“We should have talked about this first. Guess it’s so terrifying that I keep forcing it out of my mind,” Olive flopped into one of the two chairs in the tent. Her head lolled back and her eyes closed while she rested a palm against her forehead.

Jiran sat opposite her, noticing her obvious anxiety and wondering what he could do to ease the stress that was clearly taking a toll on her, “What are you talking about?”

“The Graymin are showing signs of intelligence we’ve never seen before. They’re using new strategies and even talking in Imperial.”

“Oh, that’s probably from their proximity to a King, don’t you think?”

Olive jerked upright, “Of course it is! That makes so much sense! How did you even think of that?”

Jiran shrugged, “Even simple bugs can become organized when their queen gives orders. If you knew some of the descriptions identify gives to the Graymin, you wouldn’t be surprised that they aren’t as simple as they seem. Also, I fought an aberrant tier seven once. That beast was far from stupid.”

One of her eyes began to twitch as she glared at him, “What are you talking about? Why is this the first time I’ve heard about this, ‘Identify?’ You make it sound like this is something you’ve known about for a while…” Olive leaned forward, the chair creaking beneath her fingers as she squeezed the armrests.

Jiran leaned forward as well, matching her vexation with flinty-eyed resolve, “I’m allowed to have secrets, Olive,” She backed off immediately as he approached, her heart rate spiking out of control as he stood up to tower over her, “The nobility has kept quiet about everything they know of the Graymin for generations. How was I supposed to know you didn’t already realize they were intelligent? I assumed you did from the start.” Olive couldn’t so much as take a breath while staring up at him with wide eyes.

Oops, she seems to like this a little too much. I really have a bad habit of teasing girls. Oh well, nobody's perfect.

Jiran softened his expression and held out his hand, “C’mon, I’ll tell you everything I know while we head to the western camp. We’ve only been in here for a few minutes and there’s already a line of fifteen couriers outside.”

Olive released a shaky breath as she blinked at him repeatedly until her senses returned. Jiran couldn’t help but notice the goosebumps prickling her skin as she took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. She brushed past him quickly, her heart still racing, “F-fine, I’ll let it go this time. Just so you know, being mysterious when it comes to vital information isn’t an appealing trait.”

“Good, the less appealing I am, the less trouble I’ll get into with women.”

She whirled around, her hair flying wildly across her face, “Jiran! You… Ugh!” She clenched her fists at her sides, “No, I’m better than this. I don’t wish to be like my mother and scold you every time you do or say something I don’t agree with,” She took a deep breath and her voice softened, “Thank you for sharing such important knowledge when you didn’t have to, and I apologize for my outburst. I’m flustered right now and I’m not used to it at all. I’m also exhausted, and terrified, and… allowing myself to be distracted for even a minute was… nice. So, thank you.”

“What? …You’re welcome?”

She’s being so honest. She usually doesn’t let anyone know how she feels.

By the time Jiran recovered from the complete one-eighty in Olive’s temperament, the tent flap was already falling back into place from her exiting. He followed her outside to find her snapping orders in rapid succession and within minutes, her soldiers had abandoned the walls and were organized into three lines marching southwest along the formation trench.

Jiran found Dokkuun and let him know where they were going before catching up with Olive at the front of the line. He jumped right into his explanation of the Graymin, “The two main points are that each type of Graymin is purposefully designed, not evolved. And I’m pretty sure they use the genetic material of what they absorb into the filth to create their lower-tier forces.”

Olive nodded along as he spoke, seemingly much more relaxed after barking at her soldiers, “That coincides with an unpopular theory taught at the academy by Professor Birinor. He theorized that since the pawns so closely resemble us, it couldn’t be a coincidence. There are plenty of examples of beasts that mimic our form and even our voices to hunt, so most professors consider his theory to be erroneous.”

“Well, I’m positive that they’re designed to fulfill specific purposes so your professor is definitely on the right track. Are there any theories about why we can’t eat them like we can with a regular beast?”

“The consensus is that they’re poisonous, but I’m guessing you won’t agree with that,” Olive’s tone made it clear she was resigned to whatever jiranzy nonsense he was about to throw at her.

“Nope, not at all. I think it’s because they’re mostly human.”

Olive stumbled a step, clearly not as prepared as she had thought. She looked over her shoulder in a panic and only relaxed after her aura brushed against the hard shell of Jiran’s manabody blocking sound, “Explain!” She hissed.

“My guess is that the Graymin find new prey as they expand their territory. When they do, they use the dominant genetic material available in that area to create pawns specifically designed to counter that prey, while also stealing anything about them that improves the overall quality of the horde. Theoretically, with enough time, they would become the perfect species.”

“How in Mother’s Shadow did you come to such a bizarre conclusion?”

“Simple, it's all about efficiency. Look at the filth,” Jiran motioned to their left and right where the putrid, sap-like layer of gunk covered the sand, “You can’t see it, but that stuff contains a decent amount of mana and the wet membrane on its surface acts as a seal to keep it trapped inside. When a corpse is thrown onto the filth, it gets digested as density which is then converted to mana, just like we do when we eat.”

She opened her mouth to respond but Jiran raised a finger to forestall her, “The mana trapped inside is using forming to create more filth.”

“What?! Are you positive?”

“Absolutely. I think the Graymin stole the skill from us and are using it to not only expand their territory but also create the pawns on site. With forming, the closer your end result matches the material you have on hand, the less mana is consumed. That’s why they look like us, have manapools, can’t be eaten, and why there are so many of them. They’re basically recycled humans designed to wear us down.”

“Emperors preserve us…” Olive trailed off, her expression revealing just how aghast she was at the idea of a never ending horde created from their own dead.

“That also explains why their higher tiers look so different and have so few skills despite their tier. Since it takes way more mana to create them, they might as well add the genetic material they don’t have on hand to make them stronger, but adding more skills would get too costly. They’re cutting corners to be as efficient as possible. Like I said, It’s all about efficiency when it comes to creatures that so closely resemble insects.”

“This is way too much for me to wrap my head around. You’ve clearly been thinking about this for a while. Why didn’t you say anything?”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I honestly thought most of this would have been figured out by now so I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

“Not that big…” She sighed while massaging her temples, “We’ve known the filth contains unaspected mana for a very long time. Learning it’s being used for forming is a huge puzzle piece. I can’t immediately spot anything wrong with your assumptions but for now, they are only assumptions, regardless of how confident you sound.”

“Hey, don’t misunderstand. It’s really guesswork based on a few observations. I’m not all that confident, that’s just how I talk.”

“You can downplay it all you want, the problem is how often you've been correct in the past...”

“That’s only a problem for people who disagree with me,” Jiran snarked, pleased when he received the expected eye roll from the princess.

They walked next to the formations in silence for a few steps, both lost in their own thoughts. Soldiers in mismatched armor were lined up every five meters, each standing next to a large open-topped box. The two-meter-thick wardwall hummed with the effort of holding off the press of pawns just on the other side of it. By now, they were stacked nearly eight bodies high. Jiran looked up to see the beasts were only halfway to reaching the top. He peeked over the edge of the trench at the formation block, finding it brimming with incredibly thick mana that shot straight up to form the defensive ward.

Jiran swore he remembered the wall being four meters thick when he passed by it previously. As he watched, the wards continued to buckle, rapidly growing thinner under the combined pressure of so many beasts.

Olive adopted a sly grin and spoke in a self-assured tone, “Perfect timing. Do you want to see the adjustments I asked Master Lostrifar to make?”

“Of course!” Jiran wouldn’t have been able to contain his giddiness if he tried.

“Prepare the first volley!” Olive’s orders were relayed and the soldiers on standby each grabbed a single metal plate from their respective box.

The plates were roughly as tall and wide as a grown man’s torso while only being a few centimeters thick. They were crisscrossed with straight lines, making them look reminiscent of a game board. The soldiers held the plates at arms length in front of themselves and slowly approached the trench.

When they were in position, Olive infused the channels in her throat with elemental wind and shouted, “Release!”

As the soldiers let go of the plates, they were sucked into the transparent, compacted ward. While trapped inside the condensed forces, the plates were shredded into hundreds of tiny squares. As if that were a signal, the formation box inside the trench began to hum and Mana Omnis allowed Jiran to see a huge amount of trapped mana be released into the wardwall.

Like a snapped rubber band, the wardwall exploded back into its original five-meter-wide shape, simultaneously flinging the tiny squares of metal like shrapnel from an explosion. The huge wave of Graymin that once pressed against it was first thrown back before being bombarded with projectiles that cut through them as easily as one of Jiran’s lasers.

Jiran whistled, “Damn, if only they could get EXP for all of those kills.”

“Unfortunately, the formations were made by a tier ten. So, what did you think? I got the idea after seeing your gravity attack in Mortan. You never really explained how you did it, but after talking to Lostrifar, this is what we came up with.”

Jiran hummed thoughtfully and the respect he already held for Lostrifar rose to a whole new level, “You used the enemy's strength to compress the wards before releasing that energy outward and further took advantage of the situation by tossing in shrapnel. Honestly, it’s really clever and with better materials than metal, could be incredibly effective for a very small mana cost. Even when you run out of those metal plates, this will keep them from piling up so high they can crawl over the top which allows us to build shorter barriers that also save on mana.”

Olive beamed from his praise, “That’s not all, I’ve got a few more surprises in store, too.”

“Are you talking about the special walls in the obfuscation zones and whatever your people are doing beneath the mountains?”

“You noticed both of them?!”

“Of course.” When Olive didn’t elucidate, Jiran squinted one eye at her, “You're not going to tell me their purpose? Don't go picking up my bad habits or the rest of the party is going to quit on us.”

“Keep dreaming. You won’t be able to get rid of us no matter how hard you try… so, don’t bother trying,” She spoke the last words in a pleading whisper.

Another moment of silence stretched out long enough that she began to wring her hands. Jiran noticed her nervous ticks and decided it was about time for him to go ahead but there was one last thing they needed to talk about, “Olive,” She flinched when he called her name but bravely locked eyes with him, “Don’t talk to Mayalyn.”

“W-what? That's not right! We can't simply not talk to her about it, what are you thinking?!” Olive’s face contorted into an angry frown.

He waved her off, “You're misunderstanding. Obviously, nothing is going to happen without Mayalyns approval.”

Flustered beyond anything he had ever seen from her, Olive stammered a hasty response, “I-I know that! S-she's already agree-uhm, never mind, I'm not supposed to say that.”

“Wait, What?” Jiran’s head snapped toward her, his thoughts momentarily grinding to a halt.

“Forget I said anything!” Olive yelled far too loudly for their close conversation. She then looked away from him, pretending to be fascinated by the Graymin on the far side of the wardwall.

No way… Mayalyn didn't already agree, did she? Why wouldn’t she say anything and when would that conversation have even happened?! What am I even thinking right now? The Forkara are fighting for their lives and I’m jumping to conclusions that I already said I would deal with later.

Jiran cleared his throat, redirecting the conversation back to what was most important at the moment, “I said don’t talk to her because we don't want anyone to use her to get to me, so pretend like you don't know her. She's doing the same.”

“Oh, I see. Wait! Who would dare?! Father would—”

“No. We can’t rely on them to bail us out too much. The emperors have the most dangerous fight of their lives ahead of them. I've done what I can to help them, but there's a chance… let's just focus on doing what we can do. And please, help me protect Mayalyn. I can't lose her.”

“I understand. I'll definitely help however I can. You two are my only real friends, I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” Olive swore vehemently, suddenly turning fierce as a wild animal.

“I know you won’t, we're a party, after all.” Jiran smiled warmly and when Olive’s face went slack, he was quick to leap into the air, “I’m going ahead to check on the wounded in the other camp. There’s going to be a nice surprise for you when you catch up, so look forward to it,” Jiran flew directly through the wardwall without looking back, leaving a frustrated Olive behind.

“M’kay,” She mumbled, a swift wind tousling her hair. Her eyes were glued to his retreating form as she tucked a loose strand behind her ear.

Jiran flew low over the horde, draining mana with Enthralling Touch until both he and his suit were topped off. Not trusting himself to contain the challenger bloodlust, he left without killing any of them. He soon found the tent on the western front that was overflowing with injured Forkara. There were many more wounded than on the east side and even three casualties that had been gone far too long for him to revive. He was forced to make another trip to the horde to refresh his mana before he was even halfway through.

Jiran was drenched in sweat and his mood had been completely fouled by the time he was done. When he left the tent, Keeon and three of the elders of the Rising Sky Faction—Rhahakk, Frakkoa, and Zoraakk—were waiting for him.

Rhahakk took the initiative to speak, “Senior Brother Guardian, thank you for healing our warriors.”

“They’re my warriors now, too. Of course I’ll do what I can to keep them alive,” He clenched his fists, directing a dangerous glower toward the intense fighting only a few hundred meters away.

Zoraakk twirled one side of his long, thin mustache while following Jiran’s gaze, “To think this number of beasts could appear outside of a spawning season. It’s truly terrifying what your people are forced to endure. However, this battle has also led this elder to reevaluate our way of life. Perhaps if we were challenged to this degree, we would not have stagnated for so long.”

Jiran took control of his anger with a deep breath, “The Graymin have been a constant threat for hundreds of years. Though, this isn’t their normal behavior at all. One of their leaders is nearby so their intelligence has drastically increased.” The four exchanged glances and Jiran instantly empathized with the desire to fight brewing behind their eyes. “Prepare our warriors. We’re heading to the eastern front and leaving this side to the Imperials.”

“As you command, Senior Brother Guardian!”

Jiran reached into his pockets and pulled out the last three green crystals, “On that note, I think it’s time we call in the rest of our reinforcements. Once everyone is here, we can finally stop fighting defensively and let loose a little bit,” His remark was met with bloodthirsty grins that matched his own.