“How?!”

“Calm down, sir berry! Tis not worth expelling your tart, aromatic breath over!” Fogwarth called out with his usual encouraging bravado. This time I wasn’t biting as easily. “Why, it is barely even worth any concern over at all! I say it is but another hurdle that we leap together, my dearest companion. Once we gain knowledge from our esteemed Oracle then I am sure we can get to work on your next evolution!”

I huffed and puffed and blew my metaphorical mushroom house down; on second thought, scratch that terminology.

“I did what the stupid prompt asked! I evolved! It didn’t even give me a fucking warning this time!”

Fogwen hid her grin well this time, or maybe she wasn’t grinning at all, but she shook her head and gave me the pity gaze I was growing more and more used to.

“You disregard notifications during a skirmish, yes?” She asked, and I grumpily nodded my response. “It is no surprise, we all do. Sifting through post-battle notifications is just another part of the fight itself. I should have known that you would not think to be thorough. Resurfaced are always such dreamers. They focus only on what they deem as important and throw away all other notions in their pursuit of grandeur. It is why so little exist, I theorize.”

“What? I did look through them! I…”

I trailed off, opening my interface and opening the log of notifications tab. So many were regarding death that I lost track, then I found prompts regarding debuffs, leveling up, taking damage. I was so sure Fogwen’s stupid ass was wrong about this. Then, there it was. Staring me down as if to mock me. Looking me right in the berry eyes.

[Warning: You have been severed from your source of nutrients. You have 120 hours (120 hours plus an additional 0 for retaining your host stem) to achieve a Tier 2 evolutionary path or cellular degradation will begin]

[Current Tier 2 paths available: None]

I have never, never, had a reason to use this word in my life. Never gave it a thought, never found a use for it in my normal life. But I was utterly, completely, and totally, flabbergasted.

I was fucking flabbergasted.

There was no way. It was hopeless. These people have lived here their entire lives and haven’t reached tier 2. Fogwarth and his siblings were combat professional badasses and haven’t reached tier 2. And they all knew their paths and goals. What hope did I have? I was still a Goddamn blueberry! Just a blueberry! What if my tier 2 path is at level 20? What if it’s level 30? What if they have some strange requirement that I couldn’t even begin to think of?

I felt a strange, foreign pit of rage stir inside of me like a scorching orb of magma, and it prickled my berry peel. I took a deep breath. In and out. Inhale and exhale. And let that odd feeling die back down. No reason to berry burst or whatever the hell that was.

I felt the heavy weight of a Fogwarth gauntlet rest at the top of my berry head.

“Easy now, dear friend,” he said, a barely visible squishy smile peeking through his onion-shaped helmet. “As warriors, we do not let our mind wander on the battles ahead. No. First, we brace ourselves for the battle of the here and the now. We see our present foes slain, so that our future foes may tremble! Now, honored warrior berry, shall we?”

I let out one more exhale. Low and slow. The anger trembled as it left my throat. I looked up to him and nodded, finding some small comfort in his mindset. He was right. There was a battle to win.

“Yeah,” I said as the air left my berry lungs. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

Just ahead of us, Ak-Lok parted a section of underbrush that opened to a small field right behind a row of storefronts. It was the main town front before the castle. Our long, overgrown path had taken us securely around the perimeter and now we were right where we needed to be. I gulped, gripped my obsidian runesword, and surveyed what was before us.

Many of the buildings were blackened with char and ash, smoldering flames lingering on their remains like lonesome spirits. Smoke choked the air, and the smell of fire was widespread even from our vantage. We could see just a sliver of the main castle gate, which had been shut. Yet it seemed to do little to slow the advance of the bee people. Several soldiers banded together with a huge battering ram and proceeded to slam it into the gate repeatedly using some rushing technique simultaneously similar to Fogwarth’s charge. It struck like thunder, hitting hard enough to cause the brush we crouched behind to rustle and quake. But, with the battering ram smashing the castle like a slow, throbbing heartbeat, my attention quickly was pulled back to the landscape.

And the bodies. So, so many bodies.

They were little more than blackened silhouettes carved into ground under them. Ribbons of gray wafted off of them as the remnants of smoke left their bodies, and they were being stacked in small heaps beside shallow graves before being set ablaze. I felt something catch in my throat as I watched them, the people of Mothric and Icaraz alike, being piled and burned like garbage. These were people. People. Dream or not, this wasn’t right. None of it was. A pulsing, hot pain coursed through me again as I watched the curled forms of smaller inch worms being tossed on the roaring flames of newly lit bonfires. This wasn’t right.

Through the shallow alleys and burned openings of the buildings we could see more of the bee forces gathered on the streets, patrolling them and shoving along the bound and chained survivors. How was this possible? I’ve seen what the people here are capable of. I watched Fogwen dispatch a unit of bees as if they were little more than children’s toys. How could they be so overpowered?

“Hold it! Hold it!” A voice echoed out from behind the bars of the castle gate. I could barely see, but I would recognize the voice of the beetle anywhere. It was H’Acur, the beetle blacksmith, and I could see the bulky frame of his body through the gate’s bars. He was surrounded by others, a mixture of guards, merchants, and children, all pushing against the buckling gate. “Keep holding!”

“We have to go,” I said, fear and rage swirling in a vortex within me. “We have to help him. There is no way those bees aren’t getting in there unless we take them out!”

“Yes,” Fogwen answered, biting at her lip. “Yet we can only see a fraction of their forces, and have no allies on the outside of the castle. You are too focused on the small picture, little berry. Look up and around, see what hides in the black clouds above.”

I looked up, seeing little to nothing but the pillows of black smoke clinging to the air. Black smoke and…

“There!” I said, my eyes following the shifting shadows hidden amongst the smog. “Bees, lots of them. Roaming around in the smoke. But why?”

“Scouting,” Ak-Lok answered with its bow trained on one above.

Its head moved now a pivot to follow the bee, waiting until it was following the gliding smoke over the underbrush before releasing an unimbued arrow high above. My jaw dropped as the gigantic arrow slid through the air unimpeded to meet its shaded target above. The shape of a be cut through the bottom of the smoke, its wings desperately fluttering but failing as it fell into the thick growth and landed with a grotesque crunch.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I practically shrieked then searched my surroundings and quieted down. “Aren’t we, like, spying or some shit? You can’t just shoot these fucks out of the sky on a whim!”

Ak-Lok shrugged. It fucking shrugged.

“Just a scout,” Ak answered. “Too far to be seen. The grasslands will cover it.”

I opened my mouth to speak up again but this time Fogwen jumped in to center stage.

“Find the scout,” she said with a bitter tongue. “It should have survived the damage and fall, but only barely. We interrogate it, but if it dies then we take down another. Let us move.”

“You shall not break me, Mothric scum!”

“This is a waste of time!” I shouted, swinging my black sword around as if conducting an orchestra. “The blacksmith needs us!”

“Queen Gialda will nourish our broode with your insides! Icaraz will have streets painted in your blood!”

Fogwen had been right, sadly. The bee had survived. She had bound it in a length of rope from her pouch, including its damaged wings and definitely broken legs, and now we had spent the better part of five minutes questioning the thing and getting absolutely nowhere. Halfway through there was a pause in the banging of the battering ram on the gate which caused my heart to sink, but it regained its knocking only another minute later. We had to make this fast.

The bee was the standard yellow jacket with leather armor and a spear, though this one had some kind of sling projectile weapon and a small bag of spiked metal spheres to go with it. After binding it I asked Fogwarth to take the sling into his pouch so I could use it later; my sword was definitely the more powerful weapon, but in my hands it was barely as dangerous as a butter knife. Fogwarth had roughed the bee up a bit between questions, but the big softy wasn’t exactly going to kill-shots over here.

Unfortunately for the bee, Fogwen was.

“Why are your people here? How did they breach our northern border wall?” She asked, her radiant energy spear searing at the bee’s neck.

The bee screamed as the tip made of pure energy sliced against its chiton.

“Speak!”

“We…” He began to say, his voice rattling with pain. “We are here… for your heirlooms… for your King… for your kingdom…. And for your heads!”

Fogwen swept a hand out and backhanded him, nearly snapping his neck with the sheer force of it. I swore I even heard the exoskeleton of his face crack on impact. “Bastard!” She screamed as the blow connected. She turned to her brother, face tight tight with fury. “Heirlooms? What would a lowly soldier know of our heirlooms, brother?”

Fogwarth shrugged, but clearly seemed to be contemplating the matter deeply. “None outside of trusted advisors and members of the royal family would know of such things. Could it just be luck that drives our captive to such answers?”

Fogwen shook her head.

“Heirlooms? What the fuck are you guys talking about?” I spit back, looking back and forth between the Mothric siblings. “We’re wasting time!”

Something rattled. Shaking and rasping like a burlap sack full of chain links. I pause to gaze at the source and find our captive bee laughing. Chest heaving, shoulders trembling, the bee cackled as if it were front row at a Kevin Hart gig. Something in his laugh made me scalding hot sith rage.

“Did you…” the bee coughed, dark ichor spilling out onto the earth from its open mouth. “Did you think our Queen would not know of such things? Of your father’s latent selfishness? Of your quant kingdoms filthy secrets? For shame… foolish moths. You… you treat us as villains… as devils! Yet y-you… you are such vermin. History shall not write you as the heroes of our world!”

“What?!” Fogwarth scoffed, pushing closer to the captive, pulling his pearl sword and holding it at the bee’s chest. “Your words are poison! Poison and lies! You dare to speak ill of our people? Of our father? I should have your head!”

The bee just cackled back, growing louder and coughing between deep gasps.

“Then have it, Flightless Guard. But, take it and know that we both your scheming father and the traitorous elder in our custody as we speak. You… you are too late!”

As if on command an orchestra of clapping wings and rapid-fire buzzing surrounded us from the dense brush. I nearly dropped my sword, my hands quickly searching the sides of my berry head for anything that could be ear drums to plug up. I could see their shapes, swarming the skies just above the bending blades of grass and sweeping around like debris trapped in a tornado. Fogwarth, Fogwen, and Ak momentarily let the sound get the best of them just like me, but they recovered quickly whereas I could only watch and try to gather my own bearings.

Ak-Lok fired first. The imbued shot glowed amongst the shadows of the underbrush like a nightlight, cascades of swirling azure and scarlet wrapping the arrow head as he let it fly. It crackled forward in a rip of pure power, smashing a bee in the chest just as two more swooped low to attack; a spear in the grip of one and a two curved sword equipped to the other. The golem dodged, managing two regular shots as it slid away followed by one of its thrown orb abilities.

Fogwen hurled a javelin of light, calling down a rain of others on the four soldiers that had swarmed her. They stood little chance, but they were like the fucking hydra in the Hercules cartoon. Each time a notification prompted in my vision calling out the death of one it was replaced by two others, constantly keeping her outnumbered. The princess gave no quarter, swirling a glowing double-edged spear around her and parrying what moves she could, dodging the ones she was able, and landing counter attacks as openings arose. She fought with speed and precision, which was more than I could say for her brother.

Fogwarth, even one armed, was a total Goddamn monster.

White gleams of the pearl blade flashed, severing black-bee limbs and shattering their feeble spears. Unlike his sister, Foggy had taken hits but most seemed to reflect or slide off of his armor, giving him greater openings. But being overrun by soldiers, even those less equipped and prepared, could topple anyone. Even Fogwarth.

Clearing my mind of the sounds a moment later, I quickly cast off an [Entangling Rose-Hip] on a combatant charging him from the front, then a [Sunflower Beam Cannon] to an attacker from the rear. One was trapped and Fogwarth carved him down with two quick slashes, then spun to hit the other before the cooldown on the stun was up. I knew I could have been better off assisting Fogwen or Ak and freeing them up to regroup with Foggy, but I wouldn’t let the big guy down. His brief glance and nod told me it was appreciated, and in the meantime I focused on helping how I could.

Death notifications came and went, but I shut them out. I had no time for them.

I stared the bound, cackling bee down. My sword felt heavy in my grasp, but ready. His eyes met mine, his grin met my disdain, and I walked forward.

“I’ll cut you in two, mother fucker!”

He only laughed more at my approach. “You have only yourself to blame, blueberry! You are another of the prizes of this kingdom in which we will claim! We have heard of your coming. The resurrection of Juniperscar! And we shall take hold of you. You shall see!”

“Shut your stupid ass mouth!” I barked back, raising my sword on high as I stopped only a foot before him. “You aren’t claiming me or anything else here, you got that?”

“A pity…” the bee said, allowing laughter to sit on the back burner all of the sudden. “I had a wager that your party would never fall for such a simple-minded plan. Yet, alas, here we are…”

“What was that?” I answered, razor sharp obsidian aimed right at its neck.

Suddenly a notification sprung in my vision that I couldn’t ignore.

[You have gained a level. You are now Level 6. You are 1394 experience points from Level 7]

[You have 1 unspent ability point. Please choose an ability from the Angiomancer skill tree. Ability points that are not applied within 24 hours are randomly assigned to an available choice]

Yes. Yes! Fuck yes! This is just what we needed! I needed to be fast, needed to see what options I had that could help us before we were completely overtaken, or flat out killed. I thought to pull my skill tree up, when suddenly I heard a shrill, nails-on-a-chalk-board voice break out from the tune of battle.

“Fogwarth!” It said, sending cold pangs of fear throughout my berry. “Flightless fool! We meet again…”

I turned, blade still in hand and interface still visible in my eyes. Another bee. Large, imposing, familiar yet somehow different. It took me a moment to fit together the pieces, and my mind raced back through my memories of this dream world place. Then it hit me the moment I saw the place where an arm once had been.

“It is I! Lucan! Come for my vengeance!”

I barely had time to register it when something cold rattled my skull, or what I thought was my skull at least, and my vision swirled like an abyss filled whirlpool as it faded to the welcoming black of darkness.