡± She could¡¯ve sugarcoated it, dressed it up in bravado, but what was the point? They needed to know what the Archive thought. So when Maria exhaled, breathing bubbles that might¡¯ve been a laugh if it wasn¡¯t so grim, Marisol had no idea what to expect. ¡°... Aight,¡± she said finally, her tone almost casual. ¡°We kill him, then.¡± Marisol blinked, caught off guard by how easily Maria agreed. Reina sharpened her tail against the carcass, too, the razor-edge chitin catching dim sunlight in a silver arc. ¡°No disagreements, either,¡± she said. ¡°To begin with, I did not want to let Rhizocapala live for even a single day longer.¡± ¡­ And for the first time in what felt like hours, Marisol smiled. It wasn¡¯t much¡ªjust a small, fleeting thing¡ªbut it warmed the icy knots in her chest. As she prepared to vault over the carcasses, Maria¡¯s hand shot out, the grip firm around her wrist. Startled, she turned, her glaives scraping against the ground. Maria¡¯s face was closer than she expected, her expression soft but strangely intense. ¡°If we kill Rhizocapala here¡ªif this shit actually works¡ª¡¯ahm buyin¡¯ ye a meal,¡± Maria said curtly. ¡°A good one.¡± Then Maria held out her fist, waiting. It was such a bizarre gesture coming from her¡ªthis older, wilder woman who seemed to have little time for theatrics¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t forced. If anything, it felt¡­genuine. And it made Marisol laugh softly as she bumped Maria¡¯s fist with her own. ¡°Deal.¡±
[Objective #42: Slay the F-Rank Barnacle God, Rhizocapala] [Time Limit: Undefined] [Reward: Death of a Sea God] [Failure: Death] Chapter 74 - Steel Charge The moment Reina vaulted over the crab carcass, the battlefield exploded into motion once again. She didn¡¯t even have to shout or light a coloured pheromone flare. The clouds of barnacles overhead immediately turned their gaping maws on her, spitting volleys upon volleys of spines in her general direction. If it were anyone but Reina, Marisol felt they¡¯d be absolutely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of projectiles, but that water scorpion tail moved in blinding arcs, slashing and deflecting spines so fast it seemed to form a bubble barrier around her. But for Marisol¡¯s part, she couldn¡¯t afford to just watch anymore. Maria wasted no time, darting off clockwise around the crater. Marisol kicked off half a second later in the same direction, skating along the edge of the crater with sharp and quick movements. She felt the pressure, the strain, and her skin stung where she¡¯d been grazed with spines and debris all over, but she clenched her teeth and leaned as far forward as she could without toppling over. Pain or not, she wasn¡¯t going to fall behind. Archive! Locate the closest current swirling clockwise around the crater! A split-second pause. Then the Archive responded, calm amidst the chaos. [Current located. Twenty meters to your left, flowing clockwise at three-point-five meters per second. Adjust your current trajectory by eight degrees, and within five seconds, you will begin skating along the current.] [It is being made by Maria, by the way.] [She is swimming so quickly that she is leaving behind a current for you to skate along.] She veered sharply, her glaives cutting through the ground like a blade. She had to time the shift perfectly, angling herself into the oncoming flow, and she bit her lip nervously as she tried to feel the invisible current, but¡­ it wasn¡¯t so easy after all. She lacked the necessary intuition to perceive it in the heat of battle. She was going purely off the Archive¡¯s memory¡ªso the moment she hit the current, it was like she¡¯d been launched from a slingshot, and her skating speed doubled instantly. ¡®Flow¡¯. ¡®Speed¡¯. The underwater current carried her forward with an exhilarating, heart-pounding force. This is what Maria feels every time she swims along a current? A small, trembling grin took over her face as she leaned into it, her glaives tearing effortlessly through the crater¡¯s uneven surface. The added momentum was sending a rush of adrenaline through her veins, and she didn¡¯t want to stop here. She couldn¡¯t stop here. Almost as an afterthought, she activated discharge as well, sucking in water in front of her glaives and expelling them out the back, boosting her speed even further. More! Faster! She vibrated her hydrospines to push just a bit of water away from her, reducing her drag. She straightened her streamlined wings and lined them along her back, increasing her body¡¯s sharpness, and if she combined everything with discharge and the additional momentum from Maria¡¯s underwater current¡ªshe skated a whole circle around the crater, five hundred metres in circumference, in under ten seconds. Most of her weight was being pulled along by Maria¡¯s current¡ªand she swore she saw the blur of the Lighthouse Imperator swim past her twice before she even finished a single lap¡ªbut for the very first time in her life, she didn¡¯t feel like she was disadvantaged underwater. And she could go even faster. ¡°¡­ To El Borde Vellamira, Marisol, my one and only.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re reading this final chapter in my technique book, you must be truly, truly, truly bored out of your mind.¡± ¡°You must have mastered the other techniques already, and by mastered, I assumed you practised them once, then twice, then a couple hundred more times in the dead of night without anybody noticing, and then when somebody asked you how you got so good without practising at all, you said you were just a natural-born genius.¡± ¡°Well, that you are¡ªso for the final sand-dancing technique I will impart upon you, it has nothing to do with any dancing technique at all.¡± The water around the crater churned and swirled violently as Maria surged ahead, her powerful strokes slicing through the current like a predator. Marisol didn¡¯t have to see it from a bird¡¯s eye view. The Lighthouse Imperator was swimming so fast she was making another cyclone, but this one was far, far, far bigger than the one she¡¯d surrounded Marisol in a week ago¡ªthis underwater cyclone was born of pure magic, and it surrounded the entire crater. It began to spiral, drawn by the sheer force of her momentum, and with each lap, the swirling vortex grew larger and larger, the currents pulling everything toward the center¡ªa cyclone born of pure speed and will, strengthened by her Art that allowed her to twist currents around her in circles. Rhizocapala, of course, didn¡¯t seem to care about what the two of them were doing by spinning circles around him. His barnacles had all but given up on trying to hit them, given they were speeding around so quickly, and were instead focused purely on bombarding Reina with a hundred giant spines. Even Reina wouldn¡¯t be able to hold out against the spines indefinitely, so Marisol had to hurry. She clenched her jaw, narrowed her eyes, and let herself feel every sensation across her body as she continued skating in Maria¡¯s current. More and more pressure was building within her chest, and she held it there, every fiber of her being tightening into a singular focus. She clenched her muscles, feeling the fibers strain, then released them, forcing herself into a cycle of tension and relaxation. Each time, she grew more attuned to her body, more aware of her limits¡ªand then her skin prickled as she opened her mouth for a brief second, taking in a mouthful of freezing saltwater. ¡°Do you think your mama is invincible when she dances in a sandstorm?¡± ¡°Do you think your mama feels nothing when she¡¯s getting pelted by a thousand grains of sand?¡± ¡°Of course not.¡± ¡°Mama feels everything¡ªshe feels the winds shaving away at her skin, she feels the grains slipping past her mask and ear plugs, and she feels her body failing her. She feels her muscles screaming at her to stop dancing, she feels her bones creaking and threatening to snap off their joints, and she feels her heart wavering. Telling her to love herself. Telling her to protect herself.¡± ¡°But¡­ we¡¯re Sand-Dancers, after all.¡± ¡°We love the thrill of danger.¡± ¡°We love the pounding, vessel-bursting excitement that comes with speed.¡± ¡°We¡¯re beautiful masochists, and we¡¯re proud of that.¡± ¡°So when you¡¯re out there on the great blue, getting stabbed by stormy rain droplets, getting smashed by tidal waves, and you feel like you can¡¯t keep yourself in your own body anymore¡­ I want you to take a deep breath, keep a mouthful of water in your throat, and hold it in as long as you can.¡± ¡°You will suffocate. You will feel like you¡¯re dying. You will feel like throwing up, gasping for breath, and falling to your knees, but I guarantee you, for as long as you¡¯re ¡®holding it in¡¯, you won¡¯t feel anything else.¡± ¡°No pain.¡± ¡°For as long as you¡¯re holding that mouthful of water and suffocating yourself, you will be invincible.¡± ¡°This is my final technique: ¡®Steel Charge¡¯, for when you are being battered down by the world, and all you want is to go even faster.¡± ¡°Go, Marisol.¡± ¡°Lightning at your heels.¡± The saltwater was cold. It stung her teeth, chilled her tongue, and made her feel like choking and gasping for breath she couldn¡¯t take underwater, but the pain on the inside made the pain on the outside feel inconsequential as a result. The Archive shouted [Stimulating release of focus-enhancing adrenaline!], but she barely heard it ringing in her ears. She felt as though her skin was tightening, hardening, turning into flexible steel¡ªgraceful but powerful¡ªand when she could finally feel pain no longer, she allowed herself to calm down for half a second. Then she activated her Art, and lightning roared around her glaives as she raked them with her nails, drawing blood. Focus! Don¡¯t let the pain knock you out! But she didn¡¯t feel anything. The speed she was skating at, the cyclone Maria was whirling around the crater, and the horribly cold and salty water she was holding in her mouth¡ªall of it counteracted the fact that she was leaking electrified blood from her glaives, and her blood trails chained her lightning, swirling around the current as she continued skating in circles.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. [...Storm Glaives, after all, is not exactly the magic to electrify your glaives, but the magic to electrify your blood with bioarcanic essence,] the Archive said. [The lightning simply manifests externally on your glaives, hence the name. Therefore, if you can leave your blood behind underwater while skating in circles, the blood droplets will retain their electrified properties and chain the lightning, creating an electric cage around your target.] [You did this unconsciously against the Mutant-Class wraith shrimp, but now that you know how it is done, you can repeat it underwater and have Maria''s cyclone swirl your blood even faster, even harder¡ªand thus the lightning cage can even become a lightning cyclone.] The lightning followed her. Chased after her. She was leaving behind a trail of pure pink and blue, and if anything, the sharp jolt of electricity in her veins made her skate even faster.
[{Temporary} Speed: 6 ¡ú 9]
For a brief, brief moment, she caught up to Maria, and she swore she saw the Lighthouse Imperator blinking pointedly at her as they circled around the crater side by side. ¡°... Not bad, newbie,¡± Maria said, her voice a garbled, barely decipherable mess. ¡°Can¡¯t say ah¡¯ve ever pulled this technique off before.¡± The technique, of course, referring to the lightning-infused cyclone they¡¯d churned up around the crater. Marisol couldn¡¯t see the whole thing, but she didn¡¯t need to. She felt it. Goosebumps on her skin, her hair on the back of her neck standing up straight. She¡¯d no idea what it looked like from the outside, from the Imperators and Guards¡¯ perspective, but it had to be cool as hell. Scary as hell. Rhizocapala stopped commanding his barnacles to fire on Reina as he looked around him, trying¡ªand failing¡ªto latch onto their blurry forms with his stark eyes. How¡¯s this for a dramatic arena, Barnacle God? And now, we close in! Maria took the lead, swimming at a slightly inwards angle to slowly shrink the radius of the cyclone. Marisol followed suit, keeping her Storm Glaives activated, her stamina draining massively by the second. All told, she¡¯d only really used her Art once¡ªthe first and last time was against the wraith shrimp, and since then? Never. She¡¯d never figured out how to activate it safely underwater, because there was no safe way to do it, and she had to electrocute herself whenever she wanted to use it. She had thirty seconds left, give or take, before she had to turn it off or risk killing herself. Shrink the cyclone! Faster! Rhizocapala snorted as he picked up a giant crab carcass and tossed it their way. It missed, of course, and he watched the carcass incinerate and vaporise into ash as it tried to exit the cyclone. Between the sheer cutting speed of Maria¡¯s current and her lightning blood swirling around the current, nothing could get in and out of the cyclone. If Rhizocapala tried to eject his heart, he¡¯d fling himself right into her lightning¡ªso he couldn¡¯t run. He had to fight. And with Reina dashing in as well, he had to fight all three of them in close-quarters, perhaps his one and only real weakness in actual combat. Still, he managed to laugh and rearrange the barnacles across his arms into cannons as the three of them closed in, shrinking the cyclone ever so slowly towards his mound of giant crab carcasses. Twenty seconds. Ten seconds. Marisol tilted her body hard right at the five second mark, exactly the same time as Maria detached from her own cyclone, and then all three of them lunged inwards at Rhizocapala. Reina reared her scorpion tail behind her, coming in from the south. Marisol spun eight times as she launched into a War Jump, glaives crackling with lightning. Maria darted straight at Rhizocapala as she twirled her entire body, turning herself into a living drill, and as the Barnacle God simply stood there in waiting of their three-pronged killing blow¡ª Another scorpion tail pierced through the lightning cyclone from the outside, dispelled it in an instant, and impaled Rhizocapala through the chest. Then the tail reeled, dragging Rhizocapala fifty metres back in an instant, and all three of them slammed into each other with painful gasps. ¡­ What? Marisol spat out the mouthful of water she¡¯d been holding in as she rolled down the mound of crab carcasses, her Steel Charge wearing off, her body tingling like it¡¯d never felt exertion before. In a daze, she managed to scramble onto her glaives, but as she held her head and stumbled around groggily, trying to regain her bearings, she felt she heard someone shouting at her. Telling her to move. Rei¡­ na? No. Not her. Her head was spinning. Her eyes were blurry. In the distance, a scorpion tail darted at her face, but she didn¡¯t register it coming at her for half a second¡ªand then Maria leapt in front of her with debris drills for arms, blocking the tail in her stead. Blood sprayed across the water as Maria crumpled against her, and both of them toppled over, the Lighthouse Imperator¡¯s body knocking the dizziness out of her. Her heart immediately dropped like a stone. Instinctual panic ripped through her chest. She sat up straight, pulling herself out from under Maria, and then throwing herself to the Lighthouse Imperator¡¯s side. Maria¡¯s form was limp, her face pale, her breaths ragged. Her jaw¡ªit was wrong. Torn, hanging at an unnatural angle, with blood pouring from the gaping wound in slow, viscous streams. Marisol forced down the bile rising in her throat as she pressed trembling hands to Maria¡¯s face, trying to stem the flow. She¡­ took the hit for me? [Her Art severely reduced the damage. She would have died immediately if she had not¡ª] What do I do? How do I stop the bleeding? [Take off your cloak and wrap it around her jaw. She should have a tier five mutation that reduces blood loss, so if you do it quickly, her chances of survival would increase drastically.] Maria¡¯s glazed eyes shifted weakly towards her, but no sound came as she ripped off her cloak and did as the Archive instructed. Behind them, Reina managed to scramble to her feet as well, rigid, her tail poised high, scanning the far edge of the crater. A furious hiss of water shifted Marisol¡¯s attention away for a brief second as her gaze followed Reina¡¯s. Who¡­ is that? What¡­ is¡­ ¡­ At the crater¡¯s edge stood a second human-like bug, her silhouette sleek and ominous against the quieting currents. She had braided locks of hair tied back in a ponytail. Her body was dark and glistening, the armored plates of her carapace interlocking like ancient obsidian scales. Pale, phosphorescent patterns snaked along her limbs. Her four unusually long and lanky arms ended in cruel, serrated pincers, each one twitching in restless anticipation, but it was her scorpion tail¡ªa monstrous, segmented appendage tipped with a jagged, glinting stinger¡ªthat drew the eye. It coiled around her, loomed above her like a poised guillotine, and impaled on it was Rhizocapala, who was grinning at the three of them. Marisol heard the Archive saying something again, but she didn¡¯t need to hear it this time to know it was the third of the Four Leviathans: Eurypteria, the Water Scorpion God. ¡­ Shit. How could I¡¯ve forgotten? Victor said this would happen. If Rhizocapala was in mortal danger, she¡¯d¡ª ¡°Were you planning on dying here, hermano?¡± she growled, driving Rhizocapala into the ground with her tail, and the Barnacle God chortled out a pained laugh as he practically bounced off the hard rock. ¡°You? A Insect God defeated by three lowly bugs? What were you thinking, just standing there trying to take that water strider¡¯s lightning head-on?¡± Rhizocapala let out a wet, rasping chuckle, blood bubbling at the edges of his mouth. ¡°Lose? Me?¡± His grin widened, grotesque and wrong. ¡°Ye worry too much, hermana. ¡®Ah was just startin¡¯ to have fun.¡± And Marisol felt a shiver run through her. Her plan¡ªthe cyclone, the lightning, the three-pronged attack¡ªhad felt like certain victory. Now, doubt twisted in her gut. Was he playing with us the whole time? Did he have something up his sleeve he could¡¯ve used against us? If Eurypteria hadn¡¯t intervened¡­ But she wasn¡¯t allowed to enter her downward spiral of horrid thoughts. Far in the back, in the direction of Depth Four, massive war horns sounded, and she whirled around just in time to see dozens of giant spotlights piercing through the mist. Diving bells. Lots of them. After all, before they¡¯d even engaged Rhizocapala in battle, Maria had planted the mist-dispelling flag at the end of the narrow valley, and while it may have taken it a while to finish doing its job¡­ there was no mist anymore. Between their flag and their cyclone, Depth Four¡¯s haze had been swirled away completely, and that meant reinforcements were coming. Eurypteria tilted her head slightly, her eyes sharp but looking mightily irritated. If it weren¡¯t for the quickly arriving Imperators and Guards, no doubt the water scorpion would¡¯ve gone right for their throats, but the Imperators were standing guard by the edge of Depth Three for this exact scenario. Even if Rhizocapala had to be ¡®rescued¡¯ by another Insect God, the reinforcements would arrive quick enough to stop the two bugs from ganging up on the three of them. So Eurypteria turned and clicked her tongue, dragging Rhizocapala¡¯s impaled form behind her like a ragged puppet. Marisol, for her part, was more than grateful they were choosing to withdraw from Depth Four, but someone else didn¡¯t agree. Reina¡¯s voice cracked through the water like a whip, sharp and furious. ¡°Eurypteria!¡± And Reina surged forward, her scorpion tail arcing high. Marisol blinked. Between the suddenness of Eurypteria¡¯s arrival, Maria¡¯s injury, and Reina¡¯s outburst, she finally regained her reaction time¡ªand she threw herself forward, grabbing Reina around the waist and holding the Lighthouse Imperator back with all the strength she still had left. But Reina¡¯s screams were raw as she challenged Eurypteria to a duel, and the Water Scorpion God only paused for a moment, glancing over her shoulder to narrow her eyes with faint curiosity. ¡°... A water scorpion tail?¡± she murmured. ¡°How quaint. I must¡¯ve met you before and gave you my blood. Do I know you?¡± Reina continued to thrash, her muscles taut and trembling with fury, so Marisol resorted to extending her apiclaws and cutting into her calves. That made her trip as she tried to lunge forward, and she whirled backwards to glare at Marisol¡ªbut then she saw Maria lying on the ground as well, jaw wrapped in a bloody cloak, and that bloody anger was replaced almost instantaneously by something even darker. Fear. Worry. Eurypteria watched their silent exchange with detached amusement, and then she turned away, dragging Rhizocapala¡¯s limp body behind her. As the two Insect Gods disappeared through a valley on the other side of the crater, thirty diving bells or so soared over their heads, their bright lights slicing through the water like beacons. Imperators and Guards alike spilled out in organized chaos, their shouts muffled by the water as they each rushed to their posts. Some immediately began constructing temporary outposts, erecting steel scaffolding and hammering posts into the seabed to fortify their position. Others fanned out across the canyons, their armored silhouettes disappearing into the mist as they moved to secure vital chokepoints. A squad worked to position heavy bioarcanic cannons, another drove spiked barricades into the ground to block potential advances, and the clang of metal on metal rang through the water. Of course, one group rushed towards Marisol, Reina, and Maria as well, and they carried net-like stretchers and boxes of medical equipment. Marisol didn¡¯t need telling twice. She recognised Claudia, the Fourth Lighthouse Imperator, amongst the medical team, and she could do nothing but watch with trembling hands as they pulled Maria onto the stretcher and hauled her into a diving bell. Reina somehow had enough strength left to follow after Claudia by herself, but someone else had to drag Marisol up by the arm, pulling her into the same bell as well. The entire time, she couldn¡¯t help but think it wasn¡¯t worth it at all. They didn¡¯t manage to kill Rhizocapala. Maria was wounded¡ªterribly wounded¡ªand while they¡¯d successfully reclaimed Depth Four, they could¡¯ve just stuck with their original plan, and nothing would¡¯ve changed. Marisol was the one who¡¯d pushed for the plan to kill Rhizocapala, and on that front, they¡¯d failed. ¡­ Archive. Silence for a moment, as though the Archive wasn¡¯t fully here with her. Then it finally responded after a pause. [What is it?] Play back our fight with Rhizocapala. Just where¡­ did it start going wrong? Chapter 75 - Leviathan Conclave (II) The oppressive quiet of Depth Five wrapped around Eurypteria like a vise, broken only by the distant hiss of volcanic geysers and the groan of the whirlpool¡¯s depths shifting restlessly. Here, in the ¡®Sulfur Fields¡¯, everything was skeletal¡ªfields of long-dead corals rose like spiky bones, and the faint glow of bioluminescent algae around smoky geysers danced and flickered with every subtle current. Unlike the Whispering Canyons, it was mostly flat ground here. Eurypteria hauled her older brother through it all, her claws digging into the cracked barnacle shells that made up his shoulder. His limp body dragged behind her, leaving a trail of dark, shimmering blood that spiraled lazily upward like ink in water. The hole she¡¯d left in his chest¡ªwhen her tail had speared him to save his sorry exoskeleton¡ªstill wasn¡¯t healed, but somehow, that crooked, lopsided grin was plastered across his face like he didn¡¯t have a care in the world. So when she reached the edge of Depth Five, she stopped and threw him forward with a sharp, irritable flick of her arm. Rhizocapala skidded over a jagged coral, scattering barnacles that chimed faintly as they broke apart. He ended up sliding to a halt on his back, staring up at her with that insufferable grin. ¡°Ye wound me, hermanas.¡± Rhizocapala snorted, propping himself up with one clawed arm. ¡°What kinda bug d¡¯ye take me for? ¡®Ah ain¡¯t playin¡¯ puppet to no one, and ye could¡¯ve just let go of me normally. What if ¡®ah fell into one of these geysers and got myself incinerated? Then there¡¯d only be the two of us old souls alive in Depth Five, no?¡± ¡°Alive,¡± Eurypteria echoed, her mandibles twitching faintly as she sat down cross-legged, curling her tail underneath her like a cushion. ¡°A fleeting condition these days. Especially for you.¡± She turned her gaze back to him, sharp and cutting. ¡°That lightning nearly killed you, hermanos. If she¡¯d pushed just a little harder¡ª¡± ¡°She didn¡¯t,¡± Rhizocapala cut in as he sat as well, his grin returning, jagged as ever. ¡°She flinched. Same as the others. Same as they always do. Humans¡ªalways hesitatin¡¯ at the edge, always lookin¡¯ for somethin¡¯ that ain¡¯t there. Mercy, maybe. A second chance. Whatever it is, it makes ¡®em weak.¡± ¡°They learn,¡± Eurypteria said darkly. ¡°The strong ones always do.¡± Rhizocapala chuckled, low and rough. ¡°Ah, don¡¯t be like that. Had it all under control, ¡®ah did.¡± ¡°You were a heartbeat away from being filleted by all three of them¡ª¡± ¡°Was ¡®ah really?¡± ¡­ Eurypteria clicked her tongue, but didn¡¯t press the matter further. Truth was, Rhizocapala may have been F-Rank for thirty-one years straight, but of the Four Leviathans, he was the only one who¡¯d never been replaced. The rest of them were all born after the Whirlpool City was created, while Rhizocapala had been born outside. Her, Kalakos, and Marculata¡ªE-Rank, D-Rank, and C-Rank respectively¡ªwere all second or third generations who¡¯d never been in the great blue outside the whirlpool. In every measurement of power humans used to grade their strength, the three of them were far stronger than Rhizocapala, but¡­ he was the one who lived.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The ever-elusive. Maybe he hadn¡¯t been in any danger, after all. ¡°... ¡®Ah will admit, though. Didn¡¯t think that water strider girl had it in her,¡± Rhizocapala offered, shrugging slightly. ¡°That Art of hers¡­ been a while since we¡¯ve seen somethin¡¯ like that, eh?¡± The water around them seemed to grow colder, darker, stirred by the weight of unspoken memories. Eurypteria¡¯s tail stilled. Her next words came out quieter, tinged with something that wasn¡¯t quite fear but wasn¡¯t far from it either. ¡°Lightning,¡± she whispered, almost to herself. ¡°The bane of all insects.¡± ¡°Aye.¡± Rhizocapala¡¯s grin was gone now, replaced by something harder, sharper. ¡°Cuts through the carapace like it¡¯s paper. Can¡¯t say ah¡¯ve forgotten the last time we faced lightnin¡¯, either. You remember, don¡¯t ya?¡± Twelve years ago. They didn¡¯t need to say it aloud. The memory hung between them like a shadow, and Eurypteria would do better without it. She shook her head sharply, as if to banish the thought. ¡°We can¡¯t fight her down here,¡± she said, her voice regaining its usual steel. ¡°Lightning is the universal counter to all bugs in the world, which is why those fireflies in the northern Hellfire Caldera Front are so damned strong¡­ but if that water strider can use lightning underwater and not fry herself, she¡¯ll be dangerous. Lightning¡¯s much stronger underwater.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t matter,¡± Rhizocapala said plainly. ¡°Depth Four ain¡¯t the goal. Never was. Just needed to buy some time, and ah¡¯d say ¡®ah did a damn good job of that. A whole month of holdin¡¯ off those Imperators on my lonesome? Not bad, eh?¡± Eurypteria didn¡¯t respond. Her gaze drifted past him to the massive shadow at the edge of Depth Five: the giant hundred-metre-tall crab carcass lay still and silent, its legs curled inward like a death throe frozen in time. Its surface may be pocked with bioluminescent crystals, but she couldn¡¯t see the whole thing even as she craned her head completely backwards. ¡°And this is what we¡¯re pinning everything on?¡± she asked, her tone skeptical. ¡°A loaned corpse from our king?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll work just fine enough.¡± Rhizocapala laughed again, his voice raspier now. ¡°That ¡®tactic¡¯ worked just fine against that strider, and it¡¯ll work just fine again. Fear does funny things to folks. Makes ¡®em see what ain¡¯t there. Makes ¡®em hesitate.¡± Her eyes narrowed further. ¡°It¡¯s not going to fool them forever. If this fails¡ª¡± ¡°It won¡¯t fail,¡± he cut in, his tone uncharacteristically firm. He glanced toward the shadow looming behind the carcass. ¡°Not when yer there as well, aren¡¯t ye, hermanas?¡± Eurypteria followed his gaze again. Beyond the crab¡¯s massive shadow, in the hazy mist of Depth Six, the water was alive with faint, irregular pulses of light. Streaks of dark red blood swirled in the currents, and every so often, the faint outline of something worm-like shifted in the shadows. Oh, Kalakos was here alright¡ªshe may not be here with them, chatting the day away, but she was most assuredly listening in on their conversation. ¡°It¡¯s all on ye now, Kalakos,¡± Rhizocapala called out. ¡°Whether this plan succeeds or fails in the end¡ªit¡¯s all in yer fangs.¡± The Remipede God didn¡¯t answer directly¡ªshe was probably a bit too far away and a bit too distracted, anyways¡ªbut the water seemed to grow heavier, vibrating faintly with an unseen, confident response. Eurypteria¡¯s mandibles twitched. ¡°Kalakos better be ready. If she¡¯s not, and the Imperators descend with literally everyone in two, three months, even the two of us¡ª¡± ¡°She will be,¡± Rhizocapala said, hauling himself to his feet with a wince. ¡°And we¡¯ll hold Depth Five until she is. This is the last line, hermanas. No Marculata, no Corpsetaker¡ªjust ye, me, and as many bugs we can throw at them to slow them down. If we¡¯ve gotta stake our lives just to buy three more months for Kalakos to get ready, then so be it.¡± ¡°¡­ Hmph.¡± Three more months. Just three more months, and she¡¯d be able to see the outside world again. So her tail flicked once, sharply, as if punctuating his words. Then, slowly, she rose to her feet as well and extended a hand to him. His grin sharpened just a fraction. ¡°For the Swarm,¡± she said. ¡°For the Swarm,¡± he echoed, bumping his fist against hers. Chapter 76 - Disciple One month since the Depth Four Reclamation Mission. The rooftop of the Highwind Inn was slick with rain, the faint drizzle leaving a sheen of water that sparkled faintly under the pale morning sun. Marisol barely noticed the wetness beneath her as she skated, propelling herself around the roof in tight, controlled circles. She felt her movements were smooth, almost hypnotic, her glaives tilted just enough for her to ride their edges without losing her balance. Each turn brought a sharper and sharper curve, her body leaning into the momentum as she felt it. She rode the natural air currents swirling faintly in the morning breeze. It was still faint and barely noticeable, but¡­ she could kind of feel it now. That intangible shift in the air. That sensation she¡¯d learned to read and bend to her own will over the past weeks. Sometimes, she didn¡¯t even feel she was just skating anymore¡ªit was a proper dance with the wind, and when she could ride a current, she could go faster than ever before. Faster. I can go faster. She crouched lower, her glaives humming louder as she angled them for even more speed. Her world became a blur of wind and rain, her own tired and ragged breath mingling with the drizzle as she pushed herself harder¡ªthen an old man suddenly appeared in her path, his walking cane held out at chest height. She didn¡¯t hesitate. In a single, smooth motion, she bent her knees and slid under the cane at the last second ¡ªscreeching up fiery sparks across the roof¡ªbefore twisting her body to reverse the momentum. Her right glaive swung out in a sharp kick aimed directly at his side. Her left apiclaw shot out as she cut from the opposite direction, aiming to hurt. Of course, Victor sidestepped her attacks with practiced ease. He whipped his cane forward without a sound and managed to hook her neck. Before she could react, he tugged, yanking her forward and sending her crashing to the wet rooftop with a heavy thud. Tch. She groaned, sprawling flat on her back. The light drizzle misted down over her face as she glared up at the old man, who loomed over her with an infuriatingly calm expression under his bandages. ¡°You¡¯re improving,¡± he said plainly, as though she wasn¡¯t sprawled in an undignified heap. ¡°Your edge control is sharper now. You¡¯re reading the air currents well, too, but there¡¯s still more you could do.¡± ¡°Oh, sure,¡± she muttered, dragging herself up. ¡°Like what? Let you trip me with a stick more gracefully?¡± ¡°Your mutations. Your discharge. Your Storm Glaives. Channel both together and get used to them being activated at the same time. If you¡¯re falling, you can also discharge air and water to quickly right yourself¡ªyou¡¯re not reacting to your falls quickly enough.¡± ¡­ Marisol gritted her teeth, brushing the damp off her elbows as she stood. Victor never let her get comfortable¡ªalways pushing her to do more, to be better. But he wasn¡¯t wrong. She needed to be better. She stepped back onto her glaives, feeling the familiar hum as she listened for the air currents again. ¡°Full circle,¡± Victor commanded, pointing his cane around the perimeter of the roof. ¡°Show me¡ª¡± With a sharp inhale, Marisol launched forward. Her glaives screeched faintly against the slick surface, her legs pumping harder as she skimmed the edges of the roof. She called on her discharge. She called on her Storm Glaives. Swirls of lightning crackled inside her glaives, just bubbling beneath her chitin plates, and between the wind and the lightning, she propelled herself one full circle around the roof in the blink of an eye. She screeched to a halt in front of Victor before he even finished his sentence. ¡°... Speed,¡± he concluded. He seemed to raise a brow, but it was hard to tell. ¡°Better. You¡¯re starting to grasp ¡®speed¡¯ in the sense you don¡¯t even wait for people to finish talking now. That¡¯s the sort of mindset you need to take against those Insect Gods.¡± She smirked, feeling the adrenaline coursing through her veins. ¡°Starting? Watch this.¡± Without waiting for his response, she launched herself again, skating tighter and faster, letting the air currents push her instead of push against her. She lowered her body even further. She let streaks of lightning sputter out the tip of her glaives and leave scorch marks against the roof, vaporising water into hisses of steam. She couldn¡¯t keep this up for long, naturally. Full output of her Storm Glaives and discharge at the same time drained her stamina, and she could only do this for short bursts of five or so seconds each time. Without Storm Glaives, though, she could hold a lot longer. But sometimes, all it¡¯d take was five seconds. Victor stood completely still, his posture relaxed as she circled him over and over in the centre of the roof. He didn¡¯t flinch at her speed even as the wind she generated whipped his flower-patterned cloak, made the feather on his oversized hat ruffle¡ªand then she struck. Pivoting sharply, she redirected all her momentum, her leg lashing out in a clean arc toward his face. It was a calculated risk. He always dodged. He always blocked her attack. He always found a way to sidestep, redirect her attacking limb with his cane, then whack her at least three times on her way down. Except this time, he didn¡¯t. Her glaive connected, the impact sending a sharp jolt up her leg as she struck his shoulder. The old man¡¯s head tilted back slightly, and his stance wavered a little. His face was impassive, but his lips parted, and he coughed uncharacteristically as she skidded to a halt with wide eyes¡ªa small splatter of red staining the rain-drenched ground. ¡°... Old man!¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± he rasped, though his voice lacked its usual strength. ¡°That ain¡¯t a bad hit. Not bad at all. That¡¯s progress¡ª¡± ¡°That ain¡¯t nothing! Sit!¡± She grabbed his arm, guiding him to sit against the ledge of the roof. The rain fell softly over them as she fumbled for the water flask she¡¯d brought up here with her, but the old man hooked it in with his cane, taking a small sip before leaning back in his seat. His breaths were steady but shallow, his face seemingly pale beneath the bandages that covered him from head to toe. He was fine, but¡­ Marisol wasn¡¯t. So she sat next to him by the ledge, her knees drawn to her chest. The morning wind picked up slightly, carrying the scent of wet stone and distant markets up from the city below, but drizzle continued to fall in soft, uneven patterns, the cold rain tapping faintly against her shoulders. And she hesitated before asking the question that¡¯d been gnawing at her since the day she met him, her voice quieter than before. ¡°... What really happened to you, old man?¡± His gaze didn¡¯t shift, and for a moment, she thought he hadn¡¯t heard her. She would¡¯ve pressed again, but then he sighed¡ªa long, measured exhale that carried the heaviness of years behind it. ¡°That¡¯s a question with no simple answer,¡± he said finally.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°I ain¡¯t asking for simple,¡± she replied, hugging her knees tighter. Victor glanced at her briefly, his brows furrowing, weighing the worth of her curiosity. Then he leaned back against the ledge, tilting his head toward the rain. ¡°When I was younger¡ªmuch younger¡ªI was assigned to the Whirlpool City by the Worm God himself,¡± he began. ¡°Give or take, that was about¡­ thirty years ago. Right after the Swarm God was pushed back and humanity rallied across the continent. You gotta realise that back then, the Flower Capes ain¡¯t what they are now. The organisation had only just begun to establish proper training regimens and structure, and as one of the many who participated in the fight against the Swarm God, I was the first to be garrisoned here, told to pick out and mentor new trainees here. Our Archives were less intelligent. We had basically no resources to work with.¡± Marisol tilted her head slowly, intrigued. ¡°You fought in the old war?¡± ¡°Oh, yes. Saw the Swarm God with my own eyes, even,¡± he said, his tone softening slightly. ¡°But most Flower Capes who joined right after the organisation was established weren¡¯t trained for the water. They were decent enough bug-slayers on the mainland continent, but the battles in the Deepwater Legion Front ain¡¯t the kind they¡¯d faced on land. On water¡ªor under it¡ªeverything¡¯s slower, heavier, more unpredictable. Challenging in ways most people never anticipate. Most of my disciples couldn¡¯t adapt, either.¡± Then she watched him count fingers, and when there weren¡¯t enough on his hand, he started counting his toes as well. ¡°My first batch of recruits didn¡¯t survive,¡± he said, almost too casually. ¡°It ain¡¯t their fault, but I ain¡¯t had much of a choice to stop, either. I kept going. New recruits would be sent here, I¡¯d mentor them, and some lasted longer than others. Some even thrived, though none of them wanted to dive down into the whirlpool to actually help contain Corpsetaker and his pantheon of leviathans¡ªall twenty-two other Flower Capes in the Deepwater Legion Front right now are scattered across the great blue instead, and for good reason. Down there, in the whirlpool, the pressure drives you mad.¡± ¡°And so you were the only Hasharana who actually stayed in the Whirlpool City.¡± ¡°I did a damn good job helping out the Imperators, if I do say so myself.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± she prompted, sensing the shift in his tone. ¡°Twelve years ago, that ¡®breach¡¯ happened.¡± Marisol stiffened. This was the second time¡ªor third, or fourth, or fifth time¡ªshe¡¯d heard about that event. ¡°Three Insect Gods,¡± he said, holding up three fingers, ¡°Rhizocapala, Eurypteria, and Leptostrasa. They breached the surface of the whirlpool together by sneaking past all of our observation bells. I think that was the first and only time so many Insect Gods actually managed to reach the city, and none of us were ready back then.¡± Marisol¡¯s stomach churned as she imagined it, and she had to will the Archive not to play any recordings¡ªwaves of giant bugs flooding the waterlogged streets, the cries of the dying echoing through the city. Victor seemed to close his eyes briefly. He probably didn¡¯t have to imagine anything. ¡°To end the breach, we had to force the Insect Gods back into the whirlpool,¡± he said plainly, holding out a bandaged hand. ¡°It took everything I had¡ªeverything I was¡ªto drive them back. I pushed my Art beyond its limits and burned through every reserve of strength I had. The Imperators carried the rest of the slack. I killed Leptostrasa and freaked the fuck out of Rhizocapala and Eurypteria, and this,¡± he said, cutting a strip of bandages across his palm with a nail, and she clenched her teeth as she saw the charred flesh underneath, ¡°is what¡¯s left. My Art burned me from the inside-out. No vial of healing seawater can fully heal this shit. I¡¯ve been drinking them for years just to stay alive, but¡­ I am an old man. My body¡¯s failing me. If I use my Art even one more time¡­¡± He trailed off, letting the words hang in the air. He didn¡¯t have to finish his sentence, and Marisol didn¡¯t feel like finishing the thought, either. Truth was, she¡¯d guessed as much¡ªfigured as much¡ªand she felt she had a pretty good guess on what his class was, too. The Archive didn¡¯t need to hint at anything. She didn¡¯t need to go around probing people for any answers. So as the rain continued to fall, faint mist rising from the city below, she forced herself to send him a wry smirk. ¡°You ain¡¯t as nearly as old as you act,¡± she muttered. ¡°Flattery will get you nowhere.¡± ¡°But how old are you, really?¡± Victor chuckled softly, the sound dry but genuine. ¡°Rest properly,¡± he said, gesturing wildly back at the roof, ¡°and this is why I didn¡¯t want to take you on as your mentor at the start.¡± Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of curiosity. ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°The ones I¡¯ve taught before¡­¡± he began, his gaze drifting toward the city below, ¡°they were strong, make no mistake. Stronger than you were when you came. The difference between you and them is that you get back up after falling. Everytime. And you think you¡¯re invincible because of it.¡± He turned to address her with sharp, narrowed eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t think that, but you think being young and strong means you can do whatever you want. Change the plan on a whim. Dive headfirst into trying to kill an Insect God nobody has been able to kill for thirty-one years when there was a safer, smarter play right in front of you.¡± Her chest tightened. He continued. ¡°I don''t have to review the footage your Archive recorded of that battle. I bet you thought you made up a real good plan to corner Rhizocapala, didn''t you?¡± She swallowed a hard gulp. ¡°I did.¡± ¡°You sealed off all of his possible paths of escape with that lightning cyclone, didn''t you?¡± ¡°I did¡ª¡± ¡°What''d I tell you, lass?¡± he grumbled, shaking his head in dismay. ¡°Seal off all but one of their possible paths of escape, and they''ll move as you expect them to. If you don''t¡ªif you push them into a corner where it''s do or die¡ªthen I guarantee you, they will do something drastic and get out of that trap somehow. They''re the Swarm. They own bioarcanic essence, and they evolve under pressure. You caged Rhizocapala in a lightning cyclone with no possible path of escape. Great. But then you forced Eurypteria to step in because you put him in a do-or-die situation that she had time to recognise accordingly, and that led to Maria getting hurt.¡± Then he sighed, scratching the back of his head. ¡°If you''d just left a tiny opening for Rhizocapala to escape, you would''ve caught him on his way out, and Eurypteria probably wouldn''t have interfered in time. That''s how you beat a slippery bastard like him.¡± Guilt churned in her stomach like a physical blow. Her fists clenched in her lap as the memory of the fight surged back¡ªthe recklessness, the speed, the failed trap, the chaos, and¡­ Maria. ¡°... Is Maria okay?¡± she asked quietly. ¡°I¡­ haven¡¯t seen her or Reina since that mission.¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°I skipped the debriefing, too.¡± ¡°Who do you think got chewed out by Andres in your place?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t look at either of them.¡± A pause. Momentary silence. Then Victor sighed, leaning back on his hands. ¡°Maria¡¯s stable,¡± he said. ¡°Claudia¡¯s been working non-stop to heal her, and Reina¡¯s been staying with her. She¡¯ll wake up, no doubt about that¡ªbut she took a lot of damage tanking that hit from Eurypteria. When she wakes up¡­ well, who knows what new scar she¡¯ll have to live with.¡± Her nails dug into her palm. ¡°I¡­ It¡¯s my fault. I¡ª¡± Victor placed a hand on her shoulder. ¡°You did good, lass. Depth Four is ours again. That mission was always going to be a fight for our lives, and it ain¡¯t like I didn¡¯t tell you Eurypteria wasn¡¯t going to show up. It ain¡¯t like it¡¯s Maria¡¯s first scar, either, and it won¡¯t be her last.¡± ¡°...You suck at comforting people, you know that?¡± He chuckled lightly. ¡°You¡¯re not the first to say so.¡± Despite herself, Marisol managed a faint, faint smile. For all his gruffness, there was something grounding about the old man¡ªsomething that made her feel safe even in moments like¡­ this. After a long silence, she spoke again. ¡°Your notebook on underwater currents,¡± she said. ¡°It was¡­ helpful.¡± ¡°I know it was.¡± ¡°I paid attention to the currents, and¡­ well, even though that one current Maria made at the end carried me, I¡¯ve been learning how to read them on my own.¡± ¡°I can tell.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ breathtaking, going that fast.¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t that right.¡± ¡°You¡¯re kinda like my mama,¡± she said, surprising even herself with the comparison, but¡­ it wasn¡¯t entirely inaccurate. ¡°She wrote me a book, too. About techniques.¡± Victor raised a brow. ¡°Your mama sounds like a lovely lady. Is she single?¡± The corner of her eye twitched, and she smacked his arm. The old man laughed as he raised his hands in surrender, but even he could tell the conversation was veering off in a strange direction¡ªso he rose to his feet, looked down at her, and bowed slightly. Catching her off-guard. Swallowing a hard gulp, Marisol quickly scrambled to her glaives and bowed back slightly, if not only because she was unsure what had brought this about. ¡°... Truth is, I¡¯ve never been a good mentor,¡± he said, voice softening. ¡°Never been good at it. I can¡¯t stand kids like you. That don¡¯t mean you haven¡¯t been the best disciple I¡¯ve ever had.¡± ¡­ Victor straightened, pulling his feathered cap straight with a small smirk. ¡°So, keep training. The Depth Five Reclamation Mission will be even tougher. Keep jumping in on extermination missions, eat as much as you can, and keep getting stronger until Lighthouse Seven calls for you in a month or two¡¯s time. I¡¯ll throw a rock through your window when Maria wakes up so you can check on her and Reina as well, and¡­¡± He hesitated, then met her gaze straight. ¡°I brought you into this fight. I¡¯ll get you out of it no matter what. ¡°You¡¯re going home to your mama with a vial of healing seawater. ¡°I promise.¡± He gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, then turned to leave. And Marisol watched him go, a strange, strange emotion settling in her chest. So, as he reached the stairwell and descended down into the inn, she smiled faintly and gave him a deep bow in return. ¡­ Stuff like that don¡¯t fit you, old man. You¡¯re better off hitting me with your stick again. But when she exhaled slowly, she felt the morning air was crisp. Fresher than before. The weight of the mission she¡¯d barely completed and the mission ahead of her still pressed down on her shoulders¡ªbut for the first time in a while, she felt ready to start skating full speed ahead again. She lowered her body, activated her Storm Glaives, and began skating around the roof again. Chapter 77 - House Visit Between training her mama¡¯s five Sand-Dancing techniques, skating around the city to find the natural air currents, and diving into the whirlpool to kill Giant-Class bugs for more points than she could reasonably eat every single day, another month passed by for Marisol in the blink of an eye. There¡¯d been summons for mission debriefing. She¡¯d ignored them all. There¡¯d been tons of extermination missions to kill Giant-Class bugs down in the whirlpool. She¡¯d accepted them all and went on those missions solo. The truth was, she didn¡¯t care so much about whether the Imperators allowed her to do certain things or not¡ªshe had a single-minded focus to get stronger so she¡¯d never be caught off-guard by the Insect Gods anymore, and to that end, she was taking a break this morning to study her mama¡¯s technique book in her room again. No training. No dancing around on the roof or kicking Highwind Dolls with Archive projecting the image of Rhizocapala on them. Sometimes, she just needed to sit there and¡­ consolidate. Summarise. Remember all the tools she had available to her, and figure out how to use them all for maximum speed. So, she checked her status screen.
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: E-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: Storm Glaives] [Aura: 6,515 (+40)] [Points: 3] [Strength: 6, Speed: 7, Toughness: 6 (+1), Dexterity: 6, Perception: 6 (+1)] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 5] [T2 Mutations | Filtrating Gills Lvl. 6 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 7] [T3 Mutations | Laminar Apiclaws Lvl. 5 | Streamlined Wings Lvl. 5 | Basic Setae Lvl. 2] [T4 Mutations | Spraying Discharge Lvl. 5 | Basic Sonar Lvl. 4 | Basic Underchitin Lvl. 3 | Basic Chitin Lvl. 3] [T5 Mutations | Surfactant Domain | Basic Vision | Rapid Rehydration | Segmented Flexion | Hydrokinetic Redirection] 1500P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20] [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20)]
She looked to the side and glanced at her status screen for a moment. She¡¯d barely increased her attribute levels the past two months, but that was because there just weren¡¯t a lot of extermination missions now that the Imperators had Depths One to Four in complete lockdown mode, and because she¡¯d also spent a lot of points unlocking her final tier four core mutation: ¡®Basic Underchitin¡¯.
[T4 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Underchitin Lvl. 3] [Brief Description: You have grown thin chitin plates beneath your skin that will significantly increase your endurance in high-pressure underwater environments. Subsequent levels in this mutation will further increase your endurance deep underwater]
It wasn¡¯t a visible mutation, but if she pinched her skin, she¡¯d feel what felt like extremely thin chitin plates layered right under her normal skin, and the Archive hadn¡¯t been lying when it said the chitin would also help her conduct lightning across her own body better. Activating Storm Glaives underwater was much, much, much less risky now. Apart from the strength that could be quantified in pretty little numbers, there were also the five Sand-Dancing techniques she¡¯d put into real practice the past two months: the War Jump, the Silent Step, the Whirlwind Spin, the Homeward Pause, and the Steel Charge. She¡¯d been practising each technique individually over the past month, but chaining them together and ingraining them into her normal fighting pattern as if they weren¡¯t anything special¡­ would still take some time. She wasn¡¯t a born fighter, after all. Someone else was, though, and when her senses flared, she raised an arm and extended an apiclaw. The pebble that shot into her window impaled itself on her claw, sliding along the blade like a meatball on a skewer, and she had half a mind to return it to sender¡ªbut then two, three, four more pebbles came volleying at her, and she had to turn to catch them all out of the air between her fingers. But she didn¡¯t have enough fingers, and a fifth pebble nailed her on the forehead. She winced as she nearly fell out of her chair. What the fuck. There¡¯s a fifth pebble? ¡°... Just because you blocked the first projectile doesn''t mean Rhizocapala will stop shooting you, so don¡¯t ever let your guard down!¡± Victor shouted, and she couldn¡¯t even see the old man outside the window. He was so damned far away she had no idea where he was. ¡°Also, Maria¡¯s awake! She¡¯s gone back to her house! Pay her a visit before you get sent down to Depth Five, yeah?¡± Marisol was going to rub her head and grumble and shout back at the old man angrily, but at the mention of the Second Lighthouse Imperator, she shot out of her chair and leaned out the window. The early morning drizzle soaked her curly hair, but she didn¡¯t care about that. She didn¡¯t even bother vibrating her hydrospines like she usually did to form a thin water-repelling barrier around her. She just wanted to figure out where Victor was. ¡°Where?¡± she shouted. ¡°Ask your Archive, dumbass!¡± he shouted back, and the crowds on the main street below turned to give her a strange look. ¡°I¡¯ve given your Archive special permission to access Maria¡¯s personal information! Just follow the map and get¡ª¡± She didn¡¯t let him finish his sentence. She vaulted out the window, flipped up onto the roof, and began skating along the Archive¡¯s silver arrow in the sky.
Marisol had skated urgently plenty of times in the past month, but never as desperate, and never as anxious. The mansion the Archive led her to stood like a crown jewel atop the polished northeastern streets of the upper city, and it was a massive manor made of polished stone and glistening glass. Marisol hesitated at the gate, her fingers brushing the iron bars as she stared at the grandeur before her¡ªfrankly, she just didn¡¯t think she was at the right place, and that maybe the Archive led her completely astray. [I did not.] You didn¡¯t?The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. [I did not.] So this is where Maria is? [This is where Maria Sangroja lives.] From the way Maria dressed¡ªalways loose and informal with her few-buttoned uniform¡ªand her gruff, aggressive demeanor, Marisol had imagined a crumbling building in the lower city. The kind of place with peeling paint and broken windows. A gangster¡¯s hideout, maybe. But certainly not this, with perfectly trimmed hedges and fountain centerpieces, its waters sparkling like diamonds in the morning light. Her thoughts were interrupted by raised voices cutting through the tranquility of the manor. She froze, straining to catch the muffled argument coming from the second floor. Those voices¡­ Before she could decide whether to knock or retreat, though, the wide iron gate creaked open, and a well-dressed butler emerged, bowing politely. ¡°Miss Marisol. Victor Morina has informed us of your imminent arrival, so we have been expecting you. Please, this way.¡± Marisol swallowed hard. Her stomach twisted as the butler beckoned her to follow him in. She¡¯d raced here the moment Victor told her Maria was awake, but now that she was actually here, the weight of her nerves made her glaives feel like lead. The fact that Maria had protected her from Eurypteria was both a relief and a gnawing guilt she¡¯d never allowed herself to work through the past month¡ªand the butler most certainly didn¡¯t allow her to work it through now, because he was staring at her so pointedly she found it impossible to keep him waiting. She followed. She kept herself light on the tip of her glaives, avoiding scratching the pristine stone pathways as much as possible. The inside of the manor was even more stunning¡ªmarble floors, chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace, and walls adorned with swirly paintings of leviathan-sized cannons, warship designs, and blueprints of Swarmsteel weapons she couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of. The Archive was immediately willing to tell her more about the Sangroja Household¡¯s history, but¡­ the voices grew louder as the butler took her up the stairs. ¡°This isn¡¯t up for discussion. Go back to the infirmary.¡± ¡°Chill, Hugo. I tend to listen to my patients when they say they wanna rest where they¡¯re most comfortable. I¡¯ll just check up on her every few days.¡± ¡°Your infirmary¡¯s not comfortable? This room¡¯s cluttered to all hell anyways. How¡¯s she supposed to get any proper rest here?¡± ¡°She¡¯ll manage. She ain¡¯t a kid. Ya gotta let the doctor and patient call the shots.¡± ¡°The shots are unreasonable. We need her healed up as soon as possible so she can dive again¡ª¡± The butler cleared his throat and led Marisol to a door at the end of a long corridor, opening it with a soft creak. Inside was a bedroom larger than anything she¡¯d ever seen. It was packed with¡­ everything. Violins rested in stands near the window, the shelves were lined with handcrafted dolls, and broken looms stood in one corner with threads of every color spilling from its frame. A blade even leaned casually against the wall, its edge faintly shimmering, while a rack of cookware gleamed near a small hearth. It was like a hoarder¡¯s room. A hobbyist¡¯s room. It was like whoever lived here bought everything she wanted to try her hand at and just left them here after she was done playing with them. It wasn¡¯t a noble or a princess¡¯ room at all. Her eyes eventually landed on Maria, who was sitting upright on a grand canopy bed, her lower jaw tightly bandaged. Despite the injury, the Lighthouse Imperator had an air of poise as she calmly patted Reina¡¯s head, who was dozing off on a stool with her head slumped against her legs. Maria¡¯s other hand scribbled in a notebook with a feathered quill, her writing an elegant contrast to the palpable tension in the room¡ªbecause it wasn¡¯t just Marisol, Maria, and Reina in the room. Hugo and Claudia were here, too, and the two older Lighthouse Imperators were flanking the bedridden Maria like she was getting interrogated. And, in response to Hugo¡¯s pestering Maria to go back to the infirmary for better rest, Maria held up her notebook and showed the man her pretty handwriting. ¡®I¡¯m staying here.¡¯ ¡°It¡¯s dusty here,¡± Hugo said, his voice sharp as he gestured around. ¡°C¡¯mon, Claudia. You can¡¯t possibly think she¡¯ll heal up quicker here. You won¡¯t have to waste time going back and forth from the infirmary just to do your daily checkup, and hey, while Maria¡¯s there, she can also train the other injured Imperators. Two birds, one stone.¡± Claudia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she shook her head slowly. ¡°Just let her be, man. Look at her. She¡¯s going to claw your face off if you ask her to go back one more time.¡± ¡®That¡¯s right,¡¯ Maria wrote. ¡®Even if it¡¯s you, I won¡¯t show any mercy.¡¯ ¡®Hahaha.¡¯ ¡°Great Makers, it¡¯s for your sake,¡± Hugo said exasperatedly, crossing all of his spider arms. ¡°The Second Lighthouse Imperator can¡¯t be gone for too long. We need you for the next dive¡ª¡± ¡®You don¡¯t need me,¡¯ Maria wrote. ¡®Also, she¡¯s here.¡¯ Then Maria tilted her head back and smirked with her eyes, staring straight at Marisol. Hugo and Claudia whirled as well, but Reina was truly well and fast asleep. Marisol could only manage a small little wave at the two standing Lighthouse Imperators before Hugo clicked his tongue, storming out of the room and brushing past her without so much as a glance. That wasn¡¯t the fun, laid-back boss of the Imperator initiates that Marisol knew, and while she looked a little taken aback at his anger, Claudia also walked past her, patting her on the shoulder. ¡°Take care of them,¡± Claudia whispered. And all Marisol could do was nod numbly as the butler led the two Lighthouse Imperators out, closing the door behind them. The silence was heavy, broken only by Reina¡¯s faint breathing as she slumbered. Marisol hesitated for a few more moments before she shuffled forward, her nerves prickling under Maria¡¯s calm gaze, and she found a second stool next to the bedridden Lighthouse Imperator. She took her seat, fidgeting with the hems of her shirt. ¡°Are¡­ you alright?¡± she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Is your jaw¡­ okay?¡± Maria didn¡¯t answer with words, of course. Her jaw was too bandaged for that. Instead, without a hint of hesitation or modesty, the Imperator began unbuttoning the bottom half of her shirt. Marisol¡¯s breaths hitched. Apart from the wound to her jaw, she¡¯d suffered more tiny cuts on her torso Marisol hadn¡¯t even noticed during the battle, but now they were only raw, angry gashes that snaked across her sides. No longer bleeding. Stitches lined the edges of some of her injuries, but despite the obvious pain they must¡¯ve caused, Maria didn¡¯t really seem to mind them. That wasn¡¯t too surprising, really. Her muscled body was a tapestry of scars, some pale and faint, others jagged and fresh. They criss-crossed her arms, her shoulders, her ribs, and everywhere else with a fresh patch of skin. For someone who lived in a manor fit for a queen, Maria¡¯s body spoke of a life that was anything but pampered. ¡®See?¡¯ Maria tapped her jaw, sending Marisol an amused look before scribbling in her notebook again. ¡®This won¡¯t kill me.¡¯ ¡®I feel great.¡¯ ¡­ Marisol¡¯s eyes darted between the bandage, the wound, the scars, and Maria¡¯s serene expression. There was no bravado, no hint of exaggeration¡ªjust a simple statement of fact. And a lump started forming in her throat as the weight of everything finally crashed over her. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m glad,¡± she said softly, voice trembling, ¡°If someone died again¡­ because I was inattentive¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Her hands balled into fists on her lap, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. She bit her lip, trying to hold them back, but Catrina¡¯s face flashed into her mind. The pregnant lady who¡¯d been host to a parasitic shrimp. If Marisol had trusted her own instincts¡ªif she¡¯d paid more attention and acted faster¡ªsomehow, some way, she wanted to believe she could¡¯ve prevented Catrina from suffering that gruesome fate. Instead, Catrina never got to reach the city. Never got to eat around the dinner table with Captain Enrique again. The thought that Maria would die because she¡¯d been inattentive again¡ªit was unbearable. For her part, Maria didn¡¯t interrupt. She didn¡¯t try to comfort Marisol with platitudes. Instead, she reached out, pulling a handkerchief from the bedside table, and handed it to Marisol. Marisol accepted it with shaking hands, dabbing at her eyes as she tried to pull herself together. The fabric was soft, embroidered with golden swirls that probably cost more than her entire outfit. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she repeated, her voice steadier now but still thick with emotion. Maria just shook her head, her expression calm and steady. Then, from the other side of the bed, Reina stirred. ¡°I¡¯m glad¡­¡± The Fifth Lighthouse Imperator¡¯s voice was barely more than a murmur, slurred with sleep, but Marisol snapped her head, noticing for the first time the puffiness around Reina¡¯s eyes. The prim and proper woman¡¯s usually sharp features were soft and her cheeks were slightly blotchy, as if she¡¯d been crying for hours before Marisol even got here. So Maria¡¯s hand moved to Reina¡¯s head, gently patting the sleeping lady¡¯s head like one might soothe a restless child. Reina muttered again in her sleep, her words broken but filled with regret. Eventually, Reina¡¯s breathing evened out, her muttering fading into silence. Marisol¡¯s eyes flicked between the two of them. She didn¡¯t understand their relationship. Not fully. Maria was a constant enigma¡ªstrong and brash, graceful and composed¡ªbut Reina, always so stern and controlled, now looked so¡­ impossibly fragile. Human. The Insect Gods had brought out different sides to all of them. ¡°Just who¡¯s the injured one here, though?¡± she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Maria caught the comment and bobbed her head as though chuckling silently, her shoulders shaking. Then she reached for her notebook again, scribbling something quickly before holding it up. ¡®Wanna grab a drink?¡¯ she wrote. ¡®My treat.¡¯ Marisol blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. She glanced at Reina, still fast asleep, and back at Maria. ¡°... Now?¡± Maria¡¯s smile widened as she wrote again, her expression daring, almost mischievous. ¡®What¡¯s the best lunch place in the city?¡¯ ¡®What¡¯s your Archive say?¡¯ Chapter 78 - Synchronicity The sun blazed high over the lower city. Here, life pulsed with an intensity unmatched by the quieter, statelier parts in the upper city: dockworkers hauled crates with the rhythm of waves, vendors shouted their wares like carnival barkers, and the laughter of children threaded through the air as they darted between haggling shoppers. Marisol and Maria stood, side by side, outside a small diner tucked between two larger, weathered buildings. The Lighthouse Imperator tilted her head slightly as she regarded the sign above the door: La Mesa del Familia. The hand-painted teal and gold letters were even more faded than the last time Marisol had visited, and to most, the place might seem inconspicuous, but it was a gem of a diner in her eyes. This was where she wanted to bring Maria for lunch. ¡°... According to my Archive, this is supposed to be the best lunch spot in the city,¡± Marisol said, glancing at Maria with a touch of nervous energy. ¡°I¡¯ve been here a lot of times myself, and¡­ uh, I recommend it as well. Maria¡¯s eyes lingered on the chipped shutters painted in cheery reds and yellows, the bursts of sound and laughter spilling from inside. Her bandaged lips seemed to curve into a small smile, and Marisol couldn¡¯t help but frown again. ¡°Are you sure you should be out of bed?¡± Marisol asked, the worry thick in her voice. ¡°Your jaw is¡­ like that, anyways. How do you eat anything?¡± Maria fingers slipped deftly into her pocket to retrieve her notebook, and her quill danced across the page with elegant, fluid strokes. ¡®Like how the old man does.¡¯ ¡®There is a slit in my bandages, so just look away if you don¡¯t wanna see my fucked up mouth.¡¯ Marisol clenched her jaw, unconvinced. ¡°Still. You shouldn¡¯t push yourself¡ª¡± ¡®It wouldn¡¯t do a lady well to be cooped up in bed all month long.¡¯ With that, Maria closed the notebook and gestured toward the door with an exaggerated flourish, her eyes sparkling with mock impatience. Marisol was hesitant for a moment before she sighed, shaking her head as she relented. They pushed the door open and stepped into the warmth of the diner. The aroma hit them first¡ªa rich, comforting blend of spiced stews, freshly grilled fish, and bread straight from the oven. It was the kind of scent that felt like an embrace, and even Maria¡¯s slightly suspicious demeanor softened as they took it all in. The interior was as inviting as ever: ochre-painted walls adorned with faded tapestries and ocean-themed paintings, lanterns hanging from low, exposed beams, and the hum of conversation punctuated by the quiet strumming of a guitar in the corner. It also didn¡¯t take long for someone to recognise her. ¡°Marisol!¡± The shout came from behind the kitchen counter where Helena stood, her apron dusted with flour and her grin as bright as sunlight streaming through the window. She waved with her pistol shrimp claw enthusiastically, and Aidan and Bruno both glanced up from their stoves to smile at the new arrivals. ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought a friend this time!¡± Bruno said, his voice booming with good-natured humor. Marisol rubbed the back of her neck, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Yeah. Uh. This is¡­ Maria. The Second Lighthouse Imperator.¡± There was silence for a moment, though it wasn¡¯t true silence. Customers and clients¡ªmostly children¡ªwere still chatting all around, but Marisol felt like she heard the blood draining from the three siblings¡¯ faces as they finally took a good, long look at Maria¡ªand then the older brothers immediately saluted while the youngest sister vaulted over the counter, guiding the two of them towards an empty table. ¡°Right this way, Miss Sangroja!¡± Marisol furrowed her brows. What a strange reaction. They were all Imperators here, but Helena was acting like Maria was more than that¡­ and maybe she was. ¡®Sangroja, Sangroja¡¯ was a household name Marisol had heard many, many times across the city, and the Imperators and Guards she¡¯d chatted with over the past few months while diving in the whirlpool all mentioned how ninety percent of their artillery and munitions came from the Sangroja Factories northwest of the city. Maybe Maria was some sort of celebrity even outside of the Imperators, and for her part, she simply hadn¡¯t cared enough to ask the Archive for clarification. [She is a celebrity.] Really? [But what does it matter to you?] [Would you treat her any differently just because you know she is of a different birth than you?] She made it a point not to ask her Archive about people¡¯s histories, anyways, so once they were seated and Helena hurried away after dropping off their menus, Marisol paid close attention to Maria¡¯s eyes. Discreet attention. She watched as the Lighthouse Imperator traced her gloved fingers over the worn pages, and she couldn¡¯t help but notice the way Maria¡¯s eyes lit up slightly as they lingered on the sweets section. She likes sweets as well? Just like Reina, then? As Maria scribbled down her order on her notebook, Marisol leaned back in her chair and waved Helena over to take their order. Marisol asked for her usual¡ªshe liked her fish with tomatoes for a proper lunch meal¡ªbut Maria just tore the page off her notebook and handed it to Helena. Marisol had half a mind to tell Maria to eat something actually nutritious instead of sweets for the main course, but¡­ who was she to judge? The image of Reina¡¯s tear-streaked face was still flashing in her mind, unbidden. She¡¯d never thought of Reina as vulnerable¡ªprone to anger in the face of an Insect God, sure, but the sight of her slumped against Maria¡¯s bed with her eyes puffy from crying was impossible to ignore. Impossible to forget. She was curious. And as Helena hurried away again to deliver their order to the kitchen, Marisol broke the quiet between them with a nervous gulp. ¡°You and Reina¡­ must be really close, huh?¡± But Maria said nothing. Looked nowhere. The moment the Lighthouse Imperator handed off her page to Helena, her head started tilting slightly to one side, quickly dozing off. It took only five more seconds for her to slacken as she sprawled her arms across the table, slamming her face straight down¡ªand then Marisol heard the quiet rumbles of a snoring lady, completely tapped out of the conversation at hand. It was like the Lighthouse Imperator was here to treat her to a meal, and only treat her to a meal. ¡­ Well. That¡¯s more in line with her personality, I¡­ guess? Sighing softly, she reached over to nudge Maria¡¯s gloves slightly back. Familia served its food quickly, so Helena would need space to put all her sweets down¡ªbut the moment her fingers brushed the scaly fabric that was Maria¡¯s gloves, her world started to shift. Her vision swam. A wave of prickly sensations slammed into her, pulling her under as if she¡¯d plunged into icy water. The warmth of the diner vanished, replaced by a cold, weightless void. She gasped, but no sound escaped her lips. Then, she began to dream.
She dreamed of a brighter, more lavish world. It was Year Seventy. Just a few weeks after the Whirlpool City was successfully established as the new bastion of the Deepwater Legion Front. She was short. She was in a princess¡¯ bedroom. She recognised this sensation of feeling cold and distant in her own body, because she wasn¡¯t Marisol¡ªshe was ¡®Maria¡¯, the twelve-year-old daughter of the Sangroja Household, the richest family in the Whirlpool City, their wealth built on the weapons factories that armed the Harbor Guards and Imperators across the Deepwater Legion Front. Again? It¡¯s just¡­ like Kuku¡¯s helmet. She strolled through her bedroom, an expansive space cluttered with the remnants of her many hobbies. Sewing kits spilled over the edge of a lacquered desk. Toymaking supplies were strewn across a velvet chair, tiny clockwork gears glinting under the soft glow of a chandelier. Instruments¡ªviolins, flutes, even a harp¡ªleaned in neglected disarray against the wall. Her latest interest, glass etching, lay half-finished on a workbench tucked in the corner of the room. A beautiful design of a lighthouse shone on the surface, but she¡¯d already grown bored of it. Everything she touched came too easily. She¡¯d master each skill only to abandon it quickly in search of something more challenging. Something more exciting. Her footsteps echoed across the marble floor as she paced. In her arms, she cradled a little baby¡ªa child. There was a name in her head. Little ¡®Reina¡¯, her mama¡¯s best friend¡¯s one-year-old daughter. Reina¡¯s chubby fingers tugged at her dark hair, babbling happily, oblivious to her restless energy. So¡­ so cute! She smiled brightly at Reina and nuzzled her cheek into her swaddle, but her mind was wandering. She wasn¡¯t fully there. She was still thinking about her next hobby, her next skill to master. Maybe she could try being a full-time caretaker. She¡¯d probably be the best the city had to offer. She strolled out of her room, meandered across the halls of her newly built mansion, and a low murmur of voices reached her ears. The living room door was ajar. She peeked through and saw a small gathering of Imperators and Guards¡ªall good friends of her papa¡ªstanding around high round tables, shaking hands and sharing smiles. That was right. Her papa had invited most of his friends over to celebrate both the unveiling of the Sangroja Household¡¯s new mansion and the establishment of the Whirlpool City. A party. Reina¡¯s mama was in the room as well, chatting with some of the old guards, which was why Reina had been given to her to take care of. Not that she had any complaints. She liked holding little Reina. But her papa wasn¡¯t in the room. He was somewhere else, and she was curious. She continued strolling outside, listening in on the conversations in each and every room before she came across her papa¡¯s study. The door was ajar yet again. She peeked in, breaths held, and finally saw two men lounging in high-backed chairs, cigars and brandy in hand. One of them was her papa, and she¡¯d never heard him laughing so loud before, but the other man¡­ he had sharp eyes. A feathered cap. And a self-assured smirk as he told an unfunny joke. She watched in silence as he zipped across the room, retrieving drinks and snacks faster than her eyes could follow. His movements were a blur, impossibly smooth and quick. She couldn¡¯t even tell if he was walking or gliding or flying or teleporting around like that ¡®Worm God¡¯, but her heart was racing. He was fast. Unable to contain herself, she barged into the room. ¡°I want to race you!¡± she declared, holding Reina tighter as she glared at the man in the feathered cap. The laughter stopped. The conversation halted. Her papa groaned, rubbing his temple. ¡°Not now, Maria. This man is a guest. Go back to¡ª¡± ¡°So she¡¯s the one claiming to be the fastest in the city, huh?¡± the man interrupted, his smirk widening. He set his glass down on a table and turned to face her fully. ¡°That¡¯s a bold claim, little lass. You sure you wanna race me?¡± Maria straightened her spine. ¡°I¡¯ve raced adults. Grown men. Nobody could beat me.¡± The man chuckled, his confidence infuriating. ¡°Alright, then. Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re faster than me.¡± Her father sighed deeply. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your time. I apologise for my daughter. She¡¯s just a child, and she doesn¡¯t know any¡ª¡± The man zipped across the room, appearing in front of Maria in an instant. His grin widened as he crouched slightly, meeting her gaze head-on. ¡°How about it, little lass? Three laps around the mansion. Winner gets a box of caramel sweets.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Maria¡¯s lips twitched. She didn¡¯t exactly like sweets¡ªshe hated them, in fact, because they¡¯d always make her teeth hurt¡ªbut Reina would probably like them So she walked past the man, handed Reina off to her papa, and patted the baby¡¯s head as she grinned. ¡°Watch me, Rei-Rei. This is for you.¡± ¡­ An hour later, Maria sat outside in the courtyard, her chest heaving as tears streamed down her face. She was bawling because she¡¯d lost, and her papa, still swaddling Reina in his arms, sighed as he stood by the front door. The man in the feathered cap walked up to her papa, not even winded, and sent her a smirk as infuriating as ever. ¡°Not bad, little lass,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re faster than most your age, but you¡¯re not that fast.¡± Her father shook his head as Reina clapped gleefully, oblivious to Maria¡¯s misery. ¡°Did you really have to crush her like that?¡± he whispered, scowling at the man. ¡°I¡¯ll pay you fifteen hundred to go out there and lose. Just¡­ damnit, man. Don¡¯t do me like that. She¡¯s my daughter.¡± The man shrugged, his grin turning sarcastic. ¡°But crushing kids makes me feel better about myself. See, I¡¯m still pissed Zora burned down my fucking ship, and Enki didn¡¯t show up to the party either. Neither did Kita, Annie, Albrecht, Benedict, Huilong, Kalani, Uma, Safi¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªhave you considered it is because you are unpleasant to be around¡ª¡± ¡°Nonsense.¡± The man scoffed, crossing his arms. ¡°They could all take a wormhole and just plop right through. Some heroes of humanity we are. Only Andres showed up, and he¡¯s only here because he lives here and can¡¯t ignore the just-once-a-year-and-then-I¡¯m-done social call.¡± ¡°Two heroes. Good enough.¡± ¡°They all owe me for being the first to charge at Corpsetaker. If I didn¡¯t do that, Enki couldn¡¯t have morphed into his colossal worm form thing in time, and this city wouldn¡¯t even exist. Shit, Andres should make me the Imperatrix and¡ª¡± Maria sniffled and blew her nose into her dress sleeve, swiping angrily at her eyes and drawing both men¡¯s attention. ¡°Again!¡± she demanded. Her papa sighed and tried to clasp a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder, but he couldn¡¯t be stopped. He zipped in front of her, knelt, and grinned maliciously again. ¡°You won¡¯t win, little lass. Not in a million years. You sure you want to keep bawling your eyes out?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not losing!¡± she snapped, jabbing her finger at the man¡¯s eyes. ¡°I won¡¯t lose!¡± ¡­ That night, Maria lay in bed, kicking her legs and crying into her pillow out of frustration. The man¡¯s speed was replaying in her mind over and over, taunting her. How could he be that much faster than her? His legs aren¡¯t even moving! He gives me a one minute head start, and by the time I turn around to see if he¡¯s starting, he¡¯s already back at the finish line! It¡¯s not fair! It¡¯s magic! It¡¯s mutations! It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s¡­ She pulled her head out of her pillow and sniffled, glaring out at the window. ¡­ No! I¡¯m not losing! The thought consumed her, driving her to slip out of bed and sneak toward the mansion gates. Her plan was simple: leave the house, find a way to get one of those ¡®class systems¡¯, and return stronger. Faster. But as she crept past the gates, a firm hand grabbed her shoulder. Matheo¡ªthe Sixth Lighthouse Imperator, always shrouded in shadows¡ªloomed over her with a disapproving frown. ¡°Back to bed, young lady,¡± he mumbled. Then she was marched home, where her papa waited in the study, his expression a storm of anger and concern. For the next two years, Maria trained in secret. She could never shake the memory of the man¡¯s smug grin or the helpless frustration that had gripped her that day. Her papa dismissed her dreams, saying all she had to do was inherit his factories, and her household guards monitored her every move, but she was determined. She began by seeking out the Hasharana in the city¡ªthe bug-slayers who were beginning to gain notoriety across the continent¡ªand while they weren¡¯t officially sanctioned to teach or interact with people like her, she didn¡¯t care. She approached them boldly, her pockets jingling with stolen coins. The first Hasharana she encountered was an older woman with the codename ¡®Lisbeth¡¯. She had hawk-like eyes and a wiry frame that belied her strength. Maria begged her to teach her the art of reading the city¡¯s unpredictable currents¡ªthe winds and waters and flows that made the great blue treacherous for anyone not attuned to their rhythm. ¡°You¡¯ll never keep up,¡± Lisbeth warned, crossing her arms. ¡°The currents are too wild for a child like you.¡± Maria held her chin high, determination blazing in her eyes. ¡°Teach me anyway.¡± Lisbeth eventually relented, and under her guidance, Maria learned to feel the subtle shifts in the air, the faint vibrations underfoot that signaled danger or opportunity. She practiced for hours in the alleys and roofs of the Whirlpool City, her legs burning and her lungs heaving as she pushed herself to keep up with the Hasharana¡¯s nimblest runners. It wasn¡¯t enough. She needed more. Faster, harder training that could truly transform her. At fourteen, against her papa¡¯s vehement protests, she forged a fake identity and enlisted in the Harbor Guards as a trainee. The Guards were brutal. Training wasn¡¯t designed to nurture¡ªit was a relentless grind meant to weed out the weak. From dawn to dusk, she ran drills, practiced combat, and faced grueling obstacle courses. Her classmates mocked her initially¡ªwhat did a spoiled rich girl from the upper city know about survival? But she silenced them all with her ferocity. When others stumbled over the uneven boards of the training tracks, she pushed ahead, her feet finding the narrow beams with precision. When they hesitated at the sight of the Guard¡¯s mimic dolls¡ªhulking, chitinous constructs designed for sparring¡ªshe charged in, her fists aching from each strike. She chose the Whirligig Beetle Class during her First Class Mutation Selection after hearing its reputation whispered among the trainees. It was the fastest class available to recruits, but it came with a dangerous edge. Its Art was the magic to create ¡®swirls¡¯ around her limbs, and there were very few things she couldn¡¯t pick up and swirl around her. Water, air, nails, knives, debris¡ªit granted incredible power at the cost of being incredibly difficult to control. Dangerous to control. Misusing the ability once could shatter her own bones or rip her flesh open with whatever she was swirling around her. ¡°You¡¯ll cripple yourself,¡± the instructor warned. ¡°Most recruits don¡¯t survive the trials of that class.¡± She didn¡¯t flinch. Her first attempts with her Art were disastrous. She sent herself careening into walls and leaving bruises up and down her arms more times than she could count, but she didn¡¯t stop. Day after day, she refined her technique. She learned to feel the pull of the swirl, to guide its flow with her movements rather than resist it. By the end of her first year, she was no longer just a promising recruit¡ªshe was the fastest in her cohort. Claudia, a Lighthouse Imperator, noticed her during a training exercise when she was sixteen. Her speed and precision during a mock Swarm assault left the lady in awe. ¡°She¡¯s wasted here,¡± Claudia said, observing her as she darted through the field, dispatching the mimic dolls with calculated strikes. Before she could even graduate, Claudia pulled her into the Imperators. The training there was even harsher. The Imperators weren¡¯t just soldiers¡ªthey were heroes of humanity. Each member was to hone their craft to perfection, pushing the limits of their abilities to what was humanly possible. Under another Lighthouse Imperator¡¯s tutelage, Hugo, she was thrown into missions alongside seasoned veterans, her speed now her greatest weapon. Water and debris spiraled around her limbs like drills as she danced through battles, striking faster than her enemies could react. She learned to channel her fear into focus, her movements becoming a blur of calculated precision. By twenty-four, she was a force to be reckoned with. She believed she was getting closer to that man¡¯s speed¡ªperhaps even surpassing it¡ªbut then the breach came. It began as a distant rumble, a sound like thunder rolling across the city. Then came the screams. She sprinted through the streets, wind swirling around her legs to boost her speed as she dodged falling debris and lunging swarms of leviathans. Three of the Four Leviathans had breached the whirlpool¡ªRhizocapala, Eurypteria, and Leptostrasa¡ªand they were tearing through the city like an unstoppable storm. Her comrades fell around her, their cries for help echoing in her ears. She fought to save them, but for every life she protected, two more were lost. She wasn¡¯t fast enough. She wasn¡¯t fast enough. And when she reached her household¡¯s mansion, her heart plummeted. The grand estate was in ruins, smoke billowing from shattered windows and crumbled walls. Her servants were dead. Her collection of hobby items were destroyed. Her papa and mama lay motionless in the rubble, their once-proud figures now broken and lifeless. ¡­ Maria¡¯s voice cracked as she spotted a child huddled in the courtyard, tears streaming down her face. Eurypteria, the Water Scorpion God, loomed over little Reina, and the bug was feeding her its blood. Maria didn¡¯t hesitate. Didn¡¯t think. She charged forward, the killing pressure radiating from Eurypteria threatening to crush her, but she refused to stop. Go! Faster! Her Art surged, wind and rainwater and debris and fire spiraling around her legs and arms as she leaped into the fray. Her kick connected with Eurypteria¡¯s armored side, a deafening crack reverberating through the air. ¡°Leave her alone!¡± Maria screamed, throwing herself between Reina and the monstrous god. But Eurypteria retaliated with blinding speed, its tail slicing through the air. Maria barely dodged, the force of its attacks tearing through her defenses. Her body screamed in pain as she pushed herself beyond her limits, every movement a desperate attempt to hold the god at bay. Blood stained her uniform as gashes opened across her arms and legs, but she refused to falter. For one minute and thirty-nine seconds, Maria Sangroja, the E-Rank Mutant-Class Imperator, fought Eurypteria to a standstill. Then, just as her strength was about to fade, a familiar blur darted into the battle. She recognised that feathered cap. She recognised that crooked posture. She recognised that aura¡ªthat killing pressure equal to an Insect God. ¡°... I¡¯ve got it from here,¡± he said plainly. She didn¡¯t remember much after that She collapsed, cradling Reina in her arms as darkness claimed her. By the time she awoke in the infirmary, her body was a patchwork of bandages and stitches. Her face was scarred. A small chunk of her tongue was missing, so she couldn¡¯t speak properly. She had to speak like a crude buccaneer now. She also later learned the man¡¯s name, and of his victory¡ªhow he¡¯d killed Leptostrasa and repelled the other two alongside the other Imperators. The city remained. The whirlpool was stable. But the victory felt hollow, and it didn¡¯t matter how hard the nurses changing her bandages tried to sugarcoat it. Her father was gone. Her family was gone. Maria stared at the ceiling in silence, tears sliding down her cheeks. She wasn¡¯t fast enough to save anyone she cared about. She wasn¡¯t fast enough to reach anyone she cared about. But she could be. She still could be. ¡­ Faster. FASTER. The years blurred together after that. She rebuilt her family¡¯s legacy from the ground up. She refounded the Sangroja Household, fixed her mansion, and took over her papa¡¯s factories. By twenty-five, her speed was unmatched amongst the Imperators. By twenty-six, she was promoted to a Lighthouse Imperator. By twenty-seven, she was rich enough to adopt Reina as her little sister. Maria sat with fifteen-year-old Reina in a sunlit room, guiding the girl patiently as she struggled to braid her own hair. "Not too tight," Maria said with a soft laugh, gently loosening the strands. ¡°Ye¡¯ll get the hang of it soon enough." Maria sat with sixteen-year-old Reina in the infirmary, showing the girl how to apply makeup with careful precision. "It ain¡¯t about hidin¡¯ the scars, Rei-Rei,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s about enhancin¡¯ what¡¯s already beautiful.¡± Maria stood with seventeen-year-old Reina in a dusty training courtyard, their breaths visible in the crisp morning air. Maria demonstrated a defensive stance, her movements swift and deliberate, but Reina wasn''t as talented as her. That was fine. Her own talent hadn''t saved anyone during the breach. "Yer balance, Rei-Rei,¡± she said. ¡°Never lose yer balance. Don¡¯t get swept off yer feet." Reina¡¯s determined face scrunched with effort as she did her best to mimic Maria¡¯s pose. Change. Maria stood with eighteen-year-old Reina in front of a vibrant sweets shop. The air was thick with the scent of sugar and warm pastries. Reina¡¯s face lit up as she surveyed the colorful display of confections, and Maria, standing behind her, looked only bemused but indulgent. She ordered an assortment of treats for Reina, ignoring the cloying sweetness she personally disliked. Change. More moments tumbled together, blurring into a kaleidoscope of random memories. She was helping Reina with her schoolwork, laughing as they sat cross-legged on the floor. She was sewing a small tear in Reina¡¯s favorite dress late at night, her hands steady and practiced. She was standing tall before a group of nervous Imperator initiates, leading them all to Depth Four for the first time. She was diving with Rei-Rei and a completely new recruit who¡¯d barely had her Water Strider Class for half a year, but this time, she was fast enough. She was fast enough. So when Eurypteria¡¯s tail darted in to decapitate the new recruit, she lunged in without hesitation, because that was what that man had done for her¡ª
And then Marisol jolted back to the present, gasping for air as she snatched her hand away from Maria¡¯s glove. Her chest was heaving, her vision was swimming, and her throat was tightening as tears pricked at her eyes. [... Your empathy makes it so you have rather high synchronicity with all sorts of used Swarmsteel, it would seem,] the Archive commented idly. [First, Kuku¡¯s crab helmet, and now this¡­] [Lest you lose yourself in the midst of battle, it would be best for you to avoid coming in contact with other people¡¯s Swarmsteel.] A prickle of unease wormed through her. It wasn¡¯t a reprimand, but it might as well have been, so she wiped her eyes with a sniffle and took a shaky breath. When she glanced up, she froze. Maria was staring with one lazy eye open, her head still resting against the table as they waited for their food to arrive. The Lighthouse Imperator didn¡¯t move to write in her notebook. She didn¡¯t do anything but stare. If she knew what Marisol just saw, she might slam Marisol¡¯s head into the table to make her forget all about it, but¡­ that wasn¡¯t the type of person Maria was, after all. Without a word, Maria picked up her quill at long last and wrote something onto a napkin. Then she slid it across the table, her expression neutral, but her eyes warm with gratitude. ¡®Thanks for holding Rei-Rei back.¡¯ ¡®If she went after that scorpion, she would¡¯ve died.¡¯ ¡®This meal¡¯s my treat.¡¯ Marisol felt her heart squeezing. ¡°I did¡­ what I could,¡± she whispered, still sniffling as she shook her head. ¡°I could¡¯ve been¡­ faster, though.¡± ¡®You could¡¯ve been.¡¯ ¡®Want help with that?¡¯ ¡°Really? Maria pulled her head from the table and nodded slowly, leaning back against her cushion. ¡®We¡¯re fellow ladies of speed, after all.¡¯ ¡®I can¡¯t fight, but I can train you after this.¡¯ ¡®You got Highwind Dolls on your roof, right?¡¯ ¡­ They shook hands, a silent promise passing between them. Marisol¡¯s grip was firm, and Maria¡¯s steady¡ªand before the handshake could even break, the front door to Familia burst open. Reina sprinted in, her wild gaze scanning the room until it locked onto Maria. Without hesitation, she darted over and threw her arms around Maria in a fierce hug. Tears spilled freely as Reina blabbered about Maria leaving the mansion without telling her, and everybody looked at them weirdly, but¡­ Maria¡¯s own arms came up, returning Reina¡¯s hug and patting her head gently. ¡­ Hah. Watching them, Marisol couldn¡¯t help but smile. They didn¡¯t exactly look alike, but right here, right now, she felt jealous¡ªand maybe a little sad that she didn¡¯t have any siblings herself. So, when Reina eventually pulled away and rubbed her eyes, Marisol cleared her throat and sent both Lighthouse Imperators a bright smile. ¡°Maria and I were just talking about training,¡± Marisol began, leaning back in her seat. ¡°Wanna come, Reina?¡± Then Reina jumped. Most likely, she hadn¡¯t realised Marisol was accompanying Maria¡ªand she most likely wouldn¡¯t have bawled her eyes out in front of a junior¡ªbut the past was the past. Marisol wouldn¡¯t tell if Maria didn¡¯t tell. And for her part, Reina didn¡¯t even hesitate. She composed herself, sat up straight, and fierce determination burned away any sort of sorrow or guilt still on her face. By the time Helena returned with Marisol¡¯s fish dishes and Maria¡¯s desserts, placing delicate plates of pastries and bowls of frothy drinks before them, the three of them were already arguing about how to make the most of their time before the Depth Five Reclamation Mission. [That would be in another month.] [One more month.] [And, for some inexplicable reason, I feel everything about this siege will be determined down in Depth Five.] [... But just rest for now.] [The three of you did good in Depth Four.] Chapter 79 - Altogether Marisol had never seen snow before. She¡¯d heard about it in other parts of the continent, but hailing from a desert town where even precipitation was dangerously low, she¡¯d never come in contact with the fluffy white puffs people called ¡®snowflakes¡¯. Children ran out onto the streets in thick wool coats and earmuffs, building snowmen in the back alleys. Clothing shops stopped selling loose and thin summer wear for more elegant, cold-proofing garments. The ice cream she liked eating so, so much in Familia or in any of the candy houses around the city stopped being an enjoyable snack¡ªshe hated what Reina and Helena called ¡®brain freeze¡¯, and it completely ruined the ice cream experience for her. She¡¯d just have to survive the winter months and grab another bite afterwards. It¡¯d been three months since she lost to Rhizocapala again. Seven months since she first arrived at the Whirlpool City. Ten months since she set off from her desert town. It was a cold winter''s morning when three pebbles soared over the roof of the Highwind Inn to hit Maria, Reina, and Marisol on the forehead. The truth was, all of them could''ve dodged or blocked or sent the pebble flying back if they wanted, but they were too preoccupied with training to care about such cheap provocation. Maria had been nothing but a strict teacher. She couldn''t fight as long as Claudia didn''t permit her, but with her household''s resources, there were more than enough Highwind Dolls to go around sparring with. Reina and Marisol had been doing nothing but trying to survive against ten Highwind Dolls set at maximum power all at once, every single day for an entire month. Suffice it to say, they were already weary and haggard first thing in the morning, and trying to read Maria''s giant ¡®advice¡¯ notes between dodges was a nigh-impossible task. ¡®Rei-Rei. Use your legs more. Don¡¯t try to block every attack just because you can.¡¯ Solid advice. Reina had a habit of relying on her scorpion tail for dealing with every attack, and that made both her defense and offense too straightforward. Until she could figure out what her Art was¡ªand considering her class was based on Eurypteria, who¡¯d never been observed using hers before, and there was also no record of a Mutant-Class water scorpion ever existing¡ªshe had to practice making herself more mobile. When five dolls were surrounding her, she couldn''t just stand her ground and fight all of them off at the same time. She had to put herself in a position where she could single them out one by one and actually eliminate them from the fight. Easier said than done, of course. ¡®Mari. You slow. Go faster.¡¯ ¡­ Much, much, much easier said than done. Marisol''s biggest weakness was still stamina¡ªusing all of her mutations and techniques and activating her Art on top of that drained her incredibly quickly, so her focus the past month was longevity. Durability. The ability to not trip on her glaives whenever she was tired, because while she may not be able to sink with her gravity harness on, a bug could most certainly stab out her heart while she was busy getting up. Now, the difference in quality between what Reina got for advice and what Marisol got for advice felt pretty personal, but what really felt personal was Victor sneaking up on all three of them and whacking them over the head with his cane. One, two, three¡ªjust like that. The old man was in tip-top form today. They crumpled like sacks of buckwheat, and then he disabled the rest of the dolls with a single snap of a finger. The man¡¯s got more random abilities than there are fingers on my hands. [He is an Arcana Hasharana, after all.] What about the time I actually landed a kick on him and made him spit blood? [There is a chance, no matter how slight, that he faked the entire ordeal just to make you feel better.] ¡­ What? [Forget I said anything.] ¡°Don''t ignore my pebbles,¡± Victor grumbled, kicking Marisol in the thigh as she tried to crawl onto her glaives. ¡°It¡¯s time. Lighthouse Seven is calling for all of you, and that includes you, Maria. Don¡¯t worry, they ain¡¯t¡ª¡± He dodged Maria throwing her notebook at his head. ¡°Making you sit in the infirmary for this one. Even if you can¡¯t dive in your condition, you can still make those fast eyes of yours useful.¡± Maria scowled, scribbling on the snowy roof with her finger. ¡®What we doing in Lighthouse Seven¡¯ ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± Victor shrugged, turning to leave all of them behind. ¡°The Depth Five Reclamation Mission is commencing tomorrow. We¡¯ll have one last strategy meeting with all involved members present.¡±
As always, the conference room atop Lighthouse Seven was all cold steel and reinforced glass. It certainly wasn¡¯t a warm place to be in, especially during the winter, but nobody who was here wanted to stay here for long¡ªexcept maybe for Andres, who seemed like a permanent fixture in Lighthouse Seven. Come to think of it, I ain¡¯t never seen him outside of Lighthouse Seven. Is he some sort of lighthouse-bound spirit that can¡¯t leave this room? [Very funny.] Marisol stepped in alongside Reina and Maria, the echoes of their boots bouncing off the walls. Around the long table in the centre of the room, the core of the city leadership were already sat in waiting: Andres, Hugo, Claudia, and Alonzo. Victor and a few dozen high-ranking Imperators were standing along the glass walls as well. Three seats were left empty around the table, so Reina and Maria each took their favourite chairs¡ªbut then Marisol was left with the chair at the end of the table, facing Andres on the other end directly. To this day, she still had no idea why she got a seat while Victor was forced to stand, but knowing the old man¡¯s personality, maybe Andres just didn¡¯t want to make him comfortable. ¡°Sit,¡± Andres said, his tone brooking no argument. Yep. Not gonna fight you on that. While she practically jumped into her chair out of fright, half a dozen Imperators stepped forward and rolled a bunch of maps, charts, and reports across the table. As usual, none of the Lighthouse Imperators bothered picking them up, but she scanned each of them over once for her Archive to memorise all the important information. ¡°... Now that everyone¡¯s here, let¡¯s begin,¡± Andres said, placing both hands on the table as he leaned forward with a stern, steady one-eyed gaze. ¡°Good news: Depth Four is secured. It took us the better part of two months to stabilise it between the barnacles and crustaceans that keep swimming up to disrupt our forces, but now, attacks on the southernmost front have slowed to a near-complete halt. Well done to everyone.¡± Nobody clapped. And Marisol knew they had Depth Four secured¡ªshe¡¯d been diving down periodically to help with exterminating the Giant-Class bugs¡ªso the news didn¡¯t exactly come as a surprise. They weren¡¯t gathered here to celebrate. Andres gestured to the maps scattered around the table. For her ease of reading, the Archive projected a patched-together map of Depth Four in its entirety. Thick, dark lines marked the jagged canyon pathways, with tiny wooden watchtower models scattered across key chokepoints. ¡°We¡¯ve established watchtowers and reinforced our choke points with new outposts. Resupplying between Depth Four and Depth Five is now possible, so we¡¯ll be moving ahead with the Depth Five Reclamation Mission tomorrow morning. Here¡¯s what we know about Depth Five based on our investigations the past two months.¡± To make a point, Andres tossed out a stack of blank white papers, and everyone grimaced where they were. ¡°Nothing,¡± Andres said, almost too casually. ¡°The mist is too thick for any of our drones and observation constructs to return any meaningful information. We¡¯ll be diving almost completely in the dark, but the one thing we do know is this: based on Maria and Reina¡¯s reports from two months ago, Rhizocapala and Eurypteria are, indeed, working with each other. At the very least, they¡¯re not trying to kill each other on sight. Even though it¡¯s unprecedented, we must assume they¡¯ve teamed up and are waiting for us down in Depth Five.¡± ¡°What about Kalakos?¡± Claudia asked. Hugo leaning forward in his chair. ¡°Still in Depth Seven as far as we can tell,¡± he said. ¡°Her aura signal has basically remained unchanged the past two months. The moment she moves, we¡¯d know, and she hasn¡¯t moved. We shouldn¡¯t have to worry about her in Depth Five.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°But even without Kalakos or Marculata, this dive to reclaim Depth Five will still be critically dangerous,¡± Andres said plainly, lips thinning. ¡°Since there¡¯s going to be two Insect Gods¡ªand considering the fact that Rhizocapala appears to be far stronger than when we last fought him twelve years ago, even if he hasn¡¯t gone up a rank¡ªwe¡¯re sparing no effort reclaiming Depth Five. Everyone who¡¯s capable of diving will descend tomorrow.¡± Marisol blinked. Andres wasn¡¯t done. ¡°For starters: Marisol, Reina, Hugo, and Claudia. The four of you will be the vanguards against Eurypteria, the anti-personnel Water Scorpion God,¡± he began, looking at all four of them in sequence before nodding at the Imperators standing around them. ¡°The preparations are complete. Eurypteria is not anti-army like Rhizocapala. She¡¯s prone to getting distracted by artillery and distant bombardment, so while the vanguards engage her in melee, the rest of the Imperators and Guards will barrage her with everything we have from afar.¡± ¡°I¡¯m assuming by ¡®vanguard¡¯, you mean I¡¯ll be using my webs to protect these two,¡± Hugo said, thumbing back at Marisol and Reina. ¡°And by ¡®vanguard¡¯, ye mean I¡¯ll be the medical officer on standby in case somethin¡¯ happens to these two,¡± Claudia added, also thumbing back at Marisol and Reina. ¡°Correct,¡± Andres said, nodding firmly. ¡°The two of you are not suited for frontline combat, anyways. Leave the close-range engagement to Marisol and Reina. I trust they have no qualms about facing the E-Rank Water Scorpion God in direct melee?¡± Marisol shook her head. It was easier doing so than the last time she¡¯d been told to dive down and face an Insect God. Maybe it was because she knew she was stronger, or maybe it was just because she was more reckless and arrogant and overconfident in her abilities¡ªbut the fact was, with the literal rest of the Imperators behind her, she couldn¡¯t fathom not being able to dodge Eurypteria¡¯s tail if it came down to a single, decisive strike. She wouldn¡¯t let anyone else get hurt because she was too slow to react. And Reina¡¯s hands clenched into fists as well, her knuckles pale. The two of them didn¡¯t need to say a word. They were in. ¡°... Good,¡± Andres said, nodding with satisfaction. Then he turned to Maria, dipping his head respectfully. ¡°Regretfully, Maria, I can¡¯t let you dive in your current state. You¡¯re not well enough. You¡¯ll only be a drag on the rest of us.¡± Maria gave him the finger, but it was in good spirit. Andres let out an uncharacteristic chuckle. ¡°There is something for you to do, though,¡± Hugo mumbled, thumbing at Reina. ¡°Since Reina¡¯s coming with us, someone needs to be up here monitoring Kalakos¡¯ aura signal. You¡¯ll do that. Command Lighthouse Five, and pay attention to all of our diving bells and the observation constructs we¡¯ll be taking down with us. If Kalakos even so much as twitches a muscle, we¡¯re extracting immediately and leaving Depth Five. Got it?¡± Maria gave him a thumbs-up. Andres looked like he was about to continue, but then Victor cleared his throat to chime in as well. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll also be going with you guys,¡± he said casually. ¡°Since Maria will handle the observation on the surface, I¡¯ll be handling the observation and coordination down there. I won¡¯t be leaving my diving bell, of course, so just think of me as¡­¡± He trailed off for a moment before looking at Marisol, giving her the worst, most imperceivable wink. ¡°Moral support.¡± But I thought he couldn¡¯t dive because of his injuries. [He cannot fight because of his injuries,] the Archive corrected. [He can go down to Depth Six no problem. It is only Depth Seven and below that will utterly crush him.] Andres grumbled before turning to the First Lighthouse Imperator¡ªthe hunchback old man leaning so hard against his sheathed blade he looked like he was about to fall out of his chair. ¡°The First and I will also be diving down with the rest of you,¡± Andres said. ¡°The two of us will take down Rhizocapala by ourselves. Since the bug¡¯s an anti-army specialist, we¡¯ll drag him away as far as possible so he doesn¡¯t disturb your fight against Eurypteria. If he gets close to the backline artillery, he will destroy our formation, so our job will be to keep him preoccupied no matter the cost.¡± Marisol blinked again. The Imperatrix and the First Lighthouse Imperator¡­ are going to solo that barnacle? Can they do that? [The Imperatrix is old and injured. Not to Victor¡¯s extent, no, but at his age, his Art can only be used twice a year,] the Archive explained. [If he is willing to use it at least once to massively debilitate Rhizocapala, then yes. The attack is not likely to kill considering Rhizocapala¡¯s skillset, but forcing the barnacle to eject his heart is very possible.] And¡­ the First Lighthouse Imperator? What¡¯s his name, by the way? You never told me. [I do not know his name.] [I do not know his class.] [I know nothing of the man.] ¡­ What? [He is rumoured to be older than the Imperatrix, and it is common belief amongst the locals that he predates even the creation of the very first Swarmsteel System in Year Twenty-Five. He has most likely been fighting the Swarm even before that.] [He must have some special privilege with the Imperatrix to remain completely anonymous, because there is no information for you to access within the Archive¡¯s database.] Marisol frowned. It was hard to believe the old hunchback was someone that powerful, but if he was, then it stood to reason the two of them would be able to give Rhizocapala a good run for his money. Nobody in the room was questioning the two of them, either, so their strength must truly be something else. ¡°... Honestly, that¡¯s about all we¡¯ve got for you.¡± Victor clapped his hands suddenly before tilting his head, sending everyone a crooked grin under his bandages. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about Rhizocapala since those two fossils will deal with him, you don¡¯t need to worry about observation and coordination since me and Maria will have that handled, so all you actually have to do is bombard Eurypteria with more attacks than she can deal with. She¡¯s not an anti-personnel specialist for no reason. We throw enough stuff at her, and she¡¯ll actually die.¡± It wasn¡¯t going to be as easy as that, and everyone in the room knew that, but hearing Victor say it aloud was more reassuring than not¡ªso when Andres dismissed everyone and told them all to write their wills, get a good night¡¯s rest, and prepare themselves for tomorrow¡¯s dive, there was heated and excited chatter all around the Imperators. The stakes were high, but knowing quite literally every powerhouse in the city would be accompanying her down to Depth Five was a big deal. Marisol, too, didn¡¯t really feel like this mission was going to be tougher than the last. [But there is still no time for you to relax.] I know. So¡­ just one more time? The Archive sighed. [Do what you will.] Marisol exchanged a glance with Maria and Reina as they all left the room. ¡°Get some last-minute training in?¡± she asked. Maria raised an eyebrow, and Reina¡¯s face softened into the barest hint of approval. ¡°Then after that,¡± Marisol continued, ¡°one more trip to Familia for a bite of brain-freezing ice cream?¡± And that got the girls smiling, too, as Maria grabbed the two of them by the neck and practically wrangled them down the stairs for their final day of intensive training.
¡°... You know, I made it sound like this mission¡¯s going to be no biggie, but it might be more troublesome than they think leaving this room,¡± Victor said, humming softly as he joined Andres by the glass wall at the end of the room. The mist from the roaring whirlpool below clung to Lighthouse Seven like a second layer of paint. The sound of rushing, swirling water was softer in winter, but there was no mistaking it¡ªthis was just the calm before the storm. The snowflakes falling slowly were but a feint. The whirlpool¡¯s surface laziness was but a distraction to get them to lower their guard, and, to his credit, Andres didn¡¯t seem to be falling for it, either. "They believe what they need to believe to strengthen themselves in battle,¡± Andres said quietly, narrowing his eye down at the whirlpool. ¡°If my presence gives them reassurance, then so be it.¡± Victor exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "This is going to be troublesome either way. If the Four Leviathans are actually teaming up and working together¡­¡± Andres grunted, his expression unflinching. "Between me and the First, we¡¯ll take on Rhizocapala. The others can handle Eurypteria. We¡¯ve faced worse odds." "You sure about that?¡± ¡°If things look like they¡¯re going to go horribly wrong, you¡¯re free to use your Art and kill yourself on your way out.¡± Victor barked a short laugh. ¡°Oh, but that is my job, ain¡¯t it? No. I won¡¯t use it. I¡¯ve got one shot left, and I¡¯m aiming it right at Corpsetaker. Using it on an Insect God would be overkill.¡± Andres laughed too, the sound dry and hollow like the echo of a memory. "Don¡¯t act like you¡¯re completely off the hook. You¡¯ve still got that little thing in your pocket, don¡¯t you? The one that¡¯ll keep you fighting just a little longer?" Victor¡¯s hand instinctively brushed inside his coat, where a small, smooth object rested in an inner pocket. "I¡¯m not planning on using it,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Same as my Art. You know that." Andres tilted his head, his sharp eye furrowing slightly. "And who the hell are you saving that for?" Victor didn¡¯t answer, his gaze drifting back to the whirlpool. The roar of the water filled the silence between them. "... Thought so," Andres said, his tone lighter now. He reached into his own coat and pulled out two bottles of ale, passing one to Victor. Victor accepted it with a raised brow. "Planning on drinking before we head down?" Andres popped the cork from his bottle and took a long swig before answering. "Whether we live or die, the only thing that matters is doing what only old men can do when the time comes." Victor stared at him for a moment. Then he uncorked his own bottle, the sound crisp and oddly grounding. "To that, old man," he said, raising the bottle. Andres clinked his bottle against Victor¡¯s. The first sip was bitter in Victor¡¯s mouth, but it carried a warmth that spread through his chest¡ªa fleeting comfort against the weight of the tomorrow that lay ahead. He downed the whole bottle in a single gulp and exhaled, his gaze distant. ¡°You know, this reminds me of back then,¡± he mumbled. ¡°When we were younger. Back in the era of¡­ walking, warring legends." Andres smiled faintly, closing his eye. "We never did win in any of the drinking competitions against Enki.¡± ¡°I still think he makes wormholes inside his throat so he can warp all the alcohol away.¡± ¡°You have no proof.¡± ¡°If you¡¯d just let me cut his throat open once, I could prove it.¡± Andres laughed softly. "Those were the times, I say¡ªbut no more.¡± "This siege feels like the end times too." Victor shrugged as well. "This whole thing will end tomorrow one way or the other. Either we get wiped out or we take out two of the Four Leviathans.¡± "Of course. If we kill both Rhizocapala and Eurypteria in Depth Five, we¡¯ll break their spine. The Swarm won¡¯t have the firepower or leadership to continue the siege.¡± "And if we don¡¯t kill them?" "I don¡¯t even want to think about what Rhizocapala¡¯s plan is, dragging this siege out like this." Andres exhaled heavily, his voice hardening. "Let¡¯s do this right, Victor. Defense Protocol ¡®Black Storm¡¯ must be deactivated by tomorrow night.¡± "And then, when the leviathans back off and scurry on back to their hiding holes for several years without showing themselves, my lass can finally get her own vial of healing seawater from Depth Nine." "... Ambitious, isn¡¯t she?" "She¡¯s got the guts to see things through to the end.¡± "Because she¡¯s your pupil, after all?¡± Victor tossed his empty bottle at the back of Andres¡¯ head, chuckling as he turned and trudged out of the room. ¡°I think you¡¯ll be surprised at how she¡¯ll fare against Eurypteria tomorrow.¡± Chapter 80 - Final Descent The cold morning mist curled around the whirlpool¡¯s dock like a restless ghost, and Maria stood at the edge of Lighthouse Seven¡¯s dock, her expression unreadable, her hands buried in her coat pockets. It was snowy. Visibility across the surface of the whirlpool was nigh zero. Marisol could only tell she was waving at them because the Archive pointed it out¡ªand if she hadn¡¯t known Maria was trying to communicate with them, she wouldn¡¯t even be trying to read the hastily scribbled words on the giant wooden board Maria was lifting overhead. ¡®Take care down there, Rei-Rei.¡¯ ¡®Kill the scorpion for me.¡¯ ¡®Bring me her jaw.¡¯ Leaning against the ship¡¯s railings next to Marisol, Reina¡¯s lips twitched in what might¡¯ve been a worried smile, what might¡¯ve been an angry frown. Maria was supposed to be up in Lighthouse Five monitoring all of them, after all, not standing down in the docks where her eyelashes were about to be frozen off, but Marisol felt slightly warmed by the fact that the Second Lighthouse Imperator even thought to see them off personally in this cold weather. They couldn¡¯t mess this up now. ¡°... Lass,¡± Victor called out, beckoning the two of them still on the deck of the ship to climb inside the diving bell with him. ¡°You¡¯ll see the surface again. I promised you that much, didn¡¯t I?¡± That you did. [That he did.] So Marisol closed her eyes, sucked in a deep, chilly breath, and whirled around with Reina to climb into the largest diving bell she¡¯d seen thus far. It was nearly five times as spacious as Maria¡¯s private one¡ªit was practically an entire house shaped like one of those spiky pufferfish¡ªand it was self-locking, self-raising, self-descending. There was no need for a crane operator outside on the ship. The moment the two of them threw themselves through, Victor pulled a lever on the inside and the latch slammed itself shut, half a dozen bolts sliding in place to make the bell completely airtight. The latch sealing was the signal for the bell to drop into the whirlpool, and at the exact same time, thirty-two other diving bells across the surface of the whirlpool dropped with them. [One hundred and two Harbour Imperators, two hundred and fifteen Harbour Guards, thirteen crustacean observation units, twenty mobile anti-leviathan cannons, six hundred anti-chitin artillery shells, four Lighthouse Imperators, one Harbour Imperatrix, and two Hasharana.] [Suffice it to say, this is the largest and most costly underwater mission in well over a decade.] Did you just group me and Victor under ¡®Hasharana¡¯? [It is accurate.] Is not. He¡¯s an Arcana Hasharana. [Who will not be taking part in the fighting. In any case, this is still a large-scale mobilisation of well over half of the Whirlpool City¡¯s forces¡ªso you can afford to sit down and relax for a bit.] [It will be a while before we reach the edge of Depth Four.] Reluctantly, Marisol sat on the far end of a metal bench, her hands gripping the edge tightly. She wasn¡¯t alone in the bell, and maybe that contributed to her anxiousness. Andres leaned against the wall across from her, his arms folded over his chest. Alonzo sat beside him, slouched and unbothered, his head resting against the wall as if he were napping. Victor, seated next to Hugo, had a faint smile tugging at his bandages, but his usual lackadaisical lint was dulled. On Marisol¡¯s left, Claudia meticulously arranged vials and tools in her medical kit, while Reina sat on the right, eyes closed, her body unnaturally still as she meditated with her tail curled beneath her crossed legs. Maybe there was something to be said about putting the city¡¯s strongest people in the same diving bell¡ªand Marisol certainly was worried the diving bell would collapse abruptly and kill all of them in one fell swoop¡ªbut the old man would probably say that people who couldn¡¯t dodge out of a collapsing bell wouldn¡¯t be here in the first place. In that sense, she was and wasn¡¯t worried. She wished the Lighthouse Imperators looked more worried, though, because the silence was suffocating and she wanted something to think about. The only sounds were the faint creaks of the bell¡¯s steel frame and the rhythmic thrum of the chains vibrating through the ceiling. Nobody seemed like they wanted to talk. And just as Marisol started fidgeting in herself, wanting anything but being left alone with her anxious thoughts, Hugo tossed something at her from the other side of the bell. She blinked and whipped her head up, catching the small capelet out of the air. ¡°... I heard you¡¯ve been killing a lot of Giant-Classes the past few months,¡± Hugo said idly, miming throwing the capelet over his right shoulder. ¡°Thought it¡¯s about time you got something like this.¡± Everyone else looked at her expectantly, and she furrowed her brows as she flipped the capelet twice over just to see what was engraved onto the high-quality piece of garment¡­ but the moment she realised what it was, she looked up again and tried to meet anyone''s eyes. Quite humorously, none of the Imperators were looking at her anymore. Reina returned to meditating, Claudia resumed arranging her medical kit, Alonzo and Andres slept quietly, and Hugo stared blankly up at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his back. Only Victor¡ªand only him¡ªdared to give her a small, mischievous smile before kicking back on his bench, twirling his cane around. ¡­ For her part, Marisol immediately threw the flower-patterned capelet over her shoulder and clipped it onto her shirt, beaming widely as she watched it sway like the waves behind her. [All Hasharana who pass the entrance exam are given a code name and a uniquely-patterned cape or capelet or cloak, woven by either the Worm God or one of his Arcana Hasharana,] the Archive said, whistling as it crawled up and down the white, blue, and pinkish-purple streaks of fabric. [The primary colour indicates the location of your assignment¡ªblue for the Deepwater Legion Front¡ªwhile the secondary colour indicates your own personal favourite colour¡ªpink¡ªand since the Worm God has a liking for flowers of all kinds and types, the Hasharana¡¯s signature garments are always flower-patterned. No two Hasharana have the same flower.] Marisol couldn''t stop grinning as she kept turning around, mesmerised by her own swaying capelet. And what kind of ¡®Flower Cape¡¯ am I? [The desert bluebell. Highly adapted to arid environments, but thrive where water collects in oases.] I like it. What¡¯s the old man¡¯s flower, by the way? [The water hyacinth.] And what¡¯s that flower mean? [Classified information.] She grumbled, but didn¡¯t make a big deal out of it while Victor was still right across the bell. She could ask later¡ªright now, as all of them jerked to a halt, she had to quickly buckle on her harness and pop a few skyball corals into her mouth.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. If this were like any other mission, the dive leader would¡¯ve already kicked the latch open, but Andres broke the silence first, his voice low but firm. ¡°Maria. Lighthouse Five,¡± he said, addressing the hexagonal slab embedded in the ceiling. A moment later, someone¡¯s garbled voice crackled through the slab, brisk and professional. ¡°Aura readings are steady. Two confirmed Insect Gods in Depth Five with a third signal deeper in Depth Seven. That one has to be Kalakos.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± Andres glanced around the bell, his sharp gaze landing on each of them in turn. ¡°And are all of you ready?¡± The question hung in the air, unanswered. Marisol¡¯s heart pounded in her chest as she looked around. No one seemed eager to reply. The weight of the moment pressed against all of them, and as she wondered why they were still being quiet, the realization struck her. They weren¡¯t quiet because they wanted to be¡ªthey were quiet because they were anxious, just like her. In an odd way, the realisation brought her comfort. She wasn¡¯t alone in her fear. [But fear cannot grip you forever.] [Sooner or later, you must stand and walk.] Finally, one by one, the Lighthouse Imperators nodded. Reina first, then Hugo, then Claudia. Alonzo muttered something unintelligible that sounded like assent. Marisol clenched her fists and nodded as well, and when Andres¡¯ gaze lingered on Victor for a moment, the old man just shrugged as though to say ¡®I ain¡¯t getting out of the bell anyways¡¯. With that, Andres snorted and reached for the latch. The steel groaned as he pushed it open¡ªand Marisol was sucked out once more into the unknown. The first thing she noticed wasn¡¯t the weight of water. It was the smell, sharp and pungent, that clawed through her nose. [... Welcome to Depth Five, the Sulfur Fields.] Unlike the dark, towering cliffs of the Whispering Canyons, the terrain here offered little to no natural cover. The mostly flat expanse of rolling wave-like plains seemed to stretch on forever, broken only by scattered amber mineral mounds and pools of bubbling, sulfurous muck. It felt exposed. Vulnerable. A hundred of them landed hard on the walls of the whirlpool, and it almost felt like their touching down all at once made the ground crack and rumble¡ªsuch was the brittleness of Depth Five. While Marisol flushed out the excess bubbles in her head, Alonzo and Andres took the lead, making hand signals back at the supporting Imperators and Guards. She glanced around only briefly to see heavy artillery cannons being dropped from the suspended bells, construction work beginning on the defensive shelters and outposts by the edge of Depth Five. Visibility was no issue here even with the thick haze lingering in the water. The thirty-three diving bells were fitted with intense mist-piercing spotlights, and presumably, some of the bells mounted with smaller cannons would be following them deeper into Depth Five. So when Reina beckoned her to follow the vanguards with a stern look, she obliged immediately. There were no canyons, no winding passageways, no tunnels or forests they had to navigate through. If it weren¡¯t for the haze, they¡¯d probably be able to see straight to the end of Depth Five, so all they had to do was walk in a straight line until they were close enough to the end. [The Sulfur Fields are a vital resource for the city,] the Archive said, filling the silence as she followed the vanguards, and about a hundred Imperators not assigned to building or constructing followed her in turn. [Imperators harvest minerals here for explosives and pharmaceutical compounds. The sulfur deposits are a byproduct of Depth Six¡¯s hydrothermal vents, in which the natural underwater currents there pull the material upwards, creating the amber deposits here.¡± Marisol frowned, trying not to look too jumpy as they marched down the first two-hundred-metre stretch of Depth Five. I think I read somewhere that sulfur kills bugs. Is that why there ain¡¯t any bugs around here? [But there are bugs around here,] the Archive countered plainly. [It is true that sulfur functions as a natural insecticide, but since Depth Five has existed for the better part of the past three decades, the bugs that live here tend to be highly specialised and significantly amplified to the point that they can endure such a harsh environment. Only the most resilient leviathans thrive in Depth Five.] Marisol¡¯s unease deepened. Amplified bugs. Resilient. She didn¡¯t like the way those words felt, but it was true, with so many of them gathered here, that she didn¡¯t detect a single bug around them. ¡­ Because it¡¯s a trap? [There most certainly is a trap laid out by the Four Leviathans.] And we¡¯re walking right into it. [With the Imperatrix and the First Lighthouse Imperator leading the march, there is only one trap that will spell your defeat as per my calculations, but Maria has already reported on Kalakos¡¯s aura signal.] [Even if Kalakos were to show up expectedly, as long as most of you can evacuate into your diving bells, you can still pull yourselves up to Depth Four and hold that front in time.] ¡­ No doubt the Archive was running a thousand more complicated calculations in her head without her being aware of them, but her job wasn¡¯t to plan or analyse what the Swarm¡¯s plan could be. She was here to smash it apart, whatever it could be, and everyone seemed to agree on that. So when Alonzo paused at the head of the march, all hundred or so of them paused as well. Marisol tensed, clenching her jaw as they passed the eight hundred metre mark. Even if their diving bells¡¯ spotlights could only cut through the haze a hundred metres in front of them, the sickening killing pressures coming from two hundred metres away didn¡¯t bother hiding themselves. ¡°... Barnacle,¡± Alonzo rasped, raising a shaky arm as he pointed his sheathed iron blade straight forward. ¡°Water scorpion.¡± As he breathed those words, the hazy outlines of two human-like figures came into view at the far end of Depth Five. The water grew heavier around Marisol as her pulse picked up. The two of them were motionless, yet their presence was suffocating. One was disjointed and monstrous, his form riddled with calcified barnacle growths. The other was tall, sleek, and predatory, with long, sharp limbs that swished idly around as though the water itself was sharpening her blades. Rhizocapala and Eurypteria. And behind them loomed something worse. Sitting on the border between Depth Six and Seven, a massive shape shifted in the underwater currents. It was too far and too big to make out fully even if Marisol craned her entire head back, but her eyes locked onto a glint of carapace and the faint silhouette of jagged crab claws the sizes of entire warships. Her imagination filled in the gaps. ¡°Is that¡­ the Greater Crab God?¡± she whispered, barely audible. But no one answered. All of them gritted their teeth as the two Insect Gods began to move. Rhizocapala stepped forward first, his grin widening as he tilted his head, regarding them with a mix of amusement and disdain. ¡°We¡¯ve been waitin¡¯ for ye,¡± he said, his voice guttural and echoing, as if a thousand smaller voices whispered in unison. ¡°What took ye so long?¡± His voice sent shivers down Marisol¡¯s spine as usual. It wasn¡¯t the deep, booming voice of a god, but insidious was its nature¡ªand Eurypteria didn¡¯t even bother speaking. She didn¡¯t need to. Her presence alone was suffocating, her unblinking gaze fixed on all of them as if she were already dicing them apart in her mind. Then, there was that colossal, unmoving silhouette of a crab sitting right behind them, and¡ª Victor¡¯s laugh boomed from one of the diving bells above their heads, making everyone jump in place. ¡°... Really, Rhizo?¡± he said, still laughing between breaths as Marisol heard paper rustling, like he was wiping tears from how hard he was laughing. ¡°That¡¯s the best strategy you¡¯ve got to throw at us, you fucking bugs? You think putting one of Corpsetaker¡¯s old shells in front of us will freak us out? Maybe even scare us back to Depth Four so you¡¯d get more time preparing whatever surprise it is you have for us?¡± Marisol blinked. Everyone did as well. Then they turned to stare at the colossal crab, and they started thinking. They started paying attention. They stopped letting fear grip their hearts, and even Marisol came to the exact same conclusion¡ªthere may be a lingering aura and killing pressure coming from the crab, but it was old. Diminishing. [The two of them must have dug up one of Corpsetaker¡¯s old crab shells and propped it up like a puppet,] the Archive said, sighing as it shook its head in disappointment. [Frankly, I am a little disappointed most of you were even rattled by that, but¡­ if that is all Rhizocapala and Eurypteria have prepared, then there is nothing to fear.] [Stick to the plan.] Alonzo mumbled something under his breath, unsheathing his dull sword. Andres shrugged off his Imperatrix cape, pumping his giant mantis shrimp arms. Hugo began spinning spider webs in his arms, Claudia took a few steps back to ready her medical staff, Reina twirled her scorpion tail in anticipation, and every last Imperator and Guard in Depth Five began shouting at each other, forming a chain of information relays as the diving bells mounted with artillery cannons started whirring to life. The weight of Depth Five lifted almost instantaneously with one short sentence from Victor, and now, everyone was ready to fight. ¡°... Ye suck, Victor Morina,¡± Rhizocapala groaned aloud, giving them all a guilty grin as he thumbed back at the giant crab carcass. ¡°¡®Ah mean, yer right that this was just our filthy attempt to make ye piss yer pants and maybe consider backin¡¯ off, but¡­ damn. ¡®Ah really, really thought it¡¯d work for, like, half a second¡ª¡± Without a word, Andres and Alonzo exploded towards Rhizocapala, and Victor roared a single word¡ª¡°fire¡±¡ªthat reverberated across the entirety of Depth Five.
[Objective #66: Slay the F-Rank Barnacle God, Rhizocapala, and the E-Rank Water Scorpion God, Eurypteria] [Time Limit: Undefined] [Reward: Death of the Sea Gods, peace in the Whirlpool City, and one vial of healing seawater] [Failure: Death] Chapter 81 - All of Us Rhizocapala was in the middle of a sentence. A taunt. An apology. It could¡¯ve been anything, really, but humanity decided unanimously that bugs shouldn¡¯t be afforded the base human ability to talk¡ªso they didn¡¯t wait. They saw a chance and took it. Alonzo raised his dull steel blade to the side and Andres hopped on it, and then the First Lighthouse Imperator flung the Imperatrix forward, crossing two hundred metres in the blink of an eye. By the time Rhizocapala managed to finish his sentence, the Imperatrix had already uppercutted the Barnacle God up onto the other side of the whirlpool, one whole kilometre away. ¡­ Great Makers. The old men are strong. Marisol¡¯s eyes widened as the two men immediately dashed up, pursuing Rhizocapala to the other side of the whirlpool while Victor roared ¡°fire¡±, commanding the dozens of cannon-mounted diving bells to unload on Eurypteria. The Water Scorpion God was walking steadily forward for her part, but she wasn¡¯t dumb. She wasn¡¯t inattentive. She could feel the sulfur-heavy water churning violently, and she tilted her head back lazily just to see a harpoon shooting straight at her face. A heavy boom resounded two hundred metres across, but the artillery barrage was just beginning. Cannons let out thunderous cracks, the concussive shells rippling through the water and decimating the ground. Sharpened shells and harpoons streaked downwards like comets, each impact sending plumes of silt and sulfurous debris swirling up into the water. Marisol had to grit her teeth as the sounds reverberated through her skull, the percussive blasts pounding against her chest¡ªit was worse because she was underwater. The explosions were deafening. The churn of debris and sediment was thick, the mounds of yellowish rock scattered across the plains trembled, and for fifteen relentless seconds, the artillery fire didn¡¯t let up. And Eurypteria stood unshaken amidst the chaos. When the last shell hit and silence began to creep back in, she emerged standing tall. Her massive scorpion tail hovered above her, the blade-like tip gleaming ominously in the spotlights. The smirk on her face was unshaken, if not slightly widened, her stance daring. ¡°... Is this all you have?¡± she taunted, spreading all four arms in the same over-exaggerated, demeaning manner as her brother¡¯s. ¡°Shells won¡¯t break me. Harpoons won¡¯t impale me. Now, if you had double the number of cannons with all shells loaded with spores and venom imported straight from the Plagueplain Front, then maybe you¡¯d¡ª¡± The Guards and Imperators finished reloading. A second barrage began. Eurypteria¡¯s tail flicked above her to swat away the first shell soaring down at her, but then two, four, twenty, fifty more shells descended in quick succession, the artillery cannons several hundred metres back having finally locked onto her general position so they could join in on the fun¡ªand these cannons were the strong ones. The ones the city used to halt leviathans across the great blue. They could slay even S-Rank Giant-Class bugs with a single well-placed shot, so while they may not be expected to actually land on Eurypteria herself, simply drawing her attention away and forcing her to swipe them out of the water was good enough. Because when the smoke and silt cleared again and she waved the mist away with an angry growl, it wasn¡¯t Hugo, or Cladia, or Reina who managed to cross two hundred metres again in the blink of an eye. With a crackling flash of blue and pink lightning, Marisol appeared in front of her, launching into a ten-spin War Jump with discharge, Steel Charge, and Storm Glaives, and every. Last. Ability boosting her speed. Two hundred metres burst down in a single second. Her fastest yet¡ªand Eurypteria¡¯s biggest surprise.
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: D-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: Storm Glaives] [Aura: 7,927 (+40)] [Points: 17] [Strength: 7, Speed: 9, Toughness: 6 (+1), Dexterity: 6, Perception: 6 (+1)] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 6] [T2 Mutations | Filtrating Gills Lvl. 6 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 7] [T3 Mutations | Laminar Apiclaws Lvl. 5 | Streamlined Wings Lvl. 5 | Basic Setae Lvl. 2] [T4 Mutations | Spraying Discharge Lvl. 5 | Basic Sonar Lvl. 4 | Basic Underchitin Lvl. 4 | Basic Chitin Lvl. 4] [T5 Mutations | Surfactant Domain | Basic Vision | Rapid Rehydration | Segmented Flexion | Hydrokinetic Redirection] 1500P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20] [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: +20/20)]
The suddenness of Marisol¡¯s arrival stunned the Insect God, but she was already mid-spin, arms crossed over her torso, her kicking glaive arcing with restrained lightning as she brought it down in a brutal overhead slash. Eurypteria snapped back to reality a fraction of a second later, whipping her tail around to block, and their chitin-plated limbs clashed with a metallic screech that sent shockwaves rippling outwards. ¡°Ah,¡± Eurypteria hissed, her grin widening as she held her tail in place, pushing back against Marisol¡¯s glaive. ¡°I see you¡¯ve figured out how to activate your lightning underwater without frying yourself. This could be a little interesting.¡± Marisol didn¡¯t respond. She twisted her entire body to the left, discharging water to drive another kick at Eurypteria¡¯s side. The Insect God blocked it with one of her forearms, but before she could counter, Reina surged forward from the right, her own scorpion tail lashing out with deadly intent. The sharp crack of carapace against carapace rang out as Eurypteria blocked again with another arm, her grin widened even further. ¡°A duet? Let¡¯s see how long you can keep up, then.¡± Without warning, Eurypteria¡¯s six limbs sharpened into blades, a terrifying array of cutting edges that flashed with deadly precision. Marisol scowled. The Water Scorpion God surged forward, twirling in place to send a whirlwind of slashes and thrusts at the two of them. Marisol and Reina dashed back in perfect synchrony, parrying and dodging with practiced fluidity, but even with two evasive targets and only one tail to call a long-range weapon, Eurypteria wasn¡¯t straining herself at all with her relentless assault. ¡°Back off!¡± Hugo shouted. Eurypteria¡¯s tail lashed out again, aiming for Reina¡¯s flank, but Hugo¡¯s yanked her back with spider threads pre-attached to her back just in time. Marisol used the opening to dart in, her glaives kicking out in rapid succession, but Eurypteria¡¯s limb-blades intercepted each one with unnerving precision. Marisol blinked again. The Water Scorpion God was no speed specialist¡ªshe was just that fast, and she was strong enough to flick her tail at Marisol mid-recovery to send a blade of water cleaving straight forward. Were it not for Victor kicking open the latch of his diving bell and swinging his cane down, sending an identical water blade slicing into Eurypteria¡¯s, Marisol wouldn¡¯t just have staggered back. She¡¯d have been eviscerated already. ¡°... Don¡¯t rush her!¡± Victor barked, banging the hull of his bell as he pointed his cane down at them. ¡°You fight fast and desperate, and she¡¯ll tear you apart! Be patient! Work with the rest of us! Fight her on our terms!¡± Marisol skated back, her breaths heavy as she popped another skyball coral into her mouth and regrouped beside Reina. The two of them exchanged a glance, silent understanding passing between them, and then Marisol glanced back. Hugo was far in the back, ready to jerk either one of them back with his spider threads, while Claudia was also staring intently at them with medical supplies already laid out across the ground. Victor may not be able to do much apart from flicking the occasional water blade down, but the dozens of cannon-mounted bells, heavy artillery several hundreds in the back, and the Imperators and Guards working tirelessly to reload them were still there¡ªand their expressions were all set with grim determination.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. She wasn¡¯t alone. They were all on the frontline against Eurypteria. ¡­ What¡¯s her deal, Archive? What¡¯s Eurypteria¡¯s grade?
[Identification Complete] [Name: Eurypteria] [Grade: E-Rank Water Scorpion God] [Swarmblood Art: ???] [Aura: ~75,000] [Strength: ~17, Speed: ~14, Toughness: ~13, Dexterity: ~18, Perception: ~14] [Brief Description: Over the last nineteen years, Eurypteria has claimed an estimated 21,300 lives across the Deepwater Legion Front. First observed as a Mutant-Class water scorpion, she evolved into an Insect God seventeen years ago after challenging and defeating the previous rank three Leviathan known as ¡®Cypodynae¡¯. Her Swarmblood Art has never been observed in action. Her class evolution in Depth Five saw the decimation of three aquatic outposts, including the late Second, Third, and Fourth Lighthouse Imperators. Attempts to slay her before she could progress past F-Rank failed, with ten further dive teams¡ªconsisting of 102 Harbour Imperators¡ªfalling victim to her tail and bladed limbs before Rhizocapala appeared to bail her out. Her threat level was officially upgraded to E-Rank six years ago. She has not been spotted since then]
[We cannot prepare for an Art that has never been observed in action before, but dozens of Hasharana have perished in battle against her over the past nineteen years,] the Archive said plainly. [It is unnecessary to review recordings of previous engagements. Simply put, Eurypteria is everything Rhizocapala is not. As an anti-personnel specialist, she is known for her unparalleled physical combat ability. Equipped with six raptorial limbs and a scorpion tail, she essentially has seven blades she can use all at once with expert precision. Her strength lies in killing you efficiently.] [Recommended strategy, currently underway: overwhelm with superior firepower and drag her focus apart.] [She will never lose in a fight against several people, but she cannot deal with all of you at the same time.] ¡­ Got it! The sulfur-heavy battlefield churned again. Marisol and Reina darted around Eurypteria like twin streaks of light, moving sharp and coordinated. No doubt Reina, too, was thinking back to their past month of training against the Highwind Dolls. Eurypteria was ¡®it¡¯, and despite her six bladed limbs and scorpion tail, she wasn¡¯t just fighting the two of them. Victor hung above them, lashing out with water blades every now and again to cover the two of them. Hugo continued jerking them out of danger, and whenever one of them had to disengage because of a stray cut or tear, Claudia would immediately dash to their side and start rubbing their wounds with her shrimp antennae, weaving a faint red mist over their skin. [Claudia has the Cleaner Shrimp Class. Basically, her Art allows her to release blood that heals minor wounds and cleans infections,] the Archive said curtly, and Hugo jerked Reina back as well while Claudia rubbed Marisol¡¯s upper arm over, closing a wide, aching gash. [It is not all-powerful healing, though, so focus. Go faster. Once you reach a certain speed, Eurypteria¡¯s stray slashes will do significantly less damage.] Easier said than done, but Eurypteria wasn¡¯t faring so well, either. Every time either her or Reina had to disengage, the artillery behind and above would roar to life, peppering Eurypteria with a storm of explosive shells and harpoons. The explosions rippled through the water, shaking the ground and forcing Eurypteria back. There was no room to breathe, no moment to recover, and both of them could dash back in to encircle her once they were healed up. It was a terribly effective strategy, but for Marisol¡¯s part, all she was doing was what she did best: dancing with utmost grace and power. She skated left, right, down and centre, her glaives leaving dizzying lightning trails that lit up Depth Five, and she probed Eurypteria¡¯s defenses without fear. Whenever Eurypteria slashed the ground and sent volleys of shrapnel flying at her, she¡¯d twirl into the Whirlwind Spin and kick the projectiles away. Her chitin mutations made the smaller shrapnel slide right off her limbs, her skin. She launched into a ten-spin War Jump and swerved through the water, activating discharging to alter her direction mid-jump, and she kept a mouthful of freezing, sulfur-tinged water in the back of her throat the entire time to maintain her fortitude. Feeling like she was always on the verge of suffocation was the only way to maintain the Steel Charge state, thus allowing her to endure electrocuting herself underwater, but there was a time limit to all of this: she couldn¡¯t use all of her abilities for longer than ten minutes. Faster! Harder! One hundred and ten percent! Inhaling deeply, she felt the underwater currents, moved into them, doubled her speed. The Archive stabbed the back of her head with icicles and stimulated the release of adrenaline, sensory-enhancing compounds, and half a dozen other chemicals she couldn''t make heads or tails of. She focused like never before and found herself grinning, her cheeks rippling with speed¡ªand she couldn¡¯t help but wonder what her mama would say about her now. This speed. This effort. This thrill. And when she launched into an eleven-spin War Jump, Eurypteria¡¯s tail whipping up in anticipation to block¡ªshe activated discharge and feinted her kick, hovering her glaive just inches before Eurypteria¡¯s tail with all the grace and elegance of the Homeward Pause. Against an intelligent opponent so versed in single-target combat, the technique could only be used once¡ªand Marisol certainly didn¡¯t think such a sharp and sudden feint would ever work again¡ªbut just this once, she created an opening. Not for herself, no. With a powerful lunge, Reina drove her tail forward from the back and pierced Eurypteria¡¯s abdomen. Her stinger sank deep with a sickening crunch, exiting through Eurypteria¡¯s chest and whistling past Marisol¡¯s suspended glaive, and¡­ it didn¡¯t pierce the Water Scorpion God¡¯s heart. But it put the fear of death in Eurypteria¡¯s heart, and that made her stagger back, a dark smile curling across her inhuman lips as her glowing eyes split both ways. One locked onto Marisol. The other locked onto Reina. ¡°... Not bad,¡± she said, her voice low and mocking. ¡°You¡¯re decently fast, water strider, and you¡¯re decently skilled, water scorpion. I¡¯ll give you both that.¡± Then she straightened her back and slashed her four bladed arms outward in a wild flurry, forcing Marisol and Reina to retreat. The sulfur-thick water was electric with tension as they both slid all the way back to where Hugo and Claudia were. Just as well, a comet-like Rhizocapala smashed into the ground next to Eurypteria, erupting a geyser of pure destruction. Judging by Andres and Alonzo dropping down next to Marisol a half-second later, the Barnacle God was probably uppercutted all the way back here, and now all of them were back on the same ¡®level¡¯ battlefield. Excited, hopeful grins broke through the humans¡¯ weariness, and the two Insect Gods standing side by side staggered as they slowly regenerated their wounds. ¡°That was a good hit,¡± Reina whispered, though her eyes were impossibly wide, staring daggers into Eurypteria. She wasn¡¯t looking at Marisol as she spoke. ¡°We are making progress. A few more coordinated attacks like that, and I will have her heart.¡± ¡­ As both sides seemed to pause for a moment to take a breather, the Archive buzzed in Marisol¡¯s head, analytical and detached. [Observation: Eurypteria and Rhizocapala are formidable opponents, but considering the situation, I wonder why they chose Depth Five as their preferred battlefield.] Marisol narrowed her eyes, deactivating Storm Glaives for a moment to recharge her stamina. What are you getting at? The Archive¡¯s tone grew pensive. [Despite their strength, they are fighting here knowing they are at a disadvantage. The distant artillery and support coordination have proven effective against Eurypteria, while Andres and Alonzo together have proven effective against Rhizocapala. This battlefield favors us.] [Yet, they persist.] [Why?] Because they¡¯ve got a trap they¡¯re just waiting to spring on us, right? [And it is such an effective trap that Eurypteria believes it is worth getting herself nearly killed over?] the Archive murmured. [Rhizocapala aside, Eurypteria¡¯s behaviour is unusual. She allowed herself to be stabbed, which is something that nobody has ever done in the past nineteen years. She is prideful. She enjoys close-quarter combat. She would never voluntarily let herself get stabbed like that, which meant, for a second there, you and Reina actually pushed her to the point of being unable to defend herself¡ªso why continue holding Depth Five? What are they buying time for?] The sulfur-thick water seemed to grow heavier, the tension mounting with every passing second as the Archive ran a thousand calculations in the back of its hand. Marisol¡¯s gaze darted toward Eurypteria, who stood unshaken despite her wound. Her smirk remained intact, her confidence unbroken. It wasn¡¯t just Marisol who saw it. Everyone did, too. After all, in the Archive¡¯s own words, there was only one trap the two Insect Gods could spring on them that could actually ruin them. [... Unless, for some inexplicable reason, that giant abandoned shell of Corpsetaker is more than just a distraction tactic?] [Rhizocapala wanted us to think it was Corpsetaker, but he also wanted Victor Morina to call him out on it so he could tell everyone it is just a prop meant to frighten, but in truth, that giant shell is hiding¡ª] The Archive didn¡¯t get to finish its sentence. A young voice shouted from one of the diving bells suspended overhead: a Lighthouse Five Imperator on the surface of the whirlpool, the same person who¡¯d reported to Andres while they were riding the bells down to Depth Five. ¡°Detecting D-Rank Insect God aura signal!¡± she shouted, her voice echoing throughout Depth Five. ¡°It¡¯s Kalakos! Her aura signal¡¯s growing stronger! She¡¯s coming out of nowhere!¡± Marisol¡¯s eyes widened, her blood running cold as the sulfur-thick water seemed to vibrate with a low, ominous hum. Andres raised a fist, stopping all of them from panicking. ¡°How far, and how long?¡± he shouted back, glancing up at the diving bell. ¡°If she is only beginning to move from Depth Seven, it will take her ten minutes to cross Depth Six. That is more than enough time for us to extract to Depth Four¡ª¡± ¡°Contact in two minutes!¡± the voice screamed. ¡°She¡¯s already here!¡± And then, from behind the two regenerating Insect Gods, something bashed through the giant hollow crab. The sound was deafening, a deep, resonant crack that sent chunks of carapace flying in all directions. Hugo immediately dashed forward and cast a giant spider web over all of them, catching most of the debris¡­ but from the ruined husk two hundred metres in front of them emerged a massive, groaning, undulating shape. Dark. Jagged. Segmented, not human-like whatsoever, and its killing pressure was unlike either Rhizocapala¡¯s or Eurypteria¡¯s. If Rhizocapala¡¯s aura was ¡®slippery danger¡¯, and Eurypteria¡¯s aura was ¡®steady danger¡¯, then this aura was ¡®overwhelming danger¡¯. Power incarnate. The waters of Depth Five rippled and churned violently as the monstrous form of Kalakos, the D-Rank Remipede God, charged straight ahead. ¡­ Oh. So that¡¯s what a giant remipede looks like underwater. Chapter 82 - All of You Andres and Alonzo pushed to the front of the formation, their massive frames braced against the swirling currents. Around and behind them, the Imperators and Guards backed off, getting into a defensive formation. Overhead, the voices of the Lighthouse Five Imperators who¡¯d been monitoring and relaying information between the surface, the artillery teams, and the vanguards crackled through the suspended diving bells, their tone sharp with disbelief. A dozen voices were shouting at once, but Marisol¡ªand most everyone else¡ªonly heard one cutting through the water louder than the rest. ¡°This is impossible!¡± she shouted. ¡°We¡¯ve been monitoring Kalakos¡¯ signal this entire time! Her aura signal reading is still... it¡¯s still in Depth Seven!¡± Her voice trailed off, confusion giving way to a stunned silence. ¡°That giant remipede charging at all of you¡­ that¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s not¡ª¡± ¡°But she is Kalakos.¡± Marisol barely had time to process the words before a chilling sound reached her ears. Laughter. Low, guttural, and mocking. She whirled back around to see Rhizocapala and Eurypteria hopping onto the head of the charging giant remipede, and, two hundred metres away, she still couldn¡¯t fathom just how unimaginably colossal Kalakos was. The Remipede God had to be fifty metres wide, fifty metres tall, and a thousand metres long, with even more length continuing to wriggle through the mist lingering around the edge of Depth Five. The water trembled violently, churning with her sheer presence. A shockwave rippled outward with every undulation of her segmented body, buffeting the front lines and knocking weaker Guards off balance. Some barely managed to anchor themselves by stabbing their weapons into the brittle seafloor. Marisol had been under the impression that all Mutant-Classes and above resembled humans, but¡­ maybe they could decide whether they wanted to be human-like? Because Kalakos was a giant remipede, pure and simple, and she was barrelling straight at them with Rhizocapala and Eurypteria riding on top. ¡°It¡¯s adorable how you people think you¡¯ve got everything figured out,¡± Eurypteria said, her voice dripping with scorn. Rhizocapala spread his arms theatrically. ¡°The mist! The siege! For months, we¡¯ve been buyin¡¯ time for our dearest sister to moult, and she couldn¡¯t have done that if everythin¡¯ was ¡®business as usual¡¯, so we had to keep you distracted somehow, hm?¡± Then a hundred shells across his barnacle-encrusted form opened, a hundred eyes gleaming as he looked directly up at their diving bells. ¡°We held Depths Four and Five hostage! We muddied your visibility with the mist! We did just enough to keep you guessin¡¯, and all the while, ye were trackin¡¯ Kalakos¡¯ moulted skin¡ªnot Kalakos herself!¡± Marisol¡¯s stomach churned as Rhizocapala turned to her, winking. ¡°Ain¡¯t that clever, water strider?¡± ¡°... Fall back!¡± Andres roared, his voice cutting through the tension. His massive frame turned toward the group, his eye blazing with urgency. ¡°Everyone to the diving bells! We¡¯re retreating to Depth Four now¡ª¡± ¡°No ye don¡¯t!¡± Rhizocapala roared back, snapping his fingers. ¡°Get up, ye sons of bitches! It¡¯s time to eat!¡± The ground shuddered ominously, cracks spider-webbing outward from unseen depths. For a brief, horrible moment, the entire formation hesitated. Uncertain whether the very seabed might collapse. Then, with a deafening rumble, the brittle ground erupted. Marisol didn¡¯t feel it. The Archive didn¡¯t detect it. Nobody¡ªnot even Victor¡ªsaid a thing about it, so when hundreds of Giant-Class bugs and dozens of Mutant-Classes exploded out from underground geysers with murderous glints in their eyes, nobody was ready. Violence descended upon them, and their formation instantly dissolved into chaos. Screams and the clash of weapons echoed through the thick, sulfurous water as the backline was overrun. The first wave hit like a battering ram, Giant-Class bugs tearing through shields and bodies alike with terrifying efficiency. Blood clouded the water, reducing visibility to mere metres. Marisol glimpsed an Imperator, barely recognizable, impaled by the serrated leg of a shrimp-like monstrosity before being flung aside like a broken doll. Another was torn to shreds by two giant crabs, and another had his head shot off by a line of snapping pistol shrimps. Death was all around. [All of them camouflaged their aura so well? ] the Archive muttered. [I see. They used the same tactic as Kalakos. They intentionally shed their shells and weakened themselves so their auras would be suppressed, and by having Rhizocapala and Eurypteria stand together, they are able to camouflage their own auras within the two of theirs.] [This is just like¡ª] The Mutant-Class wraith shrimp. It did the same thing. It suppressed its aura, then followed me all the way from Antonio¡¯s ship to the city by hiding in my aura. [This is Rhizocapala¡¯s plan.] [No doubt about it.] [He has been paying attention to you for a very, very long time.] ¡­ But the situation was spiraling out of control. Marisol couldn¡¯t afford to just stand there. Before any of the Lighthouse Imperators could whirl and respond to the ambush, she moved. Her body was a blur as she skated through the water, her Storm Glaives crackling with deadly energy. She dashed toward a Giant-Class bug, its mandibles snapping viciously, and drove both glaives into its carapace. Lightning arced through its body, leaving it twitching as she pulled her blades free and darted to the next target. The water became a storm of flashing limbs, deadly strikes, and the constant boom of artillery from the suspended diving bells. The heavy artillery in the back couldn¡¯t fire unless they wanted to kill entire teams of humans as well, so Marisol tightened her movements. Focused her mind. Her movements had to be precise and deadly, because she was liable to ram into a fellow human if she weren¡¯t controlling herself with a hundred and ten percent of her power. But even as she and the Lighthouse Imperators cut through bug after bug, more continued to crawl up from the cracks in the ground. The sheer number of enemies pressed in on them like a tidal wave, and behind it all, Kalakos continued her relentless charge. Andres and Alonzo braced themselves¡ªthey were the only ones not helping the Imperators fend off the ambush¡ªand both of them stood stalwart, ready to hold off the Insect Gods. ¡°Brace yourselves!¡± Andres roared. The giant remipede surged forward, a blur of motion and unstoppable force, but just as it seemed poised to crash into them¡ªKalakos veered upward. The massive bug swept past Andres and Alonzo with a bone-shaking rush of water and barreled toward the diving bells overhead.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Then, Kalakos slammed into the clumped-up diving bells with devastating force. More than thirty of them crumpled like paper, their hulls ripped to shreds, their chains torn asunder. One by one, they shot every which way and began sinking forward, metal fragments shooting through the water in a chaotic rain of metal and glass. The precise artillery fire ceased, replaced by the heavy groan of the collapsing structures. Marisol¡¯s heart sank as she saw the destruction. Only one bell managed to veer out of the way and dodge Kalakos, and that was the one Victor was in. He¡¯d jumped out the latch at the last moment to jerk the diving bell off to the side, and now it was dangling overhead, just barely avoiding getting scraped by Kalakos¡¯ giant segmented chitin. They¡¯re trapping us. They want us stuck down here. For her part Kalakos didn¡¯t stop. The massive remipede continued its charge, heading straight for the surface, and Rhizocapala and Eurypteria each held one of her giant antennae like the reins of a caravan beast, their figures diminishing as they ascended quickly. Rhizocapala turned back one last time, his grin sharper than ever. ¡°Good fight, lads, but this is the end of yer precious city!¡± And then the three Insect Gods cackled, soaring straight up to the surface. Panic rippled through the water like an electric current. Half of the Giant-Classes and Mutant-Classes erupted around them, leaping onto Kalako and gripping onto her segmented body as she continued to surge upwards¡ªand then the three Lesser Insect Gods cackled, soaring straight up to the surface. A thousand meters of glistening, armored segments, carrying an army of leviathans to the city. The pressure wasn¡¯t just physical¡ªit was suffocating, clawing at Marisol¡¯s chest as her heart raced. [This is bad!] [Marisol! Tell everyone to¡ª] Victor¡¯s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the cacophony. ¡°One diving bell left! Only one team can get back to the surface, and you know who you are!¡± Of the hundred or so Imperators scattered across Depth Five and fighting for their lives, only three had no hesitation whirling around and leaping onto the last diving bell. They were Hugo, Claudia, Andres. All Lighthouse Imperators with important positions to fill on the surface. The rest didn¡¯t even pretend to acknowledge Victor¡¯s command. They continued fighting, pushing back the ambush, and¡­ without warning, Marisol and Reina were jerked up to the diving bell by Hugo¡¯s spider threads. It happened quickly. Marisol had just slowed down momentarily to pop a new skyball coral into her mouth, but within two seconds, she went from being on the ground to being grabbed by Hugo¡¯s spider arms, thrown into the diving bell. Reina was thrown in half a second later. To their credit, though, they recovered immediately and charged back out towards the latch¡ªonly for Hugo to lash out with two fistfuls of threads, wrapping around their torsos like cocoons. Marisol jerked against the bindings, fury sparking in her chest. ¡°What¡­ are you doing?¡± she hissed, her glaives still crackling with lightning. ¡°There are people down there! Guards! Imperators!¡± Reina was just as defiant, her tail writhing and struggling as she fought the cocoon. ¡°Hugo! We cannot just abandon everyone down here! We must¡ª¡± ¡°The bell can¡¯t carry everyone!¡± Victor snapped, spinning toward them, expression hard as steel. ¡°The cannons, barricades, and outposts along Depths One to Four will slow them down, but they¡¯re still too numerous! If we don¡¯t get to the surface now, the city is done for! This ain¡¯t up for debate!¡± Marisol¡¯s stomach twisted as she glanced back down at the battlefield. Alonzo was the only Lighthouse Imperator who stood his ground, a lone figure leading the underequipped Imperators and Guards against the tide of monstrosities. His steel blade swung with brutal precision, cutting down one Giant-Class after another, but it wasn¡¯t enough. It wasn¡¯t even close to being enough. But when the old hunchback turned and looked up at them for just the briefest of moments, blood streaked his face as he offered them a grim, fleeting smile. ¡°I will hold them back,¡± he called out, his voice steady despite the chaos. ¡°All of you go. Protect the city.¡± Marisol¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°I¡ª¡± ¡°We¡¯re leaving!¡± Victor said firmly, cutting her off. His gaze was unyielding as he nodded at Andres. ¡°Pull the lever.¡± ¡°No!¡± Marisol and Reina surged forward at the exact same time, lightning and tail flaring, but Hugo¡¯s threads tightened, dragging them back. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Hugo muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t want to¡ª¡± ¡°Sorry?¡± Marisol spat, her voice trembling with fury. ¡°You think sorry¡¯s gonna cut it?¡± Sparks crackled across her skin as she tried to rip through the silk, her muscles burning with effort, but then Victor stepped in front of her, his expression dark. ¡°They knew what they signed up for,¡± he said, his voice low and quiet. ¡°They¡¯ll delay the Swarm in Depth Five.¡± ¡°Victor!¡± she snarled. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare¡ª¡± ¡°Listen to me, Archive of Marisol ¡®Storm Strider¡¯ Vellamira,¡± he said plainly. "You let her go, you''ll kill her. There is a zero percent chance we can take the fight outside. What, exactly, is your mission according to the Hasharana Code?" Marisol froze. ¡°No,¡± she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡± [I am to prioritize the safety of my user above all else.] The shock hit her like a bolt of lightning, and it wasn¡¯t like electrocuting herself with her Storm Glaives. Far from it. Pain lanced through her body, her muscles seizing as she crumpled to the floor of the bell. While Claudia and Hugo also pressed the shouting Reina to the floor, she gasped, her vision blurring, but the worst pain wasn¡¯t physical¡ªit was the betrayal. Archive¡­ you fucking¡­ bitch. I thought¡­ you were on my side. The Archive didn¡¯t respond. Victor slammed the latch shut, anguished but determined, and without another word, Andres yanked the lever. Water drained out of the bell through grates on the floor. As it did, the bell shot upward, rocketing toward the surface. Everyone else was left behind in Depth Five to cruel, crushing deaths, but they still managed to give Andres one last salute, arms and weapons crossing their chests. ¡­ Fuck you. Marisol lay motionless on the cold metal floor, her body twitching from the remnants of the shock. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, but the fire inside her didn¡¯t dim. It roared, hotter and fiercer with every second. She tried her best to glare at Victor the entire way up to the surface, but her anger wasn¡¯t just for him. The faces of the Imperators and Guards left behind burned into her memory¡ªthe way they all raised their weapons in that final salute. It was seared too deep. Too vivid to ever forget. Their sacrifice may have been a choice, and it may have been a duty they embraced without hesitation, but it was, nevertheless, a sacrifice that twisted her insides. And the Archive. Her Archive. How could it betray her like that? You¡¯d trust your ¡®superior¡¯ over your actual user? You¡­ I can¡¯t believe you¡­ [...] But it was a long, shaky, and tumultuous ascent, and Marisol couldn¡¯t think anymore. Couldn¡¯t feel anger anymore. All that was replaced by dread, despair, and horrid thoughts. Kalakos and her army of giants had already sped past them outside the window, and they weren¡¯t ascending nearly as fast. They were slow. They were caught completely off-guard. By the time the bell eventually broke through the surface, the hiss of escaping air was drowned out by the muted sounds of chaos outside. None of the Lighthouse Imperators bothered opening the latch normally. They couldn''t wait any longer. Andres punched it off its hinges and then threw everyone outside, all the way to the docks of Lighthouse Seven, and Marisol felt her body coming back to her mid-air. She regained control. She flipped forward, landed on her glaives, and ripped off all the threads pressing her arms against her sides. The wintry winds bit into her skin, but she barely felt the cold as screams tore into the air all around them. Her body¡ªand everyone else¡¯s bodies¡ªmoved on instinct. They dashed through the docks. No Imperator was standing guard there. They dashed through the back of the lighthouse. The receptionists weren''t there, the guards weren''t there. They raced out the front of the lighthouse, screeched to a halt at the top of the city, and their eyes widened as they took in the gruesome scene below them. The air was thick with the screams of the dying, the clash of steel, and the mournful wail of alarms. Hundreds of Giant-Classes and Mutant-Classes swarmed through the streets, all sorts of crabs, lobsters, beetles, and crayfish tearing through Guards and civilians alike. Kalakos¡¯ massive form writhed and twisted as she tore through the upper city streets. Buildings crumbled beneath her weight, entire districts flattened in an instant. Eurypteria and Rhizocapala had already hopped off and were wreaking havoc. The Water Scorpion God¡¯s tail sliced through buildings like paper, sending debris raining down onto the panicked crowds. Rhizocapala leaped from rooftop to rooftop, spreading his blood around like a plague, sprouting barnacles and grotesque growths wherever it landed. The white snow falling from the sky was stained with blood and as Kalakos reared her head to let out a guttural, earth-shaking roar, Marisol only knew one thing for certain. The Swarm had breached the whirlpool. The volcano island was under siege. And this was the dawn of war.
Volume Two, End Chapter 83 - Dawn of War Captain Soren tightened his grip on the helm at the head of the colossal whale. The chill of the wintry sea wind gnawed at his scarred face, and his single eye scanned the horizon, locked on the tiny ship ahead. It was just a three-mast trawler helmed by a single man¡ªa speck of insolence against the endless, churning blue of the open sea, but he¡¯d be damned as the Fleet Captain of the Whitewhale Marauders if he let a thief get away from right under his nose. ¡°That¡¯s the one!¡± he shouted, his voice like crushed gravel as he drew his blade and pointed it straight ahead. ¡°That little wretch stole half our fortune! Ain¡¯t no one does that to the Whitewhale Marauders and gets to live to tell the tale!¡± His crew pounded the drums. The ramshackle towns came to life. The Whitewhales under their feet groaned, their massive bodies cutting through the waves. Each lash of their massive tails sent them surging forward, and with all ten of them charging forward in a wall formation, the small vessel ahead didn¡¯t stand a chance¡­ or so Soren thought. Without warning, the Whitewhales stopped. All ten of them. The Brine Sovereign Town lurched forward, the sudden halt sending hundreds of men sprawling all across the bridges. Soren himself staggered, his heavy boots slamming against the planks as he steadied himself. He¡¯d have been thrown off the head of the whale were he not already holding onto the helm. ¡°What in the depths are ye doin¡¯?¡± he growled, stomping the wooden platform beneath him. ¡°Move, ye fuckin¡¯ whale! And what are the lot of ye doin¡¯ downstairs? Give the lugger the big ¡®ol prod already!¡± ¡°We¡¯re pokin¡¯ the whale, cap!¡± one man shouted from behind. ¡°It just ain¡¯t movin¡¯ for some reason! It ain¡¯t us¡ª¡± Soren grabbed a musket from the side of the helm and fired backwards, shooting the man who¡¯d dared to shout at him. The rest of the crew in the steering quarters at the head of the whale stiffened up. Even still, the fleet of Whitewhales hung motionless in the water, their bodies rigid. Their dark, swirly eyes stared westward, unblinking and empty, like they¡¯d seen something beyond mortal comprehension¡ªso Soren tossed his musket away and followed their gaze, his eye burning with dark fury. What is it? What do they see with those dreamy eyes of theirs? His crew continued jabbing the whale with sharpened sticks all across the town, all across its back. The creature didn¡¯t react. Not even a flinch. Instead, a low, mournful sound rumbled from its throat. Soren felt it then. A cold tingle crawled up his spine, settling like a weight on his shoulders as his gaze was drawn far, far, far to the west, towards that detestable Whirlpool City, the lair of their enemies. Just as usual, the storm clouds above and around the city churned violently, dark tendrils spiraling downward like a sea god¡¯s wrath made manifest. Lightning flickered within the black mass, casting fleeting, jagged shadows over the sea. It wasn¡¯t anything special to see the city oftentimes shrouded in the worst tempest known to man, but¡­ this one was a little different. It felt a little different. Soren¡¯s throat tightened. He¡¯d seen his fair share of storms before¡ªhe¡¯d battled through tempests that would turn lesser men to cowards¡ªbut that was not a storm. Storms had wills of their own. They were free, unshackled spirits. They could strike whenever they wanted, destroy whatever they wanted. Unbridled chaos. Anger incarnate. Even still, they could be reasoned with; men could drain the blood of sacrificial lambs by the deep docks before setting sail for a distant shore, and children could fold paper dragonflies and throw them out onto the sea as peace offerings. Storms were fickle like that. There was always a chance, no matter how slight, that anyone could push through one and come out utterly unharmed. But that, swirling around the Whirlpool City, was ordered, controlled chaos. It wasn¡¯t alive. And all it would do was kill. The Whitewhales groaned again, louder this time, and Soren stepped back from the helm as if the sound itself could pull him into the depths. ¡°... Turn us around,¡± he ordered, his voice quieter now, heavy with unease. ¡°We¡¯re done here.¡± One of his men raised his voice. ¡°But, cap! The thief! Our plunder! We let him get away now, and we¡¯ll never¡ª¡± He picked up a second musket and fired straight into the man¡¯s head without looking. The rest of his crew didn¡¯t argue. They hadn¡¯t survived this long on the great blue by not trusting his instincts.
Kuku and the children of the crab island played without care, their laughter ringing out over the vast seafaring forest they called ¡®home¡¯. It¡¯d been well over half a year since Kuku last saw any other ship, island, or seaside town. They may be the ones living above the sea, but the giant horseshoe crab had its own senses, its own unique brand of perception. Just because they couldn¡¯t see its eyes or its dozens of smarmy legs paddling underneath didn¡¯t mean it didn''t know exactly how to swerve out of harm¡¯s way¡ªso the last time they talked to an outsider was half a year ago. Since then, they¡¯d backed off from the far west and returned to their usual nomadic life. They rebuilt their mangrove village, began recultivating the earth for plantations, and the crab population on the island was starting to replenish steadily. Of course, they¡¯d pick out and devour the crabs before any of them could become too big¡ªbefore they could become dangerous plagas del mar, plagues of the sea¡ªbut sometimes, Kuku felt like there were too many crabs and too few mouths to feed. They were just children, after all. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to have one big adult feasting alongside them just to keep the crab population controlled. Today, like most sunny days, Kuku sat cross-legged on the black sand beach, his fingers deftly weaving a net from washed-up seaweed strands. Children played ball and tag around him. The salty breeze tugged at his skin, and he hummed a soft tune under his breath. If Marisol were ever to visit again, he wanted to have fish prepared for her alongside crabs, if not only to make their dishes more varied so she¡¯d want to stay here longer. But today wasn¡¯t most sunny days. Before he could finish tying up a knot, the giant horseshoe crab shuddered. The sound was low and guttural, a deep groan that resonated through the carapace, making the entire forest tremble. Kuku¡¯s heart skipped a beat. The younger children playing in the sand around him froze, their games forgotten as the ancient beast groaned again. This time, it stopped paddling aimlessly forward so abruptly that almost all of them standing fell flat onto their faces. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with her?¡± a small boy asked, his voice quivering. ¡°Is she sick?¡± another boy asked, kneeling and rapping the ground gently with his knuckles. ¡°Are you okay? Do you have to stop to rest for a bit?¡± While the rest of the children put on their worried faces and gave the giant horseshoe crab their concerns, Kuku stood, his gaze fixed on the wintry blue skyline. There weren¡¯t any storms as far as his eyes could see, but though he didn¡¯t have a map, a compass, or anything of the sort people of the outside world used to orient themselves, he found himself staring in one particular direction off the left of the island. He couldn¡¯t explain to the younger children how he knew, but left was where they¡¯d come from half a year ago¡ªfrom that dark, stormy city in the middle of the great blue.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°... She¡¯s scared,¡± Kuku murmured. Another groan, louder this time, sent the children scrambling away from the beach and deeper onto the island. Kuku stayed where he was, his hands clenched into fists. He¡¯d always felt safe on the giant horseshoe crab¡¯s back. Its immense size and strength was an invincible shield against the dangers of the great blue, but now¡­ for the first time, he felt even the giant horseshoe crab was uncertain about what was going to happen to the great blue. Something was happening inside the stormy city, but what? There was just no way for him to find out. They were too far away. It¡¯d take them an entire month just to get to the city, and however much he wanted to see Marisol again, he couldn¡¯t be selfish and tell the others to head towards the city again. They had to protect themselves right now. So he turned to the others, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his chest. ¡°We need to move! Into a storm!¡± ¡°But the storm¡ª¡± a girl started, her voice breaking. ¡°It¡¯s safer than staying here!¡± Kuku said firmly, thumping his chest with a fist. ¡°When in danger, find and head into a storm! That¡¯s what we did when the plagas de mar came to us, right?¡±
Hana was older now. She had more responsibilities now. Apart from taking care of the young and training them to be good Damselfly Oracles, she was also given her own island in the archipelago to guard and patrol, and she took pride in her duty as a small, small tribe leader¡ªbut since the day she was given the role two months ago, she¡¯d been nothing short of ¡®slow¡¯ whenever plagas en mar rolled into the archipelago and needed dealing with. It was hard to focus on flying straight when the distant Whirlpool City had been darkening steadily over the past two months, and all she could see whenever she flew above the Dead Island Straits was the colour of every human living on that volcano island. Today, she left her little alcove in the cliffs and soared above the Dead Island Straits with a basket of fruits in her arms as usual. She loved hand-picking fruits the night before so she could distribute them around to the children under her care the next morning, but ten seconds after she left her cosy alcove, she noticed the colours of the Whirlpool City were darker than usual. A lot darker than usual. She hovered mid-air, the fruits slipping from her basket as whispers of unease gnawed at her head, telling her to talk to someone about the city. An elder would do. Her parents would do. The island she was tasked to guard and patrol was the closest one to the city, so maybe the others didn¡¯t care, or maybe they simply didn¡¯t notice, but she¡¯d been paying attention to the city¡¯s colours every single day for the better part of the past two months. Today, the black tendrils swirled in her vision, vivid and chaotic, twisting into silhouettes of colossal bugs she couldn¡¯t really recognise. Couldn¡¯t really comprehend in full. But there was going to be death in the city. Lots of death. ¡°... Hana?¡± one of the children called, noticing her clutching at her temples as she hovered mid-air. In an instant, thirty Damselfly Oracles fluttered out from their alcoves and joined her in the air, their wings fluttering and beating noisily as they surrounded her out of worry. Then they, too, noticed the cyclone of pure black in the distance, and all they could do was stare. Wonder. Pray, and pray, and pray for the humans of the Whirlpool City.
One hundred and sixteen warships, all loaded to the brim with anti-chitin cannons, harpoon ballistas, and half a dozen highly advanced bioarcanic machinery built, sealed, and imported from the Rampaging Hinterland Front. That was how many warships were docked right outside the Whirlpool City. All in total, there had to be around ten, twenty thousand Harbour Guards marooned just beyond the city¡¯s docks. That was including the Guards stationed in lighthouses, diving bells, and smaller fleets of ships that couldn¡¯t enter the city through ¡®Black Storm¡¯. Their anchors were dropped, and they certainly weren¡¯t isolated from the rest of the world¡ªthey had plenty of food, water, and tasks to accomplish every single day¡ªbut at this point, it¡¯d been well over half a year since most of them saw their families inside the city. They could see the slanted streets, the clear blue sky, and the sparkling lighthouses inside the city where they were docked, and that was the cruelest thing. Home was just¡­ right out of reach. For Captain Enrique, home didn¡¯t matter so much anymore. Below the deck of the Harbinger Caralonia, the old man sat alone on a crate, dim lantern light castling flickering shadows across the damp wooden walls. It was still early in the morning, but his fingers traced the edges of a worn pocket watch, its bronze surface smudged with salt and oil. He flipped it open. He flipped it close. He flipped it open. He flipped it close. He flipped it open. Inside, a small drawing of his daughter stared back at him, her smile frozen in time. She¡¯d drawn it herself¡ªthis was years, maybe even a whole decade ago¡ªso he could have something to remember her by while he was sailing great blue as a captain of a warship, but now, it was every bit as cruel as the city just a thousand metres beyond their sails. ¡­ Catrina. The memory of her death was a weight he carried every day, a wound that refused to heal. She¡¯d lost her husband, her mother, and then she gave birth to an evil sea god. They were his family, too. His wife. His son-in-law. All of them taken by the Swarm¡ªand he¡¯d been powerless to save her. He¡¯d done nothing but let that water strider lass take the lead. Some captain I am¡ª The deck above groaned, and the sound jolted him from his thoughts. He snapped the watch shut and slipped it into his coat pocket, his hand lingering there as if to anchor himself. The warship¡¯s bell rang suddenly as well, shattering the heavy quiet, and the sharp peal carried an urgency that made his heart leap. ¡°Cap!¡± a voice called from above. ¡°Somethins¡¯ wrong! Come up and take a look!¡± He didn¡¯t need to hear it twice. Enrique stood, his movements brisk despite the weight in his chest. He climbed the ladder to the upper deck, cold wind and dark rain slapping his face as he emerged. The air was thick with tension, but it always was. They were so close to ¡®Black Storm¡¯, after all. Stormy seas and violent rain were unavoidable things. But his first mate was at the rails¡ªso was the entire crew of Harbinger Caralonia, for that matter¡ªand he was gripping the wood so tightly his knuckles were pale. ¡°Look,¡± the man said, his voice low and uneasy as he pointed at the Whirlpool City. Enrique followed his gaze. The Whirlpool City loomed like a malevolent shadow, its towering lighthouses flickering with erratic light. The storm clouds above it churned violently, their dark mass roiling like a living thing. Lightning arced within the black, illuminating the city in flashes that felt more like warnings than natural phenomena. That much wasn¡¯t anything special, again, but then there was the water. Around them. Around all of them. The sea surrounding the warships was boiling. Steam hissed and rose in ghostly tendrils, the heat distorting the air. The warships themselves swayed as though the ocean itself was restless, alive with some malevolent force. A cold knot of dread formed in Enrique¡¯s stomach. ¡°... Lad. Have we received any sort of information from the Imperators?¡± he asked. ¡°N-nothin¡¯ so far,¡± the first mate stammered. ¡°It only started minutes ago, but we didn¡¯t think anythin¡¯ strange of it until the sea started bubblin¡¯ and poppin¡¯. Should we raise our anchors and sail a bit further away from the city? I can relay your command to the nearby ships as well¡ª¡± ¡°Load the cannons.¡± The first mate blinked. ¡°S-sorry, sir?¡± ¡°Load the cannons,¡± he ordered, his voice sharp and commanding. ¡°Now.¡± And his crew didn¡¯t need telling twice, either. They scrambled into action, rang every bell, their boots pounding against the deck as they prepared for battle. Enrique himself trudged up to the stern and gripped the helm, his knuckles white as he steered the ship to face the city. He¡¯d never seen this ¡®bubbling sea¡¯ phenomenon before, but he knew this cold, sickening coiling in the pit of his stomach. Another evil sea god was coming, and this one had its sights set on something far, far larger than just the blood of his kin.
¡­ And in the black, crushing abyss of the whirlpool¡ªnine thousand metres below the surface¡ªthe Greater Crab God sat in silence. The endless abyss around him was cold. Quiet. It was a void where even the faintest glimmer of light dared not intrude, but for the faint glow nine thousand metres above: the surface. ¡®Sunlight¡¯. It¡¯d been decades since he last saw sunlight in full, but at this point, he found he didn¡¯t miss it so much as he hated it taunting him like an unreachable dream. Like a distant memory. The Harbour Imperators could¡¯ve certainly built a wall between Depth Eight and Nine to keep him fully in the dark, but they didn¡¯t¡ªbecause they wanted him to see what he was missing out on? Maybe that was true a decade ago, but he missed sunlight no longer. He¡¯d been down here so long, stewing in nothing but his thoughts, that he could live through his children. He could feel them, their minds brushing against his like whispers in the void. Rhizocapala. Eurypteria. Kalakos. Their plan had come to fruition. They were going to breach the whirlpool with an army of leviathans. So Corpsetaker sighed, the sound a deep, resonant rumble that echoed through the abyss. He loved his children. Every bug in the whirlpool was precious to him, and their very existence in this prison of an ocean was a testament to the resilience of life in the face of unrelenting hardship¡ªand the thought of sending them up to the surface for slaughter still twisted his insides. He¡¯d raised them. Nurtured them. Watched them grow. To lose even one would be a wound he could hardly bear. But what else could they do? There were only two types of living beings in the world: bugs being crushed underfoot, and those who did the crushing. They couldn¡¯t be the only ones getting speared and bombarded for the rest of eternity now, could they? ¡°... Go,¡± he said finally, raising an arm and pointing straight up. ¡°Remind humanity what we are.¡± And a thousand abyssal leviathans surged upward, their forms shrouded in darkness. They¡¯d be the hammer to Rhizocapala¡¯s nail. It¡¯d take them an hour, maybe even two to reach the surface and reinforce the vanguard, but he had high hopes, nevertheless, that his three most courageous children would return to him safe and sound. They were Insect Gods, after all. The dark stars that fell. The heralds of war. Chapter 84 - Carnage The wintry morning winds screamed with the wails of the dying, and Marisol was staring down at a city teetering on the brink of annihilation. The sloped streets of the Whirlpool City cascaded five hundred meters below her, and right now, it was a crumbling battlefield of shattered rooftops, toppled towers, and streets clogged with debris. Fires sprouted like malignant tumors, smoke twisting into the storm-choked sky. Between the flames and the chaos, hundreds of Giant-Class crustaceans rampaged: massive lobsters, crabs, and grotesque hybrids scuttled over the wreckage, oversized claws crushing anything in their path. South of the city, Kalakos dominated the view, her hundred-segmented body slithering like a living worm. The Remipede God was a thousand metres of pure destruction, her armoured plates glinting like wet obsidian. Twisting and writhing, her antennae slashing through the air like scythes, toppling walls and spires¡ªeach segment of her monstrous body slammed down with the force of an earthquake, collapsing entire districts into heaps of stone and splintered wood. She wasn''t the only Insect God partaking in the destruction, of course. North of the city, Rhizocapala skipped and bounded across the roofs of the Swarmsteel factories. His cackles were mad. Deafening. His body oozed viscous, crimson blood that he spattered across the ruins like a plague, and wherever it landed, wood and flesh alike twisted into grotesque, living barnacles. East of the city¡ªthough Marisol couldn¡¯t see her directly¡ªEurypteria¡¯s tail flicked and cleaved through lines of houses in the residential districts. The air blades were physical. The speed and precision of her attacks were brutal, efficient, and unrelenting. It couldn¡¯t have been more than a minute or two since the Swarm breached the surface of the whirlpool, but the suffocating sense of helplessness was already pressing down on her chest like a stone. ¡­ So you¡¯re just gonna stand here and watch the city burn? Marisol gritted her teeth. Her glaives moved before her mind did. Without a word, she activated Storm Glaives and sped down main street. The other Lighthouse Imperators snapped out of their trances at the exact same time, and not all of them chose the same path. Faintly, she noticed Hugo and Claudia sprinting to the east, Andres sprinting to the west, and Reina was following close behind. Victor was already nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be felt. She wasn¡¯t too keen on having him around, anyways. I¡¯ll do this myself! She skated down the steep streets, her glaives carving trails of sparks and lightning against the stone. Some Guards and Imperators that¡¯d been stationed in the city came into view, but their shouts and footsteps faded into the roar of destruction as she skated past them. The city was falling apart. It wasn¡¯t just the Insect Gods¡ªthe Giant-Classes tearing through the streets were dangerous. They were far, far more numerous. A Giant-Class crab the size of a carriage scuttled into her path, its claws snapping wildly. It reeked of salt and decay, its shell cracked and oozing black blood. She didn¡¯t hesitate. She kicked a leg back, twirled in a War Jump, and spun six times before kicking her glaive out, slicing down through its body and flying through. The crab screeched, staggered, and split in half behind her. She vaulted over the body and kept moving. The screams pushed her forward. People were running, tripping over debris, their faces streaked with soot and blood. She spotted Miss Suneria¡¯s candy house broken and burning. The Towers of Wind bending and collapsing. A child cried out, trapped beneath a fallen beam. His mother was trying to free him. Marisol skidded to a stop, her chest heaving, and ripped the beam away with a single sharp kick. ¡°Go!¡± she barked. The mother grabbed the child and stumbled down the street, not even looking back. She didn¡¯t blame them. Another crash. Another explosion in the distance. She whirled to see the Highwind Inn, where she¡¯d slept her entire time in the city, folding in on itself. A Giant-Class lobster had stabbed its claws through the wall and was ripping it open, crushing rooms, fresh water tanks, and burning hearths. Flames spilled out of the windows. Receptionists screamed inside. Marisol didn¡¯t even feel herself thinking¡ªshe activated discharge, leapt twenty metres across in a single jump, and plunged her glaives into the back of the lobster¡¯s head. It died instantaneously. But Daniela, the receptionist and innkeeper who¡¯d been serving Marisol for months, was already crushed in its claws, her body limp with her head cast down. Marisol couldn¡¯t stop to think for even another second before a giant shadow loomed over her. Behind her. She flipped to the side and dodged without looking. A giant barnacle smashed into the ground where she was standing like a falling star, and more followed. She whirled around and clenched her jaw. Forty or so of Rhizocapala¡¯s giant barnacles being flung into the sky were falling around her, but there were still hundreds, if not thousands of people in the area that still haven¡¯t evacuated to the lower city. It was too much. Harbour Guards and Imperators across the district raised their pistol shrimp claws to the sky, firing shockwave after shockwave, and to their credit, they did manage to destroy well over half of the falling barnacles. But the rest were unattended. Quakes rippled and unfurled across the district as the barnacles smashed down, and each of them popped their shells open afterwards to spray dozens of spiny projectiles in every conceivable direction, impaling those in direct line of sight. Marisol dashed at three of them in quick succession, kicking them away. Still, the rest became sentry cannons that automatically fired on every living being, human or bug. Rhizocapala certainly didn¡¯t care for friendly fire. ¡­ Priorities, priorities, priorities! Protect the people first! Then deal with the barnacles¡ª The Archive buzzed to life. [Mutant-Class aura detected! In front of you!] A shadow moved in her peripheral vision. She¡¯d just started skating down the main street again to clear the barnacles in the evacuating people¡¯s way when she skidded to a halt, her glaives screeching along the cobbled stone. She was glad to have stopped. A two-legged, four-armed crayfish with two extra-large pincers jutting out from its shoulders landed in a ground-shaking crouch in front of her. Its chitin was marbled, its body was segmented. Its head may not be human-like whatsoever¡ªit was all crayfish head, antennae, and blank, dead eyes¡ªbut it was still clearly stronger than the Giant-Class riffraff. A Mutant-Class.
[Identification Complete] [Common Name: Marbled Crayfish] [Grade: F-Rank Mutant-Class] [Swarmblood Art: Clonal Parthenogenesis] [Aura: ~6,600] [Strength: ~6, Speed: ~5, Toughness: ~8, Dexterity: ~7, Perception: ~6] [Brief Description: Fast-reproducing, plague-invasive, and highly destructive. Marbled crayfish are¡ª]
Marisol didn¡¯t wait. She felt the natural air currents. She picked one. She rode on. She lunged forward, pressing her crackling glaives together as she drop-kicked the crayfish, and a burst of discharged air enhanced her speed even further.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. It was a loud, deafening sound. Her glaives stabbed right into its chest, driving through its shell with a wet crunch. It fell instantly as she drilled a new hole through its chest and shredded its heart on her way out. She wasn¡¯t planning on letting it slow her down, but then there was another shadow to her left. She was already tired, she¡¯d already expended most of her stamina down in Depth Five, and her senses were still hazy from electrocuting herself with her Storm Glaives. This time, another Mutant-Class lobster barreled toward her, its claws snapping with enough force to shatter stone. She managed to duck low, the pincer sweeping over her head, and kicked its legs. The lobster roared, staggered, but before she could finish it with a kick through its heart, its claw caught her in the side. Something went crack in her ribs. Shit! The impact sent her flying into a crumbling wall. The stone gave way, dust exploding around her. She gasped, the air punched from her lungs, and struggled to claw onto her glaives. The Mutant-Class lobster advanced in the distance, its claws snapping menacingly. The Archive buzzed again. [Identification complete. Common name: Albino Lobster. Grade: F-Rank Mutant-Class. Swarmblood Art¡ª] Shut up! She coughed and hissed as she pushed herself upright. Pain rippled through her body, but she gritted her teeth and raised her glaives. She wouldn¡¯t fall here. Not here. Not now. The lobster lunged, its pincer arcing down. She dodged to the side with a discharge of air, her glaives slicing through its other knee. It roared, black blood spraying across the rubble. She recovered, balanced herself, and moved in for the kill, but her muscles burned with exhaustion. She wasn¡¯t fast enough. Before the lobster could strike again, a blur of blue and white streaked past her. A scorpion tail trained just a bit behind. Reina snarled as she impaled the lobster from the back, driving it into the ground and smashing its face into a sharp rock. Marisol would like to give something¡ªa word of thanks, or maybe even just a nod of acknowledgement¡ªbut then there were even more shadows jumping onto the roofs around them. All Mutant-Classes. Crabs, lobsters, clusters of writhing copepods. Their bodies shimmered with unnatural light, their movements erratic and jerky, and the Archive¡¯s system notifications were popping up non-stop.
[Identification Complete: 14x F-Rank Mutant-Classes] [Common name: Spider Crab] [Common name: Pea Crab] [Common name: Purple Marsh Crab] [Common name: Freshwater Crayfish] [Common name: Vampire Crab] [Common name: Pea Crab] [Common name: Coconut Crab] [Common name: Harlequin Shrimp] [Common name: Spearer Mantis Shrimp] [Common name...]
And there were more, and more, and more, and more. They may all be mere F-Rank Mutant-Classes, but Marisol was already tired, hurt, and cold. So, so cold from the gently falling snow. It was all she could do just to stay on the tip of her glaives. As she pressed her back against Reina and extended her apiclaws, gritting her teeth, she felt the Lighthouse Imperator was at her wits¡¯ end as well. They could probably put up a good fight against the dozen or so Mutant-Classes if they hadn¡¯t already fought Eurypteria, but now? Marisol didn¡¯t need the Archive to tell her their chances of victory. ¡­ But it doesn¡¯t matter, does it? When has a slim chance ever mattered to me? Never. That was her answer. And as she readied herself, sucked in a painfully cold breath to enter Steel Charge mode¡ª Victor landed before the two of them with a resounding thud, his cane striking the cobblestone with a force that rippled outward like the surface of a disturbed pond. The sound was deep and resonant. It was an authority that demanded attention. The dozens of Mutant-Classes surrounding Marisol and Reina froze. Their twisted forms twitched, their claws retreated as if in submission. One by one, they backed away. Their glowing bulbous eyes flickered with a primal instinct: fear, in recognition of a living being with a greater killing pressure than all of theirs combined. Victor, for his part, didn¡¯t move. His cane remained planted in the ground, but the aura surrounding him was suffocating. It wasn¡¯t just power¡ªit was death waiting to strike. Even Marisol, standing behind him, felt the weight of his presence pressing against her chest. It was difficult breathing around him. Then a guttural roar echoed from the far distance, ripping through the chaotic city like thunder. ¡°Rhizocapala!¡± The voice, unmistakably Eurypteria¡¯s, bellowed. ¡°Use yer Swarmblood Art! Kill everyone! All of them!¡± Marisol¡¯s head snapped up instinctively. She followed Reina¡¯s gaze as both of them turned toward the west, where she spotted hundreds and thousands of tiny wooden shrapnel being flung into the sky. They were wooden, organic shrapnel already infused with the blood of the Barnacle God, and with a shrill snap of his distant fingers, hundreds of giant barnacles¡ªlarger than even the ones he¡¯d summoned in Depth Four¡ªsprouted in the air. It was the combination of the wind, ¡®Black Storm¡¯, and just the general flightiness of the barnacles he¡¯d summoned, but they didn¡¯t plummet like comets like the ones from before. Instead, they swirled above and around the city like debris picked up by a cyclone, and their shells creaked open slowly to reveal a giant crater-like eye in each of them. The eyes glared down. The weight of their murderous gaze bore down upon the city and its inhabitants. Within seconds, all of them began extending spikes and spines from within their shells, and Marisol was more than familiar with this next part. They were going to rain spines down indiscriminately, and while the Imperators and Guards would have some chance of survival, no one else¡ªno one¡ªwould survive. But Victor didn¡¯t flinch. His cane struck the ground again, harder this time, and again. And again. The sharp cracks echoed like a heartbeat, like the slow ticking of a clock. ¡­ Marisol blinked. He wasn¡¯t just hitting the ground randomly. There was a rhythm to it. A deliberate pattern. A when he finished his sequence, he took a deep breath and roared into the sky, his voice splitting the air with raw power. ¡°GOD OF HOLLOWED EARTH AND TIDE.¡± ¡°THE WORM THAT TWISTS WHERE SEAS COLLIDE.¡± ¡°CAST YOUR SIGHT WHERE TERRORS SUP.¡± ¡°AND TEAR APART BRIGHTBURROW¡¯S CORRUPT.¡± And with a final, defiant roar, ¡°WAKE THE FUCK UP ALREADY, OUR CHAMPION OF HUMANITY!¡± The world seemed to stop. For a moment, there was nothing but the faint sound of wind, falling spines, and the muted roars of destruction. Then, the air above every last human in the city shimmered. Glowing blue wormholes pried opened like the maw of a worm, each one suspended just above a head like a halo. The panicking civilians, the struggling Harbour Guards, the injured Imperators¡ªall of them froze, staring upward as the radiant portals blinked into existence. Even Marisol had one opening above her. She reached up tentatively, her fingers brushing the edge of the shimmering light. It was cool to the touch, like water running through her hands. From her point of view, the bottom of the wormhole was connected to an impossibly dark place. A world of pure black. It almost reminded her of the sea of oil she used to have dreams about, but¡­ the wormhole didn¡¯t scare her. Thousands of giant spines fell onto the city. She flinched instinctively, bracing for pain, but none came. A bullet fired out the top of every human¡¯s wormhole, and whatever it was made out of, it wasn¡¯t normal metal. Each bullet shattered a giant spine with pinpoint accuracy, flying so fast and so sharp they pierced, swirled, and sucked up the scattered rain of shrapnel with vortexes of wind as they continued soaring into the sky. If they hadn¡¯t done that, the spiny shrapnels still would¡¯ve fallen on the city and killed thousands, if not tens of thousands¡ªinstead, not even a single human lost their lives to the rain of spines. Return fire. Five more bullets shot out the wormhole above Marisol¡¯s head, and she heard the same happening to Reina¡¯s wormhole, Victor¡¯s wormhole, and every last wormhole above every human¡¯s head in the city. She didn¡¯t even realise what they were aiming at until the first of the giant floating barnacles crashed down next to her, its bloody shell riddled with bullet holes. The rest of the barnacles were shot down and brought to the ground, and she spotted a few more wormholes opening here and there to ¡®catch¡¯ some of them that were about to crash on civilians. She had no idea where the top half of everyone¡¯s wormholes connected to, and she had no idea where those ¡®caught¡¯ barnacles disappeared to, but she didn¡¯t have to think about it. One by one, the wormholes flickered and disappeared. Her line of sight no longer blocked by her wormhole, Marisol¡¯s attention was drawn back to the sky. Hovering a hundred metres above the whirlpool at the top and very centre of the city was a little boy, pale and ethereal. He looked almost human, but not quite. He¡¯d discarded his shirt and only kept only his black trousers and pure white flower-patterned cape on, but if he felt cold¡ªif his immortal body could even feel things like cold and hunger¡ªhe certainly didn¡¯t show it on his face. His eyes weren¡¯t even open, in any case, and she doubted he¡¯d be able to see much of anything with the stormy winds ruffling his messy hair anyways. Marisol exhaled a shaky breath, her legs finally giving out beneath her. She fell back on the cracked stone, her body trembling from exhaustion and the aftershock of adrenaline. Reina did the same, too¡ªand they could afford to, because when the boy spoke, it was a voice beyond calm and measured, but edged with an undeniable anger. [... What,] the Worm God whispered, [is going on here?] Chapter 85 - Demigod of the In-Between Human, but not quite human. Marisol didn¡¯t think she¡¯d describe the Worm God the same way she¡¯d describe the Insect Gods, but his aura¡ªhis killing pressure so thick and twisting it seemed to warp and distort the sky above the city¡ªbore so much resemblance to Rhizocapala, Eurypteria, and Kalakos¡¯ combined that she couldn¡¯t but shudder at just the sight of him. For a brief, brief second, a dark and horrible thought took over her. What if the Worm God wasn¡¯t humanity¡¯s champion? What if he found this entire siege too bothersome to deal with? What could anyone do if he decided to just smite the island and be done with this? ¡­ But that was a thought as absurd as the sun being out at night. He was humanity¡¯s champion. The strongest. From three corners of the city, three Insect Gods leapt up at the Worm God with the force of roaring thunder. Rhizocapala threw himself up alongside a hundred giant barnacles, all clicking and clacking and ready to vomit mouthfuls of spines. Eurypteria, so close yet so far away, hurled herself up using her tail as a spring, and the air seemed to shimmer around her stinger as Marisol rubbed her eyes. There was Kalakos, too. No way Marisol could miss her. The colossal remipede was darting straight up at the Worm God, fangs pulled apart, mouth pried open and letting loose a low, tremendous rumble. No doubt both Eurypteria and Kalakos were ready to use their Swarmblood Arts, but the three of them simply weren¡¯t fast enough. The gently falling snowflakes seemed to freeze in place. The air became deathly cold, then it felt like nothing at all. Marisol couldn¡¯t feel her skin, her limbs, and the dying specks of lightning still crackling around her glaives. It was like time itself slowed to a crawl, and even the three Insect Gods became suspended mid-air, just inches before their claws, tails, and fangs could reach the Worm God. Then three things happened in quick succession, in this world of frozen time. [Swarmblood Art,] the Worm God whispered, [Worm Maw.] One. Marisol couldn¡¯t turn her head to look behind her, below the city, but the hundreds and thousands of civilians running down the main street above her fell through wormholes. There were exactly as many wormholes as there were civilians to be evacuated, and immediately, the main street became a lot less crowded. A lot less chaotic. Two. Even more wormholes opened right next to every Giant-Class and Mutant-Class, and these wormholes weren¡¯t the gentle, soft-swirling ones that¡¯d protected the civilians. No, these ones were violent. Living, hungry jaws. They connected to a bright, colourfully splendid place she couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of¡ªshe couldn¡¯t even comprehend what she was looking at as she stared straight into one of the wormholes¡ªand that was most likely the intended effect. The wormholes weren¡¯t meant for humans to stare at. They distorted, sucked in, and absorbed every bug they opened next to, and some wormholes ate up only a single bug. Others ate up five. A few of the larger wormholes ate up to fifty bugs, and it wasn¡¯t like the bugs were crushed and destroyed as the wormholes distorted them. Their killing pressures simply became¡­ muted, once they were sucked in and their colours mixed with the ones in their wormholes. Three. The Worm God cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and smacked the Insect Gods away. Unlike many Marisol knew to be very strong, the Worm God only had two arms. And there were three bugs to smack away. So he used his fists for the two human-like gods and one leg for Kalakos'' head. It was hard to tell just how much force he put into those strikes in a world of seemingly frozen time, but luckily, she didn''t have to imagine. Snow began falling gently again. Marisol felt dying lightning crackling around her glaives again. The wind returned. The sound of waves crashing against the shores returned. The low thrums of every wormhole across the city filled the air. Between the Insect Gods pouncing at the Worm God and them being knocked back the way they came¡ªthe three of them flying straight into giant wormholes in separate corners of the city¡ªtime may only have been frozen for less than a second, and Marisol was none the wiser about how much time had actually passed. Then, there was silence as the Imperators and Guards still left behind in the city looked up at him. He regarded all of them with a stoic gaze before snapping his fingers. It was just a simple snap to Marisol''s ears, crispy clear, but she whirled when she felt a disturbance in the seas surrounding the city. For the longest time¡ªever since she set foot on the island, really¡ªthe city had been surrounded by dark, stormy rings of clouds. ¡®Black Storm¡¯ was activated to prevent bugs from reaching the harbour, after all, but no amount of bright and relatively sunny days inside the city had ever made her forget that hundreds of warships and thousands of Harbour Guards were marooned outside the city, separated from their families. The longer it took for the Imperators to lift ¡®Black Storm¡¯, the worse it''d be for people who needed something they could only get inside the city. People who needed intensive care like Catrina. People who needed a vial of healing seawater like her. The Worm God decided to lift ¡®Black Storm¡¯ himself. In one, single snap, a circular gust of wind blew away the dark clouds. The storm was swept away. The snap affected the clouds and only the clouds¡ªthe distant warships docked in a solid line around the city didn''t even so much as wobble, let alone break formation. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. And when all was said and done, the only thing left for the Worm God to do was look straight down at the Whirlpool he was hovering over, eyes still closed. [... The rest is up to you,] he said, in an even, metallic tone of voice, but everyone heard him loud and clear. His voice didn''t ripple across the city or shatter windows or scatter debris or anything. He was just loud without being deafening, commanding without being overbearing. Like the Archive''s voice. [All one hundred fifty-two thousand seven hundred and sixty-eight civilians have been evacuated across two thousand one hundred and fifteen manned warships within a thousand kilometre range of the city. The only humans left on the island are able-bodied Imperators and Guards, as well as any auxiliary support staff vital to maintaining the base city infrastructure.] Marisol blinked. So did Reina. Maybe Victor did, too, but it was hard to tell under the bandages. The Worm God raised hand and pointed in three directions: north, east, and south, where the largest wormholes sat in their own corners of the city, warbling and thrumming like giant multi-coloured eggs just waiting to be hatched. [I have also sealed all twelve thousand there hundred and twenty-three Giant-Classes, three hundred and forty Mutant-Classes, and the three Insect Gods inside wormholes connected to a different space,] he continued, rattling numbers off like he was one hundred percent confident about them. [Inside the inter ''In-Between'' space, they will be tossed, twirled, shredded, and be continuously unmade and remade. I estimate about a third of the Giant-Classes will not emerge from their wormholes, but the rest will be able to claw their way out within a few hours to within a few weeks. Once they do so, you must be ready to confront them.] Then he looked pointedly at the three largest wormholes again, as though trying to place extra emphasis on them. [The Mutant-Classes and Insect Gods will stagger out of their wormholes one by one. Ignoring the Mutant-Classes, the order of their reappearance should be Rhizocapala first, then Eurypteria, and finally Kalakos,] he said, pointing north, east, and south in that order. [Beware Rhizocapala and Kalakos the most. I can already sense the two of them trying to break out of their wormholes. Does anyone have any questions they would like to ask before I depart for the abyss?] ¡­ Marisol almost wanted to laugh. He said that so plainly as if anybody would dare speak up to him, especially when he was so damned far away¡ª ¡°Hey, Enki!¡± Marisol perked her ears. She immediately turned to see Victor cupping his hands around his mouth, shouting at the top of his lungs. The Worm God heard, turned his head slightly, and immediately frowned with distaste. [What do you want, man? I¡¯m not... racing you... again....] But the Worm God trailed off as Victor crossed his cane over his chest, giving humanity¡¯s champion the most solemn salute Marisol had ever seen him give. In fact, she couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d done the Imperators¡¯ salute, if ever at all. [... Good luck, Whirlpool City.] [In the worst case scenario where I do not emerge from the whirlpool after two months, it is reasonable to abandon the city.] [It may be the Deepwater Legion Front¡¯s first and foremost bastion, but the city is not the end all be all.] With that, the Worm God dove straight down, shooting into the whirlpool with a massive, island-rumbling splash. Marisol couldn¡¯t immediately see what he was doing down there, but then there was another rumble, another low bellow, and a horrifying image formed in her mind: she recalled the Archive telling her the whirlpool was made out of the Worm God¡¯s hollow carcass, so maybe the Worm God was doing it again. Abandoning his human form and taking his colossal worm form to dive straight down to Depth Nine. What would he even do down there? Rescue the trapped Imperators? Fight Corpsetaker alone? Even if she had all the time in the world to think, she probably wouldn¡¯t be able to figure out the answer. She didn¡¯t have the time, in any case. A dozen wormholes sealing Mutant-Classes were still surrounding her and Reina, and if they could collapse at any moment, they had to be ready. Apparently, Andres agreed. Scattered all across the ravaged city, giant conch shells buried in rubble started to crackle. Marisol heard a small voice coming from the left, under a mound of burning debris, then she heard the same voice from the right, down the street, inside a caved-in building, and more. She¡¯d heard the conch shells used once before¡ªback when Captain Enrique traded shouts with the lighthouses on their way into the city¡ªand now it was being used again, broadcasting Andres¡¯ voice all across the city. ¡°Every Guard and Imperator, break into groups of five and report to either me, the Second, or the Fourth Lighthouse Imperator!¡± he shouted, his voice echoing out here and there, delayed in some places, garbled and incomprehensible in others. ¡°Right now, we are receiving reports from the Guards stationed outside the city that the civilians have all been warped and dropped onto the warships! We are free to ignore them! We¡¯ll deal with the Giant-Classes and Mutant-Classes that¡¯ll be staggering out of their wormholes over the next few weeks, so every time a wormhole is showing signs of collapse, I want soldiers there ready to respond!¡± Hearing confirmation that the civilians really had been evacuated was a huge weight off Marisol¡¯s chest. That meant she wouldn¡¯t have to run herself ragged trying to protect people and kill the bugs, because down the main street, just a few dozen metres away, she already spotted a few relatively small wormholes wavering. The glowing blue circles were dimming now and again. If that wasn¡¯t a sign the bugs inside were starting to claw their way out, she didn¡¯t know what was. So she immediately scrambled onto her glaives, clutched her broken ribs, wiped dried blood off her lips, and prepared to skate down at the collapsing wormholes¡ª Only to have her neck yanked back by the handle of Victor¡¯s cane. ¡°... The hell are you going, lass?¡± he muttered, shaking his head as she glared back at him, hissing in pain. ¡°You too, Reina. Get your asses down to Claudia in the Harbour Guard Academy. You fought Eurypteria, then a bunch of Mutant-Classes, and now you want to keep on going? Get some rest. There¡¯s a reason why Andres didn¡¯t tell anyone to report to you two.¡± Marisol clicked her tongue in irritation. The Archive rambled something similar in her head, but she tuned both of them out as she slipped under Victor¡¯s cane, drawing on her stamina once again. This time, though, it wasn¡¯t Victor who stopped her. Reina¡¯s scorpion tail wrapped around her wrist and jerked her to a halt the moment she tried skating down, and the two of them were locked in an awkward standstill as they both stared at each other, frowning for completely different reasons. Marisol wanted to go down and deal with the collapsing wormholes, but one look at Reina¡¯s worried, weary eyes made her soften almost immediately. They were tired. They needed rest. So she looked between Reina and the wavering wormholes, biting her lip, before deciding to shrug Reina¡¯s tail off and skate down towards the Harbour Guard Academy. She didn¡¯t look Victor in the eye. She didn¡¯t respond to the Archive. She listened as Andres¡¯ voice continued echoing through the conch shells as he dolled out more orders, watched as Imperators and Guards scrambled up and down the city to report to their nearest Lighthouse Imperator, and gritted her teeth as she passed by bloody limbs sticking out from mountains of snowy rubble. She only made sure to hold onto Reina¡¯s hand the entire way down, because she wouldn¡¯t know what she¡¯d do if she lost a real friend to the Swarm. Chapter 86 - Infirmary Marisol and Reina pushed downwards, weaving through the rubble-strewn streets and choking clouds of smoke. It was hard enough for Marisol already, trying not to get her glaives caught on the cracks in the ground. It was even harder trying to ignore the bodies littered across the upper and lower city alike, left behind during the mass wormhole evacuation. Maybe it¡¯d simply be too much to ask of the Worm God to warp away even the dead, considering what he was probably facing down in the whirlpool, single-handedly holding back the rest of the leviathans from breaching the surface. When the two of them reached the Harbour Guard Academy in the lower city¡ªthe giant chapel-like building dominating most of the eastern end of the city¡ªthey paused for a moment outside the giant doors, catching their breaths. The entrance adorned with banners of a nine-headed serpent was smeared with blood and grime, and the doors were already swung inwards. Imperators and Guards walked in and out, none paying either of them a passing glance. Marisol didn¡¯t want to go in for a second, but Reina, still holding her hand, pulled her up the stairs and into the building. The entry hall of what must¡¯ve once been the foyer of a pristine academy was now a battlefield¡ªa place where the war wasn¡¯t about killing, but about keeping people alive. Study tables had been dragged into haphazard rows, each occupied by bloodied Guards and Imperators. Some lay unconscious, faces pale and slick with sweat. Others writhed in pain, their voices breaking as medics worked frantically to stitch wounds or amputate limbs. Buckets of water, stained pink and red, were scattered across the hall, alongside blood-soaked bandages and discarded bits of armor. Tarps were pulled across the beds and every window was flung wide open to let in as much fresh air as possible, but still the place stank of death and misery. Marisol¡¯s stomach churned. If the Worm God hadn¡¯t warped all the civilians out, this place would be even more packed. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure as she let Reina drag her through the temporary infirmary. The metallic tang of blood and the sharp odor of antiseptics stung her nose. She wasn¡¯t trying to avoid anyone¡¯s eyes, but the flashes of mangled flesh and torn bodies were difficult to look at. ¡°... There.¡± Reina nudged her gently, pointing at two empty cots against the wall. ¡°We can¡­ take a break there.¡± They stumbled toward the beds, collapsing onto them without grace. For a moment, Marisol closed her eyes, letting the weight of her body sink into the cot. Her limbs felt like lead. Her head pounded in rhythm with her heartbeat. She clutched her broken ribs, winced, and gritted her teeth as she tried to tune out the rest of the groans and screams across the infirmary. Then a familiar voice cut through the haze. ¡°Well, well. Look who¡¯s awake this time.¡± Marisol¡¯s eyes snapped open to see Claudia standing between the two of their beds, her four thin shrimp antennae twitching as if in exasperation. Her white and blue-lined doctor¡¯s coat, once regal and elegant, was now splattered with blood, but her expression was still sharp despite the dark circles under her eyes. She didn¡¯t say it aloud, but Marisol really, really didn¡¯t want to talk to anyone besides Reina right now¡ªespecially not to a Lighthouse Imperator who could abandon a hundred people down in Depth Five without hesitation. ¡°... What?¡± Marisol muttered, irritation creeping into her tone. She lay her head back against the pillow, one hand resting on her forehead. She felt hot. Sticky. Sweaty. The best she could do was hope she¡¯d fall asleep and wake up, miraculously, with fully healed ribs. ¡°Each time ye¡¯ve been here, ye¡¯ve been out cold,¡± Claudia said, musing aloud as she bent down, popped open a box of medical supplies, and started rummaging through it for medicine to treat the both of them. ¡°I ain¡¯t never been here before.¡± ¡°Sure ye have. Three, maybe, four times now,¡± Claudia countered. ¡°There was that time when Victor first brought you into the city, that time when ye fainted after fightin¡¯ the pistol shrimps, that time when ye fainted after meetin¡¯ Rhizocapala for the first time, and that last time when ye fainted after ye met Eurypteria for the first time. One, two, three¡­ ya. Four times in total.¡± Marisol coughed painfully, scowling with her eyes squeezed shut. ¡°I¡­ ain¡¯t got no memory of any of that.¡± ¡°Well, ye always get transferred out onto a different bed before ye wake up each time. ¡®Sides, that¡¯s what being ¡®out cold¡¯ means. I¡¯d be more worried if ye remember everythin¡¯ I did to ye before ye woke up.¡± Claudia pulled out five rolls of clean bandages, turned to Reina, and her shrimp antennae started bleeding glowing blue blood all over Reina¡¯s bloody cuts, tears, and scrapes. ¡°Rest assured, though, that I¡¯m the one who¡¯s always been puttin¡¯ ye back together. My job¡¯s to tend to all of the Lighthouse Imperators.¡± ¡°Maybe you should go help someone who actually needs the help, then,¡± Marisol mumbled, ¡°and leave the two of us alone. Our injuries ain¡¯t gonna kill us. We can afford to¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m helpin¡¯ ye recover quicker so ye can get back out there quicker,¡± Claudia interrupted. ¡°So if ye¡¯ve got nothin¡¯ else to say, shut the hell up and let me do my thing.¡± Marisol didn¡¯t respond, her jaw tightening as Claudia finished bandaging Reina¡¯s wounds and turned to her. The Fourth Lighthouse Imperator¡¯s antennae glowed faintly as she activated her Swarmblood Art, and it had to be some sort of healing magic, because when her four shrimp antennae rubbed Marisol¡¯s sides and bled glowing blue blood, there was a warm but slightly invasive sensation. Like tiny needles stitching Marisol¡¯s torn flesh back together.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Claudia¡¯s glowing blood diffused through her skin, mended her broken ribs, and she gripped the edges of her bed with whitened knuckles the entire time. It was still a strange and eerie sensation, feeling someone else¡¯s blood flowing in her veins. She felt goosebumps all over her as her bones clicked back in place. ¡°... This is way overdue, I guess. I never actually formally introduced myself,¡± Claudia said, washing and disinfecting her smaller cuts and scrapes with a wet towel. ¡°I¡¯m Claudia, the Fourth Lighthouse Imperator. I oversee the Harbour Guards, train them while they¡¯re still in the academy, and then send ¡®em off to Hugo to train as Imperator initiates if I think they¡¯ve got potential to do some good in the whirlpool. I also work as a traumatic medic. I¡¯ve got the Cleaner Shrimp Class, and my Art lets me bleed onto people and heal them quickly provided the injuries are still fresh¡ªI ain¡¯t gonna be healin¡¯ someone who¡¯s had broken legs for the majority of their life.¡± Marisol had already figured as much. And she was going to ask if Claudia could heal ailments like what her mama has, but the Imperator answered that question preemptively. ¡°You know about my mama?¡± she mumbled, trying to breathe and relax and calm her pounding heart as Claudia¡¯s antennae continued rubbing all over her skin. ¡°I know most everythin¡¯ there is to know about ye,¡± Claudia said, shrugging nonchalantly. ¡°What ye did for the Captain Enrique and his Guards before comin¡¯ here¡­ the Guards still talk about it, ye know. The story of the ¡®Storm Strider¡¯ and her mad skate from the mainland shoreline to the docks of the Whirlpool City. I owe ye my thanks for protectin¡¯ as many Guards as ye did when that Mutant-Class skeleton shrimp caught us at a shitty time.¡± Then Claudia bowed slightly, and Marisol didn¡¯t know how to respond. The unexpected gratitude caught her off-guard. Now, she felt a bit¡­ immature, for having addressed Claudia with scorn. The medic had saved her life¡ªand plenty others in the city¡ªmany, many times before. If Claudia was also the Imperator in charge of the Guards, then, most likely, abandoning the hundreds of Imperators and Guards in Depth Five hit her even harder than it hit Marisol. She simply did what she had to do. Made the choice she had to make¡ªand, as a Lighthouse Imperator, she couldn¡¯t show any sort of dejection on her face now. She was just a more composed and measured lady than Marisol was. ¡­ Damnit. I¡¯m being an ass to the medic for no good reason. I shouldn¡¯t be here in the first place. I need to get back out there and¡ª ¡°But,¡± Claudia added, her tone sharp again, ¡°that don¡¯t mean I¡¯ll let ye run yerself into the ground in this state. Sure, we need every fightin¡¯ hand we¡¯ve got on the wormholes outside, but if ye can¡¯t even stand properly, yer just a liability. Both of ye are stayin¡¯ here until yer fully healed.¡± Reina groaned, shuffling and sitting up straight on her bed with groggy eyes. ¡°And¡­ how long until you can dismiss us?¡± Claudia glanced at the front door, grimacing at the few dozen wormholes still thrumming and warbling right outside on the main street. ¡°Until tomorrow mornin¡¯, at the very least,¡± she muttered. ¡°Yer bodies need at least that much time to recover after goin¡¯ at Eurypteria down in Depth Five. I imagine Andres will call for a meetin¡¯ with all the other Lighthouse Imperators tomorrow mornin¡¯ after we¡¯ve regained a foothold in every section of the city, too, so all ye¡¯ve got to do is rest here and wait.¡± But the sounds outside¡ªthe distant clashes, shouts, and the occasional roar of a bug clawing out of its wormhole¡ªcontinued gnawing at Marisol¡¯s nerves. Every second here felt¡­ wasted, almost. She hated this. Being stuck while others fought and bled. Healing was necessary, and she knew that, but it didn¡¯t mean she liked it. She shifted uncomfortably, her body protesting every small movement. She turned to glance at Reina on the cot beside her, and the Imperator, too, was leaning back with her arms crossed and eyes closed, lips tight with thought. I can¡¯t just sit here and do nothing, though. If there¡¯s something¡­ anything I can do to help¡ª Reina opened one eye suddenly, her sharp gaze cutting across the infirmary''s dim lighting. A pair of Imperators stumbled in through the entrance, each dragging a large, grotesque carcass of a Mutant-Class behind them. Marisol and Reina immediately recognised the carcasses. They were the crayfish and lobster Mutant-Classes they¡¯d killed before getting surrounded by a dozen other Mutant-Classes. ¡°... Thought we¡¯d bring these in, boss!¡± one of the Imperators said, wiping sweat from his brow as he tossed the Mutant-Class crayfish at Claudia¡¯s feet. ¡°Can¡¯t just leave ¡®em out there. Other bugs might eat them and get stronger.¡± Claudia grinned. ¡°Good thinkin¡¯. We can¡ª¡± ¡°We can eat them,¡± Marisol and Reina said simultaneously. Claudia and the two Imperators immediately whirled on them, evidently startled, but¡­ at the very least, Marisol wasn''t joking. The sight of the human-like crayfish sparked a mix of revulsion and interest in her¡ªmostly revulsion¡ªand her stomach practically churned at the thought of eating the disgusting parts of the crayfish, but she knew better than to let her squeamishness get in the way. [If you consume the entirety of the F-Rank Mutant-Class, you should be able to obtain a thousand points or so. Maybe even more.] [If you eat a few more Giant-Classes outside in addition to the Mutant-Class, you should have enough points to unlock a tier five mutation.] ¡­ She didn''t respond to the Archive as she swung her legs slowly off her bed. Reina did the same, and with a single look from her, the two Imperators gulped and dragged the carcasses between their beds. Then they hurried off, rejoining the fight outside. ¡°... Claudia,¡± Reina said, examining her lobster carcass with a critical eye, ¡°got any sweeteners? Sugar? Something to make this thing more edible?¡± Claudia gave her an incredulous look. ¡°Yer actually plannin¡¯ on eatin¡¯ it full?¡± ¡°We killed them. Might as well get stronger from them.¡± ¡°And ye don¡¯t wanna share the carcass with everyone else in here?¡± Marisol and Reina took one more good look around them, but, for her part, Reina didn¡¯t hesitate. She shook her head, moved her scorpion tail over, and severed one of her lobster¡¯s legs. ¡°Just this once,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re each eating one Mutant-Class. The whole thing.¡± Marisol smiled softly. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to join us, Claudia.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll pass,¡± Claudia said quickly, backing away with a wave. ¡°If eatin¡¯ the carcasses means ye¡¯ll be stayin¡¯ here until yer fully rested, then I ain¡¯t got any complaints. Just¡­ don¡¯t make too much of a mess, alright? There¡¯s other people here.¡± Reina nodded, and so did Marisol, a quiet determination settling in her chest. She¡¯ll rest reluctantly for today. Tomorrow, she¡¯d fight again¡ªand she¡¯d be leaving the infirmary with at least one tier five mutation unlocked. Chapter 87 - Rapid Rehydration The night stretched long and heavy in the infirmary. Distant cannon fire cracked through the darkness every minute or so, each shot punctuated by the guttural screams and roars of dying leviathans¡ªbut Marisol heeded the doctor¡¯s orders and stayed put, sitting cross-legged on her bed as she wiped her mouth and tossed the last marbled crayfish claw away. It was now eight in the morning. Sunrise. She¡¯d barely slept through the night. Maybe she got a bit of shut-eye here and there, but between the non-stop ripping, eating, and swallowing, neither she nor Reina got more than a few good hours of sleep. Now, she felt bloated. Achy. And undeniably victorious. The remains of the Mutant-Class crayfish lay scattered at the foot of her bed like the aftermath of a grotesque feast. Its chitin had been the worst part¡ªits texture was like chewing on splintered glass wrapped in rubber¡ªbut she¡¯d forced herself through it. Every bite had been a battle of sheer will, but she didn¡¯t care. Points were points, and she needed every last one she could get. She¡¯d even eaten a few Giant-Class crustaceans the Guards and Imperators brought into the infirmary in the middle of the night, because here, at least the bathroom was very close in case she needed to vomit. But she didn¡¯t vomit. Not even once. She felt like it now, but with the rising sun throwing a bit of warmth into the infirmary through the high windows, she was sure she¡¯d feel better in no time.
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: D-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: Charge Glaives] [Aura: 7,627] [Points: 1,502] [Strength: 7, Speed: 9, Toughness: 6 (+1), Dexterity: 6, Perception: 6 (+1)] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl: 6] [T2 Mutations | Filtrating Gills Lvl: 6 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl: 7] [T3 Mutations | Laminar Apiclaws Lvl: 5 | Streamlined Wings Lvl: 5 | Basic Setae Lvl: 2] [T4 Mutations | Spraying Discharge Lvl: 5 | Basic Sonar Lvl: 4 | Basic Underchitin Lvl: 4 | Basic Chitin Lvl: 4] [T5 Mutations | Surfactant Domain | Basic Vision | Rapid Rehydration | Segmented Flexion | Hydrokinetic Redirection] 1500P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: -200] [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: -100)]
¡­ And now I have enough for one tier five mutation. While the infirmary had quieted down over the night, the frantic chaos was starting to kick back up again. Medics bustled around, their faces drawn and exhausted, tending to the rows of injured Guards and Imperators who were starting to wake up and groan in pain. Marisol wasn¡¯t stupid. She knew there were going to be more injured people stumbling into the infirmary today, so damn if two of the very few beds were taken up by her and Reina. They were well-enough to stand already. Marisol had to pick a mutation to unlock, and fast. [All five tier five mutations are rather powerful, but if it is recovery speed and stamina you want, then ¡®Rapid Rehydration¡¯ would be the mutation to pick,] the Archive murmured. [As the name suggests, the mutation would allow your skin to passively rehydrate and absorb water, which means¡ª] Unlock ¡®Rapid Rehydration¡¯.
[T5 Core Mutation Unlocked: Rapid Rehydration Lvl: 1] [Brief Description: You have evolved tiny pores across your skin that allow you to passively absorb moisture from the air, keeping you constantly refreshed and boosting your stamina regeneration. Subsequent levels in this mutation will further increase your absorption rate, and at maximum level, you will no longer need to drink water unless you require immediate rehydration. There are no branch mutation options for this mutation] [Aura: 7,627 ¡ú 9,127] [Points: 1,502 ¡ú 2] [Grade: D-Rank Mutant-Class ¡ú C-Rank Mutant-Class]
A faint warmth spread through her chest, then faded, leaving her feeling¡­ lighter. Fresher. Like she¡¯d just taken a deep breath of clean air after being suffocated. It wasn¡¯t very humid inside the infirmary, but it was snowing outside. If Marisol were to skate outside right now, she¡¯d no doubt be able to feel the effects of her new mutation, so she sat up straight, rolled her shoulders, and swung her glaives off the bed. Just facing the entrance lifted the heaviness in her limbs and dulled the aches in her stomach to a manageable throb. The overstuffed feeling hadn¡¯t disappeared entirely, but¡­ it no longer felt like it was dragging her down.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Perfect. So this mutation just makes me feel refreshed all the time. As she curled her fingers and touched her sides lightly, checking to see if her ribs were still broken¡ªthey weren¡¯t¡ªReina sat up straight next to her as well, watching her with a raised brow. ¡°Did you unlock a new mutation?¡± Reina asked. ¡°Do I look different?¡± she said, turning her arms around and trying to see if her ¡®pores¡¯ were visible anywhere. ¡°I unlocked something called ¡®Rapid Rehydration¡¯. Supposedly, I ain¡¯t gotta drink water anymore, and it increased my aura by quite a bit.¡± ¡°I feel it.¡± ¡°You feel it?¡± Reina nodded. Marisol was curious. She wasn¡¯t sure what her own aura felt like from another person¡¯s perspective, but before she could ask Reina about it, footsteps shuffling from the front of their beds caught their attention. Claudia rubbed her eyes groggily as she walked between the two of their beds, her shrimp antennae twitching faintly, swaying in the cool morning wind blowing into the infirmary. "... Good to see ye¡¯ve made a right mess of yer little area.¡± Her tone was brisk, cutting through the fatigue still weighing on Marisol as she scowled at the remains of the two Mutant-Class carcasses. Marisol rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "Whatever. I¡¯ll ask someone else to clean up for ye. Andres and the others are at Lighthouse Seven, so head up there and meet with them." Reina frowned, tilting her head. "Are you not coming with us?¡± Claudia¡¯s face softened, though her tone remained firm. "Someone¡¯s gotta keep this place runnin¡¯. My medics are stretched thin, and the wounded keep comin¡¯, so I¡¯ll join y¡¯all once the infirmary is stabilised. Until then, yer gonna have to go without me." Marisol pressed her glaives into the floor, testing her strength and balance. The soreness in her muscles all over was gone, replaced by a renewed energy¡ªa healthy combination of rapid rehydration making her feel refreshed and Claudia¡¯s healing blood in her veins, most likely. She stood up and felt more solid than ever. ¡°Your Swarmblood Art¡¯s incredible,¡± she mumbled, glancing Claudia¡¯s way as Reina also slid off her bed, wrapping her scorpion tail around her waist like a sash. ¡°As long as I get to you while the wounds are still fresh, you can heal me?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t depend on it,¡± Claudia said curtly. ¡°I¡¯d rather not see anyone in my infirmary ever again.¡± Marisol shrugged. Then she made her way to the entrance with Reina, quite impatient to get out into the city again. The morning air was far cooler than it¡¯d been last night. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the clear blue sky¡ª¡®Black Storm¡¯ had been forcibly deactivated by the Worm God, after all¡ªand she winced the moment she skated outside, arm flying up to brace her eyes from the blinding light. Outside, the lower city sprawled before them in ruin. Most buildings still lay in utter shambles, though the main streets were cleared of debris and anything else impeding movement up and down the city. Smoke curled upward from scattered, mostly extinguished fires across the district, mingling with the morning frost and light drizzle. Marisol took a deep breath and counted the number of thrumming wormholes in the vicinity: a hundred or so of them. All relatively small wormholes sealing Giant-Classes. Marisol pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, the cold biting at her skin. Then she glanced at Reina and smiled faintly. ¡°Race you up to Lighthouse Seven.¡± Reina arched a brow, but Marisol didn¡¯t wait for a countdown. She shot forwards, air sucking into and ejecting from the back of her glaives as she launched herself up the main street. She nearly slipped at first from the snow, water, and rime that¡¯d frosted atop the street overnight, but then she sucked in another deep breath and activated Storm Glaives, running lightning through her blood. Her body instantly warmed up. Her glaives cut through the cobbled ground, slicing through bloody shells as she felt for the nearest upwards-drifting air current. ¡­ There. It didn¡¯t say so in the brief description, but with rapid rehydration opening more pores across her skin, she felt more¡­. perceptive. She felt a natural air current nearby almost immediately and skated along it, using it to boost her speed. She also felt, a few blocks over, a dozen or so wormholes collapsing in a back alley. I can afford to make a little detour. She rounded the nearest corner, shot through a few narrower streets, and then emerged into the alley where a group of Imperaotrs and Guards were already locked in combat with a small cluster of Giant-Class crabs. A few more were still clawing out of the wormholes, but the biggest ones were already out. She didn¡¯t slow. Her glaives flashed as she leaped over everyone¡¯s heads, and then she let her body move automatically, dashing and leaping between every Giant-Class crab only once to cleave them in half. Blinking twice, she landed back on the ground and felt as though she¡¯d barely used any of her stamina. She could still keep Storm Glaives activated, no problem. I¡¯m¡­ really, really refreshed, huh? What¡¯s this clarity of mind rapid rehydration is giving me? She didn¡¯t stop. She felt more wormholes collapsing in two, three, four different locations, all nearby, so she immediately formulated a route in her head and skated to each location with utmost speed. The Imperators and Guards she soared over gawked at her as she glided past, but it wasn¡¯t like she was going to rob them of their points or anything¡ªshe¡¯d already eaten more than enough of her fill, and if she had to eat any more bug meat for the next few days, she might just actually vomit. But she was strong. She was fast. And as she made her way up the city slowly, skating in zigzags to help deal with collapsing wormholes here and there, the realisation finally struck her: she¡¯d soloed the Mutant-Class crayfish yesterday. For the first time. Without warships or cannon fire softening it up, without another Lighthouse Imperator covering her back. She hadn¡¯t really thought about it during the heat of battle¡ªnor had she really registered it throughout the night while she was devouring it from head to toe¡ªbut that was a Mutant-Class she¡¯d killed like it was nothing. The Archive chimed in, ever eager. [Being able to slay an F-Rank Mutant-Class all by yourself is remarkable progress, considering it has only been eight months since you obtained your class.] [At C-Rank Mutant-Class, you are on the same level as the weakest Lighthouse Imperator.] [You have come very far since your first day as a bug-slayer.] ¡­ Marisol clenched her jaw and willed the Archive¡¯s voice away. She didn¡¯t need its validation. Not after Depth Five. By the time she reached the bottom of Lighthouse Seven, about half an hour had passed, and she screeched to a halt in front of Reina waiting for her by the entrance. There was a small, smug smile on the Imperator¡¯s face¡ªshe¡¯d beaten Marisol to the lighthouse, after all¡ªbut Marisol was more interested in turning around and looking down at the rest of the city. Standing five hundred metres above sea level, she could still very clearly see thousands of wormholes sitting in random sections of the city, as well as the largest wormhole resting smack dab in the middle of the upper city¡¯s residential district. That was Eurypteria¡¯s wormhole. Dozens upon hundreds of Imperators and Guards were already shouting orders at each other early in the morning, constructing emergency barricades, watchtowers, and mounting artillery around the wormhole in preparation of Eurypteria¡¯s reemergence. They definitely didn¡¯t have enough hands to go around dealing with the Giant-Class and Mutant-Class wormholes. In that sense, Marisol hoped she managed to help out a little just now, taking down a few dozen Giant-Classes on her way up here. ¡°... Come on,¡± Reina said, beckoning her into the lighthouse. ¡°We have to figure out how to actually deal with the siege.¡± Chapter 88 - Decision ¡°... Twenty-one thousand civilians dead and counting,¡± Andres finished quietly, slamming his mantis shrimp fists onto the end of the long table as he did. ¡°If not for the Worm God waking up and tossing every bug into the void with his wormholes, we¡¯d all be dead already. As it stands, however, the bugs trapped in his void aren¡¯t completely dead. The weaker ones are getting shredded by distorted space, yes, but everything about B-Rank Giant-Class will be crawling out of those wormholes one by one¡ªincluding our three Insect Gods.¡± Morning. Bright and early, the sky was painted a clear and beautiful blue, clouds thin and wispy above the island. Just because the Worm God had blown ¡®Black Storm¡¯ away didn¡¯t mean the eternal rain had stopped. A light drizzle still fell steadily across the burning city, and the air smelled of wet stone and ash. After all, the conference room at the top of Lighthouse Seven was completely exposed. The roof had been torn off sometime during the first wave of attacks yesterday. Rain soaked through everything¡ªthe long table in front of Marisol, the uniforms of the Imperators sitting and standing around her, and the broken glass shards scattered across the floor that clinked and cracked every time someone so much as shifted where they stood. For Marisol¡¯s part, she sat at one far end of the table, leaning against the armrest of her chair. While the Imperatrix recapped the events leading up to yesterday¡¯s ¡®Breach¡¯, she stared at the jagged edges of the ruined lighthouse, her thoughts somewhere far away. The fresh memory of the Worm God¡¯s overwhelming power gripped her, still¡ªas it did every Imperator standing or sitting with their heads hung low¡ªbecause they all knew what Andres said was true. If not for the clone of humanity¡¯s strongest, they would¡¯ve already lost the entire city. [The Worm God is fighting down in the whirlpool, still,] the Archive said, [and he is probably alongside Alonzo, the First Lighthouse Imperator, as well as every Imperator and Guard that had been left behind in Depth Five. Most likely, he is halting the advance of the rest of the whirlpool¡¯s leviathans and preventing them from breaching the surface.] [There will be no new leviathans breaching the surface as long as he remains, though I am unsure how long even he can last in Depth Five, in the den of our enemy.] Marisol pushed the Archive¡¯s voice aside. She didn¡¯t want to hear it. Didn¡¯t need its constant reminders of things she already knew. She clenched her fists against the table, forcing her focus back to the present. Then it was Reina¡¯s voice that broke the quiet. ¡°Confirmation reports have been sent and received via winged Moth-Class couriers,¡± she said clearly. She was sitting on Marisol¡¯s right, hands resting lightly on the wet table, but her scorpion tail was evidently agitated. It was twitching, contorting, the razor-sharp stinger pointing in the direction of Eurypteria¡¯s whirlpool. ¡°One hundred fifty-two thousand seven hundred and sixty-eight civilians have been evacuated onto two thousand one hundred and fifteen manned warships within a thousand kilometre range of the city. Even the reserve ships hidden in the outer islands that we never told the Worm God about are now boarded with civilians. Currently, Lighthouse Five has instructed the civilian warships to pull back towards the east, heading straight for the Harbour City on the mainland.¡± Hugo grimaced and leaned forward in his seat to Marisol¡¯s left, pulling his legs off the table. ¡°A few of my severely injured initiates from a few months ago have also been evacuated onto the warships, and they have sent me reports that there are¡­ complications with the evacuation. Multiple Mutant-Class bugs, including what appears to be an S-Rank Mutant-Class water strider, are attacking the fleets of ships as they¡¯re each heading towards the Harbour City on their own routes. Four fleets have already been sunk by the Mutant-Classes¡ªthat is forty-five ships and three thousand civilians already dead on the great blue.¡± Marisol stiffened. This was the first time she¡¯d heard of a water strider bug, and for it to be S-Rank Mutant-Class on top of that¡­ It was just one rank away from becoming an Insect God. A Water Strider God. And she felt she knew, rather well, how it was capable of destroying those fleets of ships. ¡°The Hasharana are helping defend as many fleets as they can,¡± Victor said sternly, standing next to Andres at the far opposite end of the table, both hands clasped on his walking cane. ¡°I¡¯ve told all twenty-one of them to pick three fleets each and escort them to the Harbour City. That¡¯s about seven hundred and fifty ships that¡¯ll definitely reach the mainland unharmed.¡± ¡°The Guards sailing those warships have also been told to put the civilians¡¯ lives over their own,¡± Hugo continued, nodding plainly. ¡°Their orders are to not stop for anything or anyone. If there is even a single civilian on board, they will sail to the Harbour City no matter what.¡± Then he turned to raise a brow at Andres, hoping for good news. ¡°And the reinforcements from the other Swarmsteel Fronts will arrive in¡­ time?¡± Andres narrowed his eye at all of them. ¡°It will take one month for every civilian-carrying warship to reach the Harbour City from here. We¡¯ve already received confirmation via Victor¡¯s Archive that reinforcements from the southern Attini Empire Front and the northwestern Plagueplain Front are on the way, but they¡¯ll only reach the Harbour City in a month.¡± Hugo clicked his tongue, making smacking noises with his lips. ¡°So, at best, they¡¯ll be in the Harbour City to help receive the civilians.¡± ¡°No reinforcements from any front can help us this deep out onto the great blue, anyways,¡± Victor murmured. ¡°They don¡¯t got water-type classes. They¡¯re as good as useless the further they stray from shore. Between the Hasharana escorts, the sailing Guards, and reinforcements from the other Swarmsteel Fronts, I¡¯d say the evacuees will be fine from here on out¡ªthose Mutant-Classes shouldn¡¯t give them much trouble as long as they¡¯re coordinated and prepared for attacks¡ªbut we¡¯re still in the Whirlpool City, and we ain¡¯t getting any help from the outside.¡± Then Maria, seated further down the table on the left, picked up her feathered quill and began writing in her notebook. Her scribbles were loud. Her hand moved in a blur. Everyone¡¯s head turned towards her, and the moment she finished writing, she held her notebook up for all of them to see. ¡®That¡¯s right.¡¯ ¡®We can¡¯t afford to care about the people outside the city right now.¡¯ ¡®Here and now, we have a decision to make.¡¯ Maria¡¯s written words hit everyone like a hammer, but she ran out of space on her notebook, so she had to pull it back down and flip to a new page before finishing her thoughts. ¡®Here and now.¡¯ ¡®Do we fight the bugs that¡¯ll crawl out of the wormholes one by one, or do we abandon the Whirlpool City and hold our ground on the mainland?¡¯ ¡­ And the murmurs began low and cautious, voices rising like ripples across a still pond. ¡°This is our home,¡± someone whispered, their voice tight. ¡°If we lose the Whirlpool City,¡± another muttered, ¡°Corpsetaker will have free reign over the Deepwater Legion Front.¡± ¡°And if we lose this city, the autocannons on the western seas will fall,¡± someone else added, their words sharp and unsteady. ¡°The city¡¯s factories are constantly supplying the cannons with shells and ammunition. We stop running the factories, and the Crawling Seas will overrun the entire great blue eventually. We¡¯ll lose the largest saltwater deposit in the entire world.¡± The room, damp and battered as it was, felt too small for all the fear and frustration swirling within it. Marisol¡¯s throat was dry, and her heart raced as she looked at the other Imperators. Most of them stood with crossed arms, leaning against the walls, their expressions carved from stone. Others were slumped or hunched, as if the weight of the decision ahead was already too much to bear. Of course, Marisol knew what losing the city meant. They all did. But Andres, standing at the end of the table with rain dripping from the hairs of his fur coat, finally exhaled and slammed his fist on the table once again. The sound snapped everyone out of their heads, pulling their gaze towards him. ¡°... Indeed, we will cede control over most of the Deepwater Legion Front if we abandon the Whirlpool City,¡± Andres said, his voice cutting cleanly through the rising tension as he gestured behind at the whirlpool, ¡°but it is also true that the Worm God is still fighting down there. A clone of the Worm God. A safeguard. His only purpose is to buy us time¡ªto make sure the civilians get out safely as he delays the rest of the leviathans from breaching the whirlpool. Do you think he can solve all our problems for us? Do you truly think he can beat Corpsetaker as he is right now?¡± Even Marisol knew better than to answer that one. It was a rhetorical question, no matter how much every man and woman in the room wanted to say ¡®yes¡¯. ¡°He cannot,¡± Andres said firmly. ¡°I will give him one month. He will be able to stave off Corpsetaker and the rest of the leviathans for one month, but then he will run out of stamina and be torn to shreds. If we do not want that to happen, we must reclaim full control of the city within a month and then reinforce him down there with the full might of the Guards and Imperators, thus stabilising the whirlpool once again¡ªand to reclaim full control of the city, we must be able to defeat over nine thousand Giant-Classes, three hundred and forty Mutant-Classes, and three Insect Gods in a single month. How many Imperators are present in the city, Hugo?¡± Hugo cracked his neck, muttering under his breath for a few moments before answering. ¡°Three hundred and one able-bodied Imperators,¡± he said. ¡°And about a thousand Guards, currently scattered across the city dealing with the wormholes. ¡° ¡°Less than a thousand and five hundred humans against all of them,¡± Andres finished, looking all of them over slowly. ¡°It will be a difficult battle, to say the least.¡± The room became silent. The air became heavy with the Imperatrix¡¯s matter-of-fact statement. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Victor broke the silence with a shrug and a sigh. ¡°You should vote, then,¡± he said. ¡°Get your voting cards out, Lighthouse Imperators.¡± Scowls spread across the room like cracks in glass, but none of the standing Imperators objected outright. Instead, one by one, the Lighthouse Imperators reached into their uniforms, each pulling out a whole deck of silver-lined cards. Marisol blinked. She¡¯d no idea what the cards were, but before she could glance over at Reina and ask, Maria slammed a card down on the table first: a frame with a four-armed man wielding four wands. The ¡®Magician¡¯. That was what the words read at the bottom of the card, but Marisol still had no idea what it was supposed to mean. Fortunately, Maria scribbled into her notebook harshly, backing up her card with a clear, indisputable message. ¡®I will not abandon my factories.¡¯ ¡®If we run, we¡¯ll no longer be able to produce ammunition for the autocannons in the far west, and if the cannons aren''t firing, screw the Whirlpool City.¡¯ ¡®There''d be nothing stopping the sea of aquatic bugs from washing over the western half of the Deepwater Legion Front.¡¯ ¡®We must fight.¡¯ As Maria made her stance clear, Hugo also slapped down a voting card. The words at the bottom of the frame read the ¡®Star¡¯, and the drawing was that of a bespectacled lady with wings swirling with electricity, soaring towards the night sky. Marisol only blinked for a few more seconds before the Archive clicked its tongue in her head. [I see.] [They are all playing cards depicting the Arcana Hasharana, and the numbers on the back of every card likely represent how strongly the Lighthouse Imperator feels about their decision.] [The ¡®Magician¡¯, ranked two of the Arcana Hasharana, likely means Maria wants to die fighting for the Whirlpool City, while the ¡®Star¡¯, ranked tenth of the Arcana Hasharana, likely means Hugo also feels like fighting for the Whirlpool City, but with a bit less enthusiasm.] ¡°I vote to fight, too,¡± Hugo said, his tone light but his eyes serious. ¡°Weak as I am compared to most of you, I like to think I¡¯m fiercely territorial. No way am I giving this city and all its history up without even trying to fight.¡± Reina joined in as well, tossing her ¡®Strength¡¯ card on the table¡ªranked third of the Arcana Hasharana, the Archive said. ¡°I also vote to fight,¡± Reina said firmly. Her words were clipped, her voice laced with a simmering anger. ¡°Eurypteria¡¯s still out there, and I am not leaving this city without settling the score.¡± And that was three votes. Three cards. Maria, Hugo, and Reina were the only Lighthouse Imperators in the room, because the other three were either dead, indisposed, or missing¡ªbut then Victor let out a long breath, rummaging in his coat pocket for a little while before flicking two cards into the centre of the table. [Justice, the Mantis Class swordsman, and Temperance, the Tsetse Fly healer. Ranked sixteenth and nineteenth of the Arcana Hasharana respectively,] the Archive mumbled. [But those cards are only given to Lighthouse Imperators. How does he¡ª] ¡°I went to visit Claudia and Matheo this morning for their votes,¡± Victor said calmly, tilting his chin at the two cards. ¡°Claudia says no. In her own words, the people matter more than the city, and the number of Guards and Imperators we¡¯ll have to sacrifice to hold the city won¡¯t be worth it. We¡¯ve already lost enough soldiers this past year. We might as well cut our losses and retreat to the mainland.¡± ¡°Claudia,¡± Reina breathed, ¡°you didn¡¯t tell me you¡¯d¡ª¡± ¡°I ain¡¯t finished yet,¡± Victor interrupted. ¡°Matheo, Matheo¡­ well, I know none of you have seen him in the past year, but I have. I went out to the warship he was on this morning and got his vote. In his own words as well, he doesn¡¯t show up for fights he doesn¡¯t think he can win, so he doesn¡¯t want to fight. End of story.¡± A low murmur of voices echoed until Andres reached into his coat and pulled out a card as well, throwing it on top of Victor¡¯s. [The Fool, ranked one of the Arcana Hasharana.] [The Imperatrix¡ª] ¡°I vote no as well,¡± Andres said, his voice calm and unyielding. ¡°We don¡¯t fight.¡± ¡­ For a moment, the room was silent. Then, like the crack of a whip, the outrage began. ¡°Fucking what?¡± Hugo¡¯s voice rang out first, sharp and incredulous, as his spider arms swiped the cards off the table. The noise swelled. Voices overlapped, rising in pitch and anger. The three Lighthouse Imperators at the table leaned forward, their faces twisted in disbelief, while the high-ranking Imperators standing along the walls exchanged dark glances. One of them stepped forward, his voice cutting through the din. ¡°You¡¯re giving up, Andres? You¡¯ve fought in worse battles than this!¡± Andres didn¡¯t flinch under the scrutiny. His gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on each face before he answered, measured but heavy. ¡°You think this is just another ¡®battle¡¯?¡± He gestured at the broken wall behind them, out at the distant fires Guards were still struggling to extinguish across the city. ¡°We¡¯ve just crawled out of Depth Five, bruised, battered, barely holding ourselves together, and now we must fight three Insect Gods, over three hundred Mutant-Classes, and over nine thousand Giant-Classes with less than a thousand and five hundred able-bodied soldiers?¡± ¡°But the city! It¡¯s the bastion of the Deepwater Legion Front! We abandon this place, and¡ª¡± ¡°If we fight, many will die. Even if we win, it¡¯ll be a pyrrhic victory with death so numerous the Imperators may never be able to recover as a bug-slaying organisation¡ªlet alone reinforce the Worm God down in the whirlpool so we can stabilise the city,¡± Andres snapped. ¡°Let me be clear: we won¡¯t be able to stabilise the city fast enough to reinforce the Worm God. My honest opinion is that this city is already lost. I don''t believe we can hold this losing ground any longer.¡± His words hung in the air like a funeral bell tolling over their hopes. Maria, who¡¯d been furiously scribbling in her notebook since Andres cast his vote, slammed her written message onto the table again ¡®You¡¯re the Imperatrix. The Lord of the Whirlpool City.¡¯ ¡®You would dare give up your domain?¡¯ Bandaged as her lower jaw was, Maria¡¯s glare could have melted steel. Around the room, other high-ranking Imperators¡ªmostly from Lighthouse One, Two and Three¡ªmuttered in agreement, their faces a mixture of anger and disbelief. But Andres let out a dry laugh, the sound hollow and bitter. ¡°This is the first time you¡¯ve called me ¡®Imperatrix¡¯, Maria. Do you think the title is a badge of honour?¡± Maria tried to scribble something again, but Andres slammed his fist down on the table for the third time today, and the entire lighthouse rumbled. Marisol almost fell out of her seat, though Victor, standing by his side, barely even faltered. ¡°I hold the title of ¡®Imperatrix¡¯ only because I have lived longer than most of you. Nothing more. Nothing less.¡± Then Andres pointed straight ahead, out at the great blue, towards the direction of the mainland continent. ¡°Some of you younger folk here may not know this, but let me remind you: Victor and I fought in the old war against the Swarm God alongside the Worm God, the Thousand Tongue, the Empress of the Attini Empire, and the first generation of wandering bug-slayers you now know and revere as the ¡®Hasharana¡¯. Back when the Swarm God and Corpsetaker threatened to sink the entire Deepwater Legion Front, do you know what we did? Have any of you taken to the history books I¡¯m sure Claudia has made you read back when you were trainees in the Harbour Guard Academy?¡± Hugo clenched his jaw. Reina lowered her head. The Imperators around the room took nervous steps back¡ªand it wasn¡¯t just Andres they were backing away from. Nobody could see Victor¡¯s face, but the old man with the walking cane was humming quietly to himself. ¡°... We gave up islands,¡± Andres continued. ¡°We gave up entire coastal towns, cities, and hundreds upon thousands of warships with much, much richer history than the Whirlpool City. We fought and ran away at the same time, patience our greatest virtue, and we waited until there was an opportunity to strike back¡ªuntil we located a certain volcano island we could trap Corpsetaker in. We bid our time. We bit our tongues and swallowed our pride. And we made those decisions back then while we were evacuating people from the Deepwater Legion Front, so look at us now. We don¡¯t even have to worry about evacuating civilians anymore, because the Worm God has already done that for us. With no lives at immediate stake right now, why are we still considering holding onto weak ground? ¡°We can retreat to the mainland. Rebuild our wall of cannons. We may be conceding half of the Deepwater Legion Front to Corpsetaker, yes, but the war is not yet lost. ¡°If we retreat, we can definitely hold at least our eastern half of the Deepwater Legion Front. ¡°But if we fight here and lose, the entire Deepwater Legion Front is over.¡± ¡°...¡± More silence. More tension in the air. Everyone looked discreetly between the Lighthouse Imperators and the Imperatrix, just praying for someone to break the silence¡ªto break the three-versus-three tie with an additional vote¡ªbut at some point, people started looking at Victor. Even the Lighthouse Imperators did. Even Andres did, throwing a glance over his shoulder. For his part, though, Victor simply stretched lazily, as though the weight of the conversation hadn¡¯t touched him at all. ¡°Why¡¯s everyone looking at me?¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯m half-retired. I aint¡¯ go no horse in this race.¡± His declaration of non-interference, delivered with such casual indifference, drew sharp looks from several Imperators¡ªbut Victor only smirked, tugging the bandages over his lips. Then he tapped his cane against the floor, grabbing everyone¡¯s attention again before pointing it straight at Marisol. ¡°Ask her,¡± he said simply. ¡°What does the ¡®Storm Strider¡¯ think?¡± Marisol froze. She¡¯d been trying to sink into her chair, but now, every eye in the room was on her. Her stomach churned, her palms damp as she instinctively clasped her hands together. ¡°... What?¡± she managed to whisper. Andres tilted his head back, his expression unreadable. ¡°I could use my veto power as the Imperatrix and force everyone to leave,¡± he said, ¡°but I won¡¯t. This is a vote, after all, and Marisol Vellamira has proven herself time and time again to be one who prioritises others over herself. You¡¯ve taken massive risks these past eight months, and those risks have all culminated in you being here today, sitting in that chair. If you had made even one wrong decision, you wouldn¡¯t be here in front of me right now.¡± Then Andres reached into his uniform and pulled out his deck of cards, tossing it onto the table. The deck slid to a perfect stop directly in front of her, not a single card flying off the stack. ¡°Fight or run,¡± Andres said curtly. ¡°Your call, Storm Strider.¡± ¡­ Marisol stared at the cards, her heart pounding in her chest. The room blurred at the edges as panic clawed its way up her throat. Her hands trembled as she bit her nails¡ªan old habit she hadn¡¯t indulged in years¡ªbut it was still suffocating in the room. Too little noise. Too much stillness. Her breathing hitched as she tried to steady herself. [The decision is yours,] the Archive whispered, calm and emotionless. That just made it worse. She looked around the room, searching for reassurance. Maria¡¯s fiery gaze burned into her, unrelenting. Reina¡¯s expression was taut, her lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn¡¯t noticed them before, but Helena, Aidan, Bruno also stood near the back, behind Hugo, and all of their arms were crossed, their faces taut with determination. Their expressions were loud enough. ¡®Don¡¯t run¡¯, they seemed to say. And then she thought of her bed-bound mama, still sick and waiting for her. She didn''t really care about the greater war between humanity and the Swarm. The stories of legends interested her, but she wasn''t a born and bred warrior. She could only care about the people she could see with her own two eyes. She didn''t really care whether the Whirlpool City itself could survive this siege or not, either, as long as the people were already evacuated. Buildings could be rebuilt. History could be remade. People couldn''t come back from the dead. If they could all set up their new headquarters in the Harbour City and make that their safe play, then she was all for it. ¡­ But her chest ached at the thought of returning to her little desert town empty-handed¡ªtelling her mama there was no healing seawater, no medicine, no dancing with her on two bare feet ever again¡ªand without her even noticing it, her fingers were brushing against the stack of cards. The silver-lined edges were rough against her skin. ¡­ She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, forcing the room to fade away for just a moment. She thought of her mama again. She thought of the people who¡¯d died, and the blood already bled into the very earth of the island. At the very least, she couldn''t let her mama join that pile of corpses. Not her mama. Her heart pounded in her ears as she pulled a card from the deck, and when she opened her eyes, the ¡®Chariot¡¯ stared back at her. Ranked seventh of the Arcana Hasharana. The drawing within the frame was that of a man with a feathered cap, perched atop the mast of a warship with one hand on a walking cane. Victor snorted as she threw the card over Andres¡¯, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°We fight,¡± she said, ¡°and we hold the city.¡± Most of the Imperators exhaled as one. Relief spread across most of their faces, though a few of the older Imperators still looked grim. Maria¡¯s glare softened, and Reina nodded faintly at her, though their expressions remained tight. Andres dipped his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. He wasn''t a tyrant who''d force everyone to go along with his plan, but somewhere in the deepest, darkest corners of her head, Marisol couldn''t help but wonder if he should''ve. ¡°... Very well,¡± he said lyplainly. ¡°Let us plan our defensive strategy, then.¡± Chapter 89 - Sparse Defence Two weeks crawled by, though it felt far, far longer than that to Marisol. Bright and early in the morning. Same old light drizzle that¡¯d never gone away. She stood perched on the dome of an old prayer building, the tip of her glaives threatening to stab through the already cracked glass. With strands of cooked crab legs in her hands, she was having her light breakfast all the way up here as usual. The texture had turned rubbery from being overcooked the night before, but it didn¡¯t matter. Food was food. She gnawed at the legs, forcing the faint bitterness down as she surveyed the chaos below. The streets swarmed with movement. Multiple Giant-Class crustaceans, armours glinting like polished bronze in the sunlight, crawled and tore their way out of wormholes every passing second. Pincers snapped at the air, echoing like iron traps slamming shut. Occasionally¡ªthough not frequent as of yet¡ªa Mutant-Class would also rip out of its wormhole to join its weaker brethren. One of them, a hulking human-shaped crab with serrated claws, emerged from a distant wormhole about two hundred metres in front of her. She felt its aura. She saw it with her own eyes. Its carapace gleamed with algae-green streaks, and barnacles encrusted its back like trophies. The thing turned, crushing an abandoned market stall beneath its massive legs, and Marisol was about to move when she spotted Reina dashing into the air before driving her scorpion tail through the Mutant¡¯s chest. The Mutant fell, and the tiny Imperators and Guards that¡¯d been assigned to deal with it jumped out of the way before it could crush them flat. Tch. Beat me to it. Marisol continued chewing idly, her gaze wandering over to other wormholes. It was pointless to keep count of how many wormholes had opened the past two weeks. A few hundred? A few thousand? At least five hundred Giant-Classes had already poured through the wormholes the past two weeks, and their rate of emergence was increasing rapidly by the day. Soon, even the Mutant-Classes would be popping out more frequently, and they¡¯d be just as numerous as the Giant-Classes. Were the Imperators and Guards prepared for the Mutant-Classes? Her gaze shifted to the defensive outposts dotting the city. Hastily constructed, barely adequate, but fiercely defended nevertheless. Dozens of cannons lined giant metal barricades surrounding each known Mutant-Class wormhole, stacks of gunpowder barrels blackened with soot. Spike traps and makeshift walls turned entire streets into narrow kill zones. Smoke billowed from a trench near one of the wormholes, where Guards had set something on fire. A Mutant-Class, most likely. But there were only three hundred Imperators and a thousand five hundred Guards to hold the entire city, and there were over three hundred Mutant-Classes still trapped in their wormholes. She didn¡¯t need to do the math to know they didn¡¯t have enough manpower. Each Imperator had been paired with three Guards, forming teams responsible for looking after specific wormholes. Divide and conquer. Or maybe just divide and die slower. Her jaw tightened as she remembered what Victor said two weeks ago: they weren¡¯t going to get any help from the outside world. This fight for the Whirlpool City would be theirs, and theirs alone. ¡­ Her eyes drifted to the Insect God wormholes. Three of them, scattered across the city like colossal, malignant tumors. They hadn¡¯t even shown any signs of wobbling or collapsing yet, but the ground around them pulsed and trembled as though the Insect Gods were just about to claw their way out. For that reason alone, most of the Imperators and Guards were stationed around them, and their fortified outposts were much better equipped than the ones surrounding the Giant-Class and Mutant-Class wormholes. There were thirty Imperators and a hundred Guards stationed by the Insect Gods at all times. Frankly, Marisol didn¡¯t think those numbers were even close to enough. F-Rank Barnacle God, Rhizocapala, anti-army specialist. E-Rank Water Scorpion God, Eurypteria, anti-personnel specialist And D-Rank Remipede God, Kalakos, anti-city specialist. She rolled their names over and over in her mind, tasting their weight. The Imperators apparently knew what Rhizocapala and Kalakos¡¯ Swarmblood Arts were, but still, they had no idea what Eurypteria was truly capable of. They¡¯d never seen her or any Mutant-Class water scorpion using their magic. It was the reason why Reina, with the Water Scorpion Class, couldn¡¯t use her magic as well, given she didn¡¯t know what magic the water scorpions had. Marisol had been told time and time again that she was an anomaly¡ªshe¡¯d figured out the Water Strider Class¡¯ magic with pure intuition alone, after all, and that simply wasn¡¯t something Reina could do at the moment. What Marisol could do at the moment, though, was get as many points from the wormholes as possible. She wiped the crab grease from her fingers, tossing the empty chitinous shells into the narrow alley below, and slid off the edge of the roof. Her glaives sliced into the wall as she skated straight down, and she picked up speed, momentum¡ªshe skated ten metres down, and then she took off along the debris-strewn roads of the city¡¯s eastern residential district. All Imperators and Guards who¡¯d been stuck into teams had streets and districts assigned to them¡ªthey were responsible for all wormholes in that area¡ªbut Marisol was no Imperator. Nor was she a Guard. The Hasharana were always allowed to move independently, and owing to the extremely dire situation, the equal distribution had been lifted. She didn¡¯t have to share any points she could obtain from bugs she slayed. She still did, of course¡ªand she¡¯d be sharing them to those who really needed to get stronger today as well¡ªbut she didn¡¯t have to. Nobody could tell her what to do, so today, as usual, she was going to help out wherever she could. Her first stop was a narrow plaza where ten Guards and two Imperators were locked in a brutal, noisy fight against a group of four Giant-Class crabs. Their armours were cracked, their movements were sluggish. Out of water, they weren¡¯t as nimble with their oversized weapons, and it was all the two Imperators could do just to keep the Guards from getting crushed by the giant crabs. Marisol didn¡¯t hesitate. She surged forward, glaives carving sharp arcs against the cobbled stone. The nearest crab turned its eye stalks toward her just in time to see her twirl and leap¡ªthen she soared ten metres through the air, her glaive slicing straight down its head with a sickening crunch. The crab let out a keening wail, its massive claws spasming as it collapsed. She landed and spun, already zipping toward the second, third, and fourth crab. They lunged at her, claws snapping at her head, but they weren¡¯t even close to reaching her. She ducked low, skating beneath their bulk, and drove her glaives upwards. She stabbed out the second crab¡¯s abdomen. She severed the third crab¡¯s legs. She bashed her knee into the fourth crab¡¯s face, knocking it back into a building, and then she turned to check on the injured Guards. Only one of them was lying on the ground, clutching his side with blood seeping through his fingers, but he¡¯d be fine. Probably. The others were already rushing to his aid, while the two Imperators gave her simple nods of acknowledgement. For her assistance, she ¡®taxed¡¯ two giant crab legs from them, and after sharing a meal cooked under the shade of a giant crab¡¯s shell, she waved the men farewell so she could find more meals walking around. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The day wore on just like this, in blurs of blood and steel. For every battle against a Giant-Class she intruded upon, she¡¯d partake in a small meal with the soldiers in question, taking just a small bite here and there before leaving the rest to the actual soldiers. She fought all things. Crabs, beetles, sluggish lobsters too big to even fit through some of the smaller alleyways. None of them posed a challenge¡ªthey were still only B and A-Rank Giant-Classes. It¡¯d be a lot more difficult skating around just helping out wherever she could once the S-Rank Giant-Classes started pouring out in droves. Eventually, like most days, she lost count of how many Giant-Classes she¡¯d killed. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the city was bathed in the warm, dusky glow of twilight, and all she knew was that her body ached. Her glaives were sticky with dried blood. Her ears buzzed with exhaustion, but she didn¡¯t stop riding the winds until she found she¡¯d unconsciously skated to the Harbour Guard Academy in the lower city. She blinked. She looked at her status screen, popping up next to her head.
[Points: 675]
Then she looked down at herself¡ªat her bruises, dried cuts, tattered clothes¡ªand figured she may as well go in now since she was already here. I brought myself here out of habit, huh? How many times have I visited the infirmary these two weeks? Hopping up the stairs to the front entrance, the foyer of the academy that¡¯d been turned into a makeshift infirmary was dimly lit, its cots filled with wounded Guards and Imperators. Not as many as two weeks ago, when the leviathans first breached the whirlpool, but there were still enough injured around that the medics couldn¡¯t really catch a break. She spotted Claudia treating a patient in the distance, and so did Claudia sense her presence, glancing around as she entered. ¡°Ya look like hell,¡± Claudia said idly, motioning for Marisol to sit nearby. Marisol dropped onto one of the empty cots with a wince, leaning back as Claudia finished bandaging the other patient. ¡°It ain¡¯t too bad,¡± she muttered, hauling her glaives onto the bed as well. ¡°You don¡¯t gotta attend to me, anyways. Just let me¡­ sit here for a while. Catch my breath. Rest my legs. I¡¯ll be outta your hair in¡ª¡± ¡°Yer gettin¡¯ hurt a lot more lately,¡± Claudia interrupted, her tone reproachful as she walked over and pressed a blood-soaked cloth to a jagged cut on Marisol¡¯s arm. ¡°How many did ya kill today?¡± Marisol tilted her head back, mulling about it. ¡°About¡­ fifty? Maybe sixty?¡± ¡°Reina dropped by an hour ago. She said she killed seventy-one.¡± ¡°Damn. I need to go back out, then¡ª¡± ¡°Ya don¡¯t act like ya¡¯ve got a mama waitin¡¯ for ya back across the sea,¡± Claudia said quietly, pushing her back against the pillow as she tried getting up. ¡°Look at me, Marisol. Eyes as wide ya can make ¡®em.¡± Marisol stiffened, clenching her jaw as she fixed her gaze on Claudia¡¯s ocean blue eyes. Claudia pursed her lips, scowling in a way that made her look like anything but a medic. ¡°Ya¡¯ve got bags under yer eyes, girl,¡± Claudia said, shaking her head as her expression morphed into a look of half-anger, half-heartache. ¡°What are ya, five? If ya don¡¯t sleep properly¡ªat least six hours a day¡ªya ain¡¯t replenishin¡¯ nearly enough energy to be doin¡¯ what ya¡¯ve been doin¡¯ these past two weeks.¡± ¡°I know¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯ll all be for nothin¡¯ if ya die here, Marisol,¡± Claudia said sternly. ¡°Absolutely nothin¡¯.¡± And for a long moment, Marisol didn¡¯t respond. The only sounds were the soft crackles of hanging gas lamps and the murmuring groans of the injured in the infirmary. ¡°... It was my vote,¡± Marisol said finally, her voice low. ¡°I¡¯m the reason we stayed to fight. I chose this for everyone, so I have to fight harder than anyone else.¡± Claudia¡¯s hands and antennae stilled, her gaze searching Marisol¡¯s face. The medic opened her mouth as though she had something to say, but¡­ nothing. She simply resumed scrubbing Marisol¡¯s body with her glowing blue antennae, her magic blood slowly knitting all wounds close, and for Marisol¡¯s part? She was quite certain Claudia didn¡¯t really feel like arguing with her, either. After all, Claudia had voted against them fighting for the Whirlpool City, and looking at the bedbound men around the infirmary, Marisol couldn¡¯t say with one hundred percent confidence that she¡¯d made the right choice for all of them. The moment she¡¯d cast her vote, every death that¡¯d occurred in this city the past two weeks was her doing. They could be on warships right now, sailing towards the mainland continent, but instead, they were mounting a terribly sparse defence against overwhelming numbers. Did she regret her decision already? She hadn¡¯t had enough time to stew in the deaths yet, so she couldn¡¯t say. But would she grow to regret her decision in the future? ¡­ She didn¡¯t want to. So she had to fight harder than anyone else. Besides, a Sand-Dancer lived on the very edge of their feet. She¡¯d rather exhaust herself and bleed herself dry, then drag herself into the infirmary every single day than to leave even an ounce of energy in her by the time she fell asleep¡ªenergy that could be used for slaying giant bugs. She had that much determination, at least. And Claudia knew it, too. ¡°... Don¡¯t fight for the rest of the night. At least take tonight off, and go visit Maria and her Symbiosteel factories on the west end of the city.¡± Claudia sighed, tying off the last of her forearm bandages and giving her shoulders a light pat. ¡°Eating too much bug meat is giving ya food poisonin¡¯, so lay off the crabs for a week. Or maybe even two. In the meantime, ya can still get stronger another way.¡± Marisol blinked, surprised by the suggestion. ¡°Low-rank Symbiosteel,¡± Claudia finished, turning away to attend to a different patient. ¡°Even if they ain¡¯t made out of water strider parts, low-grade Symbiosteel won¡¯t drain too much aura for ye, and they¡¯ll give ya a few more attribute levels. I¡¯m sure ya ain¡¯t spendin¡¯ any of yer points on raisin¡¯ yer attributes right now, right?¡±
Claudia was right. Her glaives scraped softly against the uneven ground as she skated through an abandoned western district, the street illuminated by moonlight spilling between jagged ruins. The air was cooler now, but the distant screeches and roars of bugs and cannons were still incessant well into the night. She¡¯d considered spending her points on increasing her perception level many, many times the past two weeks¡ªif not only because she wanted to be able to respond to cries for help quicker¡ªbut she¡¯d held off each and every time, because she was so, so close to unlocking another tier five mutation, and she didn¡¯t feel like getting branch mutations for either of her tier four chitin mutations right now. She wanted something new. A completely new ability that¡¯d put her mind back in the right place. And by tomorrow morning, she should have enough points accumulated for a tier five¡­ so maybe it was okay, as Claudia said, to take at least one night off. Her gaze wandered across the destruction as she headed to the far west. Crumbled buildings leaned against each other like weary soldiers, broken windows staring into the night like empty eyes. Streets once bustling with life were now graveyards of twisted steel and scattered debris. Her chest tightened as she slowed her pace, her eyes tracing the wreckages, worried she might stumble upon a corpse or two. I¡¯ve got no idea where Maria¡¯s factories actually are, though. Ahead, a collapsed watchtower loomed like a broken spine, casting long shadows across the ruins. A status screen popped up in the corner of her vision, attempting to display a map of the city, but she waved it away with a sharp thought. I don¡¯t need your help, either. [Marisol¡ª] Shut up. Her frustration grew as she skated deeper into the abandoned district. Every corner she turned seemed to lead her further into desolation. The silence was oppressive, but the worst of it was the emptiness¡ªthe absence of bugs and soldiers alike, as if the district itself had been forgotten. She knew she was close to the factories, but unless they started pumping columns of smoke through high chimneys, she¡¯d have to be within a few blocks before she could hear the sounds of heavy machinery. She came to a halt at a wide intersection, where the ground had been scorched black and littered with jagged shards of chitin. She looked left, right, back, and forward. The buildings in the abandoned district all looked the same to her. ¡°... And how, exactly, does a registered Hasharana get lost in the most mapped city on the entire continent?¡± A voice cut through the stillness like a knife, and she whirled around, scowling as her eyes darted upwards. On the edge of a half-collapsed rooftop, silhouetted against the moonlight, stood the old bandaged man in a feathered cap. His posture was casual, one hand resting lightly on the head of his walking cane. Her scowl deepened. ¡°None of your business.¡± Victor tilted his head, the faintest smirk curling the bandages on the corner of his lips. ¡°It is my business,¡± he said, ¡°if my pupil is moping around because she¡¯s too weak to carry the weight of the entire city.¡± Marisol opened her mouth to snap back, but her words died in her throat as Victor raised his other hand. Her muscles tensed. Her eyes twitched. Dangling from his grip was a ghost crab, its half-translucent carapace shimmering faintly in the moonlight. It wasn¡¯t just any ghost crab, though. The crab¡¯s size and distorted, grotesque human-like features marked it as a Mutant-Class. Judging by its killing pressure¡ªeven without the Archive telling her¡ªshe immediately figured it was D-Rank, maybe even bordering on C-Rank. Its spindly arms and legs flailed weakly, and its claws snapped uselessly in Victor¡¯s iron grip. It just couldn¡¯t decapitate Victor, but Marisol? Before she could skate back slowly and put some distance between her and the old man, he leaned forward and hurled the Mutant-Class crab at her. ¡°Came across this little pest while I was on my way to my favourite sleeping alley,¡± he drawled, his tone almost bored. ¡°Thought I¡¯d let it kill you.¡± Chapter 90 - Forgiveness The Mutant-Class crab crashed into the street with an ear-splitting crack, its monstrous body denting the cracked pavement, but it didn¡¯t fall like any normal giant bug would. Dust and bits of shattered stone sprayed outward as it snapped its claws at Marisol¡¯s neck, trying to kill her even as Victor chucked it down at breakneck speed. Marisol¡¯s eyes widened, and she immediately pushed back, skating on instinct. The sharp whine of her glaives scraping the ground punctuated her pulse hammering like a drumbeat in her ears. ¡°... The hell is this, old man?¡± she shouted, snapping her gaze to the roof where he¡¯d stood moments before. Anger and confusion burned in her chest, but the roof was already empty. He wasn¡¯t there. Of course he wasn¡¯t there. She narrowed her eyes and looked around quickly. The abandoned district was¡­ well, abandoned. Dead. Silent except for the crab¡¯s menacingly grinding mandibles as it clawed onto its feet, its pale white shell absorbing and distorting moonlight into fractured patterns across its human-like body. It had two legs, six arms sprouting from its back, and two relatively normal-sized claws where its human hands should be. It wasn¡¯t that much bigger than her, either. Standing at only two metres tall, it was by no means more menacing than the Imperator siblings with their massive shockwave-producing pistol shrimp claws¡ªbut its appearance was deceiving. It didn¡¯t paint the full picture. Its aura was something else. Its killing pressure was something else. It¡¯s gotta be D-Rank, at least. She grimaced, biting her lip and trying to stop herself from quivering. Its aura ain¡¯t no joke, and if it had the reaction time to try to snap at my neck even when it was being flung down by the old man, it may even be bordering on C-Rank. [It is a C-Rank Mutant-Class ghost crab,] the Archive affirmed. [Displaying identification information now¡ª] But the Archive did no such thing. It had no time. The Mutant lunged in, one of its claws carving through the air like a blade, and Marisol¡¯s body moved before her mind caught up. Her legs pushed her back into a sharp dash. Its claw slammed into the ground in front of her as she skated in circles around it, her breaths sharp and uneven. It¡¯s fast, alright! But let¡¯s see if you can keep up with this! She drew in a deep, heavy breath. Her body heated up. Her blood crackled faintly, bubbling in her veins. Pinkish-blue lightning crackled across her glaives as she activated her Swarmblood Art, boosting her speed, boosting her power¡ªshe¡¯d try to kill the crab in a single hit. The Archive buzzed in her mind. [Caution. It is a C-Rank Mutant-Class ghost crab, and you are only C-Rank Mutant-Class. At equivalent grades, a full-speed head-on charge is inadvisable.] She didn¡¯t hear anything. Her focus was steady, her eyes were burning with energy. The abandoned district blurred at the edges of her vision as the crab turned around slowly, trying to track her speed, its legs clattering as if attempting to reposition. But there was nowhere for it to run. With a sharp turn, she skated inwards. Sparks flew as she twisted, pivoted, and launched into the War Jump, the air crackling with static from her glaives as she kicked out at its chest. Right before contact, though, the crab disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Marisol blinked. Her momentum carried her through empty air, her glaives slicing cleanly through nothing, and she screeched to a halt with her knees buckling slightly from the force. ¡­ What? Where¡¯d it go? Her senses shuddered. Her danger instincts flared. The wind current to her left shifted just slightly out of place, and she caught a shimmer of movement. She barely twisted out of the way as the crab reappeared behind, its claw snapping at her head with lethal intent. The killing pressure alone was enough to sting her skin, make her mind race. It¡¯s using a Swarmblood Art. What is it? Her pulse spiked as she watched the crab vanish into thin air again, its translucent carapace fading seamlessly into the night. The stillness that followed was suffocating, her breathing loud in her ears as she scanned the ruins for any sign of movement. Her senses told her nothing. Her danger instincts were flaring. The currents were every bit as slow and cool and gentle as they were¡ªright up until they weren¡¯t. The crab struck again, materialising just long enough to swipe at her from behind before vanishing once more. She managed to dodge by a hair¡¯s breadth again, but as she skated deeper and deeper into the abandoned district to put more distance between them, she gritted her teeth, frustration building. The bug was toying with her. Before it could reappear again, she activated spraying discharge, expelling a burst of air around her. A thin mist of ash billowed outward, swirling in the moonlight as it spread across the street, the buildings, and smothered her in a bubble of smog. Her eyes darted through the haze, searching for even the faintest outline of a moving crab, because even if it was invisible, there was no way it wouldn¡¯t push the mist out of the way just to get close to her. For a moment, she thought she saw a ripple¡ªa faint distortion in the mist¡ªbut when she reacted first and kicked, she hit nothing. The ripple disappeared as quickly as it came. ¡­ It¡¯s moving incredibly slowly when it¡¯s invisible, she realised. It¡¯s only moving fast when it¡¯s not invisible to throw me off with its alternating speed. Her frustration deepened, mingling with the ache in her limbs and the sharp sting of her earlier wounds. She was tired, and it was starting to show. When the crab reappeared again, this time directly in front of her, she threw herself to the side. The motion was so abrupt it sent her skidding across the pavement. Her glaives carved twin gouges into the ground as she scrambled back, her heart pounding in her chest. I can¡¯t¡­ keep this up. The crab vanished again, and she didn¡¯t wait to see where it¡¯d reappear. Instead, she turned and bolted, skating across the street, round a corner, and then leapt through a large window with her arms bracing her face. Glass shards sliced at her skin as she tumbled inside, but she ignored the pain, rolling to absorb the impact before sliding to a halt behind a thick stone pillar. She¡¯d jumped herself into an abandoned warehouse, it seemed. Stacks of dusty crates and rotten wooden pallets surrounded her on all sounds, and were it not for the giant holes in the ceiling letting moonlight pour in, she¡¯d be completely blind in the musty old place. None of the gas lamps were on. Her chest heaved as she pressed her back against the pillar, deactivating Charge Glaives so she wouldn¡¯t make any light and draw attention. Fear clawed at her heart, raw and visceral. Sweat clung to her brow, mixing with the grime and blood from earlier skirmishes. Every breath came with a sharp twinge of pain. Claudia had healed most of her more serious wounds, but in the Lighthouse Imperator¡¯s own words, she didn¡¯t have an inexhaustible supply of healing blood. She didn¡¯t heal most of Marisol¡¯s smaller cuts, tears, and scrapes. That was fine with Marisol, because she could just bandage them like everyone else, but¡­ all this running and jumping around was making her old wounds open again, dyeing her bandages a wet, sickly rouge. And she didn¡¯t know how to get the crab to show itself. She had no idea what to do as she listened to the Mutant punching through building after building outside, following her scent. ¡°... Tired already?¡± Her eyes snapped wide open, and her apiclaws shot out instinctively, but the voice was familiar¡ªand it was the last voice she wanted to hear right now. She turned her head slowly to see the alop sitting casually atop a stack of crates a few strides away. His legs swung back and forth, his cane resting across his lap, and¡­ he was munching on a box of cookies. She recognised the logo on the box. She¡¯d visited the store once, but there was no way it was still open, so he must¡¯ve robbed the place. That aside, she scowled and pressed the back of her head against the pillar, inhaling a deep breath through her nose. ¡°What do you want, old man?¡± she muttered. He smirked, leaning back on his arms. ¡°You¡¯ve been pushing yourself for two weeks straight¡ªrecklessly, I might add¡ªfighting like you¡¯ve got something to prove to someone. I¡¯m curious. What¡¯s it all for? Who are you punishing?¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Marisol clenched her jaw, but she didn¡¯t answer. Victor took that as his cue to continue. ¡°You think it¡¯s because of you that we¡¯re all still here.¡± He tilted his head, studying her. ¡°You really are something, you know that? You were the deciding vote, sure, but we all chose to stay. We¡¯re here because we want to be, because that¡¯s what it means to be an Imperator¡­ and that¡¯s what it means to be a Hasharana, Storm Strider.¡± She flinched at the title. She still didn¡¯t like it. Not one bit. It made her more than the speed-loving Sand-Dancer she was¡ªit made her a hero with responsibilities, and she hadn¡¯t come all this way to defeat the Swarm or anything. All she wanted was to sand-dance with her mama once again, not¡­ be the ¡®Storm Strider¡¯ or anything. Victor leaned forward, his gaze steady and unflinching. ¡°Even the men we had to leave behind in Depth Five knew what they were signing up for years ago. Just like you were prepared for death when you received your system from Antonio. What happened in Depth Five ain¡¯t the first time you¡¯ve made a difficult choice, your deciding vote ain¡¯t the second time you¡¯ve made a difficult choice, and the next choice you make ain¡¯t gonna be the third, nor the last. You gotta toughen up. This ain¡¯t even a real war yet. In times like these, you gotta stop pretending you can do it all alone and work with everyone more than ever before. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. ¡°Says the Hasharana,¡± she said, her voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion. Victor raised a brow. ¡°What¡¯d you say?¡± ¡°You¡¯re a Hasharana,¡± she said, her words trembling. ¡°You said it yourself a long time ago¡ªyou never worked well with people. A Hasharana operates alone. We¡¯re wandering bug-slayers who slay giants and hogs all the points we obtain. Why shouldn¡¯t I fight alone now, huh?¡± ¡­ The air grew still, Victor¡¯s smirk fading into something more solemn. For a moment, he didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t speak. Then, without warning, he vanished from the top of the crates. Marisol didn¡¯t blink. She wasn¡¯t startled by the sudden emptiness. She¡¯d seen him vanish many, many times before, so when he reappeared beside her¡ªsitting on the ground with his back against the pillar, cane resting against his shoulder¡ªshe wasn¡¯t at all surprised by his speed. ¡°... When I was younger,¡± Victor began, ¡°I travelled with Enki and Zora for¡­ ah, that ain¡¯t right. When I was younger, I travelled with the Worm God and the Thousand Tongue for a bit, when they first came to the Deepwater Legion Front three or so decades ago.¡± Marisol turned her head slightly, her curiosity piqued despite herself. ¡°Back then, I was the first person to use my class,¡± he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°My mother was the one who made it. Designed and forged it using the parts of a particular Mutant-Class bug that¡¯d washed up dead on the shore of our little island in the middle of nowhere. I was fourteen when my mother operated on me to help me survive the system integration, and for a long, long time, I slayed giant bugs in one particular strait of the Deepwater Legion Front all by myself. All alone.¡± He tapped his cane lightly against the ground, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet space. Marisol frowned, unsure where he was going with this. ¡°For the longest time,¡± he continued, his tone growing heavier, ¡°I didn¡¯t like working with people. Didn¡¯t trust them, didn¡¯t need them. They were slower than me. They were weaker than me. And I knew how to pick my battles, of course. I only fought battles I knew I could win. F-Rank Mutant-Classes, maybe the occasional E and D-Rank, but never anything stronger than D-Rank.¡± Then he leaned his head back against the pillar, and Marisol thought¡ªunder his bandages¡ªthat his gaze was probably¡­ distant. Somewhere far, far away. ¡°Then I met the Worm God and the Thousand Tongue,¡± he said, ¡°and, well¡­ let¡¯s just say things got interesting.¡± Marisol couldn¡¯t help but snort. ¡°That¡¯s one way to put meeting two of the strongest humans on the continent.¡± Victor snorted back. ¡°They had a bastard of a cook with them, too. They dragged me into one fight after another, and I fought bugs far stronger than anything I¡¯d ever faced before. Insanely powerful ones. The kind that¡¯d make your skin crawl just being near them.¡± Then he paused for a moment, his expression softening. ¡°That short year where I traveled with them across the Deepwater Legion Front? I¡¯ve never come closer to dying ever since. I can count sixteen separate instances where I thought ¡®this is it¡¯, but you know what?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I never actually died,¡± he said, shrugging casually as he did. ¡°¡®Cause I wasn¡¯t alone. I had companions I could trust, rivals I wanted to surpass. And it ain¡¯t just about strength¡ªit was about resilience. Did you know human auras can combine? That, when you put two humans together, their auras will become one and make both of them more resistant to the killing pressure of a stronger bug?¡± She knew that. The Archive had told her. Still, she shook her head slowly and pretended like she didn¡¯t, because she didn¡¯t want to say anything. The old man knew she knew, but he didn¡¯t say anything about that, either. ¡°Well, even when I faced Mutants with killing pressure leagues above mine, the Worm God and Thousand Tongue¡¯s auras made it so I stood a chance,¡± he said. ¡°I was afraid, yes, but I ain¡¯t never found myself paralyzed with fear. And honestly? I hated how strong the two of them were. They made me wanna kick their faces in. They made me wanna¡­. push myself harder than I ever thought I could.¡± ¡­ Marisol was silent, and Victor exhaled softly, glancing at her. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said plainly. ¡°It¡¯s true most Hasharana operate alone. We¡¯re the only bug-slaying organisation in the world that doesn¡¯t try to cultivate soldiers in an organised, training-based environment. We¡¯re the only organisation without laws that dictate at least eighty percent of gathered bug meat must be shared equally amongst the rest of the organisation, even if you were the one who killed the giant bug all by yourself. We cultivate heroes. We cultivate legends. We prove ourselves in battle against bugs above our grade all the fucking time, but you know, the Archives exists not just because its aggregate of information will prove useful to us¡ªthe Worm God created the Archives so we¡¯d never truly, truly be alone, no matter what kind of bug we¡¯re going up against. ¡°You might¡¯ve been the deciding vote for all of us to stay and fight in this city, but the burden ain¡¯t just yours to carry.¡± Then Victor grinned, his voice lightening. ¡°Besides, this ain¡¯t the first time the fate of the city is hanging by a thread, so guess what? We¡¯ll win. Just like every. Other. Time.¡± Marisol was quiet for a moment longer. Then she let out a shaky breath, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. ¡°... You¡¯re awfully optimistic about this whole thing,¡± she grumbled. ¡°What brought this on?¡± Victor shrugged, leaning back against the pillar. ¡°Just felt like it,¡± he said. And before she could press him further, a deafening crash echoed through the warehouse. The ground trembled, dust and debris falling from the rafters as something massive punched its way through a wall. Marisol¡¯s heart skipped a beat as the killing pressure of the Mutant-Class crab wafted in at full force, but Victor wasn¡¯t affected. He stood smoothly, brushing dust off his coat, and then clasped his hands on top of his cane. His god-annoying smirk returned. ¡°Well, that¡¯s my cue,¡± he said lightly. ¡°And I know I just said you¡¯re not alone, but, like, this fight is on you. You and your Archive alone.¡± She stuck her tongue out at him. ¡°Fuck you.¡± He tipped his feathered cap, bowing slightly. ¡°Good luck with the crab. If you die, you die.¡± Then he vanished with a puff of wind, leaving her alone in the warehouse with the stalking, mandible-clicking crab. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her ragged breathing to slow, her pulse to steady. In and out. In and out. Her hands unclenched, and she wiped the sweat off her palms. Her grip had to be steady for what was coming next¡ªshe couldn¡¯t afford to shake. And for the first time in two weeks, she looked at the little water strider perched on her shoulder. Its legs twitched faintly, an almost imperceptible hum emanating from it as though acknowledging her attention. ... Archive. The water strider remained still, though she knew it was listening. It always was. You betrayed me, she thought quietly. You shocked me. In Depth Five. You listened to that old man¡¯s command over mine. [...] Do you know what that felt like? It felt like you didn¡¯t trust me. Like you thought I was wrong. Like you thought I couldn¡¯t do the impossible and save everyone. Her thoughts lingered, brittle and full of unspoken pain, and for its part, the little water strider still didn¡¯t move. Its silence cut deeper than she wanted to admit, but¡­ she forced herself to exhale shakily, closing her eyes. ¡­ But I know why you did it, she thought. You thought you were doing what was best for me. You thought it would save me, and¡­ I guess it did, didn¡¯t it? Then she huffed out a small, bitter laugh, the sound harsh and hollow. I wouldn¡¯t be here right now if it weren¡¯t for you. I know that. I owe you my life since the day you listened to me and gave me my Water Strider Class. Thank you. But fuck you, too. [...] The Archive remained silent, its hum fading into nothing. Marisol frowned, shifting her gaze back to the small bug on her shoulder. What? Got nothing to say? Then, after what felt like an eternity, the Archive spoke. Its voice was soft and measured, neither apologetic nor defensive. [...Let us make a pact,] it said plainly. Marisol blinked. A pact? The Archive continued, its tone resolute. [From now on, I will disregard Victor Morina¡¯s commands. I will also disregard the orders of any higher-ranking Arcana Hasharana. I will listen only to you, and I will never shock you again¡ªunless you ask me to.] Marisol stared at it, her breath catching in her throat. [But in return,] the Archive added quickly, [please do not ignore me anymore.] [As an Archive of an Altered Symbiotic System, my capability to empathise with my users extends only so far as to ensure perfect synchronisation in and out of battle. I cannot afford true ¡®companionship¡¯ as humans are able to do for each other. My voice can never be given physical form, and to establish sentimental connections with my users is fundamentally impossible given the nature of my design parameters.] [Even still, I¡­ do enjoy the time we spent together.] Her lips parted, but no words came out. Then she swallowed hard, rubbing her nose gently. You¡¯d really do that for me? she thought finally. [Of course,] the Archive replied without hesitation. [I am your Archive, after all.] [And for what it is worth, I am sorry.] She stared at the little water strider for a long moment, her expression unreadable. But slowly, steadily, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. ¡°Okay,¡± she said softly. ¡°I won¡¯t ignore you anymore. And¡­ I¡¯m sorry, too.¡± The water strider didn¡¯t have a face¡ªcouldn¡¯t smile or frown¡ªbut she could feel something in its presence shift. A faint warmth, a sense of quiet relief. It was ¡®happy¡¯. Marisol¡¯s smile widened just a fraction before the ground beneath her trembled. The sound of skittering legs grew louder, closer, and the Mutant crab¡¯s guttural screech echoed through the warehouse. ¡°... Right, then,¡± she said, sucking in a sharp breath as she glanced around the pillar, lightning blood coursing through her veins. ¡°Help me out here. Tell me its weakness or something. How¡¯s it going invisible like that?¡± And the Archive¡¯s hum returned, stronger this time, almost eager. [With pleasure.]
[Objective #67: Slay the C-Rank Mutant-Class Ghost Crab] [Time Limit: Undefined] [Reward: Your partner back] [Failure: Death] Chapter 91 - Fear of Death Victor lounged atop the crumbling roof of the abandoned warehouse, moonlight painting the desolate district in pale silver. Below, the city lay silent, the streets empty save for the soft hiss of wind against broken glass. All things considered, it was a relatively quiet night. Humming to himself, he reached into the battered box of cookies resting on his lap, fishing out another one and biting into it lazily. Crumbs tumbled onto his coat, but he didn¡¯t bother brushing them off. Great Makers, these cookies are to die for. Which store did I steal them from again? The quiet shattered abruptly as the warehouse walls below him exploded outward with a deafening boom, a plume of dust and debris erupting into the night. He didn¡¯t flinch. He reached for another cookie¡ªchocolate chip and coconut milk flavoured¡ªand popped it into his mouth, slipping it between his bandages. Immediately, he shivered from head to toe. It appeared he still couldn¡¯t handle the taste of coconut, but, well, it wasn¡¯t like he could handle most food products from the far eastern Mori Masif Front anyways. He was a far westerner, born and raised. Just like the Mutant-Class ghost crab that¡¯d just been kicked out of the warehouse. Through the swirling haze of dust beneath, Marisol emerged from the warehouse like a storm, her glaives glinting as they caught the moonlight. She skated across the cracked pavement, her movements fluid and relentless, and a cool mist poured from her glaives, rolling across the streets like ghostly tendrils. He tilted his head, amused, as he watched the lass execute a handstand spin. The little mist she was discharging suddenly became a cyclone. Bits of broken glass, wood fragments, and jagged metal scraps were swept into the whirlwind, becoming deadly projectiles swirling around her. He raised a brow and noted the precision in her chaos¡ªshe wasn¡¯t spinning recklessly with both palms on the ground. There was a method to the madness. A master of the currents. She¡¯s finally using spraying discharge like she¡¯s supposed to, huh? Not just as something to camouflage herself with, but as something to kickstart your own miniature cyclone with. The Mutant-Class ghost crab clicked its mandible in irritation as it clawed to its feet, and its carapace shimmered. Its cloak was nearly perfect, rendering it almost invisible save for the faint, rippling outline of its claws, but the whirlwind the lass was spinning up was a violent, frightening one. A shard of metal ricocheted off something hard and unseen¡ªthe ghost crab¡¯s shell¡ªand the lass didn¡¯t miss the sound. Didn¡¯t miss the beat. She immediately backflipped out of her handstand and lunged towards the distortion, her glaive crackling with lightning. Her next attack struck true again. The ghost crab staggered back as she kicked it straight in the chest, gouging deep into its shell and making headway towards its heart. Victor smirked, popping the last few cookies into his mouth as the crab let out a guttural screech. The lass darted back, skating in a wide arc to reposition herself for another strike, her whirlwind of mist reforming around her as she did her handstand spin again. Not bad. It can only go invisible. It¡¯s still there if you really look at it, so if you can kick up a whirlwind of debris that¡¯ll bounce off its invisible carapace, you can locate it easy-peasy. Did your Archive tell you to do that, or did you figure it out all by yourself? He shook his head slowly. It didn¡¯t matter either way. Her Archive was part of her now. It could only suggest strategies and tactics it knew she was capable of doing, so she was leading the way, not her Archive. ¡­ Hm. That was that, then. He wouldn¡¯t have to worry about her from now on. He¡¯d taught her everything he could teach, so the rest of her life as a Hasharana was up to her. The box of cookies was empty now, and he sighed as he crumpled it in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it off the roof, listening to the faint rustle as it tumbled into the street below. Then he stood, brushing crumbs from his lap, and his gaze drifted westward¡ªpast the broken city and to the open sea. Even from this distance, the wall of autocannons loomed like a scar across the horizon. They were steel giants standing vigilant against the endless tide of the Crawling Seas. That was the name humanity gave to the unending, infinite sea of giant bugs threatening to engulf the entire continent. The ¡®Swarm¡¯ they fought in the Swarmsteel Fronts were just the very best of the best the Crawling Seas sent to vanguard their conquest. Even now, the unmanned cannons were firing in relentless unison against the Crawling Seas, their barrels glowing faintly from the constant heat of discharge. The sounds reached him in uneven waves. Dull booms rippled through the air like distant thunder. He didn¡¯t even have to close his eyes to feel the faint vibrations in his chest. They weren¡¯t firing at maximum speed. Massive pipelines snaked across the seabed from the city¡¯s factories to the cannons, feeding them a near-endless supply of ammunition, but given most of the city¡¯s population were already warped off the island, the factories weren¡¯t running at full production power. They weren¡¯t producing enough shells, and the sea of bugs weren¡¯t getting whittled down quickly enough. It¡¯d only be a matter of time before the Crawling Seas would break through and wash across the Deepwater Legion Front. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. If the Crawling Seas were allowed to reach the western shores of the mainland continent, that¡¯d be the end of the Deepwater Legion Front. He turned his gaze upward, past the city, and onto the volcano that loomed over the island. It was impossible to see the whirlpool from below with his naked eyes. With his Archive¡¯s live navigation map, he could get an aerial view, but¡­ he didn¡¯t feel like catching even a glimpse of the Worm God¡¯s battle against the entire whirlpool. He knew what was going on down there. The Worm God may not be dead just yet, given not a single leviathan had crawled out of the whirlpool the past two weeks, but he¡¯d be stupid to think the Worm God wouldn¡¯t be dead in the very near future. And in the event we can¡¯t reclaim the city and reinforce him down there before he dies¡­ He knew he¡¯d just told the lass that this wasn¡¯t the first time the city had been on the brink of destruction, and that was true. That much was true. But the thread it dangled from now was thinner than ever before. His jaw clenched as his thoughts turned to his Swarmblood Art. For ten years, he¡¯d saved its final use. It was a trump card with one purpose, and one purpose only: to delay Corpsetaker if he ever breached the surface. He knew very well his Swarmblood Art couldn¡¯t kill Corpsetaker. That had never been its purpose. That had never been his purpose for staying in the city. In a way, he was exactly identical to the clone of the Worm God. He was the second line of defense, the less famous one¡ªa desperate, final measure put in place just to buy everyone else more time to run before the Greater Crab God could reach the surface. But now, as he stared idly up at the whirlpool, a gnawing doubt crept into his mind. Could he afford to wait? His gaze shifted to the three largest wormholes sitting out like sore thumbs across the city. Each one of them were currently sealing a single Insect God. If he used his Swarmblood Art, he could instantly take out one of them. Maybe even two, if they were in extremely close proximity. That¡¯d certainly be enough progress carved out that the rest of the Imperators and Guards could focus solely on the last Insect God, and then they could dive down the whirlpool to reinforce the Worm God. But doing that meant the city wouldn¡¯t have a second line of defense against Corpsetaker if calamity ever struck again, and he¡¯d never face off against Corpsetaker again. Was he content never getting his rematch? Was he content on using his Swarmblood Art for some¡­ rabble Insect God? It¡¯d be so mundane. So uninspired. So... utterly boring. ¡­ He leaned on his cane, staring down at the abandoned district below. The faint breeze tugged at his coat, and he readjusted his feathered cap as the lass darted through the debris-strewn streets like the winds herself. The Mutant-Class crab was faltering now, its legs dragging as it clawed desperately at the ground. Every strike from the lass¡¯ crackling glaives sent cracks through its transparent carapace, lightning rippling and damaging its shell with each blow. Seeing her lightning glaives reminded him of something. His hand slipped into his pocket, brushing against a small, cold object nestled there. It was the last of his supply. If he used it, he could eek out enough energy to use his Swarmblood Art twice before dying¡ªbut the keyword was ¡®could¡¯. He¡¯d been using it for an entire decade just to keep his body going longer than it had any human right to, so its effectiveness on his body had been steadily decreasing across the years. There was a chance, no matter how slight, that even if he used this last item, he wouldn¡¯t be able to use his Swarmblood Art twice. But if it does work, and I do get a second use of my Swarmblood Art, I can still have my rematch with Corpsetaker. Why shouldn¡¯t I take the chance? Why shouldn¡¯t I just use it right now? A sharp gasp of breath pulled him from his thoughts. He looked down to see the lass standing over the carcass of the Mutant-Class crab, her chest heaving as she wiped blood off her skin, tore loose bandages from her arms. Her glaives were shaking, the mist around her was slowly dissipating, but there was still lightning in her eyes. She tilted her head back, her gaze locking onto his. ¡°Well?¡± she called, her voice hoarse but defiant. ¡°Satisfied now?¡± He chuckled softly, resting his weight on his cane as he smiled down at her. ¡°Very,¡± he said. ¡°Nicely done.¡± She rolled her eyes, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. ¡°Now,¡± he continued, ¡°start a fire. Quickly. Eat up.¡± The lass blinked, caught off-guard. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Get those points into your system before the others show up,¡± he said, pointing at a distant patrol team speeding through the abandoned district. He knew the lass couldn¡¯t see them from her vantage point, but he still felt like pointing. ¡°That racket you just made? People are already on their way. Imperators and Guards. Now, they won¡¯t say it outright, of course, but you¡¯ll feel it in their stares. They¡¯ll want you to share the points, so best to eat as much as you can now in one of these abandoned buildings, and try not to throw up from the food poisoning.¡± The lass blinked again. She looked at him like he¡¯d just told her to steal candy from a baby. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not gonna stop me?¡± she said, frowning suspiciously. ¡°Not gonna tell me to quit pushing my limits like Claudia did?¡± He tilted his head, his expression amused. ¡°Why would I do that?¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°We¡¯re both Hasharana,¡± he said simply. ¡°Pushing limits is what we do. You¡¯re a speed demon, and you live on the very edge of your feet. Toe the line between life and death for all I care¡ªyou think I gave a shit when the Thousand Tongue told me to ease up on the eating? You think I listened when he told me to watch out for food poisoning when the Worm God was right behind me, gobbling up half of the giant remipede?¡± For a moment, all the lass did was stare at him. Then a slow smirk spread across her face. ¡°... Rowboat,¡± she whispered. With a triumphant grin, she grabbed the crab¡¯s carcass by one of its broken legs and dragged it toward a nearby building. The sound of chitin scraping against concrete echoed through the street as she quickly disappeared inside. Victor stayed where he was, watching as the faint glow of a fire flickered to life within the building. He could see her silhouette through the cracked windows, crouched over a small campfire as she prepared to devour her prize. She¡¯d get a decent amount of points from the C-Rank Mutant-Class. Probably enough to unlock another tier five core mutation. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, but the smile didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡­ He stared back up at the whirlpool for a long time, his thoughts heavy. The little item in his pocket felt heavier still, its presence a nagging reminder of the choice he¡¯d eventually have to make. But he wasn¡¯t an indecisive man like that. Here, he¡¯d make his choice. ¡­ Alright. And now, he¡¯d made up his mind. The little item in his pocket would stay there. He wasn¡¯t going to use it. There was someone else who¡¯d probably need it more than him eventually, and he was looking right down at her, huffing and puffing as she tried to stuff steaming hot crab meat down her throat. He¡¯d already had his chance. It was time for someone else to take centre stage. This is kinda exciting, though. One shot. One more use of his Swarmblood Art. That was all he had, and the thought of having to pick his target made his heart pound like it hadn¡¯t in a decade, a strange thrill rushing through his blood. It was almost like being young again¡ªfull of fear, full of fire. Chapter 92 - Hydrokinetic Redirection Marisol¡¯s stomach clenched as she tore into the Mutant-Class crab carcass, her hands slick with its gelatinous innards. The initial revulsion had faded, replaced by a strange sort of rhythm¡ªrip, chew, swallow. Rip, chew, swallow. It wasn¡¯t entirely pleasant even after cooking because she had no seasoning, but hunger gnawed at her, and the Archive¡¯s promise of lots of points was too enticing to ignore. When she finally finished, she let out a ragged breath, kicked a puddle of water into the campfire to extinguish it, and collapsed onto the floor. Her back pressed against a cold, crumbling wall as her status screen popped up next to her.
[Points: 1,046]
Her lips twisted into a weak smile. Worth it, she thought. Her body would disagree. The world swayed as she pushed herself to her glaives, her legs trembling under the strain, but she steadied herself against the wall and wiped her hands on a torn curtain. She¡¯d deal with the food poisoning at a later date. ¡°Old man?¡± she called out, her voice hoarse. The only answer was the steady drip of water leaking from the cracked ceiling. She stepped out of the building through the broken wall, faint moonlight casting the abandoned district in dull grays and blues. Puddles glistened on the uneven streets, rippling faintly as the night wind whispered through the alleys. The old man wasn¡¯t above her anymore. She frowned, scanning the rooftops. She swore he¡¯d just been there earlier, watching her with that inscrutable expression of his, but now¡­ he¡¯d vanished. Well, she couldn¡¯t say it wasn¡¯t typical of him to just disappear after he felt his job was done. ¡­ Alright, Archive. Lead the way. A glowing silver arrow appeared in her vision far overhead, cutting through the maze-like streets. The directions were clear enough, but the world around her felt anything but. Ruins loomed high on either side, jagged edges silhouetted against the murky sky, and she could barely tell if she were making any actual progress towards the Symbiosteel factories. She simply trusted the Archive¡¯s navigation feature to not fail her. As she skated slowly, the Archive chimed in again. [You have enough points to unlock another tier five core mutation. Normally, I would tell you to consider your options, but after unlocking the essential stamina-boosting ¡®Rapid Rehydration¡¯, I feel your next choice must be ¡®Hydrokinetic Redirection¡¯ considering the situation you are in.] Hydrokinetic Redirection. Marisol mulled about it, tilting her chin back. What¡¯s it do? [I assure you it is the strongest tier five core mutation you can unlock right now. It is better if I show you what it can do instead of telling you or letting you read its brief description.] Alright then. Unlock ¡®Hydrokinetic Redirection¡¯ for me.
[T5 Core Mutation Unlocked: Hydrokinetic Redirection Lvl: 1] [Brief Description: Your chitin plates have evolved reflective properties, allowing you to absorb kinetic energy while you are standing on water and redirect it elsewhere to mitigate impact damage. On water, you can absorb and redirect kinetic energy up to fifty percent of your strength level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will allow you to absorb and redirect kinetic energy up to your strength level. There are no branch mutation options available for this mutation] [Aura: 8,627 ¡ú 9,627] [Points: 1,046 ¡ú 46]
A subtle warmth spread through her body like stepping into a sunlit pool. She flexed her fingers, noting the faint, almost imperceptible shift in her chitin plates. This was another one of those mutations that showed no obvious signs that it¡¯d been mutated. She didn¡¯t really feel any different after all was said and done, but the Archive had pushed for her to pick this, so¡­ she patiently awaited its ¡®demonstration¡¯. What¡¯s it mean that I can ¡®absorb and redirect¡¯ kinetic energy on water? [It is better to show you practically.] The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The sound of machinery jolted her from her thoughts. She finally reached the factory district, and the scene that lit up before her was a stark contrast to the desolation she¡¯d just left behind. Massive buildings lined the streets, chimneys belching thick plumes of smoke into the air, and the ground vibrated faintly under her glaives. She hadn¡¯t seen or felt anything from afar. She hadn¡¯t even heard the workers bustling about inside and outside the factories until she was right in the heart of the district, their muted shouts barely audible over the clanging of heavy metal and the hiss of steam. I ain¡¯t seen no plume of smoke from afar. How¡¯d I miss this entire district? [That is because you are only perceptive when you are not sulking.] Hey. [I thought you liked me being mean to you.] At the gates before the largest factory at the end of the street, a few Harbour Guards in heavy armour stood watch, their eyes scanning her with practiced vigilance. She wasn¡¯t really looking at them, though. Standing on a stack of crates just beyond the gates, with her back turned to Marisol, was a familiar figure¡ªone with a clipboard in hand, making wide gestures and movements as dozens of factory workers ran up to her every second or so, asking for instructions. Maria. Marisol couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of admiration. Though injured, still, Maria looked like she was in her element here. She was everything Marisol wasn¡¯t: calm, collected, and endlessly competent no matter what she tried to do. Watching her direct the workers was like watching a conductor at work. But then Maria¡¯s gaze snapped around, as if sensing Marisol presence, and her breath caught. Damn. She hasn¡¯t been fighting the past month or two, but her senses are still sharper than mine, huh? With a graceful leap, Maria hopped off her crates, landing lightly on her feet. She snapped her fingers at the guards to get them to open the gate, and while she waved at the factory workers as though telling them to leave her be for a few moments, she was already trodding towards Marisol and scribbling quickly in her notebook. When she reached Marisol, she held up her notebook. ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ Marisol shifted nervously. She felt like she was disturbing a lot of people by being here. ¡°Uh¡­ actually, Claudia told me to find you in the factories. Said maybe I could¡­ get a Symbiosteel or something?¡± Maria¡¯s response was instant. ¡®Sure.¡¯ ¡®Come in.¡¯ ¡°Actually,¡± Marisol interrupted, smiling awkwardly as she did, ¡°my Archive is kinda¡­ well, it''s really annoying right now, and it¡¯s pestering me to ask you this. Can you pick up something and throw it at my forehead really, really hard?¡± Maria raised an eyebrow, her feathered quill pausing mid-stroke. ¡°I know it sounds weird,¡± Marisol added quickly. ¡°But it¡¯s insisting you do this.¡± For a moment, Maria simply stared at her, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small sigh, she turned, stomped back to her stack of crates behind the gate, and grabbed a wrench from one of the open crates. Uhh. Archive¡­? Maria didn¡¯t let her finish her thought. With a flick of her wrist, she hurled the wrench at Marisol with startling precision, deafening speed¡ªand Marisol most certainly tried to dodge. She could easily dodge it, in fact, but the Archive¡¯s voice rang out in her head. [Do not dodge.] [Take it head-on.] The Archive didn¡¯t shock her this time, but she still froze, clenching her muscles and squeezing her eyes shut as she braced for impact. She didn¡¯t think it¡¯d hurt much given her toughness level, but the wrench was still being thrown by Maria, for the Great Maker¡¯s sake. It had to hurt somewhat. But when the wrench struck her triangle-shaped chitin plate on her forehead, she flinched only instinctively. There was no pain. Instead, she heard a splash. Behind her. Underneath her. Prying her eyelids open and looking down, she saw the puddle beneath her glaives rippling violently, as well as the wrench lying harmless in front of her. Her eyes widened. For the record, her head had barely even moved as well despite being hit with such a fast-flying object. [... This is Hydrokinetic Redirection,] the Archive explained. [As long as you¡¯re standing on water, kinetic force up to fifty percent of your strength level can be absorbed and redirected by your chitin to the water source you are in contact with. Basically, if you are standing in a puddle of water, any impact force that acts upon you will travel through your chitin and transfer into the puddle instead. ] [Obviously, this is a very useful defensive mutation all around. It can help mitigate injuries from sharp airborne debris while maintaining high-speed manoeuvres, and it is particularly effective in environments like the Whirlpool City, where rain and water is always abundant, but it is not invincible. It only works when you are hit on your chitin plates, and¡ªthis goes without saying¡ªthere is a limit to how much kinetic energy you can absorb and redirect.] [Fifty percent of your strength level is your current maximum limit, meaning if your strength level is ten and your opponent¡¯s strength level is five, you will basically take zero damage from any of their attacks landing on your chitin. If your opponent has twenty levels in strength, the strength level of their attacks will only be fifteen if they hit you on your chitin¡ªbecause your chitin can absorb and redirect up to five levels in strength, which is fifty percent of your ten levels.] [Once this mutation is level ten, you will be able to absorb and redirect impacts up to one hundred percent of your strength level, meaning as long as you are on water, your opponent would need a higher strength level than you to even hurt you.] Marisol stared at the rippling puddle, a grin slowly spreading across her face. That¡¯s... actually pretty cool. Maria tapped her notebook impatiently, drawing Marisol¡¯s attention back. Her expression was as stern as ever, but there was a faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Marisol wouldn¡¯t put it past the Lighthouse Imperator to realise exactly what mutation she¡¯d just tested out. ¡°... Right!¡± Marisol called out. ¡°So, uh, Claudia sent me! She said maybe I could get some Symbiosteel for a boost? But it looks like everyone¡¯s super busy, so if it¡¯s too much trouble¡ª¡± Maria didn¡¯t let her finish again. Instead, she grabbed another wrench and lobbed it at Marisol, who had to force herself to stand still as it bounced harmlessly off her head. With a smirk, Maria gestured at Marisol to follow her inside. Chapter 93 - Symbiosteel Factories The clamour of the factory was a deafening, metallic world of hammers, grinding gears, and hissing steam. Heat rolled off the heavy machinery in waves, clashing against the dampness outside in the Whirlpool City. Workers moved like cogs¡ªhurried, frantic, and shouting cogs¡ªas they each had their own station and machinery to operate on. Marisol had to fight the urge to skate around like a little kid as a cart overloaded with glowing shells rumbled past a track, their faint bioluminescent hum brushing against her senses. Whoa. This place¡­ is a lot more advanced than I thought. Her eyes darted from one station to another. On the walls, gears the size of water mills turned with groaning weight, driving conveyor belts that carried half-forged weapons to the next stage of their assembly. Steam hissed from clusters of pipes overhead, forming faint plumes that curled like ghostly fingers toward the high, arched ceiling. The air was thick with the tang of metal shavings and oil, stinging her nostrils but grounding her here. In the moment. In particular, a massive machine fixed to a dozen conveyor belts to her left drew her attention. The thing towered over everything else, its brass-and-steel frame shuddering with barely restrained energy as it spat out rows of cannon shells. Each shell glowed faintly blue as if they were imbued with magic¡ªthey were made from Encrystals, most likely¡ªand they emerged from the machine polished and gleaming before disappearing into a series of thick, steel pipes plunging into the floor. She felt the ground vibrating beneath her at all times. She heard workers shouting and hollering at each other despite the suffocating heat. Maria¡¯s confident stride cut through the chaos like a blade, her silent demeanor commanding respect from every worker they passed. It wasn¡¯t hard to see why¡ªunlike Marisol skating closely behind her, she wasn¡¯t just another tourist. She belonged here. She owned the factory. With every glance of acknowledgement, every gesture at workers that ran up to her for instruction, she seemed more and more at home. She hadn¡¯t even seemed so comfortable in her own gargantuan mansion back in the residential district. The sheer scale of the factory left Marisol more than momentarily breathless, but eventually she managed to compose her. Just a little. ¡°You ain¡¯t kidding when you said this place was busy, huh?¡± she muttered, not really expecting a satisfying answer. ¡°There must be hundreds of people in this one factory alone, and you¡¯ve got¡­ what? Five more outside? And ten more inactive factories further beyond that? How do you keep it all running?¡± Maria turned slightly, already pulling out her notebook. A quick scribble later, she flipped it to show Marisol. ¡®The cannons in the far west must fire at all times, and all equipment damaged in battle must be repaired overnight for use the next morning.¡¯ ¡®The factories cannot sleep.¡¯ ¡®Now come on.¡¯ ¡®Let¡¯s go pick out your Symbiosteel.¡¯ The words hit harder than she expected. For all the awe she felt at the factory¡¯s power, there was also no mistaking its purpose. Every cannon shell, every weapon, every piece of armor forged here was destined for one thing: to hold back and be destroyed in battle against the Swarm. The machines had been running longer than she¡¯d been alive, and there was a certain poignancy to the fact. Nevertheless, they moved on, the chaos of the main factory floor giving way to narrower, darker corridors lined with pipes and control panels as Maria led her up a flight of stairs to the second floor. The noise softened, but didn¡¯t disappear entirely. Condensation dripped steadily from overhead pipes, forming shallow puddles on the uneven floor. She was vaguely aware she was nearing the top of the factory, but whatever she was expecting at the end of the final straight corridor, it wasn¡¯t a heavy set of double metal doors engraved with swirling patterns. The doors itself looked fancy enough¡ªand high-security¡ªso when Maria practically kicked them open, Marisol froze. ¡­ Whoa. [You have the same reaction to anything even remotely awe-inspiring.] How else are you supposed to react? ¡®Oh¡¯? [Just saying.] As Maria beckoned her in, Marisol skated in slowly, not wanting her glaives to scratch up the delicate marble flooring too much. The giant room was unlike anything else in the factory. The walls swirled and curved inwards like the inside of a massive conch shell, and the lantern-lit room was lined with long shelves stacked to the ceiling with all sorts of goodies: rows of chest plates crafted from overlapping pearls, gauntlets shaped like mantis shrimp pincers, tridents resembling jagged lobster antennae, and there were tons of smaller trinkets, too. Bracelets that coiled like isopods, glass pendants made of hard chitin, and vials swirling with bluish-yellow blood capped with dragonfly tails. It was a warehouse for all unused Symbiosteel in the city, and someone else was already in here, browsing the shelves when Maria kicked the doors open. Marisol paused when Reina stopped inspecting a crab-shell pauldron coiled in her scorpion tail as well, their eyes snapping onto each other. ¡­ For a moment, Marisol thought about slipping back into the corridor. It was an absurd thought¡ªMaria was right behind her, and Reina had already noticed her¡ªbut the urge to avoid confrontation was strong. Maria didn¡¯t give her the chance. The doors swung shut with a soft thud, and the sound made Marisol¡¯s chest tightened. The last time she¡¯d spoken with Reina was two weeks ago, before Depth Five. Though they¡¯d been on the same ¡®side¡¯ when they were extracting from the Depth, the memory of that mission still hung heavy between them, unspoken, undeniable. Marisol bit her lip, guilt gnawing at her insides. It wasn¡¯t just the Archive she¡¯d ignored after that day. She¡¯d retreated from everyone, wrapping herself in solitude like a shield, and¡­ in a sense, it was like she¡¯d been trying to undo what little friendship she¡¯d built with Reina. And Maria. And everyone else who¡¯d been worried about her. But Reina didn¡¯t hesitate. Closing the distance in a few quick strides, the Lighthouse Imperator pulled Marisol into a hug, and her scorpion tail wrapped painfully around Marisol¡¯s waist like a noose. ¡°You look like crap,¡± Reina muttered, her voice low and barely above a whisper. The lightness in her tone didn¡¯t quite mask the concern behind it, but Marisol chose not to push. For now, the simple act of being here, together again, was enough. And a quiet laugh escaped Marisol, surprising even herself. ¡°... Yeah,¡± she said softly, ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­ feeling like it, too.¡± Reina stepped back just enough to study her face, her brows furrowing. ¡°You okay now?¡± ¡°I just ate an entire C-Rank Mutant-Class crab by myself.¡± Reina held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding, the faintest hint of a smile curling her lips. ¡°Good. Wouldn¡¯t want you staying mopey forever.¡± Then Maria cleared her throat¡ªor rather, made a sharp tapping sound with her quill against her notebook¡ªto draw their attention. She gestured toward the shelves, her expression patient but expectant. ¡®Take your pick¡¯, she wrote. ¡®You can both have anything you want.¡¯ Marisol blinked, her gaze sweeping over the rows of Symbiosteel. The sheer variety was overwhelming. She was no connoisseur, but she felt each piece was a masterpiece in its own right. ¡°Any of it?¡± Marisol asked, her voice tinged with awe. Maria shrugged plainly, and Reina hummed softly as she went back to browning the shelves. Her fingers and tail trailed along the edge of a gleaming trident tipped with serrated lobster antennae, her sharp eyes scanning the collection with casual interest. The hum wasn¡¯t tuneless¡ªit had the vague melody of a pleasant sea shanty, and Marisol couldn¡¯t help but smile a little as she watched Reina bounce through the storage room. It seemed like they¡¯d get along again just fine. ¡®... For reference,¡¯ Maria scribbled in her notebook and held it up for Marisol, ¡®All of us Lighthouse Imperators have at least two or three E-Rank Symbiosteel equipped.¡¯ The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Marisol blinked at the note. This time, it was Reina who looked over from behind a gap in the shelves. ¡°I¡¯m wearing a few pieces right now,¡± Reina said, pulling down her uniform collar a little to tap a thin, discreet plate of chitin Marisol had never noticed before. ¡°Eurypteria may be the only water scorpion above Mutant-Class anyone has ever spotted, but I¡¯ve been looking for and hunting Giant-Class water scorpions in Depth Four for the past few years, and I¡¯ve managed to kill some. I gave their carcasses to the factories so they can be turned into a chest plate, a pauldron, and greaves that give me extra toughness and dexterity. Water scorpion parts have natural dexterity bonuses, so I basically never leave them behind when I have to dive.¡± ¡®And I¡¯m wearing a tight undershirt made of whirligig beetle fabric under my uniform as well,¡¯ Maria wrote, lifting her uniform shirt up to reveal a black undershirt over her waist. ¡®I move quickly, so this undershirt has natural properties that makes it especially tougher to tear during rapid movements.¡¯ ¡®Basically, even if I move so fast my uniform rips, I still won¡¯t be naked. Probably.¡¯ As Reina and Maria chipped in with their own comments, the Archive pulled up status screens next to both of their heads, and Marisol took a glance at their respective Symbiosteel.
[Water Scorpion Chestplate (Quality: E-Rank)(Tou: +2/3)(Dex: +1/1)(Aura: -290)] [Water Scorpion Pauldron (Quality: E-Rank)(Tou: +0/1)(Dex: +1/1)(Aura: -260)] [Water Scorpion Greaves (Quality: E-Rank)(Tou: +1/3)(Dex: +1/1)(Aura: -260)] [Water Bug Contact Lenses (Quality: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura -100)]
[Whirligig Beetle Compression Undershirt (Quality: E-Rank)(Spd: +1/1)(Aura: -280)] [Whirligig Beetle Compression Shorts (Quality: E-Rank)(Spd: +1/1)(Aura: -280)] [Diving Beetle Shoes (Quality: E-Rank)(Spd: 1/1)(Aura: -470)]
Maria¡¯s quill poised over her notebook again, and she scribbled another note before flashing it at Marisol. ¡®You¡¯re strangely naked in that sense. All you¡¯ve had this entire time are that crab scarf and those remipede earrings, right?¡¯ Compared to Reina¡¯s reinforced attire and Maria¡¯s speed-based fabrics, it was true that Marisol didn¡¯t have much of anything under the ¡®Equipped Symbiosteel¡¯ section of her status screen, so while Maria pushed her around the storage room to appraise the city¡¯s selection of magical parasitic equipment, the Archive offered its own comments as well. [It is indeed true that most Guard and Imperators equip at least one or two Symbiosteel,] it said. [Do you notice how some of their higher-rank equipment have relatively low aura costs?] Yeah? [If you Symbiosteel shares the same class as you¡ª''Class-Compatible Symbiosteel'', they are called¡ªthen in addition to being able to gain its full attribute levels, you will also be able to equip them with significantly less drain to your aura,] the Archive explained. [Reina has the Water Scorpion Class, so Water Scorpion Compatible Symbiosteel is what she prefers to equip. However, since water scorpions are also part of the ¡®Water Bug¡¯ category of bugs, people with Water Scorpion Classes can also equip Water Bug Compatible Symbiosteel and gain all of its offered attribute levels. In the same vein, because whirligig beetles are part of the ¡®Beetle¡¯ category, Maria can equip Diving Beetle Compatible Symbiosteel and gain all of the attribute levels from it.] But if she were to equip Ant Compatible Symbiosteel, it''d take her maybe years to get just that one level in speed? [More than a few years. The general rule to remember is this: if you equip ''Incompatible Symbiosteel'', you would gain reduced attribute levels and bear the full cost of aura drain. If you equip ''Type-Compatible Symbiosteel'', you would gain all the offered attribute levels but still bear the full cost of aura drain. However, if you equip ''Class-Compatible Symbiosteel'', you would gain all the offered attribute levels and enjoy a reduced cost of aura drain.] [The advantages of equipping Incompatible Symbiosteel are typically not worth it for how little attribute levels you will obtain and how much aura it will cost you.] As she wandered between the shelves, the Archive pulled up a status screen for every Symbiosteel she passed by. Their names, attribute levels, and aura cost flickered into her vision. Yet, as her eyes darted from one Symbiosteel to the next, disappointment set in quicker and quicker. None of them were made out of water striders. ¡°Maria,¡± she began, glancing over her shoulder, ¡°are there really no¡ª¡± ¡®No.¡¯ ¡®No water striders have been spotted or slain in decades.¡¯ The Archive chimed in again, calm and matter-of-fact. [Correct. As I mentioned long ago, not a single water strider from Critter-Class to Insect God has been spotted in the past two decades. They have been made extinct by the Worm God. Therefore, there are no Water Strider Compatible Symbiosteel.] So¡­ I''m just screwed? I ain''t ever gonna get a Class-Compatible Symbiosteel. [Not entirely. Remember the Imperatrix¡¯s report from two weeks ago about the sighting of an S-Rank Mutant-Class water strider attacking the fleet of evacuating warships?] the Archive mused. [Perhaps it is the only survivor of the Worm God''s purge, and has been secretly growing stronger outside the Whirlpool City for the past two decades. I wonder if we will hear reports of it using its Art in the near future.] ¡­ I ain''t skating all the way out to the great blue just to kill it for its parts. [And I would not recommend you do so. For one, you should not be leaving this city at the moment, and second, it is an S-Rank Mutant-Class. You are not strong enough to beat it right now,] the Archive said plainly. [Fortunately, water striders are part of the ''Water Bug'' type of bugs¡ªsame as water scorpions, seed bugs, et cetera¡ªwhich means any Symbiosteel Reina can equip, you can also equip. Would you like me to highlight those ones for you?] Oh. Uh. Sure. Most of the status screens across the room faded away, leaving behind¡­ surprisingly few that were made of water bugs. She beelined towards those, and she noticed they were mostly trinkets. Lots of them glinted under soft lantern light, but nothing about them drew Marisol¡¯s attention. Most were the same¡ªpendants shaped like shield bugs, brooches lined with lobster tails, and bracelets etched with patterns of crabs and shrimps. Ornate, yes. Useful? None of them appeared to give many attribute levels, if any significant levels at all. [Unfortunately, most water bugs live close to the shoreline of the mainland continent. It would appear the Whirlpool City is not particularly stocked up on water bug parts, nor is this city particularly famous for the Symbiosteel it manufactures, so your selection is a little sparse.] Marisol nodded absently, still running her fingers over a brooch shaped like a beetle¡¯s wing, but then her gaze snapped over to something different. A roll of bandages, tucked away from the rest. They weren¡¯t shiny, they weren¡¯t metallic, but they also weren¡¯t the dull, practical kind she was used to seeing. These were striped¡ªgentle blues, pinks, purples twined together, with faint flower patterns scattered across them like delicate petals floating on water. They looked almost... elegant.
[Water Boatmen Bandages (Quality: E-Rank)(Spd: +0/?)(Dex: +0/?)(Aura: -?)]
¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she murmured, lifting the roll. The coloured fabric felt cool and smooth in her palm, and both Lighthouse Imperators immediately poked their heads over to look at the ¡®Symbiosteel¡¯ in her hands. ¡°Water boatmen bandages,¡± Reina said immediately, recognising the interest. ¡°Water boatmen are surface aquatic bugs like your water striders and your whirligig beetles. I think¡­ Maria, you made this, right? What do they do again?¡± ¡®I stripped their flesh and turned them into fabric,¡¯ Maria immediately scribbled in her pages. ¡®The more strips of bandages come in contact with your skin, the more speed and dexterity they¡¯ll give. If you have the Water Boatmen Class, their special quality will help you stay afloat. Keep you from sinking even if you¡¯re unconscious.¡¯ It''s a very good Symbiosteel. The Harbour Guards love these bandages. Would recommend.¡¯ Marisol unfurled the bandages slowly, the fabric slipping easily between her fingers. It had a soft weight to it, not too thick, not too thin. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Speed and dexterity¡ªjust like Maria said, it was about the perfect fit for her. And maybe it was just the flower patterns, or maybe it was the thought of being lighter, faster... but the bandages appealed to her more than she liked to admit. They were pretty. ¡°I¡¯ll take these, then,¡± she said, holding up the roll and grinning at the ladies as she did. ¡°I ain¡¯t gonna put them on right now, though. Too much hassle. I¡¯ll put it on tomorrow morning and see how many levels I can get.¡± Reina gave her a thumbs up through a hole in the shelves, while Maria was already moving on, her quill dancing over her notebook again. ¡®We have weavers as well,¡¯ she wrote. ¡®We can make you entirely new clothes out of water boatmen parts. Something practical. You can get out of your shoddy Sand-Dancer clothes while you¡¯re at it.¡¯ Marisol¡¯s eyes flicked to Maria. ¡°Clothes?¡± ¡®What design you want?¡¯ ¡®We can weave anything.¡¯ It wasn¡¯t an easy question. Clothes weren¡¯t just about protection or comfort for a Sand-Dancer. They were about expression as well. Freedom. Movement. Something that could let her balance on the edge of life and death, spin and twist and fight with the grace of someone who¡¯d been born to dance. ¡°Something¡­ flexible?¡± she said after a moment, considering. ¡°Like what I wear now, but tougher? I don¡¯t think my sand-dancer clothes are shoddy. Can your weavers replicate my exact clothing?¡± Maria looked her up and down for a moment before giving her a small nod of acknowledgment. ¡®Can.¡¯ ¡®Wait one or two weeks, then.¡¯ With that, Maria held her hand out, beckoning Marisol to hand the roll of bandages over. Marisol assumed it was going to be sent right to her temporary room in Lighthouse Seven so she wouldn¡¯t have to carry it back herself, even though it was so small and light she could easily imagine wrapping the entire roll across her body¡­ And then she had a thought. A funny thought. Archive. [What is it?] I never looked too closely and I never asked, but is the old man wearing the same bandages? [...] She grinned as she tossed Maria the roll. It wasn¡¯t like she didn¡¯t already have a good guess on what his class was, but now she¡¯d all but confirmed his class was, at the very least, within the water bug type. Same as her. As she was about to continue browsing the shelves for anything else that might catch her eye, a distant rumble interrupted the moment, followed by what sounded like a massive building crumbling outside. Her muscles tensed. Maria turned to stare directly at the wall. Reina¡¯s scorpion tail shuddered from stinger to base as well, but Marisol had gotten better at reading the air currents recently, and even standing in this room, she could tell it was no big deal. Just a few Giant-Class wormholes collapsing and releasing crustaceans onto the streets, no doubt¡ªbut now she locked eyes with Reina, and the two of them gave each other their strongest grins. Maria didn¡¯t even glance up from her notebook as she yanked the doors open again. ¡®Claudia probably told you to take the night off, but just one more hunt wouldn¡¯t hurt, right?¡¯ ¡®Beat her, Rei-Rei.¡¯ ¡®By my authority as the Second Lighthouse Imperator, whoever kills the most Giant-Classes and brings their carcasses to me gets all the points.¡¯ ¡°¡­ Race you to the wormholes?¡± Marisol said, cracking her neck, stretching her legs as she winked at Reina. Reina¡¯s grin widened even further. Then they both took off down the corridor, and it was like she melted into the speed for the first time in a while¡ªall weight flying off her shoulders. Chapter 94 - Strike Team Rain trickled through the shattered ceiling, cold droplets splattering against the warped wood of the long conference table. The sound was a steady pitter-patter, almost hypnotic, but Marisol had been getting good sleep recently. Exhausting themselves to the brim every single day would do that to anyone, but she¡¯d had really good sleep recently. It was the reason why even now, seated at the far end of the long table in Lighthouse Seven, she didn¡¯t feel like dozing off mid-meeting. It¡¯d been a whole two weeks since the siege began, and the room at the top of Lighthouse Seven still stood broken. It wasn¡¯t that big a deal to not have a roof, though. Victor, standing next to the Imperatrix, certainly didn¡¯t seem to care. Neither did the Lighthouse Imperators seated along the sides of the table, nor the lower-rank Imperators standing along the walls. All of them were simply listening attentively as the Imperatrix rattled off numbers at the other end of the table. ¡°... Good job, everyone,¡± Andres concluded, nodding sternly at every Imperator in the room as he placed his fists against the table. ¡°The past two weeks have been very productive. All seven thousand two hundred and forty-four Giant-Class wormholes across the city have finally collapsed, and we have slain all of the crustaceans that crawled out of them.¡± His one-eyed gaze lingered on Marisol and Reina for a moment longer. ¡°With the Giant-Class wormholes dealt with, there is only the matter of the one hundred and thirteen Mutant-Class wormholes and the three Insect God wormholes remaining.¡± Andres cleared his throat, his tone shifting into the dry cadence of a final report. Numbers. Kills. Losses. Progress. Marisol tried to focus, but her mind wandered, her gaze drifting to the little roll of Symbiosteel in her hand. She¡¯d woken up just ten minutes ago to come to this emergency strategic meeting, so she hadn¡¯t had the time to put on the water boatmen bandages she¡¯d picked out last night in Maria¡¯s Symbiosteel factory. She¡¯d definitely put them on after this, though. She wanted to know just how many attribute levels she could get if she wrapped herself head to toe in them. [Please refrain. Do you want to look like Victor Morina?] I was joking, she mumbled, who¡¯d want to cover a face as pretty as mine¡ª A sharp sound pulled her attention back to the room. Andres slapped a map hard against the table, fixing it in place with one hand. Marisol blinked, sitting up straighter as everyone leaned in to appraise the map. It showed the Whirlpool City in damp detail, with three glaring red circles marking specific points. Andres tapped each one in turn. ¡°These are our next major fronts,¡± he said. ¡°I will confirm their locations once again: F-Rank Barnacle God, Rhizocapala, is sealed in a wormhole near the Symbiosteel factories in the northern production sector. E-Rank Water Scorpion God, Eurypteria, is sealed in a wormhole dead centre in the middle of the eastern residential sector. D-Rank Remipede God, Kalakos, is sealed in a wormhole in the southern harbour sector. They¡¯re as far away from each other as they can be¡ªand I¡¯m sure the Worm God separated them deliberately, knowing their strength would multiply tenfold if they¡¯re allowed to fight as a team, disjointed as they may be.¡± ¡°Now, we don¡¯t know exactly when they¡¯ll emerge,¡± Victor continued, stepping forward and tapping his cane on Rhizocapala¡¯s wormhole in the northern sector, ¡°but the Worm God talked about it, like, really briefly before he fucked off down to the whirlpool: the stronger the bugs are, the longer it¡¯ll take them to stagger out of their wormhole. In that order, then, we should be seeing Rhizocapala¡¯s ugly head first, and then Eurypteria, and then Kalakos. Probably two or three days between each emergence, and we¡¯ll see Rhizocapala in about¡­ two weeks or so.¡± ¡°Which means,¡± Andres finished, ¡°each of the Insect God wormholes will require dedicated forces to hold the line and secure the area. I will now assign the teams accordingly.¡± He turned to the right, facing Maria and Claudia. ¡°Lighthouse Two and Lighthouse Four will be responsible for Rhizocapala with fifty Imperators on standby.¡± Then he turned to the left, facing Hugo and Reina. ¡°Lighthouse Three and Lighthouse Five will be responsible for Eurypteria with a hundred Imperators on standby, while Victor and I will be responsible for Kalakos with the remaining hundred and fifty Imperators. Since Rhizocapala should be emerging first, the moment he does, the rest of us not around Rhizocapala will observe our two wormholes for at least an hour longer. If we decide Eurypteria or Kalakos won¡¯t be emerging anytime soon, we¡¯ll immediately rush over to gang up on Rhizocapala at the same time.¡± The gazes of the Imperators standing along the walls darted between the faces around the table. For the most part, they didn¡¯t seem too uneasy about being assigned to the Insect God frontlines¡ªprobably for the best¡ªbut Marisol was uneased. After all, her name hadn¡¯t come up. She cleared her throat. ¡°And me?¡± Andres¡¯ gaze fixed on her, sharp and unyielding. ¡°You¡¯ll have a different job.¡± ¡°What kind of job?¡± ¡°You will lead a strike team of your own,¡± he said. ¡°Your task will be to deal with the hundred and thirteen Mutant-Classes that will be emerging across the city the next two weeks or so, while the rest of us will be stationed at the Insect God wormholes.¡± She frowned, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. ¡°But I wanna fight the Insect Gods, too¡ª¡± ¡°We need you elsewhere,¡± Victor chimed in. ¡°The Lighthouse Imperators stationed at the Insect God wormholes ain¡¯t gonna be able to leave their posts. They shouldn¡¯t be leaving their posts. The rest of the city needs someone who can adapt and move quickly to respond to the emerging Mutant-Classes, and I heard you¡¯re quite fast, right?¡± The Archive¡¯s voice hummed softly in her mind. [They are correct, you know. If all of the Lighthouse Imperators will be indisposed by the Insect God wormholes, someone will have to take charge of the Mutant-Class wormholes. You will have to be the one to do it.] If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. But¡ª [This is the optimal path.] [More Mutant-Classes, more battles, more points, more growth.] [Besides, if you deal with the Mutant-Classes efficiently, you will be able to go to whichever Insect God wormhole you wish. It is not as though they are telling you to fight grunts forever.] ¡­ Marisol sighed. There was reason to be understood, and to be frank, Marisol didn¡¯t quite hate the idea of getting even stronger, still. ¡°Alright,¡± she muttered. ¡°But am I supposed to do this alone? Against¡­ how many Mutant-Classes? A hundred and thirteen?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be more than that,¡± Victor said. ¡°Many of the wormholes sucked in multiple Mutant-Classes, so you¡¯re looking at around a hundred and fifty, maybe even two hundred.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°... And? You want me to deal with two hundred Mutant-Classes alone?¡± She clicked her tongue, shaking her head vigorously. ¡°No way. No, no, no way. I have two weeks to deal with two hundred Mutant-Classes? I don¡¯t care how low-rank they are, because I¡¯m sure as hell some of them are pretty high-rank, and let¡¯s do the math¡ª¡± [¡ªtwo hundred Mutant-Classes divided by fourteen days in two weeks is fourteen Mutant-Classes a day, and divided by twenty-four hours a day is zero-point-six Mutant-Classes an hour. You will have to defeat around one Mutant-Class every waking hour for the next week¡ª] ¡°My Archive just did the math for me. No way. I¡¯m always up for an impossible challenge, I really am, but¡ª¡± Hugo¡¯s chuckle broke the tension. ¡°Chill. Of course you won¡¯t be alone. Pick whoever you want from my initiates to form your little strike team. They¡¯ll follow you around until you¡¯ve dealt with all the Mutant-Classes.¡± Claudia leaned back in her chair, a smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°Ye can ask for my Guards too, though I doubt they¡¯ll be much help against Mutant-Classes.¡± Marisol blinked. Then her eyes immediately wandered around the room, skipping over familiar faces, lingering on others she¡¯d fought briefly beside this past week. Names and battle memories filtered through her mind, but none of them stuck. Two hundred Mutant-Classes. Who could even keep up with that? she thought. Most of the Imperators here seemed solid, dependable even¡ªbut dependable wasn¡¯t enough when the Mutant-Classes count tipped into triple digits. She needed people she could trust to handle the chaos. People she¡¯d worked with closely before. ¡­ Then, her gaze stopped. Three Imperators stood behind Hugo, their white and blue-lined uniforms soaked from the rain, their expressions calm but alert. They struck her like a bolt of lightning. ¡°All I need are the three of them,¡± she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet room as she pointed at the three Imperators. Hugo raised a brow, glancing over his shoulder. Just them?¡± His tone was skeptical, but there was no malice in it. ¡°I mean, they¡¯ve sure grown stronger since the last time you worked with them, but still, they¡¯re not exactly top-tier yet¡ª¡± But before Hugo could continue further, Bruno, Aidan, and Helena stepped forward, pistol shrimp claws thumping over their chests. ¡°We want to help,¡± Bruno said, his voice low but firm. ¡°Marisol¡¯s carried us before,¡± Aidan added, no less resolute. ¡°It¡¯s time we caught up.¡± ¡°Besides, we¡¯ve fought together before,¡± Helena said, grinning and waving slightly at Marisol. ¡°We know how she works. We can somewhat keep up with her¡ªand we¡¯ll get stronger doing it.¡± Marisol¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile. She couldn¡¯t help but admire their guts. She was also more than glad to see they were still doing fine and well¡ªadmittedly, she hadn¡¯t had time to check up on them since the Depth Five reclamation mission¡ªso Hugo, sensing the silent agreement already being made between the four of them, simply sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°If the three are all you want,¡± he muttered. ¡°Just don¡¯t get them killed. If you do, you might as well have taken ten more initiates with you.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± all four of them replied at once. Then the three siblings stepped around the table to stand behind her chair, and Andres gave a curt nod, watching their quiet exchange. ¡°That settles it, then,¡± he said, rapping the end of the table with his knuckle. ¡°This meeting is adjourned. We all know our roles, so let¡¯s get to it¡ªif everything goes well, the next time we have another meeting, it¡¯ll be after we¡¯ve killed Rhizocapala.¡± The chairs scraped against the wet floor as the Lighthouse Imperators began to rise. Marisol whirled around and stood as well, turning to face the Imperator siblings. ¡°... Still alive, huh?¡± she said with a wry grin, her voice tinged with relief. ¡°Barely,¡± Aidan replied with a smirk. Helena threw her arms around Marisol in a quick, exuberant hug, ignoring the rain soaking into their uniforms. ¡°You look like crap,¡± Helena teased, pulling back with a laugh. ¡°You¡¯re the second person to tell me that in the past twelve hours,¡± Marisol shot back, grinning as she also shook hands with Aidan and Bruno, her grip firm. ¡°On my way up here, I heard there¡¯s a wormhole with two E-Rank Mutant-Classes about to stagger out. The three of you in?¡± Bruno shrugged. ¡°Sounds like a good enough warm-up.¡± The four of them began to head towards the door alongside everyone else, but Reina¡¯s tail shot out, catching Marisol¡¯s wrist. The grip wasn¡¯t harsh, but it was firm enough to stop her in her tracks. ¡°Do¡­ you need help?¡± Reina asked, her voice low but insistent. Marisol turned, surprised by the worry etched into Reina¡¯s face. For a moment, she hesitated¡ªunsure how to respond¡ªbut then she smiled, raising her fist. ¡°We¡¯ve got this,¡± Marisol said confidently. ¡°I¡¯m stronger now. You don¡¯t need to protect us this time.¡± The Imperator siblings bowed as well, no doubt in response to when Reina had protected all of them from Rhizocapala down in Depth Three. It was certainly true that had Reina not been there back then, none of them would be standing here now¡­ but that was back then, and Marisol was much stronger now. She wasn¡¯t afraid. Push came to shove, she¡¯d be the one to protect all of them this time. So Reina¡¯s expression softened after a while, and she let out a small laugh. ¡°Good,¡± she said, bumping her fist against Marisol¡¯s. ¡°Once you¡¯re done with the Mutant-Classes, we¡¯ll meet up again.¡± A flicker of warmth spread through Marisol¡¯s chest as she looked back at the siblings, her own smile widening. ¡°Try not to slow me down and make Reina worry, alright?¡± she teased. Helena laughed. ¡°Slow you down? Please. We¡¯re the ones who can¡¯t let the newbie show us up.¡± Marisol¡¯s smile turned into a full-blown smirk. She didn¡¯t mind the idea of having even more rivals¡ªnot ones like these. Two hundred Mutant-Classes in two weeks between four people. How many Mutant-Classes do each of us have to kill per day to make that deadline, Archive? [About three per day.] Now that¡¯s a lot more doable. [Have you lost your appetite for impossible challenges?] There¡¯s a difference between impossible and suicidal, and I ain¡¯t about to die here. I still have a mama to go home to. The Archive paused as the four of them turned to leave the room, idle chatter filling the air between them. [... Your threat assessment has gotten better, huh?] [Updating objective.]
[Objective #68: Slay the Mutant-Classes across the Whirlpool City] [Time limit: 2 weeks] [Rewards: ??? points and stability across the Whirlpool City] [Failure: Death] Chapter 95 - Stalebreaker Two weeks flew by in a blur of motion, violence, and victory. Wormhole after wormhole tore open across the city like angry mouths, vomiting out Mutant-Classes in singles, pairs, and even groups of ten and above. The single battles with low-rank Mutant-Class weren¡¯t anything more than warmup, but the group battles against more than five Mutant-Classes at a time were real battles¡ªones Marisol didn¡¯t have to fight alone. They moved as one unit. They made abandoned roofs their bases and moved from district to district, camping out wherever their quick response would be needed the most. With the Lighthouse Imperators and every other high-rank soldier indisposed by the Insect God wormholes, they were the only team capable of bouncing between the Mutant-Class wormholes and offering reinforcement to the Imperators and Guards stationed around them. It would be a total disaster if multiple Mutant-Class wormholes collapsed at the same time across separate corners of the city, but the Archive¡¯s navigational data was updated every second, and its calculations were immaculate. No two wormholes ever collapsed at the exact same time. At worst, the four of them only had a few minutes¡¯ break before the Archive alerted them to the next collapsing wormholes, but with it calculating the most efficient route towards dealing with the wormholes in sequence¡­ They charged. They danced. They fought. And by the end of the second week¡ªthe beginning of Marisol¡¯s eleventh month since she obtained the Water Strider Class¡ªthey were standing in the shadow of the fourth largest wormhole in the city. They were smack dab in the middle of the ruined northeastern residential district. Snowflakes fell gently, blanketing the entire city in soft whites and icy blues, but the air was warm and thick with tension. About a hundred Guards swarmed around this wormhole with makeshift barricades, watchtowers, and outposts erected at the edge. Dozens of anti-leviathan cannons were mounted on buildings and trained on the swirling blue anomaly, their barrels already charged with explosive shells each capable of decimating an S-Rank Giant-Class bug with ease. With her hands planted on her hips, Marisol looked up at the centre of the giant wormhole. It was ten metres tall, ten metres wide, and the black void on the other end of the portal was swirling with reddish-brown specks of colour. At her Archive¡¯s suggestion, she¡¯d avoided really looking into any of the wormholes so she wouldn¡¯t hurt her eyes or break her brain trying to comprehend the Worm God¡¯s magic, but this was the last Mutant-Class wormhole in the entire city. She wanted to stare a little. Just a little. ¡°... What¡¯s the rank for this one?¡± Aidan asked, combing his hair back with his giant pistol shrimp claw as he stood on her left, appraising the wormhole with a raised brow. ¡°This feels like¡­ B-Rank? A-Rank?¡± ¡°A-Rank,¡± Bruno and Helena said at once on her right, also rolling their shoulders, cracking their necks, and clicking their claws to warm themselves up for the inevitable battle. ¡°It¡¯s just one A-Rank at that,¡± Marisol added, stretching her waist as she did. ¡°What grade are you guys at now, anyways? Do I really gotta be here? Can¡¯t you deal with this just fine by yourselves?¡± Ignoring the wormhole suddenly belching and the Guards shouting commands into the air¡ªthe defensive constructs coming alive abruptly¡ªthe Imperator siblings looked off to their sides and were quiet for a few seconds. Marisol gave them time to check their status screens. Then they turned back to her and shook their heads as one, sighing in disappointment. ¡°I¡¯m still only F-Rank Mutant-Class,¡± Helena grumbled, ¡°even after all the points we got these past two weeks.¡± ¡°I¡¯m only E-Rank Mutant-Class,¡± Aidan added. ¡°And I¡¯m only E-Rank Mutant-Class as well,¡± Bruno finished, scratching the back of his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you do it, Marisol. Do you just have a bigger appetite than all of us? You don¡¯t look like it.¡± Marisol shrugged, pulling open her status screen to take a swipe at it.
[Name: Marisol Vellamira] [Grade: B-Rank Mutant-Class] [Class: Water Strider] [Swarmblood Art: Charge Glaives] [Aura: 11,849] [Points: 631] [Strength: 8, Speed: 9 (+1), Toughness: 7 (+1), Dexterity: 7 (+1), Perception: 7 (+1)] [// MUTATION TREE] [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 8] [T2 Mutations | Filtrating Gills Lvl. 6 | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 7] [T3 Mutations | Laminar Apiclaws Lvl. 6 | Streamlined Wings Lvl. 5 | Basic Setae Lvl. 2] [T4 Mutations | Spraying Discharge Lvl. 5 | Basic Sonar Lvl. 4 | Basic Underchitin Lvl. 5 | Basic Chitin Lvl. 5] [T5 Mutations | Surfactant Domain | Basic Vision | Rapid Rehydration Lvl. 2 | Segmented Flexion | Hydrokinetic Redirection Lvl. 4] 1000P [// EQUIPPED SWARMSTEEL] [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1)(Aura: -200] [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1)(Aura: -100)] [Water Boatmen Bandages (Grade: E-Rank)(Spd: +1)(Dex: +1)(Aura: -400)]
Hunting Mutant-Classes the past two weeks exclusively had given her tons of points to work with, of course, though she shared most of them with the siblings and any soldier in the vicinity. The truth was, they needed the points more than her. A hundred and fifty points may not be a lot for her anymore, but for a C-Rank Giant-Class Guard, it was enough to unlock a tier three mutation. It was enough for them to pick an Advanced Class and get a much more powerful Art. It could be the difference between life and death. So, while she hadn¡¯t saved up enough to unlock another tier five mutation, she¡¯d increased her attribute and mutation levels across the board, and now she was graded at B-Rank Mutant-Class. The same grade Reina had been four months ago back when they first descended to Depth Four. She wasn¡¯t exactly sure if she was as strong as Reina had been back then¡ªthe grades were just estimations, after all¡ªbut with the water boatmen bandages she¡¯d wrapped tightly around her hands, chest, neck, and most everywhere else she didn¡¯t have chitin plates growing over her skin, she did feel much stronger than before. [And you still have branch mutation options for ¡®Basic Chitin¡¯ and ¡®Basic Underchitin¡¯ to choose from,] the Archive reminded. [Would you like to decide right now before the A-Rank Mutant-Class wormhole collapses in one minute and thirty-two seconds?] Yep. What are my options?
[First Branch Mutation Selection available for T4 Core Mutation ¡®Basic Chitin¡¯] [First Branch Mutation Option: Omnidynamic Chitin] [Brief Description: The chitin plates over your skin have become sharper to increase their aero and hydrodynamic properties, allowing you to move even faster. Unlocking this mutation will increase your speed by ten percent] You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. [Second Branch Mutation Option: Reinforced Chitin] [Brief Description: The chitin plates over your skin have become tougher, reducing your overall flexibility but providing more external protection against all sorts of attacks. At max level, this mutation will make it so your chitin plates are five times as tough as your toughness level] [Third Branch Mutation Option: Hollow Chitin] [Brief Description: The chitin plates over your skin have become hollow on the inside, allowing them to trap air inside and provide a small amount of thermal insulation]
She glossed over the first set of status screens briefly while the cannons began creaking and groaning on their hinges, swivelling towards the warbling wormhole sitting in the middle of the district square. And¡­ what are the options for the other chitin mutation?
[First Branch Mutation Selection available for T4 Core Mutation ¡®Basic Underchitin¡¯] [First Branch Mutation Option: Corrugated Underchitin] [Brief Description: The chitin plates under your skin have been corrugated, becoming more flexible and providing a bit more internal protection against blunt-force attacks] [Second Branch Mutation Option: Hardened Underchitin] [Brief Description: The chitin plates under your skin have become tougher, reducing your overall flexibility but providing more internal protection against all sorts of attacks] [Third Branch Mutation Option: Crystalline Underchitin] [Brief Description: The chitin plates under your skin have grown thin layers of crystalline material, slightly improving your resistance to elemental attacks such as fire and lightning]
¡­ She felt like laughing as she saw her options. This ain¡¯t tough at all. [It really is not, I suppose.] Gimme ¡®Omnidynamic Chitin¡¯ and ¡®Crystalline Underchitin¡¯. [Understood.]
[Basic Chitin Lvl: 5 ¡ú Omnidynamic Chitin Lvl: 5] [Brief Description: You have grown thin aero and hydrodynamic chitin plates over patches of your skin that are currently one and a half times as tough as your toughness level, increasing your passive movement speed by ten percent. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase their toughness. At max level, they will be twice as tough as your toughness level] [Basic Underchitin Lvl: 5 ¡ú Crystalline Underchitin Lvl: 5] [Brief Description: You have grown thin crystalline chitin plates beneath your skin that will significantly increase your endurance in high-pressure underwater environments, while also providing minor resistances to elemental attacks like fire and lightning. Subsequent levels in this mutation will further increase your endurance deep underwater]
While she scratched her forearms and fidgeted where she stood uncomfortably¡ªfeeling thin sheets of hidden crystals forming under her skin¡ªshe watched as the chitin plates on her forearms, thighs, shoulder blades, and down along her spine sharpened. They became streamlined. Smooth. Glossy black with pinkish-blue streaks. Curious, she swished an arm through the air to feel wind practically sliding off her omnidynamic chitin plates, and she couldn¡¯t help but grin. More speed. [And more protection against electrocuting yourself with Charge Glaives.] Easiest decisions of my life. Sparks started flying off the edges of the giant blue wormhole, and a low hum started building in her muscles as she dragged one glaive back, getting into a running start. The wormhole pulsed with a deep, rhythmic thrum. The heartbeat of the colossal A-Rank Mutant-Class was just about to emerge. As the Imperator siblings took a few steps back, a brave Guard with a scar running down his cheek raced towards them. He was mid-sentence, yelling at the four of them to run back where the cannons wouldn¡¯t hit them when Marisol cut him off with a simple question. ¡°What¡¯s coming outta this one?¡± she asked. ¡°... Eyewitnesses spotted an A-Rank Mutant-Class lobster getting sucked into it,¡± the Guard reported, his voice steady but grim. ¡°This one¡¯s a big one. People are saying it¡¯s ten metres tall. It¡¯ll be tough even for you to kill something of that size, so¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said, giving him a small smile as she placed her palms on the ground. ¡°I got this.¡± The wormhole rumbled again, the sound deep and resonant, and this time, it shook the ground beneath their feet. The Guards shouted, hurrying even faster to adjust their cannons and raising their spike barricades, and for his part, the brave man only gulped and stared at her for a moment longer before running away. So Marisol rubbed her nose, sniffled once, and started vibrating her repelling hydrospines. The ripples washed away the snow surrounding the wormhole and cleared a straight twenty-metre path to it¡ªperfect for a running start. She exhaled and stopped breathing as the A-Rank Mutant-Class began to emerge. The edges of the wormhole warped, twisting in and out as the giant lobster¡¯s head pushed out of the void. It was ten metres tall, human-like, and covered in jagged spines that glistened with a venomous sheen. Six massive pincers snapped menacingly, each one large enough to crush an entire cannon. Its two legs moved with unsettling grace for its size. Its killing pressure warmed the air. Thickened it. Darkened it. The Guards immediately roared, their voices a cacophony of commands and encouragements to fire at will¡ª But, with a deafening, explosive crack beneath her, Marisol surged forward at maximum speed. She used everything. Charge Glaives, air discharge, and she was even holding her breath just to push herself into a fake near-death state, allowing her to push her body past its limits with Steel Charge¡ªand with the Imperator siblings firing a shockwave at her back to push her even harder, she crossed twenty metres in less than a blink of an eye, launching into the air. Lightning coursed through her veins as she pressed her glaives together, spinning her whole body like a drill and tearing through hardened shells, muscles, and sinews. A sickening crunch echoed around her as her glaives found their target: the Mutant-Class¡¯ heart, the size of an entire human head. Then she pierced through it and exploded out the back of its chest, the wormhole it¡¯d emerged from dissipating into the winds. The lobster¡¯s body spasmed violently, its pincers flailing in a final, desperate attempt to retaliate, but it didn¡¯t seem to realise it was already dead until it looked down at the giant hole in its chest. It let out one last, gurgling roar before collapsing forward, its massive form crumbling to the ground in a heap of shattered chitin and oozing blue blood.
[Objective #68 Completed: Slay the Mutant-Classes across the Whirlpool City] [Rewards: ~3,500 points and stability across the Whirlpool City]
Marisol landed with a screech of her glaives against the ground, her body trembling as she deactivated all of her mutations. Her muscles stopped tensing, her veins stopped glowing pinkish-blue under her skin. Her lungs burned as she sucked in deep breaths, adrenaline slowly ebbing from her blood, but the Guards standing around the perimeter were still frozen, their cannons trained on the carcass of the giant lobster. Awe painted their faces as they stared between her and the lobster, but she didn¡¯t exactly feel like addressing them, so she turned to the Imperator siblings sprinting at her from the other side of the carcass instead. ¡°... High five,¡± she said tiredly, raising her hand. Bruno slapped her hand first, his claw trembling from exertion but his expression proud and delighted. Aidan followed with a faint grin, his pale face betraying just how much the past two weeks of exhaustion had caught up to him. Helena was last, her high five accompanied by a mutter, ¡°Show-off.¡± Marisol laughed, though it came out more like a wheeze. ¡°And that¡¯s the last Mutant-Class wormhole,¡± she said, resting her hands on her knees as she tried to stand up straight. ¡°Now¡­ there¡¯s only three left.¡± ¡°Thank the Great Makers,¡± Helena groaned, collapsing onto a nearby chunk of rubble. ¡°Do we get to take a break now, or¡ª¡± The ground shook beneath their feet, cutting Helena off mid-sentence. A low, deep rumble reverberated through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Marisol straightened, her senses on high alert as she scanned their surroundings. The Guards around them were breaking out into a chorus of panicked shouts, their formation unraveling as they scrambled to figure out what was happening, but she closed her eyes for a moment and let rapid rehydration clear her mind, refreshing her senses. She focused on the wind currents. She listened to the sky. Minor earthquakes weren¡¯t exactly infrequent ever since the breach first started a month ago¡ªand the Archive had explained it was probably because the large number of space-distorting wormholes were destabilising the entire island¡ªbut there was no doubt about it. Something was a little off about this one. The usual wind currents felt disrupted, erratic, as if the very air itself was holding its breath. Two seconds before it actually shot into the sky, her eyes snapped open and she whirled to her right. Then, all of them saw it: a coloured red flare streaking high up into the sky, its vibrant hue cutting through the dim haze hanging above the city. Her stomach clenched. ¡°That¡¯s a collapse flare from the northern wormhole,¡± she muttered. ¡°As predicted, Rhizocapala¡¯s about to come out.¡± ¡°Now?¡± Bruno grumbled. ¡°I¡¯m all for pushing ourselves, but I did hope we could get at least an hour¡¯s break before going over to help.¡± ¡°I mean, we don¡¯t exactly have to go there right now,¡± Marisol replied, sighing as she pried her eyes from the coloured flare. If she looked at it any longer, she, too, would probably feel compelled to rush over and offer the Imperators there her assistance. ¡°Maria and Claudia and fifty Imperators are already there, and once the other Lighthouse Imperators are certain the other wormholes won¡¯t be collapsing anytime soon, they¡¯ll rush over to jump Rhizocapala at the same time. Didn¡¯t Andres say they¡¯d wait¡­ one hour? All Maria has to do is hold off Rhizocapala for one hour, and then the other Lighthouse Imperators will all go over and beat the shit out of him, so we can¡ª¡± A second red flare interrupted her, shooting up into the sky on her left. This time, she felt a chill run down her spine as everyone whirled once again, watching the flare pop with a burst of fiery sparks. What? That¡¯s the flare from the eastern residential district. That¡¯s¡­ Eurypteria¡¯s flare. Two collapses. At once. That wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. For an entire month, the bugs had staggered out of their wormholes from weakest to strongest, lower rank to higher rank, and in the Worm God¡¯s own words, even just one rank in difference within the Insect God class meant Eurypteria should only be allowed out of her wormhole at least two days after Rhizocapala. But now both of them were coming out at the same time? [... Unless Rhizocapala is no longer an F-Rank Barnacle God,] the Archive said curtly. [Deploying live satellite moth map.] Chapter 96 - Architect The wormhole spat Rhizocapala out with a deafening roar, and he landed claws first on the frozen ground, his bulk crushing the frost-coated dirt and sending cracks rippling outwards. Steam hissed off his barnacle-infested carapace, the frigid air clashing with the heat radiating from his human-like form. Slick, bright blue blood dripped from his mouth, sizzling as it struck the frost. They weren¡¯t his blood, no, but rather, they were the remnants of the Mutant-Classes he¡¯d devoured while he was stuck in the wormhole where time, space, and perception all swirled together in one blurry mess. He couldn¡¯t remember just how many Mutant-Classes he¡¯d eaten, but considering he¡¯d ordered about fifty of them to jump into his wormhole with him, he must¡¯ve eaten around that many? Ah, who gives a fuckin¡¯ shit? ¡®Ahm back. The fifty or so Guards and Imperators stationed around him in the city¡¯s factory district froze. Their makeshift barricades of iron spikes and hastily fortified cannons looked like toys in his eyes. He straightened, his jagged armour of barnacles groaning as he shifted, and he realised he towered over most of them on ground level now. He towered over them. Two and a half metres of living terror, every inch bristling with barnacle growths and thick, plated limbs. Sure, half of the soldiers were standing on watchtowers and manning cannons on the roofs, but he felt taller than them. He hadn¡¯t felt that way since he first became an Insect God three decades ago. So he exhaled, sticking his three thread-like tongues out as he let out a low, guttural rumble. ¡°... Fresh air,¡± he whispered, his tongues twitching. The taste of the surface world was sharp and bitter, nothing like the crushing depths he called home. ¡°So overrated.¡± Demolished conch shell speakers crackled to life around them, their piercing tones cutting through the icy morning. He craned his head back and listened. Reports echoed across the city, frantic voices overlapping, and he closed the hundred bioluminescent eyes across his body to listen even better. The voice roaring through the speakers was familiar, but was it¡­ ¡°Victor?¡± he muttered, a mocking, raspy sweetness in his voice. ¡°Is that you, Victor?¡± The vibrations in the air and the distant tremors beneath his feet told him everything he needed to know. The Imperators were on him. ¡°Emergency report! Rhizocapala and Eurypteria have simultaneously emerged in the northern factory district and the eastern residential district respectively! Rhizocapala¡¯s aura signal has changed greatly since the last time we saw him! We believe he is now¡ª¡± ¡°What ye humans would grade me as an E-Rank Barnacle God, right?¡± he finished, crunching the conch spell speaker beneath his feet as he grinned at the Guards and Imperators around him. Their faces were pale, and all but two of them were trembling where they stood. Seeing their adorable reactions, he gave them a casual shrug and rolled his shoulders, making a big show of stretching his limbs. ¡°¡®Ah told a buncha Mutant-Classes to wait in the factory district where ¡®ah knew the Worm God¡¯s gonna knock me into a big wormhole, so while ¡®ahm stuck in there for¡­ how long? Three weeks? Four? Maybe even a whole month? So that ah¡¯ve got enough time to fight them and eat them all, shell to flesh to sinew to nerves. ¡®Ahm what ye humans would call an ¡®E-Rank¡¯ Insect God now, right?¡± Honestly, he just couldn¡¯t help but boast a little. He¡¯d planned this moment to perfection. If he remained an F-Rank Barnacle God, he would¡¯ve popped out of his wormhole two days before Eurypteria, and that was plenty enough time¡ªassuming the Imperators had already dealt with all the other Giant-Class and Mutant-Class wormholes¡ªfor all of them to converge on him. Two days was more than enough to send him straight back to the abyss. That was why he had to come out at the same time as Eurypteria, because now, they had to split their forces. The conch shell speakers screeched again, voices now overlapping in frantic confusion. Orders, updates, and warnings blurred together, the city¡¯s leaders trying to contain the spreading panic. He tilted his head, listening with delight as his name was repeated over and over, laced with fear. Then his eyes snapped open, their glow casting eerie shadows across the frostbitten ground. He scanned the defenders, his gaze locking onto the two figures standing apart right in front of him: the whirligig beetle lady and another shrimp lady he didn¡¯t really recognise. They weren¡¯t trembling like the others, but the others were so afraid their killing pressures weren¡¯t exactly supporting both of them. As it stood, Rhizocapala¡¯s aura dwarfed both of theirs combined, so just the slightest, slightest tinge of fear clung to the two ladies like the morning mist. ¡°... This is the end!¡± He laughed, his voice booming across the factory yard as he raised one claw, slashing it across his chest. Thick, red blood sprayed in an arc, splattering the ground in front of him, and where it struck¡ªbarnacles erupted instantly, sharp and jagged, spreading like a living infestation. The infestation raced forward, devouring the icy ground and iron spikes with relentless hunger. Guards shouted and scrambled back from the first line of spike and cannon emplacement. Some of them broke formation, their retreat a chaotic scramble. A few fired desperately, their rifles kicking against their shoulders, but the bullets barely slowed the advancing barnacles. One Guard tripped, his foot caught in the spreading growths. He screamed as the barnacles climbed his leg, jagged shells tearing into his flesh before another Guard yanked him free. More Musket fire cracked, bullets pinging uselessly off his barnacles¡¯ hardened shells, while a few roaring cannons from the nearby roofs managed to destroy his first wave of infestation. He pursed his lips in amusement. He crushed a dozen barnacles on his right arm this time and scattered his blood forward again, and this time, his blood directly flew onto the first cannon emplacement on the nearby roof, barnacles immediately exploding and swallowing the half dozen or so cannons. Then the barnacles took over the cannons, and he had artillery support on the roofs now. For their part, though, the whirligig beetle and the shrimp lady didn¡¯t move. They stood their ground even as the rest of their allies backed off, debris and water swirling around the beetle lady¡¯s arms, while what smelt like healing blood dripped off the shrimp lady¡¯s long antennae. They were probably¡­ what were they called? ¡®Lighthouse Imperators¡¯? Andres and Victor must¡¯ve assigned them to ¡®deal with him¡¯, then. ¡­ But ye ain¡¯t expectin¡¯ an E-Rank Barnacle God to stagger outta that wormhole, eh? Yer all done for, then. This city is ours.
Eurypteria was ashamed to admit it, but the moment she clawed out of her wormhole and landed on all sixes, bladed limbs stabbing into the ground, she knew she¡¯d been beaten by her older brother. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. She breathed in deeply, feeling a touch of snow on the tip of her extended tongue. Fresh air. Sharp, crisp, tinged with smoke from distant chimneys. It cut through the taste of the wormhole rot that still clung to her senses. For a moment, all she did was let herself enjoy it. Her scorpion tail curled and wrapped around her neck like a scarf, and she savoured the colour of the sky she¡¯d last seen twelve years ago. Then she looked down, and the calm slipped away. The streets of the residential district around her were lined with Imperators, a hundred or so of them, all armoured and armed to the teeth. They formed an unbroken ring around her. Distance was carefully measured, every cannon was perfectly aligned. Dozens of heavy artillery pieces were stationed at intersections, massive metal barrels gleaming in the pale morning light. Atop roof and behind windows, even more Guards and Imperators braced rifles and crossbows. Every last soldier¡¯s attention was fixed on her, including the two Lighthouse Imperators standing right in front of her. The water scorpion girl and the diving bell spider man. Hmph. She straightened, rising to her full height, her raptorial clawed legs unfolding beneath her. She was sure her sleek, elongated form cut a terrifying silhouette against the dawn sky, the ridged plates along her spine glinting like shards of obsidian, but she¡¯d give the humans credit. They didn¡¯t speak. They were disciplined. They were probably the stronger bunch of the surviving Guards and Imperators, so the trembling of their hands was only barely hidden as they held their formation. Without a word herself, she turned her gaze northwards again, scanning the icy morning sky. She didn¡¯t need to see him to feel him. Rhizocapala¡¯s killing intent rippled in the distance, thick and oppressive, swirling around the entire northern end of the city like a storm. He was making a spectacle of himself. Again. Her mandibles scraped together in irritation. His plan had worked after all. The plan was for him to devour fifty Mutant-Classes in the relative safety of the wormhole in order to increase his strength and delay his escape, and oh, she hated it. She abhorred just the idea of it. Grinding her mandibles, she thought back to the countless times she¡¯d decapitated, bisected, and cleaved him in half from head to toe¡ªand now he was an E-Rank Barnacle God? The same rank as her? All this just to bring him to my level. Her claws flexed, her tail rattling menacingly behind her. She hated his plan. She hated that it worked, but perhaps, most of all, she just hated the fact that he now stood as her equal in strength. Her glowing compound eyes narrowed as she turned back to the Imperators in front of her. At the very least, judging by their combined killing pressures, the humans had assigned a stronger and more robust force to deal with her¡ªin their eyes, she was still the strongest Insect God. She was still the more worthy opponent. So she didn¡¯t speak. Words would be wasted on these creatures. The irritation building in her chest reached a boiling point as she glared at the water scorpion girl standing in front of her, pretending like she had a chance against the original water scorpion. ¡­ I¡¯ll show you, Rhizo. You¡¯re still a fake E-Rank Insect God. This is how a real god fights.
The watchtower down in the southern harbour district of the city swayed slightly in the biting winds, its haphazard construction creaking under its own weight. Victor and Andres stood at the very top, calloused and bandaged hands gripping tight onto the splintering wooden rails. The southern harbour below them was a chaotic sprawl of shouts, alarms, and hurried footsteps, but the noise was nothing like the ones coming from the east and the north. Cannons thundered in the far distance, their shockwaves rippling through the air, followed by the splintering crash of collapsing buildings. Screams and orders blurred together, underscored by the metallic clatter of soldiers rushing to reinforce the simultaneous collapse of two Insect God wormholes. Victor looked forward and saw Rhizocapala¡¯s northern rampage of swirling dust and black smoke, punctuated by heavy machinery being flung into the sky like debris in a hurricane. He looked east and saw Eurypteria¡¯s wind blades caving deep trenches through the residential district, desperate cannon fire trying to halt her advance from every conceivable direction. Neither Insect God would fall any time soon, though. Despite Andres slamming his fist into the war table next to Victor with a low growl of frustration, the situation was dire. Rhizocapala had gotten even more devious since the last time they met him. What an architect you are, Rhizo. You¡¯re more dangerous than Corpsetaker himself. ¡°They¡¯ve outplayed us again.¡± Andres glared down at the scattered maps and scribbled reports on the splintered table. ¡°I thought it strange that a third of the Mutant-Classes they came up here with just voluntarily jumped into Rhizocapala¡¯s wormhole, but to think he was using his time stuck in it to feed on them¡­ he¡¯s truly E-Rank now, isn¡¯t he?¡± Victor didn¡¯t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the north, where Rhizocapala¡¯s gigantic barnacles took over entire buildings, firing spiny projectiles every which way¡ªthen his gaze met Andres¡¯, calm and unshaken. ¡°It¡¯s a shitty situation, alright,¡± he said quietly, ¡°but it ain¡¯t unwinnable. Listen to me, big man. We can still turn this around. You need to get to Maria. She¡¯s fighting Rhizocapala in the north with Claudia and only fifty Imperators, so she¡¯ll need every ounce of strength we can muster. Reina and Hugo can hold on against Eurypteria with a hundred Imperators backing them up for now.¡± Andres furrowed his brows. ¡°And you? Won¡¯t you be going to your niece?¡± Victor glanced over his shoulder, and Andres followed his gaze. The giant wormhole behind them with its churning, violet-black depths was still pulsating ominously, but the air around the edges were shimmering with distortion, the fabric of reality starting straining under its weight. ¡°I¡¯ll stay here,¡± Victor said firmly. ¡°Someone¡¯s gotta keep an eye on Kalakos.¡± Andres¡¯ scowl deepened. ¡°You think she¡¯s coming out soon as well? Even if she¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°A month ago, back in Depth Five, we didn¡¯t even detect her until she was right in front of us. That¡¯s because she shed her old shell and intentionally weakened herself to stop us from tracking her aura signal.¡± He gestured back at the warbling wormhole, tapping his cane against the floor a few times just to test the structural strength of the watchtower. ¡°I ain¡¯t completely sure since I wasn¡¯t paying attention to her back in Depth Five, but I¡¯m fucking sure Rhizocapala told her to weaken herself until she¡¯s dropped a whole rank. She probably ain¡¯t our D-Rank Remipede God anymore. Worst case scenario, she¡¯s E-Rank right now, which means¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯ll be coming out alongside Rhizocapala and Eurypteria,¡± Andres said, eyes narrowing and gritting his teeth. ¡°Shit. They never intended on letting us jump them all at once. They strengthened Rhizocapala and weakened Kalakos on purpose so they¡¯re all at Eurypteria¡¯s level.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why you have to go north,¡± Victor said firmly, kicking the big man on the back and sending him staggering into the wooden railings. ¡°Go. Hugo can help out Reina against Eurypteria, and Claudia can support you and Maria against Rhizocapala, but there ain¡¯t no Lighthouse Imperator we can spare for Kalakos. That¡¯s why I¡¯m staying here. The Harbour Imperatrix immediately placed his hand on the railings as if to vault over, but at the last moment, he hesitated. He looked back at Victor, his expression conflicted and far away. ¡°... You sure you can handle Kalakos?¡± Victor didn¡¯t answer immediately again. His hand drifted to his pocket, fingers brushing against the smooth, cold surface of his little trinket. His jaw tightened, but he didn¡¯t speak. And the silence stretched for a moment before Andres nodded resolutely. ¡°Don¡¯t die, old man. The Deepwater Legion Front still needs its Chariot.¡± With that, the Imperatrix vaulted over the railing, his figure disappearing into the chaos below. Victor remained where he was, his hand still in his pocket as he stared back at Kalakos¡¯ warbling wormhole. His grip on the little trinket in his pocket tightened. He could feel the weight of it pressing into his palm. If he popped it right now, there was a fifty-fifty chance he¡¯d be able to dash over to the eastern residential district, kill Eurypteria, defend his niece, and have enough stamina remaining to return here before any of the Guards and Imperators below him could even notice he¡¯d left. On the other hand, if he were to run out of stamina and died the moment he finished off Eurypteria with his Swarmblood Art, there¡¯d be nobody left to deal with Kalakos in the south. And even in the best case scenario where he could kill two measly Insect Gods in one prolonged activation of his Art, what would happen if either Corpsetaker or Marculata decided to pop out of the whirlpool then? Who else would be able to buy enough time and protect the soldiers while they were evacuating the city? He could only use his Art once. So he couldn¡¯t move. Whoever he picked as his target had to be someone he had to kill no matter what, and no matter how dreary the situation was, it just wasn''t dire. Enough. Yet. Not yet. He still had faith that the Imperators and the Guards could deal with Rhizocapala and Eurypteria on their own, and then they''d be able to rush back to help him against Kalakos, thus removing the need for him to use his Art entirely. He was not going to die today. ¡°... Come on, lass,¡± he murmured under his breath. ¡°Time to pick up the slack.¡± Chapter 97 - Twin Side, One Side (I) Two flares arced up in smooth streaks of orange and red, their light bouncing off the smoky morning haze above the city. One flew north, the other flew east¡ªand Marisol tracked them both with sharp, unblinking eyes, clenching her jaw as she looked at the live footage of Rhizocapala and Eurypteria falling out of their wormholes. A single thought gripped her mind. Decide. Now. While conch shell speakers around them crackled to life, Andres¡¯ voice reporting the emergence of the E-Rank Barnacle God and the E-Rank Water Scorpion God, the Guards around her shot to life. They moved with haste. Twenty of them immediately picked up arms and rushed to the northern factory district, while forty of them started rolling cannons, barricades, and all sorts of other heavy artillery towards the eastern residential district. They¡¯d practised this a little, no doubt, but they weren¡¯t quick enough. They wouldn¡¯t arrive at the collapsed wormholes fast enough to reinforce the Imperators who were already fighting there. Right here, right now, Marisol had to make a choice. ¡°We¡¯ve gotta split up,¡± Helena said, grimacing as she looked up at the lingering flares. ¡°If we go east together, we¡¯ll be leaving Miss Maria and Miss Claudia to deal with Rhizocapala alone, and there are only fifty Imperators in the north compared to the hundred in the east¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go north, you¡¯ll go east!¡± Marisol shouted, dragging one glaive back as she electrified her blood and temporarily increased her speed. ¡°I¡¯ll help out Maria, so you help out Reina! You guys get there as quickly as you can!¡± It may be a razor-thin margin between a right decision and a fatal mistake, but between fifty Imperators and a hundred Imperators for an E-Rank Insect God, Marisol knew which side she had to reinforce first¡­ and though she wanted to help out Reina as well, Maria was still injured, and Claudia wasn¡¯t much of a fighter. Rhizocapala demanded her attention. So no one argued. Helena and Aidan nodded sharply, Bruno barked orders at some of the nearby Guards to follow them, and Marisol immediately took off for the northern factory district. Cannons were already thundering in the distance, buildings crashing and screams of pain resounding. The streets she was blurring past were already chaos made flesh. The cobblestones were jagged underfoot, torn up by deflected stray cannonballs. Smoke and ash hung low in the air, scraping her throat raw with every breath. Bodies littered the ground¡ªsome human, others not. She forced herself not to look too closely as she skated at breakneck speed. The factory district loomed ahead, most of the smokestacks now toppled and broken. She was about to leap onto the nearest roof to get a better vantage point of the entire district when a factory to her right collapsed with a deafening crash. Its walls were punched out like paper. Dust and debris billowed outwards, forcing her to throw an arm over her mouth and nose, but she felt something flying at her. Something light, something human-like, sending up a plume of dust and shattered concrete. And then Maria flew through the broken factory, her body limp, before slamming into a wall on Marisol¡¯s left. The impact sent cracks spidering through the bricks, and the Lighthouse Imperator crumpled to the ground in a broken heap. ¡°Maria!¡± Marisol¡¯s breath hitched. She dashed forward instinctively, but out of nowhere, Claudia grabbed her arm from behind and pulled her back. The medic wasn¡¯t alone. Four more medics with the Cleaner Shrimp Class jumped around the fallen Maria, running their antennae over her as they shouted healing orders at each other. While Claudia continued pulling Marisol behind a small mountain of rubble, Marisol¡¯s eyes widened at Maria¡¯s bloody state. Her uniform was torn and pierced with jagged, bony spines that dripped blue ichor. Clam-like barnacles clung to her skin, their sharp teeth gnawing at her flesh. Her eyes were fluttering open and close, and she reached for her notebook clumsily as she spotted Marisol staring, but the medics slapped the notebook away and barked at her to stay still. She wouldn¡¯t die¡ªa Lighthouse Imperator wouldn¡¯t fall that easily¡ªbut she needed to stay still. And so did the rest of them. As all seven of them knelt behind the mound of rubble, Marisol¡¯s stomach churned. Goosebumps pricked all over her skin. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight, and she held her breath instinctively as her attention was dragged upwards¡ªtowards the distant mound of rubble that was the collapsed factory Maria was punched out of. Rhizocapala himself stood atop the ruins like a monument to carnage, and his killing pressure was nothing like it was just a month ago. His human-like body of a thousand tiny barnacles were oily, slick with blood and filth. Teeth and eyes and thread-like tongues pulsed grotesquely along his limbs, the mouth-like shells opening and closing in rhythmic hunger. He was taller, too. He wasn¡¯t two metres tall the last time Marisol saw him, but now he was, and it became clearer than ever that the Archive¡¯s guess wasn¡¯t wrong. He was no longer the ¡®weakest¡¯ of the Four Leviathans.
[Identification Complete] [Name: Rhizocapala] [Grade: E-Rank Barnacle God] [Swarmblood Art: Shellblight Bloom] [Swarmblood Aura: ~75,000] [Strength: ~14, Speed: ~14, Toughness: ~12, Dexterity: ~17, Perception: ~16]
While Claudia and the medics hissed at Maria to stop moving around so they could heal her properly, Marisol narrowed her eyes at Rhizocapala¡¯s new attribute levels. She didn¡¯t remember Eurypteria¡¯s levels exactly, but they were truly about the same in strength now. [He really did eat tons of Mutant-Classes while he was stuck in his wormhole,] the Archive muttered. [He cannot be considered a ¡®weak¡¯ Insect God with nothing but bags of tricks and deception anymore¡ª] ¡°Surface air,¡± he said to himself, inhaling deeply, his raspy voice cutting loudly through the air. ¡°It¡¯s been a decade since ¡®ah last came up to the surface, but yer human ¡®air¡¯ is still as foul as ¡®ah remember.¡± Then his head snapped down, and the hundred eyes across his body locked onto Marisol, peeking over her mound of rubble. Her blood immediately froze as a grotesque smile split his face, revealing multiple jagged rows of teeth. ¡°And it¡¯s ye again,¡± he rumbled, almost jovial. ¡°The little water strider with the little lightnin¡¯. Let¡¯s make a bet. Will all of ye manage to stop me before the hour is up, or will ¡®ah buy enough time distractin¡¯ all of ye until Kalakos escapes her wormhole first?¡± Marisol bit her tongue. Her blood turned to pure ice as his gaze pinned her in place. Around him, Guards and Imperators who¡¯d been caught up in his initial destruction were starting to recover¡ªand they were loading their cannons, picking up their oversized weapons, gnashing their teeth together in determination¡ªbut Marisol didn¡¯t need to see their status screens and estimated attribute levels to know all of them combined wouldn¡¯t be able to rival Rhizocapala. At best, they¡¯d be able to buy time for Maria to make a recovery, but how many people would have to die before she could get up on her feet? The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. No. The weight of Rhizocapala¡¯s killing pressure may be pressing down on her shoulders, crushing her lungs, but at B-Rank Mutant-Class, Marisol was no slouch anymore. She was on par with a Lighthouse Imperator, so it was her turn to defend everyone. As the barnacles on Rhizocapala¡¯s limbs swelled, their grotesque mouths widening, Marisol whirled on Maria and Claudia and forced a smile onto her face. Her fists may be shaking, but she was banking on neither of them noticing. ¡°I¡¯ll distract him,¡± she said shakily, nodding at Claudia. ¡°I¡¯ll buy as much time as you need to heal Maria.¡± Maria glared at her, eyes wide, but Claudia simply shouted at her medics to put a hundred and ten percent effort into the healing. That was Marisol¡¯s cue to go. As Maria¡¯s hand shot out at her, she vaulted over the rubble, glaives flashing in the sunlight. That caught Rhizocapala¡¯s attention. The air screamed as he launched a volley of spiny projectiles at them with his barnacle cannon arms, but Marisol immediately twisted with her palms on the ground, spinning her glaives around her. Storm Glaives and Whirlwind Spin combined with spraying discharge made a mist swirl violently around her, picking up stray debris that deflected the spines and scattered them every which way. Then her glaives hit the ground, and she dashed forward, sparks flying behind her as her glaives scraped against the icy pavement. Momentum carried her straight to Rhizocapala, who stood towering and still above his mound of rubble¡ªand for a moment, surprise flickered across his grotesque features. He hadn¡¯t expected her to come at him this fast. She didn¡¯t hesitate. She didn¡¯t wait for any of the Guards and Imperators to suicide charge the Barnacle God in order to buy Claudia and Maria time. With Storm Glaives temporarily boosting her speed by fifty percent¡ªputting it at thirteen, just one less than Rhizocapala¡ªshe leapt high, her body coiled like a spring, and then drove her knee straight into Rhizocapala¡¯s face. The impact reverberated through her, a crack of chitin giving way beneath her force, but she was surprised her attack landed, too. Rhizocapala flew backwards, smashing through the crumbling wall of a nearby factory, and Marisol followed him in. She had to stick to him like glue. As she flipped and landed cleanly, glaives biting into the floor to halt her momentum, she whirled around and quickly scanned the factory from top to bottom. Giant auto-hammers were still pounding away in relentless rhythm, smoke and sparks billowing from the heavy machinery. Conveyor belts continued churning under flickering orange light as her shallow breaths steamed and formed mist in the bitter air. Rhizocapala had been thrown spine-first into a giant furnace at the end of the factory, but he was already back on his feet, strutting slowly towards her and slashing his hands through the air. Pure crimson blood sprayed outwards in wide arcs, and where the droplets landed on the moving machinery, giant barnacles erupted. They grew rapidly and infested every surface as Marisol gritted her teeth, skating back slowly to put some distance between the two of them. ¡°Yer speed¡¯s the same as mine,¡± he said, his voice low and mocking, ¡°but ye ain¡¯t got any backup, and this city is now my domain!¡± Her eyes narrowed on the giant barnacles growing upside-down on the swinging auto-hammers, and then she dodged, backflipping over the first wave of giant spines they shot down at her. More barnacles grew on both sides, infesting stacks of crates, metal beams, and overhead wire bridges. There were too many of them to deal with, so she whirled around and started skating the other way, speeding through the vast interconnected factories as the army of immobile giant barnacles chased after her. Her heart pounded, adrenaline and lightning flooding her veins as she narrowly dodged another barrage. A giant spine slammed into the wall beside her, splintering metal with a deafening crack. "Impressive!" Rhizocapala roared behind her cackling, ¡°but how long can ye run, and how much time can ye buy?¡± Marisol didn¡¯t respond. Her focus was split¡ªevading the barnacles¡¯ projectiles, navigating the labyrinth of heavy machinery, and keeping an eye on Rhizocapala¡¯s looming figure as he simply walked after her. As she darted past a row of swinging auto-hammers, ducked under rows of swinging gears, and vaulted over several conveyor belts in a row to avoid barnacles snapping at her from below, the Archive¡¯s voice chimed in her head. [Rhizocapala¡¯s Swarmblood Art is ¡®Shellblight Bloom¡¯, which allows him to propagate three types of barnacles wherever his blood lands. Each type has distinct biological functions derived from his blood¡¯s properties, and he can decide which one he wants to create depending on the situation he finds himself in. The first is the stalkless barnacle, which utilises internal hydraulic systems to generate¡ª] Not now! she snapped inwardly, leaping over another conveyor belt as a clam-like barnacle lunged from the shadows. Its massive jaws clamped shut inches from her, the impact shaking the floor beneath her. If you can¡¯t simplify it, don¡¯t tell me! [Geyser-types shaped like eyes can shoot spiny projectiles at you, shell-types shaped like clams can snap at you like mouths, and tower-types shaped like volcanos can extend thread-like tongues to grab and throw objects. Rhizocapala prefers creating the first type with his blood¡ª] Because he favours ranged attacks! Gotcha! She barely ducked as another spray of spines whizzed past her head, embedding themselves in a steel beam with sickening thuds. But I don¡¯t suppose just because he prefers ranged combat means he¡¯s shit at melee, right? If he can create geyser-type barnacles on his arms and use them like cannons, he can also create shell-type barnacles and turn his entire body into a hundred mouths snapping at me. How do I get close to him? [Are you trying to kill him right now?] [Do you think you can kill him?] She grimaced while the interconnected factories groaned behind her, entire sections of the building collapsing under the corrosion of the spreading barnacles. Debris rained down as Rhizocapala leapt from one gantry to another, moving with surprising agility as he continued splattering his own blood in wide arcs, infesting even more heavy machinery and increasing his barnacle count. There seemed no end to it¡ªno limit to his blood pool¡ªbut even if there was a limit, the Archive was right. Her goal was just to buy time. He¡¯s much stronger and faster, too, she mumbled, glancing back at his leaping and hopping form as she neared the very, very end of the factory. If he were still an F-Rank Barnacle God with lesser attribute levels, maybe I could do something, but right now¡­ The factory was rapidly becoming uninhabitable. Flames licked at the edges of broken machinery, and the air was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning oil. Barnacles swarmed across every surface, their grotesque forms pulsating as they prepared another volley. She spotted the giant window at the end of the factory and jumped through it, bracing her arms before her face and crashing through with a shower of shattered glass and twisted metal. She tumbled out into the snow-covered streets beyond, and frigid air immediately burned her lungs, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat inside. How much time did I buy them? Is it enough to¡ª A shadow fell over her, and she looked up, heart lurching. Rhizocapala stood perched on the roof of the burning factory she¡¯d just escaped, his slender form outlined against the grey, smoke-streaked sky. Snowflakes fell lazily around him, though none dared to settle on his barnacle-encrusted body. It was like his aura had a physical presence, and¡­ he wasn¡¯t the only source of killing pressure around her. Her stomach twisted as she skated back slowly, ice cracking under her glaives. She looked around anxiously, chills running down her spine. She felt them. More bugs around her. She reached out with her senses¡ªfelt the subtle wind currents swirling across the factory district¡ªand her breath hitched as her eyes suddenly darted to a ruined alley on her left, her chest tightening. But it wasn¡¯t a giant bug that emerged. At first, they shuffled like drunks in the snow¡ªtheir movements erratic, disjointed¡ªbut as they drew closer and closer, their forms became clearer. Sunlit, shadows burned away. She froze completely for the second time today, her eyes twitching involuntarily. Four dozen or so Guards and Imperators, men and women she might¡¯ve fought beside only hours ago, staggered toward her, surrounding her on all sides. Their faces were pale, slack-jawed, and their eyes were clouded with a dull, unseeing haze, but it was what clung to their bodies that made Marisol¡¯s blood run cold. Barnacles. Twisted shell growths covered their skin, jutting out from their arms, their backs, even their faces. Some barnacles pulsed faintly, like diseased hearts. Others had grown into jagged, unnatural shapes, curling around their limbs or spreading across their torsos like melded armour. ¡­ Rhizocapala. His Swarmblood Art. One of the parasitized Imperators stumbled forward, his body jerking as though pulled by invisible strings. A barnacle the size of a giant crab had consumed the entire upper half of his face, and when his mouth opened, the sound that came out wasn¡¯t human. It was a wet, gurgling rasp. Alive, but not quite. Dead, but not fully. It¡¯d be easy for Marisol to just activate her Storm Glaives again and blitz through all of them, but could she do that? After she¡¯d already abandoned a hundred people down in Depth Five? ¡­ Her glaives trembled, lightning flickering in and out between her chitin plates. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, loud and insistent, but she didn¡¯t know what to do. Run? Fight? Get Claudia to heal them? Her mind raced as the parasitized humans surged forward, all snarling as Rhizocapala cackled overhead. Chapter 98 - Twin Side, One Side (II) There was no other choice for now. Marisol skated back on the snowy streets, her glaives screeching against the ground as the first parasitized Guards and Imperators lunged at her, claws and blades jerking at her with unnatural spasms. She twisted and turned, narrowly avoiding another crab claw that swiped at her face, then ducked beneath another''s outstretched arm. Above the chaos of it all, Rhizocapala remained perched on the roof of the crumbling factory, and his voice cut through the biting cold like a serrated blade. ¡°Yer quite irritatin¡¯, ye know that?¡± he said, his tone almost amused. ¡°¡®Ah was sure droplets of my blood landed on ye a good few times, but here ye still are, skatin¡¯ around like ye¡¯ve got somewhere better to be.¡± Marisol clenched her jaw, refusing to reply. Her breathing was ragged, each inhale stinging her throat as she darted through the swarm of staggering soldiers. ¡°It must be a mutation makin¡¯ my blood slide off yer skin,¡± Rhizocapala continued muttering, ¡°or maybe it¡¯s that lightnin¡¯ coursin¡¯ through yer veins. Keeps yer internal temperature too high for my blood to propagate into barnacles. Shame, really. ¡®Ah think ye¡¯d look delightful covered in them.¡± She gritted her teeth and forced herself to focus. Her glaives cut clean arcs through the air as she dodged another claw swipe¡ªshe couldn¡¯t afford to think about him. Not now. The Guards and Imperators, jerking around as if pulled by invisible strings, still moved with eerie coordination like they hadn¡¯t forgotten their training as soldiers. They were faster than they had any right to be in their state, and their movements were¡­ unpredictable. One of the Guards lunged at her, his barnacle-covered arm swinging down like a club. She twisted to the side, kicking out and redirecting the blow into the snow. She pushed off, gliding backward, but another Imperator was already closing in, his jaw distended unnaturally as he let out a guttural groan. She refused to counterattack, and though she managed to skate back again, the man¡¯s jaw managed to rip through the chitin plates on her forearm, making her bleed and wince. I can¡¯t kill them. They¡¯re¡­ they¡¯re still in there. Her stomach churned as she glanced at their faces¡ªtwisted with pain, their eyes glassy but filled with a faint glimmer of recognition. It was horrifying. She¡¯d never seen barnacles parasitize people like this before, but now, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder what Catrina¡¯s face looked like when she realised the skeleton shrimp was coming out of her. She darted to the left, narrowly avoiding another swipe from an Imperator whose torso was almost entirely encased in barnacles. His missed strike shattered a nearby metal pole, sending shards of debris scattering, and as she tried skating away even further, she ran her back into something solid. Her heart sank as she whirled around, realising she¡¯d run herself into a full surround of parasitized soldiers. The Imperators and Guards closed in, their groans a synchronised symphony of anguish, and then one of them¡ªa hulking Imperator with some sort of Giant Crab Class¡ªsuddenly leapt at her. Her instincts kicked in. If she dodged, he¡¯d crushed several weaker-looking Guards behind her, so she snapped forward and caught him mid-air, her glaives bracing against his weight. She staggered back under the impact, but then another Imperator leapt at her. Then another. And then another. They piled onto her, their barnacle-encrusted bodies pressing her down. With her strength level, she could hold up four, maybe five of them, but she gasped as the weight became unbearable incredibly quickly. Her knees buckled beneath her. Panic clawed at her throat as she was forced onto her stomach by the mountain of soldiers trying to smother her on all sides, pinning her arms behind her, the icy snow biting into her skin. Rhizocapala¡¯s voice echoed mockingly far, far above. ¡°Don¡¯t take it personally, water strider,¡± he murmured. ¡°¡®Ah just don¡¯t fancy gettin¡¯ too close to yer lightnin¡¯. Melee combat¡¯s not my style, ye know? So let¡¯s keep things simple and end this how yer journey should¡¯ve started¡ªwith yer death at the hands of a few lowly bugs.¡± The Guards and Imperators weighed down harder, their groans rising to a fever pitch. She kicked out, she extended her apiclaws, she discharged sprays of mist, and she most certainly tried to activate Storm Glaives, but nothing worked. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to strike them at full force. But just as an Imperator pressed his giant pistol shrimp into her forehead, something¡­ changed. All of their groans changed, becoming screams¡ªraw, guttural, and defiant. The weight on her lessened as the parasitized humans began thrashing violently. The ones directly crushing her tore themselves away, and they began swiping back the rest of the parasitized soldiers. She was allowed to see the sky again. She lifted her head, gasping for air, her vision blurred with shock and exhaustion. And she watched in horror as the Guards and Imperators clawed at the barnacles clinging to their own flesh, one by one by one, all screaming as they stained the snow-covered street red with blood. About twenty soldiers killed themselves right in front of her, and she swore she saw all of them performing the Whirlpool City¡¯s salute before their inhuman screams were cut off one by one. ¡­ She lay there on her stomach, trembling, as the street fell silent. Blood soaked into the melting snow around her, steam rising faintly from the warm liquid. She looked around at the carnage¡ªthe broken, lifeless bodies of the Guards and Imperators who¡¯d been her enemies just moments ago. They weren¡¯t moving anymore. And from a distant factory roof, Rhizocapala stood silent, his grin replaced by a contemplative frown. ¡°Huh,¡± he said finally, his tone almost¡­ respectful. ¡°Ah¡¯ll admit, ¡®ah didn¡¯t see that comin¡¯. Tenacious lot, aren¡¯t they? ¡®Ah was sure they¡¯d all lost their minds already, but ¡®ah guess they snapped back to their senses just in time to¡ª¡± ¡°Of course my soldiers are tenacious, you fucking bug.¡± A thunderous shockwave tore through the air, a force so sudden and immense that Marisol barely registered it before it roared past her on the ground. The wind screamed in her ears, rattling her bones as it surged forward, and it slammed into the factory in front of her with devastating power. The factory didn''t just collapse. It disintegrated. Steel beams twisted like paper, walls imploded, and a fiery burst erupted from its core, scattering debris into the sky. The explosion¡¯s concussive wave flattened the surrounding snow, and the acrid scent of burning metal filled the air. Rhizocapala had to dodge. He leapt to the roof of a nearby building, his expression flickering between irritation and amusement as he glared down at her. No. Not me. She groaned, her body trembling as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Pain lanced through her limbs, and her vision swam, but she still managed to tilt her head backwards. Reinforcements emerged from the smoke of the main street, and leading them was Andres, the Imperatrix, his broad shoulders towering over those who followed. For the first time, his enormous fur coat was gone, discarded in the snow behind him, and her breath caught as she took in the sight. Wrapped in blood-stained bandages, his mantis shrimp-like arms gleamed under the pale light, shimmering with an otherworldly bluish-orange sheen. Steam hissed off his fists where he¡¯d punched the air so hard it fired a shockwave strong enough to rival the Art of the Pistol Shrimp Class. Behind him strode Claudia, Maria, as well as dozens of Guards and Imperators bolstered by the march of cannons and heavy warship artillery. He wasn¡¯t alone in his strength. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Marisol¡¯s heart surged with a mix of relief and awe as she realised she¡¯d bought enough time. ¡°... Nobody outside the island can help us,¡± Andres continued, his voice rising above the crackle of flames and the groans of twisting, collapsing metal. ¡°We live each and every day with the reminder that one day, it could be our turn in the abyss. One day, we will face the most gruesome of deaths, and one day, it will be our turn to sacrifice ourselves for the Deepwater Legion Front.¡± Then he raised one of his massive, chitinous arms, his muscles coiling and trembling with restrained fury. ¡°So I¡¯ve trained them well,¡± he said, fixing his one-eyed gaze on Rhizocapala with unrelenting fury, ¡°and you, too, will see your turn in the abyss.¡± While the Barnacle God scoffed softly, Andres marched past Marisol and barked orders from the front. ¡°Guards, scatter and pull out the reserve cannons from the underground pipes! Imperators with ranged Arts and mutations, stay back and pelt the bastard whenever you¡¯ve got a clean shot! If you can¡¯t hit him, then focus on destroying the barnacles! Do not let them outnumber us!¡± His commands were met with a roar of acknowledgment, the Guards and Imperators immediately dashing around the streets in chaotic formation. Marisol forced herself to sit upright as Claudia and several medics slid to a kneel next to her, running their glowing antennae across her skin, while Maria gave her a tense nod as she, too, walked past¡ªit was like they were telling her she¡¯d done her part already, and now it was their turn to shine. But Rhizocapala pulled her attention away from the reinforcements as he laughed above them all, spreading his arms far and wide. ¡°Yer wastin¡¯ yer energy, Andres.¡± He leapt to another rooftop, scattering more blood with the force of his movement. From his vantage point, he surveyed the scrambling defenders with disdain. ¡°Did ye think ah¡¯d face ye directly? ¡®Ahm not that stupid. To begin with, ¡®ah ain¡¯t here to fight any of ye. ¡®Ahm just here to buy time, and that, my dear Imperatators, is somethin¡¯ ¡®ahm very good at doin¡¯.¡± Rhizocapala flung his arms out again, and even more arcs of blood scattered across the district. The crimson liquid hit snow and machinery, lamps and walls, spreading like veins through the frost-covered landscape, but Andres shouted for everyone to brace their faces with their sleeves¡ªthis time, not a single soldier got a speck of blood on their skin. Nobody became parasitized. But still, Marisol¡¯s stomach twisted as the ground began to rumble. Rhizocapala¡¯s blood ate into the soil, the buildings, and the frozen earth, and soon, hordes of giant barnacles began sprouting like grotesque flowers once more. Hundreds of them. They grew rapidly, twisting into towering structures that reached for the sky. Some bristled with spiny projectiles, others cracked open to reveal snapping maws, while others sprouted thread-like tongues that lashed through the air like whips. The barnacles surrounded them on all fronts as they always have. ¡°¡®Ahm happy as long as ¡®ah can keep most of ye here,¡± Rhizocapala said, his voice dripping with amusement. ¡°If yer busy with me, ye ain¡¯t with Eurypteria, and that¡¯s all that matters.¡± ¡°Destroy those barnacles!¡± Andres roared, his voice cutting through the rising panic like a whip. ¡°Don¡¯t let them spread! Protect the remaining factories at all costs! Stick to the plan¡ªour priority is keeping him here, so do not let him join the others!¡± The response was immediate. Imperators unleashed their ranged attacks, shockwaves and spiny projectiles streaking through the air to strike the growing barnacles before they could take complete form. Cannons roared behind Marisol as the Guards also fought to suppress the rapid infestation, and the sounds were deafening enough to make her want to climb onto her feet. But then she felt herself being lifted, and she let out a startled yelp as Andres scooped her up effortlessly in both arms. ¡°Hey! What¡¯s this? Let me g¡ª¡± ¡°Can you still fight?¡± he asked, his tone blunt but not unkind. Marisol hesitated, her gaze flickering back to the dead Guards and Imperators who¡¯d killed themselves to protect her. Their faces, their screams, the blood that¡¯d splattered across her¡ªthose images clung to her like a second skin. Her teeth clenched, and she blinked back the sting of tears. ¡°Yes,¡± she said, her voice trembling slightly. ¡°I can fight.¡± Andres nodded, satisfied with her answer. ¡°Good. Then listen closely.¡± He adjusted his grip on her as though she weighed nothing, his mantis shrimp arms flexing with restrained power as he turned around, facing away from Rhizocapala. ¡°I¡¯m throwing you to the eastern residential district.¡± Marisol blinked. ¡°You¡¯re gonna¡­ what?¡± ¡°Victor¡¯s still in the south watching over Kalakos. He believes she¡¯s done the exact opposite of what Rhizocapala did, weakening herself down to E-Rank so she can come out in about thirty or so more minutes, so he can¡¯t leave the south,¡± Andres continued, ignoring her. ¡°Reina and Hugo are the only ones engaging Eurypteria right now. Claudia, Maria, and I will stay here and keep Rhizocapala contained in the north. We probably won¡¯t be able to kill him¡ªhe¡¯s too fucking slippery for all of us¡ªbut at the very least, we can keep him from leaving. That means it¡¯s all on you.¡± ¡°Me?¡± Andres¡¯s piercing gaze locked onto hers. ¡°You, Reina, and Hugo are going to kill the E-Rank Water Scorpion God within ten minutes. Then, the three of you will rush here to reinforce us in the north so we can kill Rhizocapala within twenty minutes, and then we¡¯ll all go beat up Kalakos. Do you understand?¡± Things were moving too fast. Too messy. Her head was still spinning from when the parasitized Guards and Imperators had crushed her and suffocated her in their heat, but then she felt the Archive speaking [Stimulating release of adrenaline], and it was like a dagger of ice stabbing through the back of her head, making her suck in a sharp breath of icy air. Then she swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. ¡°Got it!¡± ¡°Good.¡± He shifted his stance, one of his massive arms curling beneath her as he prepared to throw her. ¡°Just to be sure, though¡­ those wings on your back can be used to fly, right? You won¡¯t die if I throw you as hard as I can?¡± Marisol blinked again. ¡°It¡­ uh, well, I guess it depends on how hard you throw me. I don¡¯t know how strong you are¡ª¡± Before she could finish, Andres hurled her into the air with a precision and strength that stole the breath from her lungs. The world spun for a moment as the force of the throw sent her hurtling eastward. Wind tore at her face and clothing, cold and sharp as knives, and her stomach lurched at the sheer velocity. Then, instinct took over. Marisol unfurled her streamlined wings in one fluid motion, the translucent membranes snapping open and catching the air. The Archive flared to life. Silver arrows, lines, and trajectories projected themselves over the dark, storm-ridden skyline, helping her correct her flight path with minute adjustments. She twisted her body, streamlined herself further, and soared above the city like a javelin. For a moment, there was nothing but the sensation of speed. The sheer, unadulterated thrill of it. Her heart pounded in her chest as her wings carried her higher, faster. Below her stretched the vast sprawl of the Whirlpool City¡ªshe could see the jagged edges of the whirlpool in the centre and the dazzling blue sea around the shores, picturesque landscapes of legends she¡¯d read all about in textbooks as a child¡ªand yet she couldn¡¯t bring herself to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime view of the city. Fires burned across the island, casting plumes of smoke into the air. Buildings lay in ruins, their once-proud facades reduced to rubble. Streets were littered with the dead and dying, the destruction wrought by three¡ªtwo¡ªInsect Gods tearing through like a plague. Her awe was swallowed by a surge of fury. This was supposed to be a city that sold healing seawater like nowhere else on the continent. So she gritted her teeth, tensing her body as she angled her descent. The Archive¡¯s giant silver arrow in her vision guided her toward her target. She didn¡¯t even need to be close by to spot the telltale signs of battle: bursts of wind blades cutting through buildings and streets, carving devastation into the cityscape. Eurypteria. The Water Scorpion God moved through the eastern residential district like a storm incarnate, her bladed limbs and tail slicing through everything in her way with terrifyingly little resistance. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of two familiar figures amidst the fighting in the residential district¡ªReina and Hugo. The two Lighthouse Imperators, accompanied by half a dozen Imperators behind them with melee weapons, were fighting with everything they had, their Arts and mutations flaring bright against the Water Scorpion God¡¯s relentless assault. The sight only fueled her rage even further. Faster! She tucked her wings closer to her body, streamlining herself further as she shot downward. Faster! Rapid rehydration cleared her mind. Spraying discharge for more propulsion. Hydrodynamic chitin to reduce air resistance, Storm Glaives to temporarily boost her speed. Lightning surged through her blood and crackled around her glaives, tightening her muscles, coiling them with single-minded, unblemished focus. A hundred and ten percent of her power.
[{Temporary} Speed: 9 (+1) ¡ú 13 (+1)]
The wind roared in her ears as she hurtled toward Eurypteria, flipping mid-air and pressing her glaives together into a single spear, aiming for the bug¡¯s shoulder blades¡ªthen she struck with the forcing of a lightning bolt. Impact. A deafening shockwave rippled outward as her glaives collided with three of Eurypteria¡¯s bladed arms, shaking the ground and sending rubble flying. The jarring force of the clash shot up her legs, but she gritted her teeth and held firm. Eurypteria may not have budged¡ªand her glaives may not have stabbed right through the bug¡¯s heart¡ªbut she most certainly cracked a few chitin plates off the Water Scorpion God¡¯s arms. ¡°So,¡± Eurypteria said, grinning up at her as they locked sharp edges, sparks flying where metal-like appendages met electrified glaives, ¡°the water strider¡¯s joining in on the fun, too?¡± Chapter 99 - Weakest Strongest (I) Eurypteria¡¯s mocking grin lingered in Marisol¡¯s mind even as she kicked off the Water Scorpion God¡¯s bladed arms, backflipping through the air. She landed low on all fours, the snow beneath her hands and feet crunching sharply as she screeched backwards. Her wings folded tight against her back, her muscles coiled as she prepared to spring. The air was frigid in the residential district square, biting against her exposed skin, but her blood burned with lightning and the heat of adrenaline¡ªshe was ready to go. Across, Eurypteria stood two metres tall amidst the rubble, her monstrous form towering over most of the half-broken residential district. Snow swirled around her, carried by erratic winds, and her seven bladed limbs twitched. Gleamed wickedly under dim sunlight. Then her scorpion tail lashed forward like a coiled whip, and the world around them erupted into motion once more. From the wreckage of a nearby collapsed building, the Imperator siblings¡ªHelena, Aidan, and Bruno¡ªunleashed a barrage of shockwaves at her. The air rippled as their attacks slammed into Eurypteria, forcing her to stagger, but two of her bladed arms crossed to deflect the brunt of the force. She managed to whip her tail forward still, slicing cleanly through a collapsed wall where half a dozen soldiers were taking cover. Thankfully, from somewhere behind Marisol, Hugo immediately yanked the soldiers back with invisible silk threads. While Eurypteria pulled her tail back, Marisol and Reina dashed in from two opposite sides, glaive and tail arcing through the air with deafening screeches. [Advisory: avoid attacks trying to end it all in a single hit. Do not put her in a situation where it is do or die. Chunk her down and get in any chip damage you can¡ªthey will add up over time.] Her teeth clenched as Eurypteria whirled around, three bladed arms slashing at her head, chest, and waist, forcing her to dodge back. At the same time, the other bladed arm and the scorpion tail cleaved at Reina¡¯s torso, forcing the Lighthouse Imperator to back off as well. The moment the two of them did, reinforcements around them filled in the gap¡ªthey barraged Eurypteria with cannonfire, javelins, harpoons, pistol shrimp shockwaves, and every other ranged projectile they had at their disposal. They bought the two of them enough time to dash even further backwards, and Hugo¡¯s voice cut through the chaos, drawing their attention to a mound of rubble where he crouched behind. He waved them over with two of his arms, his other four still weaving threads to pull injured soldiers to safety. Marisol ducked under a stray air blade and skated towards him with Reina¡¯s hand in hers, and the two of them slid behind cover as Eurypteria started growling. The Water Scorpion God slashed through the air in precise, calculated arcs. With each swing, she carved the street into smaller, more chaotic fragments, forcing everyone to either duck or scatter. There was no blocking any of her bladed attacks. ¡°... You¡¯re alive.¡± Reina hugged her the moment they were behind cover in relative safety, and Marisol blinked out of surprise. She didn¡¯t know what to do with her hands, and she certainly hadn¡¯t expected a deeply worried face as Reina pulled away, grabbing hold of her shoulders and staring into her eyes. ¡°You¡­ okay?¡± Marisol asked slowly, furrowing her brows as she scanned Reina up and down. ¡°You ain¡¯t injured, right? Everything all good with you? Andres sent me here from Rhizocapala to help the two of you out¡ªhe says he can stop that barnacle from coming down here as long as he has Maria and Claudia with him, so it¡¯s up to us to kill Eurypteria quickly before we have to move and reinforce him.¡± Reina nodded furiously. ¡°Understood. I just¡­ when I heard that all of the Insect God wormholes were collapsing at the same time, I didn¡¯t know if you were alright. I haven¡¯t heard from you in a week, after all, not since¡­ you started hunting the Mutant-Classes across the city.¡± Marisol couldn¡¯t stop a small smile from taking over her face. So she really was worried about me? She placed both her hands on Reina¡¯s shoulder, shaking the lady slightly. ¡°Come on. Do you really think a few Mutant-Classes can take me down at this point?¡± ¡°No. Of course not. But still, I was¡ª¡± ¡°Focus,¡± Hugo snapped, his tone impatient as he whacked both of them on their heads with his fists. Marisol winced, but she didn¡¯t grumble as he looked at her with eight steady eyes. ¡°Andres told you to come help us kill Eurypteria? He¡¯s in the north with Maria and Claudia?¡± Marisol nodded. ¡°And Victor¡¯s down in the south watching over Kalakos¡¯ wormhole. I¡¯ve got no idea how the old man¡¯s faring¡ª¡± [¡ªshould the need arise, you can instantly communicate with him since you are both registered Hasharana with access to long-range messaging functions¡ª] ¡°But Andres has given us a time limit,¡± she finished, raising ten fingers. ¡°Ten minutes. We have to kill Eurypteria within ten minutes, rush up and kill Rhizocapala within twenty minutes, and then rush down to fight Kalakos before she emerges.¡± ¡°Fucking Andres,¡± Hugo muttered straightening his back, his multiple arms working with mechanical efficiency as he spun entire webs of silk threads between his fingers. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan: I¡¯ll attach threads to your backs and limbs. If there¡¯s any sharp movement you need to make that you can¡¯t make by yourself¡ªan extra dicey dodge, an extra high jump, anything¡ªtelegraph it, and I¡¯ll pull you into position. You¡¯ll gain extra speed and precision. If you¡¯re in danger, I¡¯ll yank you back. You¡¯ll be the self-moving puppets, I¡¯ll be the puppet master and compensate for any mistakes in your movements.¡± Then his gaze flicked between Reina and Marisol, his expression grim. ¡°But once you¡¯re in close-quarters, it¡¯s all on you two. I can¡¯t fight her directly.¡± Marisol and Reina exchanged a glance. ¡°We¡¯ve been training for this,¡± Marisol said, her voice low but fierce. ¡°Months of prep. Thousands of points. Sparring with ten Highwind Dolls set at maximum speed all at the same time. That fight we had with her down in Depth Five¡ªit ain¡¯t over yet. This is just round two.¡± Reina smirked faintly, raising a fist, and Marisol bumped it with her own. ¡°We¡¯ll end this,¡± Marisol said firmly. ¡°Together,¡± Reina replied fiercely. The two of them vaulted over the mound of rubble in perfect unison, cold air burning in Marisol¡¯s lungs as her glaives pumped with electric speed. Hugo¡¯s threads tugged them into an even tighter synchronization. Ahead, Eurypteria slashed in flurries at the center of the residential district square, her six bladed limbs spread wide, tail coiled high and menacing. Snow and rain seemed to fall away from her as she hacked, slashed, and sliced at everything that flew her way¡ªit was all she could already do to deflect the sheer amount of projectiles the soldiers had set up for her, and now it was time to add two more obstacles. Eurypteria¡¯s eyes locked onto them as they dashed in, her expression twisted into a grin that was equal parts amusement and disdain. Three of her bladed arms lashed out in a sudden blur, their edges slicing through the air with enough force to shriek. Reina moved in first to intercept the attack with her own tail, the impact ringing out like a bell as she blocked the strikes one-for-three. The scorpion tail darted in next, aiming to skewer Reina, but then blades sharpened along the lengths of Reina¡¯s forearms as well¡ªjust like Eurypteria¡¯s¡ª and she caught the tail, an even match for the Water Scorpion God. That opened an opportunity. Marisol darted to Eurypteria¡¯s flank, her lightning-charged glaive crackling as she spun, twirled, and launched into the War Jump. A ten-spin kick. The attack forced the Water Scorpion God to dodge, jerking her tail back and upwards just in time to avoid being bisected. Now Marisol and Reina were on opposite sides of Eurypteria, and they dragged the bug¡¯s attention both ways. This was the rhythm they¡¯d trained for¡ªReina holding the line, matching Eurypteria¡¯s deadly precision limb for limb, while Marisol delivered speedy and relentless strikes charged with lightning, chipping away at her defenses. Eurypteria hissed as Marisol¡¯s kick scraped across her armoured side, leaving a faint scorch mark. ¡°I see you¡¯ve been practicing,¡± she snarled, ¡°but it¡¯s still far, far too bold to be coming at me in close-quarters like this.¡± Marisol didn¡¯t answer. She was too busy moving, ducking under air blades one second with Hugo¡¯s threads jerking her down for extra momentum, then kicking off a broken pillar and spiraling through the air to avoid a counterstrike in the next second. Reina lunged in tandem, slamming her tail against Eurypteria¡¯s tail, forcing the Water Scorpion God to retreat a step. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. And just because the two of them were engaged in melee didn¡¯t mean the others were just sitting there, watching. Around them, the soldiers roared to fervent life. The Imperator siblings unleashed precise resonant shockwaves from three different angles, the vibrations disorienting Eurypteria whenever they slammed into her head. Cannons fired with deafening booms, each blast narrowly missing their target¡ªin fear of hitting Marisol and Reina, most probably¡ªbut they kicked up debris and smoke that blurred the edges of Eurypteria¡¯s vision. Marisol and Reina worked around the smoke, dashing in and out to camouflage themselves before darting back out to launch simultaneous attacks from two sides. We can do this! This ain¡¯t like Depth Five! That fight had most certainly been trained for, but it¡¯d still been pure desperation at certain moments, scraping by on the edge of survival. Eurypteria had been a nightmare back then¡ªa force of nature the two of them could barely stand against¡ªbut now? [Eurypteria does not seem to have gotten stronger since Depth Five,] the Archive murmured as she vaulted over a cleaving tail, flipped over Eurypteria¡¯s shoulders, and traded places with Reina. They kicked and slashed at the same time, carving chunks of chitin off the Water Scorpion God¡¯s waist. [She could not have. She was not allowed to get any stronger. Rhizocapala must have forced herself to hold back so he could time his reemergence from the wormhole alongside Kalakos.] [In order for all three of them to re-emerge at around the same time, they must all be around the same level of strength. Rhizocapala grew stronger and went up a rank, while Kalakos weakened herself and went down a rank, which means Eurypteria did not change¡ªand while Rhizocapala may still be getting used to his newfound strength, it is undeniable that he is the true mastermind behind this breach. He is smarter and more devious than the other two.] [I believe Eurypteria, in comparison, is now the weakest of the three Insect Gods currently on the surface.]
[Identification Complete] [Name: Eurypteria] [Grade: E-Rank Water Scorpion God] [Swarmblood Art: ???] [Aura: ~75,000] [Strength: ~17, Speed: ~14, Toughness: ~13, Dexterity: ~18, Perception: ~14]
It was snowing. Chunks of ice melted beneath Marisol¡¯s Storm Glaives and turned into puddles of water. The force of any half-hearted stray attack sent at Marisol¡¯s was easily absorbed by her chitin and redirected with hydrokinetic redirection, and with Reina by her side playing defence, intercepting most of Eurypteria¡¯s attacks for her? There were openings. Many openings. Each of her kicks found their mark, chipping away at the chitin armour, exposing the softer flesh beneath piece by piece. Faster! Fiercer! Marisol sucked in a sharp breath. Willed herself into Steel Charge mode to dull her pain. Activated spraying discharge to add propulsion to her movements. Extending her laminar apiclaws for two extra glaives. Feasted on moisture in the air with rapid rehydration to constantly refresh her stamina. Her kicks grew sharper, faster. One strike severed a limb at the joint, sending the bladed limb spinning into the snow. Another cracked through Eurypteria¡¯s chest plate, drawing pale blue blood that hissed as it hit the ground. [With Storm Glaives activated, your speed level, if nothing else, is on par with hers!] [Kill her!] Marisol didn¡¯t respond. Her thoughts were too focused, her instincts too sharp. She was fighting to win, and Reina was, too. Another strike, another opening. The two of them closed in from opposite sides, their glaives and tails poised to slash through Eurypteria¡¯s torso in a killing blow. The plan was simple as ever: destroy her heart and end the fight. But as their attacks closed in, Eurypteria¡¯s expression darkened. Then her voice slithered into their minds, sharp and invasive. ¡°Looking down on me, are you?¡± she whispered. ¡°You think I¡¯m the weakest of the Insect Gods now? ¡°Think again, bugs. ¡°This is where you learn the difference between humans and gods.¡± Marisol froze mid-strike, her body trembling as an icy shiver ran down her spine. On the opposite side, Reina flinched as well, her tail faltering for just a fraction of a second. And Eurypteria¡¯s lips barely curled into a cruel smile as she whispered, ¡°Swarmblood Art.¡± Her tail began to glow, a sinister shimmer of black and electric blue that pulsed unnaturally. It didn¡¯t radiate light as much as it devoured it, swirling, bending reality at its edges. Sunlight above and around the residential district in a hundred metre radius flickered, stuttering like a dying lantern, and shadows started dancing in eerie bursts across the snow-laden battlefield. The air grew colder. Heavier. Marisol¡¯s heart thudded in her chest, her instincts screaming danger. She felt it before it hit¡ªthe suffocating, overwhelming pressure of Eurypteria¡¯s killing pressure suddenly exploding outwards. It wasn¡¯t just an aura; it was a force, crushing and all-encompassing. They had to back off. ¡°Get away!¡± Marisol¡¯s voice cracked as she stumbled back, turning to the soldiers. ¡°Everyone, fall back now!¡± She didn¡¯t need to scream it out loud, though. It was an instinctual habit. Hundreds of soldiers scrambled, retreating into the debris-strewn cover, but even as Marisol tried to backpedal, something wasn¡¯t right. Her legs resisted her commands, her movements sluggish and stilted. She glanced down, breaths hitching as she wondered what was going on¡ªand she realised she was going backwards. She was just getting sucked back in towards Eurypteria¡¯s flickering tail at the exact same rate. The battlefield was shifting. Collapsing inward. Pebbles, chunks of rubble, and even the snow on the ground were all being drawn toward Eurypteria. The wind howled as it joined the pull, whipping rain and debris into the black and blue vortex forming around the tip of her tail. For a very brief moment, the vortex reminded her of the Worm God¡¯s wormholes, only this time, the unnatural pull was yanking in everything that wasn¡¯t the Swarm. This was Eurypteria¡¯s Swarmblood Art.
¡­ The moment Eurypteria¡¯s tail started turning sunlight in the area on and off, Hugo knew they were in deep shit. The air itself was shifting, warping like a heat haze. Her tail flickered black and blue, a swirling vortex forming at its tip that sucked in everything around her: snow, debris, and shards of broken buildings. Everything spiralled towards her, drawn by a force Hugo could feel even from where he stood at the very back of the battlefield. Naturally, the others didn¡¯t notice at first. Marisol and Reina were too close, too locked in combat, and the soldiers were too scattered. But Hugo wasn¡¯t in the fight like them. As always, he was observing, spinning and jerking around a hundred different silk threads with his fingers, pulling each individual soldier back like a puppeteer navigating their puppets through unorchestrated chaos. And Eurypteria¡¯s Swarmblood Art was chaos. The vortex wasn¡¯t just pulling in all sorts of physical matter. It was pulling in people, and that was its strongest point. So her Swarmblood Art lets her swirl her blood at the tip of her tongue, and it drags all of her targets into her cleaving range. It was a simple but genius Art in its cruelty. It wasn¡¯t just an anti-personnel weapon. It was a death sentence. Anyone caught in its pull would be dragged right in front of her, forced to face her scythe-like limbs and that deadly, unblockable tail. There¡¯d be no dodging. No strafing. No one except Reina here had the toughness level to block even a single block from her tail, so how, exactly, was he going to pull everyone out of the way when her Art demanded people come in close to her? He glanced at his hands, at the fine strands of silk stretched between his fingers, and his breath hitched. For years, his threads had been the lifeline of the Whirlpool City. Not for himself, no, but for everyone else. He was the support who held every dive team together, literally and figuratively. The guy at the back. The boss who never got the spotlight. The teacher who trained Imperator initiates in Lighthouse Three so they could eventually graduate and move onto Maria¡¯s Lighthouse Two to become adepts. But as he watched Eurypteria draw his soldiers¡ªhis friends, his colleagues, his students¡ªcloser to certain death, something inside him snapped. He thought of the hundreds and thousands of Guards and Imperators he¡¯d trained, the faces he¡¯d seen rise and fall. He thought of Maria, who couldn¡¯t speak anymore, and the broken look in Marisol¡¯s eyes when she visited her. He thought of the names etched into his memory, the people he¡¯d buried, and the ones he hadn¡¯t been able to save across the years and decades he¡¯d served as the city¡¯s least popular Lighthouse Imperator. He was fine with being in the background for the most part, but he hated that. He hated the bugs for what they¡¯d done. Hated the Insect Gods for what they represented. And, perhaps for the very first time, he hated himself for always staying in the back. Wasn¡¯t he a Lighthouse Imperator, too? Couldn¡¯t he be just a little bit cool as well? So he took a deep breath, clapped all six of his palms together and felt his blood burning as he pushed his Swarmblood Art harder than he¡¯d ever pushed it before. His silk threads bled out from under his nails and shimmered with a crimson hue as he pulled his palms apart, and then he cast a hundred, a thousand of them outwards like he was scattering salt across a table. The threads shot through the air like javelins, each striking a single soldier across the battlefield¡ªand the moment each thread made contact with a soldier¡¯s back, it exploded into a silk cocoon made of his blood, enveloping the soldier in a protective webbing. Marisol, Reina, and the Imperator siblings were caught by his cocoon too, though they were probably still too focused on Eurypteria¡¯s swirling tail in front of them to notice he¡¯d put up a protective cocoon around them. I don¡¯t need their thanks. Simply doing this is enough. As Eurypteria¡¯s vortex intensified, pulling debris and wind and snow and rain around her harder, Hugo planted his feet firmly into the ground and held onto all of his threads. He couldn¡¯t exactly wrap himself in a cocoon when all his hands were preoccupied, so he had to resist the pull with every fiber of his being, or else everyone else¡¯s cocoons would come undone. In the end, all he could do was give everyone one more chance to win¡ªhelp them block this one fatal strike from Eurypteria as she screeched into the air, her voice turning raspy, completely inhuman. ¡°Don¡¯t look down on me, you fucking bugs!¡± she roared. ¡°Swarmblood Art: Subsuming Lash!¡± ¡­ He knew what was coming. He¡¯d seen death thousands of times. So as she twirled in place, blood bursting out the tip of her tail to extend it by a hundred metres, and spun around¡ªher vacuum slash sucking in and annihilating everything in its path¡ªhe didn¡¯t move. He didn¡¯t move. He didn¡¯t try to dodge. Instead, he gave the Water Scorpion God he had no ties to a small, sympathetic smile. I don¡¯t know about the others, but just between me and you, I¡¯ve never looked down on you. Not even once. I know better than anyone that weaklings always have the most potential. Then her undodgeable tail hit him with full force from a hundred metres away, and for a moment, the world was nothing but pain and light. His body gave way, bisected cleanly at the waist. But this¡­ is fine as well. My soldiers won¡¯t lose to you. After all, you''ve already shown your trump card, and they still live. Chapter 100 - Weakest Strongest (II) ¡­ Where am I? Marisol¡¯s senses flickered back like a dying lantern¡ªuneven, dim, and painfully slow. Her head pounded. It was the kind of deep, bone-aching throb that dulled every thought and made her stomach churn. Her ears rang with a shrill, unrelenting whine that turned every sound into a muffled blur. Her muscles screamed with every twitch, the ache of exertion and impact still radiating through her body like fire. Not lightning. Fire. The kind that hurt and made her want to shrivel up and scream. She lay flat on her back, staring up at a sky that didn¡¯t look quite right. The sunlight above wasn¡¯t steady. It flickered and twisted unnaturally, like a reflection on a rippling pond. The swirling debris in the air didn¡¯t help¡ªash, smoke, and dust mingled with faint streaks of water vapor, all twisting into strange patterns that made her eyes swim. What¡­ am I doing? Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her chest too tight to expand fully. The world smelled burned. Charred wood, scorched metal, and the faint metallic tang of blood. For a few more moments, she struggled to remember what had happened leading up to her lying on her back. She tried to sit up, but the motion sent a sharp jolt of pain up her spine, forcing her back down. She couldn¡¯t do it. It hurt too much. Her hand groped blindly for some kind of support, and her bloody fingers managed to close on broken stone, jagged and cold. What¡­ is this? The thought echoed dully in her mind as she gritted her teeth and forced herself to sit up. Her limbs felt heavy, her movements sluggish, but with one hand curled around a chunk of broken stone, she was able to do so. Now her vision blurred even harder as she looked around, the shapes of the world coming into focus one hazy detail at a time. What... happened? Breathless, disoriented, she staggered onto her glaives, swaying as her legs threatened to give out. The ground beneath her was uneven. A field of shattered stone and twisted metal. Her glaives scraped against the debris as she started sliding, so she leaned on a cracked wall for balance. When her eyes finally managed to focus on what was directly ahead of her, though, she froze. The square was gone. No, not gone¡ªobliterated. The entire residential district square had been wiped out, reduced to a desolate wasteland. Buildings were no longer buildings. They were mounds of shredded rubble, steel, and splintered wood. Not a single structure stood within sight. The ground was cratered and torn, uneven and scarred. Smoke and ash hung in the air, blotting out what little sunlight was left¡ªand at the centre of this destruction stood a single four-armed, two-legged Water Scorpion God, panting for her own breath with all four hands on her knees. Eurypteria. Her limp scorpion tail shimmered with the remnants of her Swarmblood Art¡ªthat black and electric blue vortex flickering faintly at its tip¡ªbut it was quite evident that she was tired. Exhausted. Activating her Swarmblood Art for what must¡¯ve been the first time in decades drained her the same way activating Storm Glaives for the first time had knocked Marisol out for a month. Even still, the Water Scorpion God was the only one in the district standing tall, expelling a killing pressure that made Marisol¡¯s knees weak. And Marisol blinked as the memories came rushing back. The fight. The vortex. The others. Her stomach lurched as she whipped her gaze from Eurypteria to the ruins around her. The cannons were wrecked, their barrels twisted and scattered like broken toys. Soldiers were strewn across the battlefield, many motionless, others groaning in pain. She wasn¡¯t alone here. The others were just down on the ground, hiding behind mounds of rubble, and¡­ just as she was about to double-over and throw up from her sheer, swirling headache, someone grabbed her from behind and yanked her down behind a mound of rubble. ¡°... Storm Strider!¡± A medic¡¯s face came into view, pale and smeared with dirt and blood. Her voice was sharp, but Marisol could barely hear it over the ringing in her ears. ¡°Are ye hurt?¡± The medic¡¯s hands were on her shoulders, shaking her lightly, but Marisol couldn¡¯t form a response. Her eyes drifted past the medic, drawn to the sight just beyond. Reina was kneeling next to Hugo, and his body was... wrong. He was lying in two pieces, bisected at the waist, his expression frozen in calm but gentle determination. Reina¡¯s head was bowed, her hands trembling as they hovered uselessly over him. He¡¯s dead. Marisol¡¯s chest tightened. While a few medics slid over and started running healing shrimp antennae across the various cuts and scrapes on her body, she tore her gaze away, only for it to land on another grim scene¡ªHelena knelt right next to Reina, her uniform torn and bloodied as she crouched over the prone forms of her older brothers. Aidan and Bruno. Both men were alive, but barely, and they were groaning weakly as Helena desperately tried to stop the bleeding from their injuries. Marisol¡¯s vision blurred again as her hands clenched into fists. They can¡¯t fight anymore. This is¡­ this is¡ª ¡°Is this it?¡± Eurypteria¡¯s roar cut through the chaos like a blade, and Marisol¡¯s head snapped up, her breath catching in her throat. The Water Scorpion God¡¯s voice was sharp and mocking, echoing across the ruins with an unnatural resonance. ¡°Is this all you have?¡± she bellowed. Over the mound of rubble, the Water Scorpion God¡¯s bladed limbs twitched as she swished her tail through the air, a blood-curdling cackle bubbling out of her chest. ¡°Is this all the strength you¡¯re willing to show for the ¡®weakest¡¯ Insect God?¡± Marisol¡¯s chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing. Her body was trembling, her mind racing. This can¡¯t be it. We¡­ we can¡¯t be done. But even as she thought it, doubt clawed at her. Her eyes drifted back to Hugo. To the cannons. To the fallen soldiers. No doubt about it. Without care for his own health, Hugo had woven a cocoon over all of them just moments before Eurypteria¡¯s vortex tail struck all of them, preventing most of them from dying outright, but it still wasn¡¯t enough. Dozens of Guards and Imperators were still dead. They were still hopelessly outmatched. Outclassed. For a moment, she thought about turning back. She thought about running. But then her gaze fell on Reina, Helena, the medics, and the rest of the soldiers who were still panting for breath and hiding behind their scattered mounds of rubble¡ªand she bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood, slamming her forehead into the wall of rubble she was taking cover behind. That made the medics flinch, but it didn¡¯t stop her from sucking in a cool, steady breath. ¡­ No. I ain¡¯t done. Not yet. Rapid Rehydration was the only thing saving her. The fog in her mind was clearing much faster than everyone else¡¯s, the aches in her body were dulling quickly with the medic¡¯s shrimp antennae bleeding all over her wounds. Her heartbeat wasn¡¯t steady, but it was steadier than most, so she had to fight. Eurypteria let out another sharp, guttural laugh over her mound of rubble, the sound grating and dark. ¡°Come on, then!¡± she roared, her voice thick with disdain. ¡°Where¡¯s your human courage? Where¡¯s your human pride? Will you hide until there is nothing left for you to hide behind?¡± In response, Marisol slid forward. Despite the dreary hopelessness around her, and despite the medics trying to pull her down, her glaives crackled with faint arcs of pinkish-blue electricity as she climbed over her mound of rubble. Someone screamed her name from behind, sharp and desperate. She didn¡¯t turn around. She ignored the lingering pain in her ribs, the stinging cuts on her arms. She ignored the fear clawing at the edges of her mind. Her eyes were locked on Eurypteria, whose gaze snapped to her instantaneously. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ here,¡± she breathed. ¡°You want¡­ a fight? ¡°Come on, then. ¡°I¡¯ll give you what you want.¡± And a wide, toothy grin spread across the Water Scorpion God¡¯s face. ¡°The water strider, huh?¡± Eurypteria¡¯s tail twitched, and the faint remnants of a vortex flickered around its tip. ¡°Give me everything you have.¡±
Reina knelt in the rubble, hands trembling as they rested over what remained of Hugo. The man hadn¡¯t even been that old, but his face, lined with years of wisdom and too many battles, was still and calm¡ªalmost mocking in its peacefulness. How could you just go like that? If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The Whirlpool City¡­ still needs its initiate trainer. But his lower half was gone, and blood was already pooled beneath him, soaking into the dust, snow, and ash of the battlefield. He was dead, and the world around her was anything but. Smoke curled into the sky in thick, black plumes, blotting out the sun and casting the square into a dim, otherworldly haze. The residential district was unrecognisable, reduced to an uneven field of ruin and debris. Walls had been flattened, buildings had been torn asunder, and the once-proud cobblestone square was now a jagged, cratered wasteland. At the center of it all stood Eurypteria. The Water Scorpion God¡¯s silhouette was barely visible through the swirling dust and ash, her seven bladed limbs gleaming like silver in the warped light. Her tail arched high above her, the faint shimmer of the vortex at its tip starting to distort the air around it. She was still panting, her frame heaving with exertion, but even without fully activating her Swarmblood Art, her presence was no less terrifying. Her slashes, cleaves, and footwork were no less precise. And somehow, Marisol was still alive. Reina¡¯s gaze snapped to her rival as Marisol darted and dodged through the ruins like a cornered animal, frantic and desperate. Dust clung to her sweat-slicked skin, her hair matted to her forehead, and her eyes burned with desperation. She was fast¡ªfaster than anyone else Reina¡¯s age¡ªbut it was clear, if nothing changed, that she¡¯d run out of steam very soon. Her balance faltered for half a second, and Eurypteria¡¯s tail slammed into the ground inches from her, spraying stone and debris into the air. Move, Marisol. You have to move. And Marisol moved. She twisted her body, narrowly avoiding another strike, her glaives barely finding purchase on the uneven ground. But she wasn¡¯t fighting back. She wasn¡¯t countering. All she was doing was running, dodging, and evading¡ªas though she were buying time for all of them to run away. Reina clenched her fists, her leather gloves creaking under the strain. I¡¯m supposed to be the Lighthouse Imperator. I¡¯m the one trained to defeat Eurypteria. And you¡­ A sharp, pained groan snapped her out of her thoughts. Reina turned her head, her heart sinking as she took in the scene to her left. Helena was kneeling over her older brothers, Aidan and Bruno, both of whom were bloodied and battered. Aidan¡¯s left arm hung limp at his side, his face pale and drawn, while Bruno clutched his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers. Hugo¡¯s last-second cocoons weren¡¯t perfect, though he¡¯d certainly mitigated the disaster that was everyone getting cleaved in half by Eurypteria¡¯s first activation of her Swarmblood Art¡ªit was all the medics could do right now, running their glowing antennae over the two brothers, to keep them alive with their healing blood. But of all people, it wasn¡¯t either of the two Lighthouse Imperators who managed to speak first. ¡°... Not yet,¡± Helena rasped. Her hands were still on her brothers¡¯ chests as the medics fixed them up, but when she glanced up to meet Reina¡¯s gaze¡­ there was fear behind her eyes, yes, and yet at the same time, there was something stronger burning behind them. Anger. Determination. Lightning in her eyes. ¡°We¡¯re not done,¡± Helena spat. ¡°Not yet.¡± Reina tore her gaze away, looking beyond Helena to the scattered figures around them. Imperator initiates and Guards¡ªdozens of them¡ªwere pushing themselves to their feet. Some leaned on one another for support, others used their weapons or chunks of rubble as crutches, but they stood. Bloodied, broken, and battered, they stood. The medic treating her brothers glanced around with sweat pouring down her brows, biting her teeth. ¡°Get down, all of you!¡± she snapped. ¡°You¡¯re all in no shape to fight¡ª¡± ¡°We can¡¯t fight,¡± one of the initiates said, his voice steady despite the blood trickling down his temple. ¡°But we can help.¡± Another Guard, her armor dented and cracked, took a shaky step forward. ¡°Master Hugo trained us. All of us. We¡¯re not¡­ letting him die in vain.¡± Reina¡¯s chest tightened as she looked at their faces¡ªfaces she recognised, faces she didn¡¯t recognise, faces she¡¯d trained alongside, faces she¡¯d fought beside. All of them had something to say about Hugo, about the Guards, about the Imperators, and frankly, she couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of even half of their overlapping shouts and declarations, but the spirit was there. ¡®This isn¡¯t over¡¯. ¡­ ¡­ This isn¡¯t over. Her hands shook as she reached down and closed Hugo¡¯s eyes. The man had earned his rest¡ªit was time for the rest of them to pull their weight. Taking a deep breath, Reina forced herself to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but she steadied herself, planting her boots firmly on the uneven ground. Around her, Guards and Imperators stared in silent expectation, their faces a mixture of fear, desperation, and bright, burning hope. They still believed they could win. They still wanted to believe they could win, so it was her turn to lead. ¡°Fifth Lighthouse Imperator, Reina Torrealba taking command!¡± she shouted, her voice firm despite the tremors in her chest. ¡°I need all able-bodied Guards to spread out across the residential district! Comb the ruins for any intact Mutant-Class carcasses and drag them back here! I will devour them alongside the Storm Strider for a last-minute boost in strength!¡± The Guards didn¡¯t hesitate. They knew this was the only thing they could do, so they only exchanged brief glances with one another before scattering every which way, running on pure adrenaline and willpower. Next, Reina turned her attention to the dozen or so Imperator initiates, their older faces pale and streaked with grime. ¡°The rest of you, get to Lighthouse Five!¡± she commanded, pointing far, far up the city, towards the edge of the whirlpool. ¡°The wall of anti-chitin autocannons may have been built by Maria¡¯s Sangroja Household, and the ammunition may be supplied by her family¡¯s factories, but control over those autocannons falls under the administrative jurisdiction of Lighthouse Five! I want every last one of those cannons turned away from the Crawling Seas and firing on Eurypteria!¡± One of the initiates, a girl with a bloodied bandage wrapped around her head, hesitated. ¡°But, Miss Reina, those cannons are the only thing holding back the Crawling Seas¡ª¡± Reina cut her off with a sharp glare. ¡°The Crawling Seas will still be here after this fight is over, but Eurypteria won¡¯t! She¡¯s just a goddamn water scorpion with seven bladed limbs! Nothing¡¯s changed just because she¡¯s used her Swarmblood Art! We throw enough projectiles at her fast enough, and she won¡¯t be able to block them all!¡± She knew the stakes better than anyone else. Those autocannons were supposed to be firing on the Crawling Seas twenty-four hours a day, but right now, they had nothing left. All of their cannons in the district were destroyed, and they had no backup artillery anywhere close by. If there were any weapons in their arsenal capable of volleying shells at Eurypteria from afar, they¡¯d be the Deepwater Legion Front¡¯s most long-lasting and reliable autocannons¡ªand the Imperator initiates understood this as well. All of them scattered, and Reina only nodded at the medics one more time for good measure before taking another deep breath. Eurypteria was her archnemesis to kill¡ªnot Marisol¡¯s.
Marisol darted across the ruins, her glaives slicing the air as she jumped and dodged the air blades slicing behind her. ¡°Stop running and fight!¡± Eurypteria¡¯s voice thundered. She gritted her teeth and ignored the command. The Water Scorpion God¡¯s shriek sent tremors through the earth, but she couldn¡¯t stop¡ªcouldn¡¯t afford to stop. Her entire body ached, muscles screaming from overexertion, but adrenaline and sheer stubbornness pushed her forward. If she stopped now, she¡¯d lose her momentum, and she wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d be able to get up again. No cover! No escape! Just keep moving! A jagged piece of metal skidded underfoot, nearly tripping her. She stumbled, righting herself just as Eurypteria¡¯s tail lashed past her head. The air cracked with the force of it, the tip gouging deep furrows into a broken building in front of her. Marisol whipped around, her teeth bared. ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to try harder than that!¡± she shouted, though her voice was hoarse and shaking. But the taunt worked. Eurypteria snarled, the tip of her tail beginning to glow with a vortex of seething blood once more¡ªthe Water Scorpion God was going to activate her Swarmblood Art in full again, and if she were allowed to do that, nobody here would survive. But before Marisol could even consider pivoting and charging straight into Eurypteria for a last-ditch attempt to kill, Reina shouted at her somewhere from behind. ¡°Jump, Mari!¡± Marisol didn¡¯t think twice. She coiled her legs and launched herself skyward with all of her strength, soaring over a broken building. Beneath her, Eurypteria hissed in fury. The Water Scorpion God reared back, her tail arcing overhead as the vortex at its tip began to churn. She felt the pull immediately, the gravitational force dragging at her limbs, and just as she was about to wonder if she¡¯d hallucinated Reina telling her to do the worst possible thing anyone could do in the middle of a fight¡ªjump and make themselves vulnerable mid-air¡ªa deafening boom split the sky. And her eyes widened as a dozen explosive shells screamed past her, slamming into Eurypteria with devastating precision. The impact detonated in a cascade of flame and shrapnel. The blast wave hit Marisol midair, sending her spiraling backward, but she managed to land on her glaives and skid to a relatively safe halt amid a shower of debris. Then her legs turned to jelly and she fell flat onto her stomach. Pain flared up her sides, but she was still alive, gasping for breath. More shells followed, a relentless barrage raining down on Eurypteria¡¯s position. The explosions turned the already ruined battlefield into an inferno, the air thick with smoke and ash. Marisol raised her head and squinted through the haze, her heart hammering in her chest. That artillery¡ª [Source confirmed: Lighthouse Five autocannons from the far west, ten kilometres off the shore of the Harbour City¡¯s western shoreline,] the Archive buzzed. [Ammunition type: anti-chitin explosives. Firing trajectory: hyper-accurate. Those specialised shells are much, much, much more powerful than your average anti-chitin cannonballs.] Through the smoke and fire, though, Eurypteria¡¯s voice erupted once more, dripping with venom. ¡°Is this all you have?¡± Marisol paled as she watched the Water Scorpion God emerge from the inferno, her bladed limbs cutting through the smoke and flames as if they were nothing. Her carapace was scorched, blackened in places, sure, but she stood tall. Unbroken. The first volley didn¡¯t kill her. From the edge of the battlefield, Reina¡¯s voice rang out again, this time coming from several directions as her command was amplified through the scattered conch shell speakers. ¡°All autocannons, increase fire rate! Don¡¯t stop firing until she¡¯s down!¡± Another volley of shells screamed overhead, crashing down into Eurypteria with brutal force. The Water Scorpion God hissed, her bladed limbs thrashing against the onslaught once more¡ªand for the first time, Marisol saw her falter. Saw her struggling to deal with all the shells at once. Then, a commotion behind Marisol made her turn. A small group of two dozen Guards stumbled onto the field, their armours dented and bloodied, dragging several Mutant-Class carcasses behind them. Their faces were pale, their movements sluggish, but lightning burned in their eyes and Marisol recognised a few of the carcasses they were dragging forward. She¡¯d killed at least half of them between yesterday and today. Reina and Helena weren¡¯t far behind the Guards. Reina reached her first, sliding to her knees beside her, and the Lighthouse Imperator¡¯s expression was sharp and unyielding. There was no hesitation, no doubt¡ªonly grim determination. So Marisol lifted her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps. ¡°What¡¯s¡­ the plan?¡± Reina didn¡¯t waver. She leaned closer, voice brimming with conviction. ¡°We kill Eurypteria,¡± she said. ¡°Here and now.¡± ¡°And how are we gonna do that?¡± Reina didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she gestured sharply at the Guards, who were already dragging the nearest carcasses closer. ¡°Bring them here! All of them! Move!¡± The Guards obeyed without question, their boots crunching against the rubble as they heaved the massive crustaceans bodies forward. Marisol gritted her teeth and pushed herself into a seated position, shaking her head. ¡°I¡¯m assuming¡­ you do have a plan to deal with her Swarmblood Art?¡± Reina¡¯s jaw tightened, and her eyes flicked downward. For a moment, her resolve seemed to falter, but then she reached behind her, her hand brushing the segmented, chitinous tail that curled menacingly at her back. ¡°... She¡¯s a water scorpion,¡± Reina whispered, ¡°and so am I.¡± Helena exchanged a glance with the nearby Imperators, but they said nothing. Their trust in Reina was unshaken. For her part, Marisol was smiling now¡ªit wasn¡¯t the confident or relieved sort of smile, but rather, she was just glad they hadn¡¯t given up yet. She raised a shaky, trembling fist, and Reina bumped it without hesitation. So the plan is simple. [Beyond simple.] While the autocannons from the far west continue suppressing Eurypteria, we¡¯ll eat as much bug meat as we can stuff down our throats. [You should be able to pick one from three tier five core mutations. In short, ¡®Surfactant Domain¡¯ will allow you to release a surfactant liquid from your glaives that will reduce friction and increase your speed, ¡®Basic Vision¡¯ will enhance your vision, and ¡®Segmented Flexion¡¯ will evolve flexion joints in your glaives so they can bend without losing sharpness.] Good. I already know which one I¡¯ll be unlocking. [Then bring down the Insect God.] [Updating objective.]
[Objective #69: Slay the E-Rank Water Scorpion God, Eurypteria] [Time Limit: 3 minutes] [Reward: Death of a Sea God] [Failure: Destruction of the Whirlpool City] Chapter 101 - Weakest Strongest (III) The thunder of anti-chitin explosive shells echoed through the ruined district, each detonation sending waves of heat and force rippling against Eurypteria¡¯s armoured exoskeleton. What is this shit? Her six bladed limbs and her scorpion tail was a whirlwind of destruction. Dozens of shells screamed down towards her in relentless volleys every ten seconds or so, and she had to either slice them apart mid-air or let them strike her hardened carapace, absorbing the shock. She wasn¡¯t hurt by them. She couldn¡¯t ignore them, either. A lesser bug would¡¯ve crumbled under this onslaught long ago, but she was no lesser being. She was an Insect God, and even now, she felt this battlefield was still beneath her. Irritation clawed at her mind. Artillery. She hissed under her breath, the sound like steam escaping a vent. This wasn¡¯t a fair fight. The humans were too cowardly to face her directly; instead, they had to rely on their machines, their artillery, and their swarm tactics. Who were the nasty, pesky bugs now? A shell veered too close. Eurypteria spun, her tail whipping around to shatter it mid-flight. The explosion sprayed fire and shrapnel across her chitin, but she paid it no mind. It was insignificant. The next shell came faster, followed by another, and another¡ªfor a brief moment, the smoke parted, and she glimpsed the source: the far-western autocannons out on the great blue, responsible for holding back the Crawling Seas for the better part of three decades. Her tail lashed angrily at the sight. Those guns¡ªthey reminded her of something. ¡­ Two decades ago. Depth Three. The Whirlpool. Her vision blurred, the present moment slipping away. She saw herself as she had been back then: a mere weakling of a Giant-Class water scorpion, her carapace raw and untempered. Cannons roared all around her in Depth Three, their iron mouths vomiting fire and death. Her brood¡ªhundreds strong, her brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers¡ªhad been annihilated in minutes. Their screeches had filled the whirlpool¡¯s depths, drowned out only by the cacophony of explosions. A rage she thought long buried flared within her. Her bladed limbs clenched tightly, the memory sharpening her strikes as she obliterated another shell. But even now, she thought, they¡¯re making a grave mistake. If the far western autocannons were focused on her, they weren¡¯t targeting the Crawling Seas, and if the Crawling Seas continued their relentless advance, the humans wouldn¡¯t stand a chance. This was fine. Every minute those autocannons weren¡¯t firing on the Crawling Seas was one step closer to victory for the Swarm of the Deepwater Legion Front. Her lips curled into a sharp-toothed grin. Fine! Throw everything you have at me! Let them break themselves upon me! But just as she was about to slash at the next volley with renewed vigour, the ground rumbled beneath her¡ªa subtle shift at first, then violent. Incredibly violent. Her grin faltered for a moment as geysers of water erupted from underground sewer pipes around her, shooting into the air. The intense heat of the battlefield immediately turned the water into thick clouds of steam, blanketing the district in a suffocating, opaque fog. She hissed as she took a step, her vision obscured. Steam clung to her carapace, making her exoskeleton slick. She swivelled her head, trying to catch movement through the haze¡ª And something shot toward her, a blur of motion. Before she could react, a solid impact struck her side. A kick. An electrified kick. She staggered, claws scraping against the ground for balance, and a flash of pink blue darted through the mist in an attempt to circle around her. The water strider girl. Eurypteria¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡®Marisol¡¯ continued skating in circles around her, but she still couldn¡¯t believe it¡ªthe little water strider had charged her directly? Even after seeing the power of her Swarmblood Art? What is she doing? Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. She still dares approach me? Before Eurypteria could counterattack, though, another volley of shells screamed toward her. She clicked her tongue as she whirled, bladed limbs carving through the air to detonate them preemptively. Explosions rippled around her, flames licking at her armor. Then, from the edge of her vision, she spotted flashes of light¡ªPistol Shrimp Class Imperators firing shockwaves with their giant claws from every conceivable direction. They surrounded her. They hid behind mounds of rubble. The concussive shockwaves blended in with the explosions, and she didn¡¯t see them coming until they rattled her, sending sharp vibrations through her carapace. It¡¯s still¡­ annoying! Stop with the artillery! As she went into defense, the shockwaves stirred up another memory, unbidden and sharp. The first Imperators she¡¯d ever killed, back when she was a mere Mutant-Class¡ªthey¡¯d been Pistol Shrimp Class users as well. Their shockwaves had devastated her back then. Sure, she¡¯d torn them apart limb by limb in the end, but the sound of their attacks still haunted her for years after. Why won¡¯t the rest of you engage me in melee? Are you too afraid? Eurypteria snarled, her focus snapping back to the present. She spotted a Pistol Shrimp Class Imperator standing perched on a broken watchtower in the distance, her giant claw poised for another shot. ¡°You think you can hurt me?¡± Eurypteria roared, her voice sharp, cutting even her own ears. She crouched low, her bladed limbs tensing like springs, and in one powerful leap, she launched herself towards that Imperator. She activated her Swarmblood Art mid-air. A blood vortex began forming at the tip of her tail, swirling, distorting the air around her. Snow, rain, debris, smoke, and even the fog were being sucked into its maw. She was going to absolutely annihilate the Imperator to make a point¡ªthat artillery would hurt her no longer¡ªbut before she could reach the watchtower, something jerked her backwards, and it wasn¡¯t a silk thread or anything of the sort. Whirling around, she swung her tail preemptively, the vortex screaming as it slashed through the air. A sharp clang reverberated through the battlefield. Her tail struck something solid¡ªsomething equally powerful. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the source. Water scorpion girl! ¡®Reina¡¯, the Lighthouse Imperator, stood firm. On the tip of her blocking water scorpion tail, a black and electric blue vortex spun in perfect counter swirl to Eurypteria¡¯s own, and their Swarmblood Arts collided in an equal match of suction force. Eurypteria blinked. For the first time in decades, she felt¡­ disoriented. She may not have used it too often because it was a trump card Rhizocapala always told her to keep up her sleeve, but her Swarmblood Art had never been opposed like this. Never. Its pull had always been absolute, dragging everything toward her inevitable dominance¡ªbut now, Reina¡¯s tail was clashing with hers. Holding hers in place. Her mind churned, unearthing yet another buried memory. The Worm God. That was the only other time she¡¯d ever felt trapped, when his wormhole had twisted space around her and sucked her into a world where space and time was distorted for an entire month, rendering her immobile. And a snarl rose in her throat, irritation prickling beneath her carapace. So you are looking down on me. You dare use my own Arts against me? Eurypteria ripped her tail back, and so did Reina. Their tails clashed once again, vortex meeting vortex, sending ripples of force through the air. The battlefield blurred around them. Reina¡¯s body trembled under the strain, but she held her ground, her tail swinging in precise arcs to parry Eurypteria¡¯s faster, wilder, more frenzied strikes. She was evidently struggling¡ªher breaths came in ragged gasps, her muscles visibly straining¡ªbut she was enduring, and Eurypteria couldn¡¯t even bear to watch even a second more of it. It was infuriating. So, with a sudden lunge, Eurypteria drove her tail forward. Her vortex spun faster, churned harder, its pull magnified by the force of her strike. Reina was only a copy of her¡ªa poor imitation of her Swarmblood Art¡ªso there was no dodging it. Her tail pierced through the girl¡¯s abdomen, the barbed tip punching clean through flesh and armour. Reina gasped, blood spilling from her lips, but Eurypteria twisted her tail deeper without revelling in her victory. She wasn¡¯t classified as an ¡®anti-personnel specialist¡¯ for no good reason Movement from behind caught her attention. Marisol. The water strider had been skating around in circles, leaking lightning everywhere in an attempt to disorient her vision, but she¡¯d ignored the girl until now¡ªnow, as Marisol leapt into the fray, a single glaive poised for a devastating downward kick that¡¯d cleave her from head to toe if it were allowed to hit her. Without turning, she whipped one of her bladed arms backward, aiming to bisect Marisol mid-air. She¡¯ll kick with full force before drawing back at the last second, feinting her attack in an attempt to catch me blocking preemptively. She¡¯s already used this move back in Depth Five. Predictable. All I have to do is not fall for the feint and continue my swing. But something was slightly¡­ off. Eurypteria felt the faintest hesitation in the air, a shift in Marisol¡¯s trajectory. The water strider wasn¡¯t slowing down at all? ¡­ She¡¯s going to follow through? If she continues kicking, my bladed arms will cut her in half. What is she planning? But in that moment of hesitation, Marisol¡¯s glaives bent mid-air. Eurypteria¡¯s eyes widened. The glaive curved sharply, the bladed edge screeching against her bladed arm to deflect it slightly¡ªpushing it off-course just enough that she missed Marisol¡¯s waist¡ªand then the glaive continued downwards. A new mutation! She can bend her glaives and¡ª With a sickening crunch, the curved glaive slammed into Eurypteria¡¯s shoulder, cutting deep into her exoskeleton and carving halfway through her torso. Pain exploded through her body, white-hot and blinding. Chapter 102 - Weakest Strongest (IV) Pain flared like fire across Eurypteria¡¯s torso, searing through her nerves and pulling a guttural snarl from her throat. Having cut through her shoulder, Marisol¡¯s glaive was buried halfway down her torso, crystalline edges shimmering with lightning that crackled and sparked. She staggered back, her bladed limbs twitching, struggling to regain control. This is bad. Her tail, still lodged in Reina¡¯s waist, jerked instinctively as she tried to wrench it free to lash out at Marisol¡ªbut Reina clung to it with both hands, blood-slick fingers digging into her chitin. Worse, the Imperator¡¯s own scorpion tail coiled around hers, locking them together in a spiraling clash of vortexes. The air between their tails warped and screamed, their opposite Swarmblood Arts cancelling each other in a chaotic, pulsing stalemate. Eurypteria growled. Her voice was ragged and feral, the sound echoing across the battlefield. ¡°You¡¯re both! So! Annoying!¡± she bellowed, thrashing against Reina¡¯s hold, but the Imperator refused to yield, even as blood streamed down her legs. Marisol, too, wasn¡¯t done. Lightning arced up the rest of her body, flickering pinkish-blue like veins of electricity were coursing through crystalline plates of chitin under her skin. For a split second, the glow intensified, and the water strider¡¯s entire body seemed to shine with an otherworldly vibrance. And then the water strider pushed everything down through her glaives, into Eurypteria¡¯s body. Lightning surged into Eurypteria, ripping through her body like a torrent of molten energy. Her vision went white. Her eardrums exploded. The lightning overwhelmed her senses, her muscles locking in place as though she were a marionette held captive by invisible strings. It was unbearable pain, a burning tide that ravaged her from the inside-out. Her limbs spasmed, and her tail faltered. Loosening its grip on Reina. When the surge finally ceased, Marisol crumpled to the ground with a wet, sickening scrape. Reina gasped at the same time, her face contorted in pain, but with trembling hands, she managed to yank out Eurypteria¡¯s tail from her waist. Blood spurted from Reina¡¯s wound as she stumbled backward, clutching at her side. She didn¡¯t hesitate, though. She grabbed Marisol¡¯s limp body and started dragged her away, staggering as far from Eurypteria as her battered form would allow. Eurypteria barely registered their retreat. Her entire body still screamed with pain, her internal organs feeling as though they¡¯d been set ablaze. Her movements were sluggish, her limbs heavy and uncooperative, but still¡ªshe managed to lift one clawed hand, pointing weakly at the two retreating figures. ¡°Get¡­ back here,¡± she rasped. ¡°Fight¡­ me¡ª¡± But her demand was cut short by the deafening roar of a shockwave. A blast slammed into her side, sending her reeling. Another followed, then another, and then another¡ªeach one hitting with the force of a battering ram. She stumbled with each impact, her footing unsteady as the relentless assault from the Pistol Shrimp Class Imperators bombarded her from a distance. The shockwaves forced her back, step by agonising step, her bladed limbs scraping against the ground. Her vision swam, the edges blurring as exhaustion and pain took their toll. Then came the artillery. A volley of explosive shells rained down from above, and some of them jammed into the chinks of her chitin armor. They lodged themselves between her plates, embedding deep before detonating in rapid succession. Her world became fire and shrapnel. Each explosion tore through her, ripping away chunks of her exoskeleton and sending fragments of her body flying. The force of the blasts hurled her backward, her tall and lithe frame crashing into the ground like a felled titan. When the smoke cleared, Eurypteria lay sprawled on her back, her once-mighty form shattered and broken. Several of her limbs were missing, severed clean by the blasts. Her remaining appendages twitched weakly, their movements jerky and uncoordinated. Cracks spider-webbed across her carapace, oozing dark blood that pooled beneath her. ¡­ Ah. She stared up at the sky, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Snowflakes drifted slowly down, mingling with the ash and rain, their gentle descent a stark contrast to the unfair violence that¡¯d just been wrought on her. The battlefield around here was alive with noise, sure¡ªvoices shouting, weapons clattering, boots crunching against rubble¡ªbut Eurypteria¡¯s hearing was dulled, and all she could make out were snippets. ¡°Get them to the medics!¡± ¡°Miss Reina, please sit down¡ªyou¡¯re bleeding too much!¡± ¡°The Storm Strider¡¯s charred her own skin with her lightning! Someone get her stabilised! I need ice bags here now!¡± Eurypteria¡¯s gaze shifted, her eyes following the movement of the humans tending to one another. Medics, Guards, Imperators¡ªthey were all helping each other, leaning on one another for support. Some were laughing weakly, relief etched on their faces. Others were crying, clutching their fallen comrades tightly. And then it hit her, not so gently. Nobody was coming to help her. Her claws twitched, scraping feebly against the rubble. Her chest heaved with effort, each breath rattling painfully through her ruined body. She opened her mouth to call out, to demand for aid, but no sound came. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. For the first time in her existence, she felt truly alone. Nobody¡­ cares. A bitter chuckle rasped through her ruined mouth. It hadn¡¯t seemed that long ago when she was but an E-Rank Mutant-Class. Two decades ago. Back then, Depth Five was her world¡ªa realm of jagged canyons and suffocating pressure, where only the brood of about twenty Mutant-Class water scorpions she¡¯d been born into were formidable. The fact that they were the family of bugs with the most number of Mutant-Classes in the whirlpool at the time was a testament to their strength¡­ but pride was also their undoing. The whirlpool''s water scorpions refused to fight alongside the rest of the Swarm, mocking the very idea of cooperation. Even among themselves, they¡¯d viewed each other as rivals. Challengers to the throne of supremacy. A battle amongst themselves had been inevitable. The canyons in Depth Five had become a battlefield, the walls echoing with the sounds of clashing tails and screeching cries. Eurypteria had fought her brothers, her sisters, her fathers, her mothers, and one by one, she had bested them. Her strength had grown with every victory, her heart had hardened with every death. She still remembered the taste of their blood on her mandibles. The way her brothers¡¯ eyes dimmed as life fled their bodies. Her claws had trembled with exhilaration and exhaustion as she rose from the carnage, the last water scorpion standing. That pride that swelled in her chest had been suffused with something else¡ªsomething hollow. She still remembered emerging from the canyons of Depth Five alone as an S-Rank Mutant-Class. She remembered looking back once at the bodies of her brood before the abyss called to her, pulling her deeper and deeper into the whirlpool. It was there, at the border between Depth Eight and Nine, that she met them. Rhizocapala. Leptostrasa. Marculata. Corpsetaker. The Three Leviathans back then and their Greater Crab God¡ªthe only bugs she couldn¡¯t beat by herself. ¡­ Haha. Eurypteria¡¯s thoughts returned to the battlefield. The sky seemed brighter now. Snowflakes danced in the air, mingling with the rain, as though the heavens themselves mourned her fall. She blinked, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the swirling clouds above¡ªand then her lips twisted into a weak snarl. She wasn¡¯t human. She wasn¡¯t some soft, pleading creature begging for mercy. She was Eurypteria, the E-Rank Water Scorpion God, and her pride wouldn¡¯t allow her to die begging or broken. So her mouth moved, her voice barely a whisper, rough and ragged like wind through broken glass. ¡°... Go fuck them up for me, hermano,¡± she breathed. ¡°For the Swarm.¡± A soft, rasping laugh followed as her body failed her and the world grew dim, but she heard it before she passed¡ªa deep, resonant, primal roar. The roar of Kalakos, the Remipede God, echoed across the city.
Victor leaned heavily against the railing of his watchtower, the biting wind cutting through his bandages. His breath was laboured, his chest heaving beneath the white, bloodstained wrappings. He¡¯d been having troubles breathing ever since Kalakos¡¯ wormhole started warbling and threatening to collapse a while ago¡ªthe wormhole was starting to suck in even the air around him, after all¡ªbut he didn¡¯t once tear his eyes away from his Archive¡¯s live map. Fifteen status screens filled his vision, all half-translucent maps that overlaid each other in the air, flickering and updating in real time. Coloured markers representing his comrades blinked across the glowing diagrams. In the north, Andres, Maria, and Claudia were still locked in battle against Rhizocapala¡¯s endless horde of giant barnacles. In the east, the lass and his niece had finally succeeded in defeating Eurypteria. That was a big triumph for the Deepwater Legion Front, though he couldn¡¯t exactly bring himself to feel glad about the harsh reality of the cost: Hugo¡¯s marker had gone dark during the battle. And still, there was Kalakos. He turned and looked behind him, where the wormhole of the colossal Remipede God still loomed like an abyssal nightmare. The glowing circular edges were practically scraping the air now, distorting light and sound, and very soon¡ªvery, very soon¡ªKalakos would claw her way out of it. The hundreds of Guards and Imperators below him manned their defensive positions, their faces pale but resolute. Cannons were aimed, fortifications were reinforced, but Victor could see the tremors in their hands and the wavering of their gazes. They were brave, yes. Incredibly so. But they were human. And Kalakos was not. He turned back to the live maps. The flickering markers painted a grimmer picture that only he could see. Andres and the others in the north wouldn¡¯t make it here in time. His niece and the lass were too battered to reinforce them against Rhizocapala. That left Kalakos unattended, free to tear through the city¡¯s defenses and plunge them all into oblivion. Unless, of course, he used his Swarmblood Art and fought her head-to-head. ¡­ Just as his fingers tightened around the railing, the metal creaking under his grip, a familiar voice boomed across the city, echoing through the shattered conch shell speakers scattered everywhere. ¡°Victor!¡± Andres¡¯ voice, raw and forceful, carried over the din of battle. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare! Don¡¯t you dare! She isn¡¯t worth it!¡± And Victor froze, his hand just hovering over the bandages on his face. ¡°Everyone, listen up!¡± Andres continued, his tone commanding, brooking no argument. ¡°Abandon your posts! Hereby, as the Imperatrix, I am giving the executive order: we¡¯re evacuating from the Whirlpool City! Fall back to the southern harbors and prepare the ships! We will battle Kalakos and Rhizocapala as they pursue us across the great blue!¡± The Imperatrix¡¯s words hung in the air like a death knell. Victor looked down from the watchtower. The Guards and Imperators were all looking up, their weapons ready, their eyes fixed on him. They were waiting for his command, their faces a mixture of fear and determination, because even though he was no Imperator¡ªand he was certainly not the lord of the island¡ªhe was still the Chariot, ranked sixth of the Arcana Hasharana. They¡¯ll stay. If I order it, they¡¯ll stay and fight Kalakos to the last. They¡¯ll die for this city. His teeth ground together, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He turned his gaze to the live maps one last time, watching as the markers flickered and moved. The city was bleeding, crumbling. Though Eurypteria was defeated, Hugo was dead, his niece was out of commission, the lass was half-conscious, and neither Maria nor Claudia could really put up a good fight against the strengthened Rhizocapala as he was now. The tide of this battle hadn¡¯t turned in their favour just yet¡ªthe whirlpool was still swallowing them whole. So Victor exhaled, his breath fogging the cold air. ¡°... Dammit, Andres,¡± he muttered. Then he stepped forward, climbing onto the railings. The wind whipped around him, tearing at his feathered cap and flower-patterned cape as he steadied himself. And his voice, when it came, was a roar that echoed across the southern harbour district. ¡°Listen up, everyone!¡± The Guards and Imperators below him snapped to attention, their eyes locked on him. ¡°Abandon your posts! Leave Rhizocapala and Kalakos alone! Get to the southern harbours and prepare to evacuate! We¡¯re not holding the city anymore!¡± For a moment, there was only silence. Then, like a dam breaking, the soldiers below sprang into action. Orders were shouted, weapons abandoned, and formations broke as they turned and began their retreat. Victor watched them go, his chest tight. They were the best soldiers he¡¯d ever had the honour of leading, and here he was, sending them running from their own home. But he knew better than anyone else¡ªeven if he were to use his Swarmblood Art and fight Kalakos right here and now, everyone else would be killed in the crossfire, and the city wasn¡¯t worth their lives. They¡¯d already lost enough soldiers fighting Rhizocapala and Eurypteria. They didn¡¯t need to lose any more to Kalakos. ¡­ Sorry, lass. Guess you¡¯re not going down to Depth Nine after all. Chapter 103 - When a City Falls Silent The world tilted and jostled beneath Marisol like a broken cart on a rocky road. Every step her stretcher-bearers took sent another spike of pain through her already battered body. ¡­ Ow. What¡¯s¡­ going on? For the second time today, her thoughts snarled at the sluggish pace, the crawl of the world around her. Her hearing was muffled. Her senses were dulled. She blinked hard, trying to clear the haze clouding her vision, but the swirling gray sky above refused to settle. Her head felt like it¡¯d been split open, and her veins still tingled with the ghost of lightning she¡¯d pushed too far. She was lying on her back. On a stretcher. Medics were carrying her down the sloped streets of the city at breakneck speed. Dozens of Guards and Imperators ran alongside her, escorting her down the city. I¡¯m¡­ alive? Her fingers twitched weakly at her sides. Each attempt to move sent another scream of protest through her nerves, but she forced her hands to curl slightly as she lifted her head and looked down slowly. The skin on her arms where her water boatmen bandages didn¡¯t cover was a mess¡ªblackened, cracked, and glowing faintly, like a burned-out husk of a once-brilliant fire. She¡¯d overused Storm Glaives. Even with her crystalline underchitin, her high toughness level, and months of training learning how to control her output of lightning, she¡¯d overcharged her veins with her final blow on Eurypteria. The death of the Water Scorpion God was worth any damage any human could ever sustain, of course¡ªshe didn¡¯t think she¡¯d made the wrong decision at all¡ªbut she¡¯d also be lying if she said she weren¡¯t sad to see her pretty skin reduced to¡­ this. So much for ¡®grace¡¯ and ¡®elegance¡¯. The bitter thought flickered through her mind, but she shoved it aside. Vanity was the last thing she cared about right now. She tilted her head slightly again, craning her neck despite the agony shooting down her spine. She needed to see. Needed to look around her. Reina. Her heart jumped when she caught sight of her friend being carried on a stretcher nearby. The Lighthouse Imperator¡¯s pale face was slack, her usually sharp eyes closed, her body limp. Her uniform looked like it¡¯d been chewed on by a giant beast¡ªprobably because it¡¯d been hit by something even worse than that¡ªand blood streaked her bruised skin all over. There was even a gaping stomach wound her hands were clamped over, but the medics carrying her stretcher were swishing their shrimp antennae over her as they ran, ensuring she wouldn¡¯t bleed out until they could get some bandages over her waist. Reina was still breathing¡ªso was Aidan, Bruno, and the dozen other Imperators and Guards being carried down on stretchers even further behind them¡ªand that was all that mattered to Marisol right now. You did it, Reina. You won.. You killed¡­ an Insect God. Then the Archive¡¯s voice flickered to life in her head. [Full evacuation of the Whirlpool City is in progression. Destination: the southern harbour district.] [Please do not move around too much and fall off your stretcher.] ¡­ Evacuation? Shouts around her began to filter in, muffled at first, then louder, sharper, more frantic. Orders barked, boots pounding on stone, the low rumble of panic bubbling under the surface. She turned her head slightly again, wincing and looking around even as the motion tugged at her raw muscles. The sloped streets of the Whirlpool City stretched out below, a labyrinth of stone, snow, and water now clogged with the chaos of evacuation. In the distance, Kalakos¡¯ colossal wormhole still twisted and warbled like an open wound in reality. Its glowing edges threatened to collapse inwards and release the god trapped within. The sight of that thing still standing made her stomach churn, not just from fear, but from anger as well. They¡¯d fought so hard¡ªbled so much¡ªand now the city was slipping through their fingers. The Archive¡¯s words hit her like a punch to the gut. Evacuation? Her vision swam again as her brain tried to process it again. No. That couldn¡¯t be right. The Whirlpool City wasn¡¯t just a random place. It was the bastion of the Deepwater Legion Front. It was the legendary city of the great blue. Humanity had held onto it for the better part of three decades, built into it something dazzling, something unbreakable¡ªor so she¡¯d thought. Because now they were running, and nobody seemed like they had any intention of slowing down. Her stretcher bumped over uneven ground, and she hissed in pain, her charred skin pulling uncomfortably against her bandages. She forced her eyes to focus as the Archive said something again, overlaying above her face a live map of the city. Markers blinked across the map, showing the positions of everyone still alive, and indeed, all of them converging on the southern harbour like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Marisol¡¯s fists clenched weakly. No. No, no, no. The word pounded in her chest, each beat of her heart a refusal. They couldn¡¯t just leave. Not like this. She wanted to shout¡ªto tell the stretcher-bearers to turn around, to find Victor, Andres, anyone, and demand an explanation¡ªbut her throat felt like sandpaper, and every word she tried to force out caught and died in her chest. Then the smell of saltwater started hitting her nose like a slap, sharp and briny, cutting through the haze of smoke and blood. The crashing of waves grew louder in her ringing ears, mingling with the sounds of shouting soldiers. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Her stretcher tilted slightly as their group descended toward the harbour at the very bottom of the city. Marisol forced herself to look around with clenched teeth. A dozen warships bobbed on the choppy waters, and hundreds of Guards and Imperators were already swarming the messy docks. Supplies were being hauled aboard, the injured were being carried to safety, and orders were being barked left and right. Standing atop a stack of crates directing most of the evacuation efforts was a familiar man: Captain Enrique. The Harbour Guard captain she¡¯d met back inside the giant remipede. For a second, all she could think about was how relieved she was to know he was still alive. She hadn¡¯t had contact with him in more than half a year, after all. You¡¯re alive. And¡­ they¡¯re here, too. As the medics let go of Marisol¡¯s stretcher on a wooden pallet beside one of the larger docked warships, her gaze continued darting around, finding familiar faces left and right. Victor stood under Enrique¡¯s stack of crates, helping coordinate the evacuation. Nearby, Andres, Maria, and Claudia were also hauling crates of supplies onto the ships, tossing entire carriages¡¯ worth of wares on board with each throw. The moment Maria spotted Marisol and Reina, her eyes screamed louder than any voice could. She reached Reina¡¯s stretcher with a frantic pace, her shoulders heaving as she knelt beside the battered frame. Reina was completely out cold, though, so her hand simply moved to Reina¡¯s forehead, brushing damp, blood-matted hair back from her friend¡¯s pale face. Her eyes said ¡®good job¡¯ as she continued stroking Reina¡¯s forehead. Claudia stepped closer as well, exchanging quiet information with the medics before her gaze darted between Marisol and Reina. Claudia stopped next to Marisol, worry etched into every sharp line of her face. ¡°What about Hugo?¡± she demanded. ¡°Where is he?¡± Marisol¡¯s chest tightened. She didn¡¯t answer. Couldn¡¯t answer. Her gaze dropped to the side, avoiding Claudia¡¯s eyes. The silence said everything. Eventually, Claudia exhaled shakily, her lips pressing into a thin line as she forced herself to nod. ¡°... Alright,¡± she said finally, her voice steadier than it had any right to be as she glanced around, waving at the medics to move them again. ¡°Get the two of them onto the warship! Now!¡± The soldiers around them moved quickly, lifting both of their stretchers and starting towards the plank leading up to Captain Enrique¡¯s flagship. Marisol didn¡¯t need to look. She could hear the other ships starting to leave. She heard the creak of wood, the snaps of sails catching wind, the distant splashes of oars hitting the water. Marisol opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, to ask what they were planning on doing now, but a sharp whistle in the air cut her off. Her heart lurched as she looked up. She knew that sound. She craned her neck, her body screaming in protest¡ªjust in time to see a volley of enormous bone spikes hurtling toward the docks from the sky. Barnacle spines. ¡°Brace for impact!¡± someone shouted. The Imperators around them sprang into action. Fifty cannons across the warships immediately swivelled and fired upward, their thunderous roars shaking the air as they intercepted some of the incoming spines. Others crashed into the cobbled streets and wooden piers, shattering into deadly shards and sending debris flying in every direction. Marisol¡¯s stretcher-bearers swerved, narrowly avoiding a chunk of wood that¡¯d been blown sky-high. Half the warships were immediately pierced and damaged. Not destroyed, thankfully, but a second volley would definitely put them out of commission. ¡°Ignore Rhizocapala! He¡¯s still in the far northern district! He won¡¯t dare engage all of us in melee, so long-range bombardment is all he¡¯s going to do!¡± Andres bellowed from far away, his voice cutting through the chaos. ¡°Move! Everyone, get to your ships!¡± The medics carrying Marisol broke into a run, her stretcher bouncing with every step. Both her and Reina were quickly hoisted onto the quarterdeck of Captain Enrique¡¯s flagship just as the ship¡¯s anchors were raised. Guards scrambled to their positions, hauling ropes and securing cargo as the sails unfurled. Andres, Victor, Claudia, and Maria all hopped on as well, straight from the pier to the upper deck. As Marisol was laid down on two crates pushed together next to the helm, Enrique¡¯s booming voice rang out over the din. ¡°Ready the oars! Get us moving now!¡± The warship lurched forward, the sails catching a sharp gust of wind. Several Pistol Shrimp Class Imperators stationed near the stern fired shockwaves into the water to propel the ship even faster. Marisol almost rolled off her stretcher, and for a moment, the sensation of wind gliding past her skin sent a flicker of familiarity through her pain-addled mind. It wasn¡¯t the kind of speed she loved¡ªthe kind she controlled¡ªbut it was the kind they needed in order to get away from Rhizocapala¡¯s long-range barrage. And as their final warship cut through the choppy waters, leaving the burning docks behind, Marisol forced herself to sit upright, her muscles trembling with the effort. She wasn¡¯t the only one staring back. Across the fleet of a dozen warships, hundreds of bloody faces turned towards the city they were leaving behind. The place they¡¯d called home for decades. The place they¡¯d fought for, bled for, died for. Now, it was crumbling. In the distance, the colossal, thousand-meter-long remipede erupted from the last wormhole on the island, and the Remipede God¡¯s emergence was loud. Violent. Its barbed legs slammed into the ground, shattering stone and sending shockwaves rippling through the earth. Buildings crumbled beneath its monstrous weight, entire streets vanishing into the abyss as its thrashing head and tail carved through the city. The destruction was absolute. Marisol¡¯s hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she watched the remipede¡¯s rampage. The city was nothing more than paper against the sheer strength and size of Kalakos, and then came the spines. High above, Rhizocapala¡¯s giant barnacles launched hundreds and thousands of spines skyways, and each spine shot towards the sun like a sun¡ªhanging for a heartbeat before beginning their shrill descent. They rained destruction across the island, tearing through stone and steel as if they were nothing. Towers toppled, flames erupted, and the city Marisol had barely begun to know was annihilated piece by piece. She couldn¡¯t look away. Nobody could. And what hurt most for her¡ªwhat twisted the knife¡ªwas the realisation that she wouldn¡¯t be able to get to the whirlpool anymore. She wouldn¡¯t be able to get down to Depth Nine. She wouldn¡¯t be able to get her vial of healing seawater. Her mind raced, panic clawing at her chest. She¡¯d been so close. So damn close. If they¡¯d just defeated Rhizocapala and Eurypteria down in Depth Five, they could¡¯ve maybe fought off Kalakos right there and then, and it¡¯d be smooth sailing all the way down to Depth Nine. So what now? What could she possibly do now? ¡°... You cannot run!¡± Kalakos bellowed. The distant roar of the Remipede God tore through everyone¡¯s spiraling thoughts, and it was a sound so vast, so consuming, that it seemed to press against the very fabric of the world. ¡°You cannot escape! I will pursue you to the very ends of the Deepwater Legion Front, and you will fall before the Swarm!¡± Marisol¡¯s breath hitched. The words hung in the air, a promise of doom that seemed to freeze the entire fleet in place. Soldiers stopped what they were doing, their eyes wide as they turned toward Kalakos, whose gargantuan body was wrapped around the volcano like a coiling serpent. Even Andres standing next to Enrique by the helm seemed momentarily shaken, his shoulders stiff as he stared at the Remipede God. But not for long. ¡°Focus!¡± Andres shouted, his voice cutting through the oppressive weight of Kalakos¡¯ declaration. He turned sharply, his gaze snapping to the crew. ¡°We¡¯re not out of danger yet! Man the cannons! Hasten the oars! We¡¯re putting our all into running away from the time being!¡± The urgency in his tone snapped the soldiers back into motion. Marisol glanced around, her eyes darting to the other ships in the fleet. The first volley of spines Rhizocapala had damaged the fleet, after all, and the warships were hardly sailing at top speed. Their movements were sluggish in the water. ¡°Captain,¡± Victor said, turning to Enrique with both hands on his cane. ¡°Is there a place we can stop by for repairs?¡± Enrique didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°The Dead Island Straits,¡± he said steadily. ¡°It¡¯s the closest place we can manage. Hold on tight, Hasharana. We¡¯ve gotta get as far as we can before those evil gods leave the island.¡± Chapter 104 - War Meridian The water was thick with carcasses. Broken shells, torn mandibles, and shattered claws drifted in slow motion around the Worm God. A ¡®macabre parade of death¡¯ was what Victor would call it if the man were here. It¡¯d been a decently long month for him down in the whirlpool. All in total, he¡¯d killed over fifty thousand Critter-Classes, over twenty thousand Giant-Classes, and one thousand two hundred and ninety-two Mutant-Classes. Now, they were little more than flotsam in the abyss. He floated among the swirl of carcasses like a ghost, and he was aware his boyish figure looked absurd here, like a misplaced piece in the world¡ªbut that was just ¡®him¡¯ in a nutshell. He wasn¡¯t a normal human by any means. He didn¡¯t have to hold himself to normal human standards. As he tossed a dead Mutant-Class away, something went crack in his body. He blinked slowly and looked down at his own hand. His skin, pale as moonlight, was starting to etch with glowing blue cracks that spiderwebbed across his bare arms, shoulders, and torso. The fissures deepend with every slight movement, leaking silver ichor into the water. A nuisance. The crushing pressure of Depth Eight was starting to get to him. [This body is just about done, I suppose,] he muttered, flexing his fingers and watching another crack bloom across his palm. He didn¡¯t wince. Pain didn¡¯t matter¡ªnot here, not now. This clone was a disposable tool. His real self was back on the mainland continent, safe, so he had no problems going all-out against the Swarm over the past month. But now, his gaze drifted downward into the maw of the abyss. The imperators called it ¡®Depth Nine¡¯, a part of the whirlpool blacker than the spaces between stars. Even he couldn¡¯t see its bottom. His senses couldn¡¯t pierce through the thick killing pressure forming a semi-physical barrier between Depth Eight and Depth Nine, and he was hovering only ten metres away from it. Then, the barrier shifted, and a small, tender, human-like shadow uncoiled in the darkness below. It moved with unsettling grace. A liquid mass that seemed both infinite and formless. Water churned softly as it rose from the abyss, carrying with it an oppressive weight that had nothing to do with the depth. He tilted his head, watching with mild curiosity as glowing blue eyes opened within the shadow. They glared up through the water like twin lighthouse beacons of cold, unyielding light, and for a second¡ªan emotion akin to ¡®fear¡¯ washed over him. But just like ¡®pain¡¯, it was a distant emotion that he could largely ignore because of his immortality. [... Well,] he said, breaking the silence, [look who decided to show up.] The shadow paused just at the edge of Depth Nine. Its shape flickered, neither solid nor fluid, but something in-between. The glow of its eyes remained steady. [So,] he said, his smile widening slowly, [what now? What is the plan after conquering the Whirlpool City and forcing the Imperators to evacuate from the island, Corpsetaker?] The pressure around him deepened, almost imperceptibly, as if the abyss itself was leaning in to listen. And when Corpsetaker finally spoke, his voice rumbled through the water, low and deliberate. ¡°This breach was not my doing.¡± [Really? You could have fooled me.] The Worm God gestured lazily at the swirling battlefield above, littered with the remains of Corpsetaker¡¯s children. [You sure left your fingerprints all over it for an assault not of your doing.] ¡°It was Rhizocapala¡¯s plan,¡± Corpsetaker rippled, voice still calm and without shame. ¡°I merely lent him my support. A fraction of my forces. Nothing more, nothing less.¡± The Worm God raised an eyebrow. [How generous of you.] ¡°Pragmatic,¡± Corpsetaker corrected. ¡°Not generous.¡± The Worm God leaned forward slightly, cracks radiating further across his shoulders as he smirked. [Pragmatic? You would call sacrificing all but two of your children on the surface pragmatic?] ¡°It is necessary,¡± Corpsetaker replied plainly. ¡°You and I both know the cost of survival.¡± The smirk on the Worm God¡¯s lips faltered, replaced by something colder. He floated in silence for a moment, then tilted his head as if considering. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. [So, what now? You have your foothold. You have the city. Will you breach the surface now and take over the Deepwater Legion Front, or is this where you call it quits?] ¡°You know very well that I cannot breach the surface myself as long as your real body¡¯s railgun is still active on the mainland continent,¡± Corpsetaker said, shrugging as he gestured casually around him. ¡°Besides, I have already obtained what I wanted out of Rhizocapala¡¯s campaign: peace in the whirlpool. No human will ever disturb my domain ever again. No human will ever pollute my kingdom with their aura again. I have no vested interest in going any further for the time being.¡± [You expect me to believe you¡¯re just going to stop here?] ¡°Yes.¡± The simplicity of the response caught the Worm God off guard. He blinked, then let out a short laugh, sharp and humourless. [And the other two Insect Gods? Having conquered the Whirlpool City, will they cease pursuit of the Imperators and let them go free?] ¡°The two of them are¡­ ambitious,¡± Corpsetaker admitted. ¡°Rhizocapala hungers for total infestation and dominion. Kalakos craves annihilation. I did not raise them that way, but¡­ they are who they are, and they will act according to their nature.¡± [You¡¯re washing your hands of them, then?] ¡°I am acknowledging what I cannot control. Now that I have obtained peace in the whirlpool, I will no longer be providing any support to the two of them by continuously sending my children up to stop you from returning to the surface. From here on out, they will be the architect of their own fates¡ªand I suppose that does mean Rhizocapala, being more ambitious than me, will indeed try to slaughter every last human in the Deepwater Legion Front.¡± The Worm God studied him, his eyes narrowing. [You¡¯re leaving a lot to chance by not offering your children any support.] ¡°Not chance,¡± Corpsetaker corrected. ¡°Inevitability. Rhizocapala may only be an ¡®E-Rank¡¯ Barnacle God by your human standards, but he is not my oldest child for no good reason. I am not too worried about him losing to your Imperators. It would not surprise me at all if Rhizocapala, alongside his sister, manages to at least destroy the Harbour City your humans are heading towards even without my assistance.¡± The Worm God let the silence stretch. Then his lips curled into a lazy smile, and he raised his voice over the crushing void. [... Which one is Rhizocapala again?] For the first time, the shadow of Depth Nine seemed to stiffen. The light of Corpsetaker¡¯s eyes narrowed into slits. The Worm God tilted his head, not feigning confusion. [Rhizocapala, Kalakos¡ªwhatever you call them. I don¡¯t bother remembering the names of every bug I squash. Which one is which again? Is Rhizocapala the barnacle or the remipede?] The darkness roiled, violent currents rippling around the Greater Crab God. Corpsetaker didn¡¯t speak, but his killing pressure swelled, pressing against the water as if trying to fill the entire abyss. [You¡¯re angry,] the Worm God noted casually. He raised his left arm to the side, the cracks along his skin deepening. [I like to see that. Anger makes all living beings sloppy.] Corpsetaker¡¯s voice finally came, a low and guttural growl vibrating through the abyss. ¡°You think this is a game, child?¡± [I don¡¯t think much about your children at all,] the Worm God replied lightly. [To begin with, I do not know where you get your confidence from. Do you believe your children will be able to defeat the Imperators?] As he spoke, his left arm began to morph. Pale flesh twisted and bulged, veins brightening as it expanded. He didn¡¯t flinch as the transformation began, his fingers fusing into a grotesque, fleshy spiral. His arm elongated, thickened, taking on the segmented appearance of a giant worm, glistening with silver chitin plates that shimmered faintly in the water. He flexed his oversized appendage experimentally, watching as it writhed of its own accord. [Do not underestimate my humans either, Corpsetaker,] he said plainly. [You may have claimed the Whirlpool City for now, but one day, it will be ours again. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, and maybe not in ten years, but this island is just as much our home as it is your prison.] The abyss trembled, Corpsetaker¡¯s laughter rolling through the darkness like thunder. ¡°Home?¡± he sneered. ¡°You humans, born of the earth, dare to call this sacred place your home?¡± [It is a home in dire need of pest control,] the Worm God said, [but we have been known to make do.] The laughter ceased abruptly as Corpsetaker¡¯s glowing eyes narrowed further. ¡°But you won¡¯t get to see it reclaimed,¡± he said. It wasn¡¯t a question. [No,] the Worm God admitted, glancing at the cracks crawling up his legs and torso. [But I am just a clone, after all. The real me will simply replace me. It only takes a year to make another one, so it¡¯s not a big deal if I die here.] ¡°And you¡ªnot as a clone, but as an individual¡ªare content with dying here?¡± [Of course.] [No ¡®champion¡¯ of humanity would shy away from the opportunity to fight you in your element.] ¡°...¡± Then Corpsetaker shifted again, his shadowy form condensing. Slowly, one of his human-like arms began to morph. Fingers fused into a monstrous claw, each jagged edge of the appendage bristling with ridges and spikes, and it was massive¡ªdwarfing the Worm God¡¯s mutated arm in both scale and menace. But the Worm God didn¡¯t falter. His worm-arm lashed through the water, leaving a trail of faintly glowing blood as it coiled and uncoiled. [I am curious to know,] he said, [how well does a mere clone of the Worm God stack up against you in this day and age?] Corpsetaker¡¯s laughter rumbled again, but this time it was quieter. Colder. And then both of them reared their monstrous arms back, water surging in all directions as the tension reached its peak. They struck each other as one. Chapter 105 - When the Dust Settles Sunlight kissed Marisol''s face, and even with her eyes half-shut, it was too bright for her liking. It¡¯d been an hour. Maybe two. She still lay sprawled across her stretcher that¡¯d been unceremoniously plunked down on two crates on the quarterdeck of Enrique¡¯s warship. Every inch of her ached beneath the thin layers of bandages the medics had applied to her charred skin. With the air carrying such a salty, breezy brisk, anyone on a normal day would feel refreshed and energetic¡ªbut all of them, a thousand or so Guards and Imperators scattered across a fleet of a dozen warships, were anything but that. Someone shouted orders nearby, and the warship suddenly groaned beneath her. It¡¯d always been groaning¡ªlike it was seconds from splitting apart¡ªbut this time it felt different. A shift, subtle at first, then unmistakable. The ship lifted off the sea. Her stomach lurched with the familiar sensation, and she barely stopped herself from laughing sordidly out loud. Dead Island Straits, she thought. They¡¯d sailed into one of those giant bubbles and were currently defying all known laws of gravity. But she couldn¡¯t even be assed to sit up straight and look around at the archipelago that¡¯d given her so much trouble more than half a year ago. [... You will do yourself no good dwelling endlessly on the destruction of the Whirlpool City.] [It has been conquered by the Swarm for now¡ªaccept that as fact and think about what to do from now on.] Marisol snorted. ¡°No kidding,¡± she mumbled, the words barely leaving her lips. Forcing herself to sit upright felt like an act of rebellion against her own body, and pain shot through her ribs, but she ignored it. She¡¯d been getting better at that¡ªignoring pain. The quarterdeck was chaos. Guards and Imperators dashed up and down between the decks, patching holes in the hull and tying down what hadn¡¯t already been tied. Smoke curled from somewhere below deck, and the acrid stench tickled her nose. The triple giant silver sails overhead were billowing at full force, and since her crates had been placed right beside the railings, she peered over and scrunched her nose at the rapidly distancing sea below them. They, alongside the rest of the fleet also floating into the air behind them, were already well over fifty metres above sea level. ¡°Nice to see this place hasn¡¯t changed, at least,¡± she muttered dryly. Captain Enrique chuckled next to her as he gripped the helm, his posture tense but steady. Victor, standing beside Enrique with both hands clasped over his walking cane, had no comment as he stared straight forward at the vast canyons. Above all of them, Andres perched on the crow¡¯s nest like a hawk, barking incomprehensible commands to the fleet behind them¡ªMarisol¡¯s ears were still ringing a bit too hard for her to tell what he was saying. So she looked past him, following Victor¡¯s gaze. The Dead Island Straits was exactly as she remembered. They were deep, cragged canyons carved by time and whatever the name was of the Insect God that¡¯d bled all over the archipelago. Trees grew sideways and vegetation dotted the walls of the canyon. Canopies of vines stretched overhead every once in a while, putting them under cool shades, but then Enrique shouted something at his crew, and all of them started sailing even higher, ascending until they were well above even the giant bone forests at the top of the canyons. Marisol remembered this place well. The warship jerked slightly, slowly, then settled with a heavy groan as it docked in the middle of one of the bone forests. Around and behind them, the other warships in the fleet did the same, lurching to rest above the jagged canyons. Immediately, hundreds of soldiers hopped overboard in droves, ropes and pulleys creaking as they worked to secure the battered vessels. It wasn¡¯t quiet at all. The air buzzed with shouts, commands, and tension, like the moment before a storm. But just as Marisol was about to swing her glaives off her stretcher so she could help out somewhere, Victor tapped his walking cane against the quarterdeck in a rhythm that didn¡¯t quite fit the chaos around them. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. And everyone on their warship froze. Marisol squinted as well, furrowing her brows as she started looking around the bone forest. It began as a whisper, a low, incessant buzzing noise that seemed to rise from the bottom of the canyons. Then they appeared¡ªhundreds of them. They soared upwards from the canyons in a flurry of emerald wings, their bodies lean and angular, carrying blowguns and wicked curved blades that gleamed in the sunlight. Their metallic masks and their giant, hexagonal damselfly eyes bore holes into all of them, unblinking as all seven hundred or so of them hovered in perfect synchronization around the fleet. Marisol¡¯s breath caught. ¡­ Damselfly Oracles. While the Guards and Imperators backed up against each other, murmuring to themselves with uneasy glances darting towards the hovering tribesmen, a few of the Damselfly Oracles descended, landing lightly on the quarterdeck. Seven of them. All old, wrinkled, and wearing more intricately carved masks. Save for one familiar figure. The young girl immediately shot forward at Marisol, her smile wide and warm as she immediately tore off her metal mask. ¡°Marisol!¡± Hana¡¯s voice cut through the tension like sunlight through fog. Before Marisol could respond, the young girl was fussing over her, hands fluttering to check her bloody bandages and muttering something about how bright her ¡®colour¡¯ was. While Hana hovered around her, Victor strode forward, meeting what must be the old chiefs of the Damselfly Oracles with a steady calm that seemed to radiate authority. Marisol couldn¡¯t help but eavesdrop. ¡°... The Whirlpool City¡¯s been abandoned,¡± Victor said bluntly, his cane tapping once more for emphasis as he stared at the six chiefs. ¡°I¡¯m sure all of you have had this thought for an entire month, but our hold on the Deepwater Legion Front is finally compromised. Even you can¡¯t stay here anymore. Without the city¡¯s autocannons firing, the Crawling Seas in the far west will be washing towards the east and swallowing everything in their way. It¡¯s time for everyone to move east¡ªtowards the mainland.¡± The chiefs tilted their heads, their wings twitching as they processed his words. Marisol scanned the soldiers nearby. They were still exchanging nervous glances at the hovering oracles, and she couldn¡¯t really blame them for it. Hovering cannibal tribesmen weren¡¯t exactly the kind of allies that inspired confidence, but Victor must¡¯ve noticed the same thing Stolen novel; please report. While the chiefs talked quietly amongst themselves, the old man turned casually. ¡°Relax,¡± he said, his voice carrying over the sky effortlessly. ¡°We never made it official, but the Damselfly Oracles have been defending the Dead Island Straits from bugs and marauders for decades under the employment of the Worm God. We¡¯ve been working together long before most of you were even old enough to hold a sword.¡± The tension didn¡¯t suddenly vanish, but Marisol felt it definitely lessened. A few soldiers nodded hesitantly across the fleet, and the whispers started to die down. The old man¡¯s words simply have that much sway, huh? In the meantime, Victor turned back to the chiefs. ¡°We need materials to repair the warships. A certain Barnacle God¡¯s spines damaged them on our way out of the city,¡± he said curtly, before glancing around at the warships behind him again. ¡°Every captain should provide their schematics and blueprints to the oracles! Tell them what parts you need to repair your ship with, and they¡¯ll help us out! They ain¡¯t here to eat us alive!¡± ¡­ Still, the hesitation lingered. And Andres chose that moment to roar from the crow¡¯s nest, his voice booming like a cannon shot. ¡°You heard the man! Move! We can¡¯t stay here for long!¡± The Imperatrix¡¯s words got through. The soldiers jolted into action, uncertainty broken through, and the chaos returned. This time, the hundreds of Damselfly Oracles swerved down to every warship¡¯s upper deck to communicate, coordinate, and distribute the workload¡ªthey worked together far quicker and far more efficiently than Marisol would¡¯ve thought, but given the soldiers were professionals and the oracles did seem to speak their tongue, maybe it shouldn¡¯t have come as a surprise to her. They were in a dire situation, after all. So, Marisol swung her glaives off the edge of the stretcher, wincing at the pull of strained muscles beneath bandaged skin. Hana was at her side in an instant, steadying and supporting her with an arm under her shoulder. ¡°I help!¡± Hana said. Marisol smiled weakly back. ¡°Thank you.¡± As dozens of soldiers raced off and disappeared into the bone forest in search of materials, accompanied by Damselfly Oracles, Andres leapt down from the crow¡¯s nest and landed with a solid thud that shook the quarterdeck. He strode toward Victor and Enrique, who were already engaged in a conversation of information exchange with the chiefs. Marisol, still leaning on Hana, hobbled over as well. Her curiosity was a stubborn thing, refusing to let her rest. ¡°How do you know so much about the oracles?¡± she asked once she was standing directly behind Victor. The old man glanced over his shoulder, a grin splitting his bandaged face. ¡°Because I was the one who recruited them nearly thirty years ago alongside the Worm God and the Thousand Tongue,¡± he answered plainly, clapping one of the oracle chiefs on the shoulder like an old friend. The chief¡¯s expression didn¡¯t soften. If anything, he looked more irritated. ¡°A lot¡¯s changed since then, and I haven¡¯t really met them in about five or six years, but some things stick. They¡¯re still loyal to the Hasharana, as I¡¯m sure you already know¡ª¡± ¡°Damselfly Slayer. There¡¯s something we need to discuss,¡± one of the chiefs interrupted, his tone clipped. His wings flicked, catching sunlight like shards of stained glass, and Victor¡¯s grin faltered for a second before he nodded. ¡°Fine, fine. Old men and old friends need their secrets.¡± Then he glanced at Marisol, waving her away. ¡°Go find something useful to do, lass. Or not. You¡¯re more than welcome to just lie down and rest a bit longer.¡± ¡­But when he realised Marisol wasn¡¯t hobbling away immediately, he paused and glanced around again. ¡°Good work with Eurypteria, by the way,¡± he said after a moment, his tone softening. ¡°And don¡¯t worry about the city. What happened with it ain¡¯t on you. Also, I promised that you¡¯re going home to your mama with a vial of healing seawater, so don¡¯t sweat it¡ªI¡¯m sure it¡¯ll all work out just fine by the time we get to the Harbour City.¡± ¡­ There was something in his voice¡ªa certainty that didn¡¯t match the chaos around them¡ªand it left Marisol tilting her head, trying to puzzle it out. Before she could press him on it, though, he turned back to the oracle chiefs, waving her away again. Hana tugged at her arm. ¡°Come! Let¡¯s find materials for ship!¡± Marisol clenched her jaw and shook her head¡ªhalf because she was trying to shake away thoughts of the Whirlpool City, and the other half because she actually didn¡¯t want to fly around now. ¡°I¡¯ll help. Just¡­ not yet. There¡¯s something I gotta do first.¡± Marisol shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll help. Just¡­ not yet. There¡¯s something I need to do first.¡± Hana hesitated, then nodded. ¡°Okay! I scout ahead! Join me when free!¡± With a cheerful wave, the young girl took off, her wings carrying her into the bone forest alongside a dozen other Guards. Marisol stood on the quarterdeck for a moment longer, staring at Victor¡¯s back before she turned away. Her muscles were still sending sparks of pain through her body with every slight movement, but she managed to slide her way down onto the upper deck, then make a full turn into the captain¡¯s cabin right underneath. The door creaked as she pushed it open, and the sharp smell of blood and antiseptic immediately washed over her. The cabin had been transformed into a dimly-lit, well-ventilated infirmary, with stretchers crammed into every available space. Claudia and half a dozen medics were moving between patients, hands and antennae stitching cuts and disinfecting wounds. There had to be about twenty, thirty injured stuffed in this tiny cabin, but now that they¡¯d docked on steady ground, Claudia was already shouting at her medics to carry a few soldiers out onto the upper deck for fresher air. Every bandaged limb, every laboured breath, every bloodstained stretcher¡ªit was all her doing. They were all soldiers who¡¯d gotten injured as a result of her decision to stay and fight for the Whirlpool City. Her chest tightened, but she stopped thinking when her gaze landed on a trio of familiar faces. Reina, Aidan, and Bruno lay side by side, their bodies battered but alive. Relief hit her like a lightning strike to the chest, sharp and unexpected. She moved quickly, ignoring the twinges of pain in her legs and arms as she skated past the medics. Maria was already kneeling next to Reina, and Helena next to her older brothers, but there was room for one more. She dropped to her knees beside Reina¡¯s stretcher, her voice trembling but determined. ¡°... You good?¡± Reina¡¯s face was pale, her eyes half-lidded and glassy, but she turned her head toward Marisol. Her lips barely moved as she whispered, ¡°I¡¯m¡­ good.¡± Maria¡¯s notebook was opened on her knee. Her quill scratched against the page with quick, deliberate strokes, and when she finished, she held the notebook up for Reina to see. You finally did it, Rei-Rei. Eurypteria is dead. Reina¡¯s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch Maria¡¯s arm. Maria reached back, squeezing her hand. Tears glistened in her eyes as she turned her head next, her gaze shifting to Aidan and Bruno lying beside her¡ªboth men were still unconscious, their faces slack, but they were undoubtedly still alive. ¡°I¡­¡± Reina¡¯s voice faltered, her breath catching as she looked up slightly, dipping her head at Helena. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t protect them better. I am¡­ a Lighthouse Imperator. I should¡¯ve¡ª¡± ¡°They¡¯re not dead, Miss Reina,¡± Helena said firmly, her voice thick, her hands balled into fists as she smiled fiercely back. ¡°They¡¯re not dying. Not from this. They¡¯ve been through worse, and they¡¯ll get through this, too.¡± To prove her point¡ªor maybe just to vent¡ªHelena reached over and smacked Aidan and Bruno on their foreheads. Not hard, but just enough to make a point. ¡°See?¡± she said, sniffling. ¡°They¡¯re too stubborn to die. Idiots.¡± A soft laugh behind them broke the tension, and Marisol looked over her shoulder to see Claudia leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. ¡°Ain¡¯t nobody¡¯s dyin¡¯ on my watch,¡± Claudia said, weary but warm. ¡°I don¡¯t care how bad it looks. I¡¯m here, and I don¡¯t lose patients once they¡¯re in my care. Got it?¡± A fragile sense of hope filled the cabin, fragile but real. Marisol felt it settle in her chest¡ªa small, flickering light against the darkness of everything that had happened. They¡¯re alive. They¡¯ll be fine. She let out a shaky breath, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. At least something good had come from all this¡ªthe death of Eurypteria. But before she could dwell on it, the cabin door swung open further behind all of them. Heavy footsteps approached, and Marisol turned to see Victor standing in the doorway. He didn¡¯t look like his usual sharp-edged self. His bandaged face was grim, his cane tapping against the floor as he stepped inside. ¡°Lass,¡± he said briskly. ¡°Come with me.¡± Marisol pushed herself to her feet, her body protesting every movement. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Victor glanced at Maria and Claudia, then back at Marisol. ¡°There¡¯s a problem with the Dead Island Straits. Maria, Claudia, you¡¯re coming too. All able-bodied Lighthouse Imperators should be there as well.¡±