As the giant insectoid let out its final twitches, Vern quickly pulled up his status screen. He had gained two further levels from the bastard and hastily dished out the points. After all, who knew when another fight would present itself?

Strength and speed had played their role, but after almost being killed by the alien's laser thing, Vern realized he wouldn’t be able to dodge everything. Not only that, but he needed finesse, not just pure speed, which would be misplaced in uncoordinated hands.

And so, he dedicated points to constitution, dexterity, and health. Most went to health for a simple reason; all the strategy and defense in the world would be wasted if someone just took his head off with a powerful gunshot or laser blast. He needed some insurance he would survive a hit in the first place.

Strength 30

Luck 6

Perception 10

Constitution 20 -> 23

Dexterity 20 -> 22

Mana 8

Endurance 16

Health 30 -> 35

Wisdom 8

Tech 16

Intelligence 10

Charisma 8

Toughness 20

Willpower 10

Spirituality 4

Speed 30

Dismissing the status screen, he and Dez went on to explain what had happened to the weird little dragonfly thing. Not that Vern particularly wanted to, but because it seemed as good of an idea as anything else. He had to get used to this new reality, after all. And his mother had always said; "Don't judge a book by its cover."

“So, say I believe your story. You’re telling me you found my ship and just left it there?”

“I’m sorry, but it is little more than scrap now. Even if it were somehow space-worthy, the power cells had been completely drained.” Dez frowned.

“And what about the big orange crystal above my incubation pod?” The Skardling shook his head.

“Crystal?”

“Yes, the big orange one. The one left for me to power that vessel and lead my hive swarm.”

Dez’s eyes widened, then she blushed and turned away.

“Don't tell me you saw it and just left it there for the Kalmardian rangers to find?”

Vern turned to Dez with the widest, smugest grin plastered across his face. “Look who is not so smart after all, miss know-it-all.”

Dez’s elbow smacked into Vern’s guts, causing him to spit.

“Oww.”

“No, no, no.” The Skardly grabbed at the sparse, wiry hairs atop his head. “Stuck with these idiots.”

“I’m not like him,” Dez corrected, inching closer to the Skardling with a creepily wide smile.

“Fine, whatever.” The insectoid huffed, crossing his arms, and looking up. “Rugsby,” he finally said after a long pause and extended a hand toward Dez.

Dez cupped his hand and shook it eagerly.

“What’s up with you?” Vern crooked a brow.

“Shut up, you.” Dez hissed.

“First things first, we need to get back to my ship. How about we make a deal? You bring me to my ship so we can get off this planet, and I'll drop you off somewhere nice, maybe even somewhere with a view. Deal?”

“Why should we trust you?” Vern questioned. “Aren’t you the commander of some flesh-eating horde of insects?”

“Shh,” Dez turned to Vern with wide, shut-the-hell-up eyes.

“The hive’s dead, you said so yourself. I just want to find a hive mother and move on with my life, now. Whatever happens to the two of you is quite frankly, inconsequential.” Rugsby said with a disinterested shake of his four hands.

“We’ll do it.” Dez agreed.

“We will?”

“Unless you want to say here alone.”

“Fine,” Vern rolled his eyes. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Good, but we need a plan. Such primitive weapons won’t be very useful against phase-pistols.” Rugsby said, eyeing the claymore Vern now leaned against.

Already ahead of you,” said Dez, projecting a hologram of her system-provided map for Urdal IV. “Look here, this canyon, it runs beside the… I want to say hanger, but that’s far too generous.” Dez forced a smile. “Let's just say, where your ship is. Firstly, the tomb or hatchery, or whatever it is, closed itself off, so you won't be able to just stroll back in. Not only that, but it'll be best to avoid those two Kalmardians, as you called them. So, I propose head towards the canyon, and find a way to scale down towards the ship.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Right, just figure out a way to climb down a canyon?” Vern nodded sarcastically.

“We’ll fly,” Rugsby nodded his head confidently. “You can carry this one,” he added, pointing to Vern and then toward Dez.

“Well, the thing is,” Vern twisted his foot on the ground.

“This one doesn’t seem to understand how to operate his own appendages.” Dez sighed.

“Right, interesting.” Rugsby nodded.

With few other options, the group matched toward the canyon anyway, contemplating alternative strategies.

“You seem awfully talkative, aren’t you meant to be like a baby or something?” Vern asked as they fought through the undergrowth.

“A baby? Do you even understand how metamorphosis works? I’ve already spent twenty rotations at the commander's academy. If not for those ridiculous regulations; can’t have new Skardflies buzzing about without a popper orientation.” Rugsby shook his head. “Forced stasis, ridiculous.”

“I felt you calling out to me, a throb of sentience that wanted to connect with me,” Dez interjected, her tone holding a longing for answers.

“I was trying to call out to anyone who would listen. And since you haven’t killed me already, it seems like I made the right choice. You only have so many options when you’re stuck in a Skard incubation pod, after all.”

“These Kalmardian fellows, are they your enemies or something?” Vern asked.

“Something like that. Our species have long been at odds with one another. A story that goes back long before I was hatched. If we get back to my ship, you can go through my archives on it, if you wish.”

Vern nodded, though he felt a little suspicious about the evasive answer.

Vern went on to explain how he came to possess wings. Rugsby, who himself wasn’t born with wings and was also coming to terms with his newly formed appendages, encouraged Vern to practice; as he had been taught to do so himself, once emerging from stasis.

And so, Vern would climb trees, or rather try to. It slowed their journey down, substantially, but since flying was still their best option, it seemed like a worthwhile investment.

Besides, if the Kalmardian had made it to his ship, they likely would have disabled it by now anyway.

After a few dozen attempts, Vern's wild flapping of his wings was actually starting to assist his awkward attempt at climbing the palm-like, alien trees.

Jumping off of them was less successful. And after a couple of painful attempts, Vern was in need of something to drain.

In search of something to kill, Vern spotted more swamp land and led the group toward it. Looking out across the lily-blanketed water, Vern sighed. More emptiness. It seemed this damned jungle only had monsters when you were trying to avoid them.

With his sight cast across the swamp, Vern felt something wrapped around his shin, and with a quick glance down he saw a gooey, red tongue as thick as a man’s forearm latched onto him.

“Seriously?” Vern sighed as his feet failed to maintain footing against the muddy, swamp bank, and his body slid toward the water. In seconds he was submerged once again, this time choosing to keep his eyes shut and forgoing any effort to try and see through the marshy water.

“Is he going to be alright?” Rugsby questioned as Vern disappeared below the water.

“Probably,” Dez shrugged.

Against the pressure of water and the beast pulling him deeper, Vern struggled with all his strength to pull himself down, toward the tongue, taking hold of it with both hands. Vern had hoped to be able to either pull the beast, or himself free, but neither happened when he yanked against the tongue, instead he just yoyoed through the water as it continued to pull him deeper.

Vern felt the pressure of the water change as he was sucked into something, then the smooth, slimy texture of flesh constricting around him. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing, only darkness, and soon the slimy flesh began to sting his own, an acidic fluid enveloping him.

Completely immobilized, Vern began to panic, he was about to be devoured. The fleshy tomb he found himself in grew tighter, and Vern felt what he thought was bone or cartilage against him - he was traveling down the beast’s trachea now, it seemed.

In a moment of desperation, Vern fought the immobilizing venom and forced his fingers outward, digging the flesh surrounding him, attempting to claw with what little movement he had. For anyone else, this would have been useless. But against the soft interior, Vern managed to draw blood, barely a few drips, but it was enough.

Strength began to fill his veins nearly immediately, the paralyzing toxins weakening their grip on him, whilst his energy reserves overflowed as the stream of red, energizing fluid thickened and rushed into him.

The sensation of drawing a creature’s blood from their very bodies had started to grow exhilarating to Vern and he forced the life energy into his body with an angry vigor as he indulged in the sensation of growing stronger and stronger.

Soon vibrations rippled through the beast’s body, one moment constricting with ever-increasing intensity, then the next entirely loosening. Vern already knew what this meant, the beast was dying; and with him inside it, it had few means to fight back.

He hadn’t been able to move his claymore with the paralyzing toxins filling his body, but with his strength returned, Vern tightened his grip and swung outward, slashing the beast’s throat open.

Water flooded in immediately, and Vern hastily held his breath.

Swimming to the surface, Vern took a triumphant breath of fresh air. Gazing over to the ledge where he had stood, Vern sourly eyed his companions as he spotted their lackadaisical loitering.

“Marshling frogloid slain, difficulty level – Hard. Bonus experience rewarded. Total experience twenty-four hundred.”

Winning the fight was as exhilarating as ever, but with his blood reserves replenished, it meant getting back to diving off trees.

Vern groaned, when would he get off this god-awful planet?

Hours passed as they marched through the canopy, Vern continuing his attempts at flying. It was anything but graceful, however, he did show improvement. At first, Vern had fallen like a flailing brick, but now, it was almost like gliding. If you considered the sight of a madman jumping from a window with a bed sheet tied to him as a sort of makeshift parachute, gliding – since that was the energy Vern gave off.

Somehow, that didn’t deter him, though. And by the time lush forest vegetation began to give way to sandy rock, and the group appeared at the edge of the canyon, Vern had improved enough that he could glide for seconds and create a couple of meters distance between him and his starting point.

However, the vertigo-inducing sight of the canyon’s sheer drop, hundreds of meters down, immediately dashed any confidence in his newfound skills.

“We’re going to die.” Vern gulped.

“Sure, with an attitude like that,” Rugsby replied.

The little insectoid alien had been practicing with his own set of wings, but for him, it came a whole lot more naturally.

Not only had he been trained for years at the academy, taught what it would feel like to have wings, and given exercises to assist with the transition. But it was also a natural part of his evolution. Skardlings flew, at least until they entered their next stage of metamorphosis. So, it was hardly surprising that he could already buzz around their heads with ease.

----------------------------------------

“Are you really leaving me here?” Odis uncomfortably looked around.

“Look, someone's got to keep guard of this place in case they come back. But we can't just leave them to run amuck out there. Like the commander said, our backup will take hours to arrive.” Kuul replied, testing his damaged phaser. “Damn thing, took too much power.”

“Does it even still shoot?”

Kuul raised the phaser up and aimed it at a wall before pulling the trigger. A wheezing-like sound escaped the weapon but produced no blast. “Damn it, out of action.”

“So, you’re going to chase the anomalies down without a weapon?”

Kuul handed the damaged phaser over to Odis.

“What’s this?”

“We’re swapping.”

“Like heck we are,” Odis thumped and turned his head.

“The working phaser should be in the hands of the ranger that is hunting down the prey,” Kuul said with a smile. “Look, if they do return, just set off your SOS emitter, and I’ll come running.”

Odis puffed his slimy cheeks and looked up. A moment passed and he looked back at Kuul who remained steadfast. “Fine,” he relented, exchanging weapons.

“Just don’t do anything reckless,” Kuul said, shooting finger guns at Odis as he left the tomb.

“Yeah, sure, Odis, the ranger famous for being reckless.”