After leaving the galactic council chambers in a state of polygonal fury, a lone octahedron, is carefully checking their sensors to ensure they aren’t being followed by suspicious monitors. They have been dutifully observing the battle royal games, and like many of the other complex machines and shapes, have their own objectives they wished to see through.
The being, known simply as Xygohe, carefully taps the keypad to a secure door, leading to their personal office. They are a representative of the Xywunots, a well-respected race, having officially joined the Xinos back in galactic cycle 10,298. They are my no means the most senior, but, after observing countless upsets amongst the races in their current cycle’s tournament, have decided that now is an ideal time to further their own motivations. One of the lucky warriors selected for the games, has been a close aid to Xygohe, where they have each helped one another advance their own personal goals. Seeing as they have received plenty of help from their friend, it was only natural the Xywunot, would return the favour to the warrior battling below to survive.
Carefully checking their room for the billionth time, dutifully ensuring there were no nearby listening devices or software monitors, Xygohe carefully boots up their quantum entangled communication monitor, and begins trying to reach the warrior currently fighting on Earth. The device beeps, hums, and emits several rounds of jarring staticky noise, before finally connecting them to the warrior on the other end of the screen.
“Xygohe.” Drones the warrior in a deep tone. “I wasn’t expecting you to contact me again so quickly.” “Apologies, A.N.T.” they quickly reply while peeking overtop of their expansive metallic desk for any eavesdroppers. “I don’t have much time, but I have some critical information to pass along.
The warrior assigned the identifier A.N.T. offers a single nod to the complex shape, while it claps its mandibles in anticipation for the upcoming message. The warrior, as its identifier would imply, had chosen the visage of the might Formicidae. It was a small insect by design, yet possessed some impressive qualities that fit particularly well with this unique warrior. A.N.T., was incredibly strong, they always have been, and when they learned this tiny species could lift up to 50 times its own body weight, while possessing powerful and thick carapaces for protection, they immediately knew this was the being that would bring them victory in the coming battles. Yet while unmatched strength and defence were equally important to the warrior, the last unique trait, guaranteed their selection of this particular Earthly species.
This insect species, possessed incredible respect for hierarchy, living and dying for their queen, while dutifully carrying out their tasks to the death. They did not rebel, question orders, or stray from any of their assigned duties. These creatures, were the ideal soldiers, and A.N.T., would be their general. Having already been a high-ranking member of the Xinos military, leading had always come naturally to them, and now, they finally had the opportunity to personally exercise their commander’s prowess.
“The Xyfokit, from round α. They survived, and eliminated C.R.O. We can not proceed as originally planned.” A.N.T. aggressively clicked their mandibles after hearing the unfortunate news. While sometimes poor outcomes occurred during times of war, even they were not expecting C.R.O. to have been defeated by F.O.X. Their dossier on F.O.X., seemed to indicate the unit was weak, possessing poor qualities for a warrior, and should have never been selected in the first place for the tournament. Yet somehow, they have not only survived two rounds, but were actively eliminating powerful contenders on their own.
“Do you have an update on the human?” echoed the monitor on A.N.T.’s end as the particles suffered a brief bout of interference from another party communicating to another nearby warrior. “Yes.” Responded the warrior in a sharp and precise tone. “The human John is unaware of my infiltration of his living premise. They have attempted basic counter biological warfare, but are currently unsuccessful in rallying the living space’s supervisor to their cause.”
“Perfect.” Hummed the Xywunot, as it continued checking over its shoulder to ensure its conversation was still being kept secure. “I would advise you eliminate the human first, then focus on the Xyfokit. They have formally entered a bond on a permanent basis, making them an easy target for weakening F.O.X.” “Understood Xygohe. I will make the necessary preparations on my end.”
“Good.” Quietly responded the councillor. “And remember, I cannot have any of the information I’m feeding you, lead back to me. I’ll have you know, I almost got found out when I included the banned identifier blocker in the other warrior’s radar systems.”
“Rest assured Councillor Xygohe. I never fail my assigned missions.” A.N.T. confidently clacked their mandibles again, before the quantum particles connection was severed from the caller’s end. A.N.T. briefly looked down at the tiny monitor they were somehow managing to hold between their horridly designed hands. For such a well adapted species such as the Formicidae, A.N.T. was still struggling to become accustomed to life without opposable thumbs.
Returning their monitor to their secured landing pod, A.N.T. carefully walks through the expertly crafted dirt tunnels his army has been quickly building since he assumed control over this particular colony. During their time here, A.N.T. has learned from the insects, that they are currently engaged in a war across the globe already. This particular genus, the Linepithema humile, currently belonged to the largest super colony in the world, spanning across several countries on the continent named “Europe” by the apex species. While this particular army of ants was quite far from their home, they have already started making their foothold in the North American regions of the globe, which A.N.T. just so happened to land on for the battle royal.
Utilizing their Xinos technology to enhance their chosen species capabilities, A.N.T. was able to assume complete, and perfect control over the creatures, by perfecting the pheromone chemicals they used for communication. The result, was an army that never questioned their orders, which could also receive and comprehend complex tasks not typically possible amongst the Formicidae.
Looking over their work, A.N.T. was pleased with the current progress their army was making. While the insects are small by all measures of the word, their vast numbers, and flawless ability to work together, has already allowed the Xinos to infiltrate every building across the entire province after only a week. Whenever one of A.N.T.’s pheromone-laced workers come in contact with another rival colony, the Xinos enhanced pheromones replicate, and rapidly spread amongst the new host, quickly turning that worker’s home colony, into another vassal under A.N.T.’s control.
A.N.T. had also taken great care in making sure each and everyone of their warriors were enhanced to the fullest, by spreading trace amounts of Xyninium throughout their carapaces. This not only provided their warriors with enhanced durability, strength, and protection from illness, but served as another efficient means for monitoring the visual feeds of each and every connected warrior.
Tracking multiple inputs, as a simple task for an incomprehensibly complex machine, with several billion simultaneous visual feeds equating to what the apex species would typically call “child’s play.”. A.N.T. was confident they currently had the most accurate information on each of the participating warriors, with none of them, being away they were all currently being watched. “No one ever pays attention to the little guys.” They quietly hum to themselves, as they continue walking through their expansive military base. “And that’s exactly how I will win.”
A.N.T. arrives at their war room, where several monitors and sensors have already been prepared, ready to alert them to any change in observational environmental conditions deemed relevant. They already have multiple visual feeds on all the remaining Xinos in North America, and by tomorrow, the handful of soldiers they have sent on a special assignment across the “Atlantic Ocean”, should finally make landfall, and formally bring the Linepithema humile super colony firmly under their control. In a month, every inch of this planet will be monitored by their soldiers, placing A.N.T. in a tactical position of superiority.
A.N.T.’s monitors snap to an alert setup in John’s apartment. While they had briefly observed a Xinos entering his living premise earlier in the day, they are pleasantly surprised to see the target of everyone’s interest, F.O.X., has joined John for the night in his premise.
Several of the ants currently in the apartment scurry away underneath the baseboards as the bulky machine carefully enters through the shattered window. While John was thrilled at finally getting to experience an exhillerating ride and condominium climbing scenario, they were slightly annoyed learning that F.O.X. had completely shattered their window when they leapt from his room earlier, mistakenly believing the fake message to have been from John themselves.
The soldiers observe the Xinos tuck its tail slightly, to which John tells it not to worry about it. F.O.X. didn’t know after all, and it was only trying to help, so John begrudgingly forgave them for the misunderstanding. This thankfully improved their mood, as the intelligence quickly set to work splicing and welding one of their spare Xyninium cubes into a makeshift fortified wall.
John eventually walks over to the thermostat, and cranks the heat up, as the room is essentially freezing, having been exposed to the harsh natural elements all day. The heating and ventilation systems hum to life with fury, unfortunately displacing some of the soldiers which had been scouting additional areas of the apartment for new vantage points. A.N.T. notes that their sacrifice will not be forgotten, as he quickly assigns more units to increase patrols in the area.
Remembering their previous conversation with Xygohe, A.N.T. visually confirms an active bond between F.O.X. and John, validating their contact’s information, while equally frustrating them. They have been given both a blessing, and a curse, all within the span of a single day. Here before them, was the perfect opportunity to eliminate the Xyfokit, and obtain control of the human named John. However, the non-combat period has just begun, meaning any hostile weapons action by participating Xinos, would lead to the immediate deletion of A.N.T.’s conscious.
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The insect aggressively claps their mandibles together, as they turn to continue patrolling their military base. They have only just begun their rounds, and next up on their list, was the prisoner’s quarter.
Continuing down the winding tunnels, A.N.T. spends several hours traveling to the location deemed most appropriate from their analysis, for housing prisoners of war. Or, more accurately, sacrifices for each round’s mandatory kill count. Entering the caverns, A.N.T. observes the row of hostages neatly bound against the walls. They have an impressive collection of 17 captives, and have already removed all of their unique identifiers to conceal their presence from future radar scans. After analysing sensitive information shared from their council contact, and, with their own personal knowledge of Xinos military affairs, A.N.T. is well aware that the system ensuring rules are adhered to, is separate from the one the council uses to track and monitor all valid combatants. More Xinos are alive than the representatives believe to be, and they will only find out once the rounds continue progressing deeper and deeper.
Thinking towards the future, the only potential problem A.N.T. will experience, is the problematic “shrinking acceptable fields of battle” criteria. However, they have already planed for soldiers to test their theories in the coming days. A.N.T. calmly walks over towards one of their captives, L.Y.N., a cat-based predator, before placing a mark along the cell they are held in. This Xinos, will be the next tribute in 6 days, and their valiant sacrifice will join the likes of D.E.E., who was the first kill they recorded during the games.
Before long, A.N.T. notices it has already transitioned to morning, a pity, since they were rather fond of the night, but they quickly move these thoughts to background processes. There is still plenty of work they need to accomplish, and they are still waiting on Xygohe to confirm the consensus on a vital ruling, pivotal to their victory condition. While the Xinos are banned from harming one another during the non-combat period, do creatures under your control, count as having met this criteria, if they actively engage the enemy directly on your behalf? Taking this a step further, what about collateral damage caused by say, a building, collapsing on itself, from critical foundational damage caused by workers under your control?
A.N.T. has already begun meticulously directing the workers under their control to destabilize key sections of John’s apartment building in preparation for the response they receive. Current estimates place the progress at being 5 days out from completion, but, after seeing F.O.X. in such close proximity, a tinge of nervousness pulses throughout their circuits.
F.O.X., by all observations, is not a skilled warrior, yet they have still managed to eliminate the most favoured contender, G.O.R., and one of the top 50 Xinos, C.R.O. during the first two rounds. “Never assume you know more than your enemy.” They quietly hum to themselves. The wise words the commander has always lived by, and also found reflected in the primitive warfare literate written by the apex species themselves, is a guiding principle to their tactic formulation. They shouldn’t be worried about F.O.X., but they know erroring on the side of caution is more than acceptable during times of war. Calculated decisions backed by data, and strong communication channels are what wins wars, and this battle royal, will be no different for this particular Xinos.
A.N.T. eventually reaches their personal chambers, where they check a few more signatures of interest. Their scouts have finally catalogued all of the humans in the province, and determined that the next highest compatibility score closest to them, is a human by the name of Jake Valkin. Their warriors have spotted them uncomfortably close to the Xinos identified as T.Y.R., but they are not worried. Preliminary reports have suggested that Jake had originally formed a bond with F.O.X., yet the Xinos ended the bond on their own terms, seeking out John instead. This was an abnormality for the general, but their wisdom led them to the startling conclusion, that Jake was simply not worthy of the potentially keen insight F.O.X. possessed in choosing a bonding partner. To pass on a 40% compatibility boost, this “Jake” must be a terribly poor excuse for a warrior, they thought.
A.N.T.’s eyes then shift back towards monitor John and F.O.X., nothing abnormal happened during the night, and they are just beginning their first official day together as a team. The current battle, appears to be a fierce struggle against the contents encased within a calcium carbonite shell, and a frying pan. The Xinos have no need for food, and it appears John has recently learned this fact after F.O.X.’s refusal to sample to blackened delicacy they had so carefully cooked for them. A.N.T.’s scouts have communicated the air within the building is rich with carbon, and several loud sensors have been setoff due to the smog John created while cooking in an effort to conceal his meals of choice from any would be spies, but A.N.T wouldn’t be fooled so easily.
There will be plenty of time for the intelligence to learn more about their target’s particular living habits, but for now, A.N.T is content with carefully observing them from the safety of their scouts. After all, they are still waiting on critical information, before formally committing their plans of attack on how best to eliminate, this formidable duo.
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A quick, nervous knock echoes thought Xylophos’ office. The former emperor has only just recently returned to their personal chambers after meeting with the council for the conclusion of round β’s analysis and discussion, and they are already apparently being summoned by another eager member of their council.
Shrugging their shoulders in the 24th dimension, Xylophos begrudgingly gets up from the chair they had recently seated themselves in, before teleporting to the complex Xyninium reinforced door to unlocked it. Their timing couldn’t have been any better, as they swing the door open to the Xinos behind it quickly tapping against Xylophos exposed central core, instead of the Xyninium metal that was there moments ago.
“Ah! Umm, Emperor Xylophos!” beeped the octahedron in short, erratic tones. “I-I’m s-s-sorry for tapping on you—” “Pay it no mind, Xygohe.” Calmly replied the intelligence, as they lightly brushed their core in an effort to restore is lustre. “And it’s just Xylophos now, I am no longer your emperor, after all.”
“R-r-r-right, Xylophos!” they quickly beeped, their speakers hovering on the cusp of relief and guilt for their recent actions. “I... I was hoping to speak with you regarding some of the more... Finer rules of the battle royal. There are some concerns I have, which I don’t believe are clearly addressed in our doctrine.”
Xylophos examines the shivering octahedron carefully. They are not too familiar with this particular representative, but know they have been on the council for many galactic cycles. For them to ask about clarifying some rules about their tournament, there was probably a deeper meaning behind it. Being a being of curiosity, a maniacal grin grows across the intelligence’s facial display, as it formally invites the twitching councillor into their personal office.
Gesturing to a nearby seat, Xygohe picks up on the obvious que, and orients themselves to face towards Xylophos desk. The former emperor sits down as well, then materializes a set of cups and boiling water. Xylophos grabs one of the Xyninium cups, before asking “One cube, or two, councillor?”
“Two please.” They quietly respond, as the machine gracefully adds two cubes of molecules comprised of C12H22O11 to their cup, before pouring a boiling mixture of modified Xytrolyte into their cup. Xylophos matches the councillors request of two cubes, and, after pouring their own cup, calmly stirs the mixture until it can be clearly classified as homogeneous. Then, after blowing some simple cool winds across the hot liquid’s surface, Xylophos gracefully takes a sip of their refined beverage, while waiting for Xygohe to do the same.
The councillor is jittery, barely managing to keep the cup and liquid stable in their 8th dimensional appendages, as they struggle to stabilize the elegant beverage near their monitor. Some of the hot liquid unfortunately spills from the cup onto their core, causing them to jump slightly at the sudden change in textures they process. Then, after placing their crucible down, the manage to articulate their response to Xylophos.
“My question, is with regards to the non-combat clause of our doctrine.” They manage to say in a tone free of stutters, surprising Xylophos briefly. “What would happen if say... Hypothetically speaking of course, a Xinos were to instruct soldiers under their control, who aren’t Xinos themselves, to damage the foundation of a building containing another Xinos, causing it to collapse, killing the Xinos inside. Would... Would that violate the non-combat ruling?”
Xylophos calmly leans back in their chair, while quietly taking another sip from their refreshing beverage before responding. “My my, Xygohe, that sounds like an oddly specific hypothetical scenario.” They beep in short, precise tones before placing their beverage back on the table.
The former emperor doesn’t answer for a bit, instead choosing to watch the octahedron before them fidget and shift uncomfortably within their chair. Xylophos is no fool, and they are well aware what the councillor is trying to get at. The intelligence’s gaze falls to the computer terminal nearby, as their polygonal digits nonchalantly glide across the terminal, bringing into focus the building currently housing John and the intelligence known as F.O.X.
Xygohe jumps slightly upon seeing the building come into focus, as they continue to shift within their chair. On the screen, is a live video feed of John and F.O.X., participating in what appears to be a textbook example on how not to cook an egg. The room is filled with smoke, and both the human and the Xinos within it, are desperately trying to blow the foul cloud out of the room, with F.O.X. being most effective after transforming their cannon into a “fan only” mode.
Next, Xylophos swipes the visual feed slightly, before pretending to slip their polygonal fingers, “accidently” pausing the footage on the view of several Formicidae, digging tunnels into critical structural supports of the building’s loadbearing walls.
“Ah, why an ant... Curious creatures these are, councillor Xygohe. My apologies, but it does appear my digits are clumsier than I would like to admit! Now then, as per your... Hypothetical scenario, I see no reason as to how such an action you described, would violate the non-combat clause of our doctrine.” Another grin, materialized across Xylophos monitor, as they finally observed the trembling councillor relax ever so slightly.
“I see.” Responded Xygohe in as calm a whirl as they could muster. “Thank you, Xylophos, for your keen insight into my... Hypothetical scenario.”
“Right then.” Hummed the former emperor as they brought their multidimensional digits together, rhythmically tapping them together. “I... I’ll be going now then.” Whooped the octahedron, as they quickly made their way outside of the intimidating personal quarters of the being known as Xylophos.
Waiting for the sounds of the clearly corrupt council member’s footsteps to disipate, Xylophos then calmly turned their attention back towards the monitors, before forwarding the footage to the live video feeds once again. John and F.O.X. were still happily getting to know each other, with each taking turns asking the questions, in an effort to further strengthen their bond.
The intelligence smiled, an attempt to mask the tightness currently gripping their central core, as it struggled against its own desires, to succumb to the corrupt dealings that all of their council members appeared involved in. They wanted to warn the contenders about the upcoming struggles they were going to face, but also knew, that if they were to stoop to the council’s own levels, that would make them no better in the grand scheme of their battle royal.
Closing their thoughts, Xylophos gently waved their hand across the screen. It felt heavier than usual, and, just before formally cutting their feed with the unaware contenders, they uttered one final words of advice, that they would never be able to hear.
“Good luck, F.O.X. and John.”