Q had been inside the Dark Realm for five seconds when he felt the first Shadekin close in on his location. They would be weak, and he should be able to dispatch them quickly if he chose to travel and stay longer. As before, when roaming this strange plane of existence, Q was torn by indecision. Leave or stay?
Killing Shadekin in the Dark Realm always attracted more until they grew too numerous and strong for you. Those phantoms of Darkness craved Mana like crazy, which meant that to them, a Cultivator like Q was a meat beacon shining through the night. Both flashy and tasty.
For the umpteenth time, Q told himself there had to be a way to move through the black and grey deserted land without drawing Shadekin's attention, but so far, clues as to how eluded him. Even though he could enter this place, Q had little knowledge about it. Nobody had ever taught him the rules. What he knew, he learned by himself the hard way, with blood, sweat and many brushes with death.
Those reflections caused Q to reminisce about his family, and a spell of sadness and longing ensued, putting him in "a funk", as his sensei used to say. The Dark Realm was a family Legacy Technique passed down from his forefathers since the birth of the Cosmos. The exact name for it was Roam in the Dark Legacy Technique.
His sister used to lull the pup he was to sleep with stories of their Clan Patriarch as he soared through the Expanses of space and time with the very same Legacy Technique. It was his right as an Empyrean Titan, one of the mightiest kin in the Cosmos, founder of the noble Qoryulit bloodline, of whom Q was the last living member.
Alas, the mighty Patriarch had assumed it was a good idea to disappear without a trace aeons ago, leaving his relatives to fend for themselves against the numerous enemies the Qoryulit had amassed over time.
Amongst them, the Qisqars, or Moon Wolves as they were now called, had been the most enthusiastic in pursuing the clan's members. Over thousands of years, every kin he had been related to, knew or loved had been hunted down and killed by the relentless, treacherous wolves.
Q himself had been alone and afraid and on the verge of dying to the wolves when he met his sensei, a Terran who took him in, protected him and helped him grow stronger so that he could kill the Qisqars Patriarch and avenge his bloodline one day.
But now, his sensei was gone, too, and Q was alone again. Alone and running inside this Dark Realm he understood so little about, primarily that it allowed him to move instantly from one location to another, as long as he could fend off the Shadekin. This run was the longest he had stayed inside this mirror plane of existence, and uncertainty and dread started weighing down on his spirit.
The Dark Realm was an exact replica of the world it was bound to, where only grey, black shadows of the actual world existed in an intangible state. One could run unhindered through shadows of walls, trees, mountains and other obstacles. The cardinal and only rule was to always leave the Dark Realms out in the open.
A flash of grey lunged at him from behind the shadow of a wall, pulling him out of his daydreaming. A minor Shadekin resembling an elongated praying mantis that Q disintegrated with one quick slash of his claws. Three more jumped at him to meet the same fate. As always, each strike consumed more of his Mana than it should.
Q theorised Shadekin were Mana leeches. They would always draw Mana out of him whenever they touched him, even if he killed them instantly, as he had just done with the mantis, which explained the problem he would soon face with the bigger, stronger ones. The sheer number would overwhelm his defences and dry out his Cultivation Base, stranding him to die in this place where no meditation was possible since Mana didn't linger here.
Based on his previous forays in the Dark Realm, Q had maybe three more seconds before the dangerous Shadekin came to his position and started swarming this part of the plane, effectively cutting him off from entering this spot and a wide radius around it for at least a few days since the phantoms would haunt any exit point Q made. Not knowing if he would have the luxury of having a few days of respite before needing to enter again, Q exited the Dark Realms in the shadow of a large oak tree. As he left the realm, he heard a chorus of muted whine of despair coming from the Shadekin as he appeared back on Earth.
It was nighttime, and the moon was hidden behind a thick cloud cover reminiscent of Aotuora. The forest was lost in darkness, and Q's Spirit Senses confirmed that his time in the Dark Realm had helped him lose his pursuers. Massalia should be seven or eight hundred kilometres further south. With a bit of luck, they would have lost his trail, their senses unable to range that far, to the worrying exception of the powerful huntress that nearly captured him.
The Patriarchs only knew where his sensei was right this moment, but Q swore to keep going and make him proud until they could be reunited under the Cosmos. He would follow his path and grow in power.
Q started trotting between trees, careful to stay as silent as possible, using a Darkness Essence Technique to shroud himself and disappear from sight and hearing to any creatures of a lower level than him. He was confident the Technique would also work with beings of a higher level, up to a certain point. Apart from the one hunting him, no kin in this forest should perceive his passage.
Ten minutes later, Q smelled trouble in the air, as a distinctive scent of fear and hopelessness came from hundred and fifty metres ahead of his position. The dim moonlight piercing the canopy and the forest's bushes and undergrowth made it hard to see anything unless he had his nose on top of it, despite his enhanced night visions. Q had half a mind to ignore the scent since he didn't need to involve himself in another fight, but then, he felt a weird Mana discharge that reeked of Darkness Essence.
His spirit senses hinted at a Cultivator's Technique, so Q decided to investigate it further. According to his sensei, Cultivators should be a rarity on Earth since terrans were a bit too pragmatic to relate efficiently with the spiritual side of Cultivation. His interest and curiosity piqued, Q approached the commotion.
On the edge of a small clearing, two furry white kin with long ears and charming little noses stood hugging themselves, darting looks in every direction scared out of their mind. They had two baskets lying at their feet and appeared unarmed. They clearly were the origin of the fear and desperation permeating the air. Understandable since Q could feel killing intent closing in on their location. Q's -Identify- skill told him they were
To him, the odds were not in their favour of surviving the encounter with whoever was coming to kill them. The predator's aura was weaker than Q's, obviously, but still in a different power class than the jackrabbit. Jackrabbit Stew would be on the menu pretty soon.
Q's estimation was confirmed thirty seconds later when A
Q was still unsure of what he should do. On the one hand, it was hard to watch innocent kin get killed by a stronger predator, even though it was natural. His protector instinct urged him to defend the jackrabbits.
On the other hand, Q knew he had to lay low at the moment. He already had dangerous people–actually, one crazy, powerful huntress– trying to collar him after capturing his sensei. He was not sure he could afford to attract attention by leaving a Mana trail in the forest, as any kind of battle he was involved in would undoubtedly do. Any tracker worth their senses or skills would smell the lingering scent of his Essences for days to come. While hesitating, the polecat had closed the distance with its paralysed meal, making the decision for Q. Then, something surprising happened.
Right when the beast opened his mouth to chomp on the first jackrabbit's neck, a metre-tall grey being wearing some kind of long, black cape fell down the canopy to land right in front of the two fluffy jackrabbits. The newcomer's aura felt like kin but looked like nothing Q had seen before. At the same moment, the night became darker and denser than before. Q discerned some thread of Night Essence coming off the intruder, infusing the clearing and impairing everyone's senses except his.
This creature was the origin of the Technique he had sensed earlier. Q was sure of it. The Night Essence Technique didn't affect his senses because his innate understanding of the dynamics between Night and Darkness rendered him immune to manipulation infused with those particular Essences.
In the Cosmos, the dark created the night, not the other way around. Darkness was the primordial state of the Cosmos as Light came after, soon followed by Shadow, or so his sister had taught him before being savagely killed right before his eyes. A slight shiver ran up Q's spine at the recollection. He would avenge his people one day.
The caped intruder had his back to Q, his features hidden. It had broad, round shoulders –well, as broad as a one-metre-tall– creature could have– and a dark helmet with long, thin antennae on each side hovering above and past his shoulders. His slim upper torso seemed thicker underneath the cape, indicating it was wearing body armour. The polecat stopped in its tracks as it took the time to -Identify- the intruder.
"Have you ever danced with the Mothman in the pale moonlight?" The newcomer said in a grating voice as it stared down the polecat.
"What?" The polecat whizzed. "Who are you? You some kind of joke? Listen, bug, walk away if you don't want to die..."
"I am the night warden. I am the black gavel of justice. I am The Mothman!" The newcomer snapped back, turning to the side and allowing Q a good view.
The Mothman had a black, furry face with two pupilless eyes and no mouth, ears or nose. What he had erroneously believed to be a helmet was, in fact, the Mothman's grey, chitinous cranium with eyebrows-shaped antenna protruding from the forehead above the eyes. The cape still covered most of its body, making it impossible for Q to see what kind of limbs the Mothman had. Since it was standing upright, he thought legs were a good bet.
"Suit yourself, bug," the polecat growled angrily. "I will take care of you first, then the bunnies will be mine..."
The polecat smiled, his sharp teeth clearly visible. Mean-looking claws extended further from his front leg paws, becoming natural short swords. Done talking, the predator charged the Mothman, using a Shadow-fueled skill to bind its opponent's feet to the ground. Seemingly unconcerned, the Mothman stared the polecat down until the last second, when he simply pointed an arm towards the hidden night sky and vanished in a loud bang and thick cloud of grey smoke and that soon covered the clearing's centre. The jackrabbits woke up from their fear-induced mesmerisation and retread towards Q's hiding spot, leaving the two other kin to fight it out.
The polecat yelled insults as he swirled around inside the smoke. Q, who hadn't lost sight of the Mothman, saw it crouched on a branch overlooking the clearing, calmly studying the polecat as he slashed the smoke with quick strikes of his claws that glowed with a light crimson hue, typical of a Red Essence-based skill. Shadow and Red Essence Mana meant the polecat was a stealthy, violent killer.
A thin twig-like arm came out of under the Mothman's cape. The creature seemed to focus his will on his open, slender fingers until three stars of Night Essence materialised in the palm of his hand. With one swift motion, the Mothman threw the projectiles at the yelling polecat.
The first hit the predator at the base of its neck, punching deep in the fur and the flesh. The second burrowed itself in the top of the shoulder, and the last raked the polecat's face from brow to chin, missing its left eye by less than a centimetre. A yell of surprise and pain escaped the predator's cut lips as the shuriken faded into the night, leaving bleeding wounds behind them.
"You dare cut me, bug?!" The polecat shrieked, furious. "You punk, I'll cut you up. I'll feed you alive to my kits, bit by bit!"
"Walk away now, and I will spare you," echoed the Mothman's voice in the clearing. "Stay, and I will put you down like the rabid animal you are..."
Q found the voice trick quite neat. The Mothman's Technique allowed him to whisper from his perch and fuse his voice within the night air, using Night Essence ambient floating specks. In response, the polecat twisted his elongated body on itself left and right, trying to determine the voice's origin.
"Where you hiding, little bug?" The polecat mocked. "You afraid of little old Neville, are you? Come out, and we talk little bug. Neville won’t bite..."
Q heard the Mothman sigh. Pushing its cape's folds to the side, the bug freed its arms and used two Techniques successively. The first conjured a round black object the size of an apple in his right hand, while the second summoned a vaporous, straight blade as long as the Mothman's arm in his left hand.
The capped insect threw the round object to the polecat's feet, which exploded on impact, spewing pellets of Night Essence in every direction within a two-metre radius. The pellet mist wounded the predator’s legs and provoked another yell of pain and anger. It also served as a distraction for the Mothman to jump down with his one-edged blade aimed at the polecat's head.
The beast dodged the fatal attack at the last second, thanks to either a stroke of luck, pure instinct or a defensive skill. Q couldn't decipher which. The Mothman's Night blade still cut three centimetres deep into its opponent's neck and upper torso.
The polecat recoiled with another yell of anguish and put some distance from his aggressor. It was bleeding from three places and only had one functioning eye, where the bug was still unscathed. Pushing its advantage, the Mothman advanced on its opponent, thrusting the black blade high and low with precise, controlled movements to drive back the polecat. Only when the predator backpedalled to the edge of the clearing did it try to counter-attack by madly rushing the bug with both front legs' claws extended, nimbed with the same Red Essence halo as before.
The polecat gained a few more shallow cuts to its legs and torso but managed to surprise the Mothman and put it on the back foot as it used its blade to fend off the broad, powerful claw swings. Q knew that if one managed to land, the Mothman would be shredded into a tartare steak. Q berated himself for underestimating the insect as the Mothman used his blade to parry or dodge the swings, sometimes using his cape as a shield to deflect a particularly powerful blow to the side. The Polecat never quite managed to pin his enemy down to finish it.
Q admired the difference in fighting style. The polecat fought like the wild beast it was. It had one or two Red Essence-based skills that it used instinctively, relying primarily on brute force to dominate its opponent. There was no technique or tactic behind the polecat's attacks, which, as the fight advanced, lost itself into a murderous fever due to its growing number of wounds. There was such a thing as a frenzied wounded beast, Q thought.
On the other hand, the Mothman was a proficient martial artist, flowing from one defensive movement to another as he effortlessly danced around the clearing to avoid the mad beast's swings and bites.
Q also felt Night Essence slowly coalescing along the Mothman's blade in what promised to be a powerful Technique. The polecat didn't notice anything as the pain fever became frenzical abandonment. The poor beast tried to articulate insults, but all he could utter were growls and snarls every time it missed its mark.
It finally came to an abrupt conclusion when the Mothman decided to stand its ground with the vapourous blade held high over its head. The polecat whooped crazily and charged at the bug, believing it had finally cornered its prey.
The black blade was twice denser than before. It felt like a piece of night had fallen on Earth and taken residence inside the sword. Q could even taste the absence of Light that only true Darkness could create emanating from the conjured blade. Whatever Technique the Mothman was about to unleash would be mighty and intimately bound to its spirit and soul.
When the polecat reached striking distance, the Mothman took one single forward step and brought forward his blade to stab the polecat through the heart. It disappeared from sight for a split second before reappearing three metres behind its target, sword held straight like a spear.
Q found the Technique adequate and highly cool-looking. A grin split his face in admiration for the Mothman's panache. The polecat took two more seconds to realise it was dead and crashed to the ground. The saviour turned towards the frightened jackrabbits as the blade vanished and the black veil hanging over the clearing dissipated.
"You are safe, now, little ones," he announced, straightening up and standing tall, his cape covering his entire body again.
The white kin simply gulped and nodded, still shaken by the encounter. Q's olfactory senses told him the jackrabbits would need to clean their fur when they got home. As both started to realise their lives were not in immediate danger anymore, the Mothman turned sharply in Q's direction, showing it had finally noticed there was one more eventual interloper.
This sole feat impressed Q more than the fight since his shroud was a powerful Technique that low-level creatures shouldn't have been able to penetrate. There definitely was something special about this Mothman character.
Q decided to leave his hiding place to chat when his spirit senses alerted him that four more kin were fast approaching, radiating a mix of apprehension and readiness. Their levels ranged between 41 and 52. The Mothman showed no indication it had felt them as he sat on the ground, his thin members lost under the folds of his cape. The jackrabbits clearly were in #Chat range as relief flooded their faces and bearings as they turned in the direction the newcomers would soon barge in.
And barged they did. Four
"Cookie, Pumpkin, thanks the Great Rabbit. You guys are ok?" The jackrabbit leader asked in a panting voice. Q found their names to be a perfect match for their looks. Now that the danger had passed, he wanted nothing more than to come out and hug the poor little things.
"We are now, commander Cottontail, sir!" answered one of them with a high-pitched voice. "We are so, so, so, so sorry... We shouldn't have wandered, but Cookie and I thought we smelled fresh berries, and we decided we wanted them for the drove with the winter and everything, and then we couldn't find the berries, and we thought we saw acorns and whatnot close by, and we searched some more, and then we got lost, and we didn't know where to go, then we heard something in the bushes, so we ran and then the polecat hunted us to this clearing, his level was so high I thought we were dead, and then mister Mothman appeared and saved us. He is a hero, commander Cottontail!"
As the jackrabbit, apparently called Pumpkin, told his story, his long ears fell down the side of his head, making it even more cuter than before. Q's heart melted on the spot. Apparently, commander Cottontail felt the same since the severity in its eyes was gone when Pumpkin finished telling its story. The jackrabbit leader glanced at the polecat's corpse before finally turning towards the silent, unmoving Mothman.
"Why did you intervene, Mothman?" Commander Cottontail asked, softness gone from his eyes, trying to be intimidating but not quite pulling it off.
"Why does the Night keep the Light at bay? Why does the hunter kill its prey? Why does the strong protect the weak?" Replied the Mothman without moving. "Because he can. Because he must. It is the will of the Cosmos..."
Q's ears perked at the mention of Cosmos. Another thing his sensei had mentioned was that not many people on Earth should be aware that the Omniverse and the System were but a fragment of the boundless Cosmos. It was weird to hear the Mothman make that reference.
"Very philosophical and mystical, but it doesn't answer my question, Mothman?" The commander insisted, signalling his men to encircle the sitting bug. "What if this is an elaborate ruse to gain our trust, infiltrate Bellefontaine Drove, and butcher us all in our sleep? What is to say that you were not in cahoot with the polecat, had a disagreement, and you killing it had nothing to do with rescuing my foragers? Answer me, Mothman, or by the Warren of the Great Rabbit, you will not leave this clearing alive!"
"One does not kill the Night," The Mothman answered as he slowly stood. The circling jackrabbits held their stick threateningly at it. "The Night is unremitting!"
The Mothman roared the last phrase into the night and disappeared in a sharp bang and a puff of grey smoke, courtesy of the same Technique he used five minutes earlier against the polecat. As Q followed the caped bug jump into the canopy, the jackrabbits yelled in confusion.
Q watched the Mothman. His spirit senses informed him that the little bug was on its last leg Mana-wise. It could explain why he had decided not to fight. Or, maybe the Mothman only fought for justice, as hinted in its answers. Whatever the reason, Q found himself liking this kin more and more. It had flair and panache with its cool entrances and exits.
It took 30 seconds for the smoke to dissipate on its own, showing the jackrabbits in a defensive circle around the foragers and their commander. They stayed locked in position for a while longer, different coloured Essences swirling around their heads in what Q guessed was the use of perceptive skills. Assuaged by the results, the commander finally ordered his troop to return to Bellefontaine Drove, whatever that was.
Q waited another five minutes to ensure the jackrabbits wouldn't circle back and surprise them. Only when his senses confirmed they were as alone as they ever would be did step Q into the clearing, looking straight at the Mothman's hiding spot in the trees.
"What do you want?" The Mothman's voice didn't echo this time, another proof of its dwindling reserves of Mana.
"Honestly, I'm not sure, Mothman," Q replied as he lay on the ground. "I felt your use of Night Essence, and I was intrigued, so I came to learn more. By the way, would you mind coming down your perch, please? I'm going to get a crick in my neck looking up like that for too long. I swear under the Cosmos that I won't harm you if you don't attempt to harm me first."
The particular strands of Mana went up in the night sky to irremediably link Q, the Cosmos and the Mothman, including the abiding promise of lethal Tribulations descending upon him if he ever decided to become an oathbreaker.
Satisfied, the Mothman smoothly landed out of melee reach should Q be foolish enough to renege on his word. Useless but understandable since there was no shortage of stupid, arrogant beings in the Cosmos that believed themselves stronger than any Tribulations thrown at them by the great Cosmos. They certainly didn't live long enough to understand better.
"Who are you?" The Mothman asked.
"My name is Qiziq," replied Q with a lopsided smile. "What is yours?"
"Merian," The Mothman replied with a tired voice, shoulders sagging under the cape. "Why are you here?"
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"I don't know," repeated Q. "As I said, I felt your power, and since I have been told Cultivators were rare on Earth, I decided to check it out. What is your story? How did you learn to manipulate Mana like that?"
"Again, with the meaningless words," said Merian, "Night Essence? Cultivators? Manipulating Mana? What are you talking about? I didn't learn anything. I was cursed by the Night..."
"Cursed? How so?" Q had heard of curses but had never witnessed one before.
"If only I knew," lamented Merian. "I was born a beautiful white Thysiana Agrippina moth far away from these lands, minding my own business and enjoying the moon's soft caress on my fur until one dusk, as I flew under the canopy in search of harmony, I was hit by a strange wave of energy and thrown into a tree trunk. I only survived because a branch stopped my fall. When I came to the following night, the forest had been devastated by a huge battle, and I counted myself lucky to have survived. That is until I heard cries for help, and black, smoky energy coursed through my body as if it reacted to the cries and transformed me into this black monster you see before you. The Mothman, as my #Display indicates now. That fateful night, I killed my first foe. I can still remember its ugly snout as my blade pierced his brain. It was disgusting..."
Q didn't expect that much explanation, especially after the few words the Moth–Merian, sorry– had barely said when fighting the polecat or explaining his involvement to the jackrabbits. It felt like some dam had broken inside the creature before him.
"I used to be so gorgeous, so alluring," Merian carried on, tears forming in his black eyes, "All the males were courting me. And my voice was crystalline and melodious. Now I look like a lump of coal, and my voice is so... gravely... And I keep getting into fights against my will. When I'm not, I keep sprouting nonsensical phrases like the one you heard with the jackrabbits. My spirit and body are on auto-pilot, reacting on their own to any situation. I feel like a passenger, a spectator of my own life. I can't live like that anymore..."
"There, there," Q comforted her–because apparently, Merian was female–"from where I stand, you seem pretty adept at fighting, so it can be all bad, can it?"
"You don't understand," she wept, her voice broken, "I live in fear of dying every minute of every night, then when the first ray of sunlight appears, I fall into a slumber I can't escape, increasing my chances of being discovered by a predator and again dying, in my sleep this time. I don't want to fight, Qiziq. I don't want to die in some meaningless battle for strangers I will never see again. I want to go back to my life before all of this. I want to fly as the magnificent moth I was. I want to have suitors courting me. I want to see the moon and enjoy its pale light on my fur..."
"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, Merian," Q replied sympathetically. "You said it was a curse. Is there a cure, maybe?
"I have no idea," the moth replied with a steadier voice. "All I learned is that there is a city in the north where insects are protected by a powerful and knowledgeable human. I hope to live long enough to make it there and implore this human to save me..."
"That sounds like a plan!" Q cheered. "What is the name of that city?"
"The kin I encountered called it Bug City," Merian answered with renewed vigour, "but its true name is Mortlake City."
***
It took Q and Merian eight weeks to reach their destination. They could have gone much faster, especially since, to his great surprise, Q could bring Merian with him inside the Dark Realm, a feat he hadn't been able to accomplish even once with his sensei, if it hadn't been for two things.
First, Merian's well of Mana was not big enough to sustain her for more than a handful of seconds before being totally emptied and in danger of dying from any contact with a Shadekin. Second, any time Merian heard a cry for help, her Mothman persona would take over and make her intervene to save kin in distress.
At first, Q found it amusing how the shy, kind black and grey moth could become this deadly, unrelenting protector of the weak and the wounded. That is until he discovered that the bloody forest was infested with kin in danger, needing protection from big, bad predators trying to kill them. It was freakingly annoying to stop and go every ten kilometres because baby birds had fallen from the nest, flies or mosquitos had gotten stuck in spider's nets, rodents of all kinds and sizes were hunted by owls, fawns and rabbits were attacked by lynxes and foxes, and so on.
Being a saviour was a time-consuming, never-ending job that seriously hampered their progression and morale. By the end of the first week, Q started to use his Spirit Senses to detect situations that would trigger Merian's Night transformation and contain them before they could attract her attention.
But, even with this solution, she got involved in at least one or two battles every night that emptied her Mana reserve and knocked her out for the rest of the day. Q had to carry her on his back during the day as they stayed hidden below the canopy, only daring to use small Dark Realm one-second-hops at the first sign of dusk when Merian would wake up with her Mana fully replenished.
The only good thing coming out of the curse was the rescuee's willingness to share information about the fabled Bug City and its whereabouts. Thanks to saving a cub from being killed by a wounded boar, a mother bear told them Bug City was situated in a territory called England by humans and built on the remnants of a sprawling human city whose name eluded her. She also explained that Bug City was a haven for all animals and insects and that humans could not enter as it was dubbed a Safe Zone, whatever it was. The only exception was, of course, the legendary human founder, the Governor.
To sum it up, those eight weeks passed very slowly for Q and Merian, to the point Q believed the journey would never end. Merian was spiritually exhausted by the constant fighting, and Q's morale was low because his instincts kept telling him to be wary of a threat his Spiritual Senses never managed to pick up precisely. He feared the huntress had picked up his trail again and that his time was counted.
Q vividly remembered how he had been forced to flee Massalia and would have sworn he had made a clean escape, but he also knew nothing was ever that easy when faced with powerful, determined entities, especially in unknown territories like Earth was for him. However, some of this worry lifted from his shoulders as Merian and he finally got their first good look at Bug City.
It was dusk, and the pair stood on an overlooking little hill a few kilometres south of what used to be a horizon-wide human metropolis. They had left the forest's cover three days ago and travelled through rolling plains covered by a five-centimetre-thick blanket of snow. The temperature was noticeably colder than before, but it didn't bother Q as he had a natural affinity with cold. Space was not known in the Cosmos for its warmth, after all.
Merian, on the other hand, felt less and less alert whenever night came. On top of her Mana pool taking longer and longer to refill, winter seemed to have a slumbering effect on the poor moth. Q had to carry her even during the nights as fewer and fewer endangered creatures roamed the plains, giving her a reason to stay awake and fight violence.
All of this to say that Q was relieved to finally behold the gigantic city that was Mortlake City. Located on the east side of the old human settlement, the settlement was snugly settled against the arm of a wide river that protected its northern and eastern boundary. A tall, massive, oblong tower of dirt dominated the centre, most probably home to giant termites, according to Merian.
It was night, and swarms of oversized, luminous fireflies hovered in the air, casting an eerie glow over the abandoned buildings, broken towers, and web-crisscrossed alleys and narrow streets. Merian shivered at the sight, explaining to Q that those webs certainly belonged to lethal, flesh-eating spiders, the bane of all flying insects like the late bees and wasps buzzing through the air to return to the safety of their hives located on rooftops, windows and balconies of once-luxurious buildings. The city gave the impression of a buzzing and crawling black mass of insect societies that came together to shelter against the post-seeded world threats. A Safe Zone, as the numerous kin had told them repeatedly on their journey.
***
"Don't answer that," whispered the gangly, naked man upon hearing the frantic knocks on the door. "If we stay quiet long enough, they will go away. Let's go back to more... lewd distractions, my love, please. Shhh..."
The whispering man tried to grab his lover before he could stand and leave their warm bed but sadly failed. His companion was already getting dressed out of an unadorned metallic dresser standing by the feet of their bed, as he was surprisingly nimble and fast for a heavy fighter Archetype with a [R] evolved class.
Unfailingly, ever since the first day they had met more than eight years ago, the naked man was proud of his lover's accomplishments, first among them his rare, exotic class that made him into a powerhouse on the field.
"Your Excellency?" A feminine voice said on the other side of the door. "I'm sorry to intrude, but we have a situation down by the gates."
"Isn't there always?" moaned the naked man as he lay on his back, covering his eyes in frustration.
"Be nice, Beb," his now fully dressed companion chided him softly. "You knew what you were getting into when we first met, don't you remember?"
"I do, and I know," groaned Beb as he relented and started looking for his clothes. "But, a man has needs, and those needs have been ignored for too long now... It makes me crotchety and irritable. Your assistant better have a good reason for interrupting us because if she doesn't, I swear by the Holy Trinity that I will have my revenge. Mark my word, Charlie Thatcher, being the Governor of this place won't save you from my wrath..."
"Stop being so melodramatic. It doesn't suit you," replied a smiling Charlie as he bent over the bed to kiss his lover on his thin, tantalising lips. "What would your boss say if he knew how "crotchety" the Lord of the Flies becomes when denied his carnal pleasures, hum?"
"Well, since my boss is The Devil himself, famously hailed as the Serpent in the Garden of Eden and the Tempter of the Gospels, I would think he would approve very much of what I am trying to accomplish," declared Belzebuth, Prince of Hell and one the most-trusted general of Lucifer himself. "A fallen angel I was, a fallen angel I will always be. Lust, pride and temptation are in my DNA, if I may use that silly term. And what could be more tempting and lustful than forsaking the outside world for a few more hours to make love passionately to each other, I ask you? Come on, love, I will even let you be the big spoon, too..."
Beb delivered the last line with a wicked smile and a wink that made Charlie run away from the bedroom, not in terror, but in fear of losing the little control he could muster in those situations and giving in to his demonic lover.
As Governor of Mortlake City, he couldn't just ignore his duties and obligations, but by the Holy Trinity, some days were more challenging than others. Damn the demon prince and his suppleness, too.
He went to open the door and greeted his personal assistant, Abigail Stitches, a magnificent praying mantis whose globulous head reached his shoulders. She held an MPAD and seemed antsy, which was highly unusual for someone of her species. Usually, Abigail was the epitome of poised and composed, unflappable in the face of the numerous, demanding tasks expected of her to efficiently run Mortlake City. She was the real boss of Mortlake City. Charlie was nothing but a glorified figurehead in charge of swinging his ice axes whenever a threat showed up outside of the city boundaries.
And it was fine with him, too. Abigail was way more qualified than him at all those administrative tasks. Because of her ingenuity and business acumen, Mortlake had secured over time significant trading agreements with neighbouring communities and settlements for their unending production of silk, spider webs, highly proteinic and long-lasting food, chitinous armour parts, naturally corrosive acids and strange, lethal poisons.
In a few years' time, Mortlake City had become the biggest alchemist wholesale hub in the Central Region, providing vital ingredients to most of the major cities in the Holy Nation of the Lord and the Land of the Five Pillars, thus maintaining a neutral political stance with the two warring nations. This had been the plan since Mortlake City had already had enough trouble with the bordering Formicidae stronghold. If Charlie had been a gambling man, he would have bet good money on the red ants being the yet again stupid reason behind Abigail's intrusion. She loved Beb nearly as much as him and would have never knocked on the door if she could have handled the situation herself.
"Oh, hello, Abi, how are you faring on this fine evening?" Beb asked with a smile as he walked into Charlie's office, only wearing his socks, supposedly to retrieve his studded black belt from one of the chairs.
"Good evening to you, too, Lord Belzebuth," Abigail replied with a bow. "I want to apologise for intruding, but His Excellency is really needed at the gates. We have... visitors."
"The ants again?" Charlie sighed as he put his dusky bracers on and willed his armour to cover his whole body except his head. There would be ample time later for donning his helmet.
"Not at all," Abigail replied with a perplexed look, "we have two travellers seeking entrance whom we can not Identify. A dog-looking creature and a strange grey moth. They claim to have journeyed long and far to ask the Governor for help with a curse afflicting the moth creature..."
"Why bother me for that, Abigail?" Charlie asked, letting a tidbit of annoyance spread in his voice as he didn't see a problem where he could be helpful. "Unless they made a threat, and then I will be more than happy to handle it. Did they threaten anyone?"
"At the moment, no," the personal assistant clarified. "But, I believe their level of power to be well outside the scope of what the guards can handle safely, should these travellers choose to become violent. As you know, dusk is not the best time for some of our strongest defenders as they either wake up or go to sleep. I'm wary, for lack of better words. They convey an aura of hunters but also prey. This led me to the next logical question: what could be hunting creatures as powerful as those two?"
"Curse, you said?" Beb interjected. "Well, not to brag, but I have been recognised as a specialist in many Hell Circles for quite some time. I'll be happy to take a look and give you my professional opinion if it helps to put them back on their merry way and us," Beb winked at a flushing Charlie, "back to bed..."
"Very generous of you, Lord Belezebuth," Abigail deadpanned with another bow.
"Only if you promise to stay out of it, should things turn south," completed Charlie with as official a look as he could summon when talking to his tall, pale mate. "You are here as a Plenipotentiary Envoy of the Holy Nation. Our political equilibrium is strenuous as it is. We certainly don't need to tip the scale by giving the impression the HNL favours us. The LFP spies we know about, and the others we haven’t found yet, would have a field day, and next, I would have their traders and representatives knocking on my door, asking for reciprocity and concessions of all kinds. Well, on Abi's door, you get my meaning. We can NOT have that, do you understand, Beb?"
"Of course I do," Beb shrugged it off. "I won't interfere if the situation escalates."
“You promise?" Charlie insisted, knowing his demon lover like the back of his hand.
"I swear that I won't interfere as long as I believe that you can handle the situation by yourself," Beb replied, looking Charlie in the eyes to show he meant his words and, more importantly, wouldn't concede more than that. Charlie was too precious to Belzebuth to let him die in a stupid fight, and Charlie knew it well. He would do the same for Beb. "There, are you happy?"
Charlie grumbled an affirmative answer and marched off his office, as much to hide his jubilation at such a show of love from Beb as to resolve the problem quickly so he could return to the task of rewarding his lover for choosing him all those years ago.
***
Q waited with a sleepy Merian under the watchful eyes of the semi-dozen guards protecting the steel gates of Mortlake City. In the cloudless sky, the moon was full, lighting their surroundings with dim, white light. The city was beautiful to admire, coming to life as a theatre of lights and shadows dancing together around the crumbling ruins of a past civilisation. Q understood why night creatures would be drawn to this place. The mysterious atmosphere of Bug City was soothing, assuaging all worries and fears, especially when you looked at the guys guarding the perimeter.
Bigger than Q, the guards possessed elongated, segmented limbs with sharp, clawed appendages at the end of each leg, perfect for grasping and thrusting. Their rainbow-hue chitin covered their whole bodies, encasing them in what looked like sculpted plate armour. Sporting elaborate mandibles, their heads featured multifaceted, black eyes that spoke of an enhanced awareness. These
They had been waiting before the gate for the last hour, and Q noticed it was strangely the first time since leaving Massalia that he had stayed unmoving in one location for that long. The thought made him smile before his Spirit Senses rang the alarm in his mind. A strong, radiating killing intent was approaching fast. His tranquillity was about to end. Such a shame. Of course, it coincided with the Governor finally deigning to make an appearance as Q watched a wide reinforced door on the side open to allow a man to exit and walk towards Mirian and him.
Clad in a sleek and menacing exoskeletal suit crafted from what appeared to be dusky, grey chitin, the newcomer had two rough-looking ice axes with simple leather-wrapped handles hanging from his large girdle. The armour had to be special because it flowed seamlessly with the man's movements as he approached the pair of travellers, making him look like a nightmarish predator from insects' hell. He projected the same promise of savagery and violence as the guards, except much more potent. The air around Q and Merian became so thick with it that it was palatable. Q would have smiled at the sight if it were not for the incoming threat.
"Good evening," the man said in perfect kin language.
Q's #Display was useless, but he was getting accustomed to that by now. Still, having another human to communicate with was a pleasant surprise.
The newcomer had dark, long hair and a plain-looking face with a strong jaw and a broken nose, neither good-looking nor attractive. The only striking feature of the man facing Q was his eyes. Q knew that the eyes didn't lie, and this man's eyes spoke of a close acquaintance with violence and death. The warrior standing before him had shed all fears pertaining to battle, knowing his end would come in due time. There was no escaping it.
In this instant, Q knew the man was on the verge of a breakthrough that would allow him to transcend even death should he attempt it and survive his next evolution. If only they had more time, Q would have loved to spar with this warrior and test himself. Alas, they had maybe two minutes before they would be rudely interrupted.
"It is good that you speak the language of the kin," Q acknowledged, "it will make the next part easier and faster. Time is of the essence, so please listen carefully. This is Merian the Mothman," Q pointed with a paw to the sleeping form of the moth vicariously perched on his back. "She believes herself cursed with a spirit of justice and protection that forces her to fight all beings preying on the weak and the powerless. You can imagine the amount of fighting this implies on a Seeded planet like Earth."
"What is the language of the kin you mentioned?" The armoured man interrupted.
"Not the point, sorry," Q replied curtly. "As we speak, I'm sure you are starting to feel the killing intent fast approaching from the south. I believe the huntress behind it has come to capture me. I intend to refuse... Before I can do that, I need to ensure Merian will be taken care of and looked after once I'm gone, one way or another. She needs help to come to terms with her new self. She was a carefree and noble soul, but now, she is also a fearsome, much-needed combattant. She wrongly believes she can go back to her past self. I don’t have the heart to tell her how wrong she is and that she will remain the Mothman until her death. I need this city to take her in and explain it to her. Make her understand all the good she could do in this world if she let go of her past. Can you do that for her, please?"
The Governor looked confused and hesitant before Q's request. He could feel an incoming danger, but the request was something he hadn't expected. His boyish face was an open book. Surprise, confusion, empathy, sympathy even. Then duty, cold reason and hard logic. All the emotions you would expect of someone really thinking about his next move.
"Count on us. We will care for Merian," a voice interjected. Q focused for the first time on the thin man dressed in studded leather that had come out of the doors with the Governor. His sickly, pale skin shone under the moonlight, and he looked frail and fragile to the naked eye. Q was not fooled, though. This being was not to be trifled with. Good, that was precisely what he had been looking for coming here. "I, Belzebuth, Lord of the Flies and Supreme Monarch of Hell, swear so on the mantle of my fallen angelhood. As long as I breathe, this moth will be under my protection."
"Thank you," Q exhaled and bowed to both men standing before him. "I would have your name as well, please, sir?"
"I am Charlie Thatcher," formally replied the armoured man, "Governor of Mortlake City. And you are...?"
"I am Qiziq the Qoryulit, last descendant of the Hounds of the Void, Rank 5 Cultivator mid-stage adept-with-a-pond," Q replied solemnly, standing up to his full height. "It was a pleasure to meet you both. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a fight to win."
***
What had just happened kept wondering Charlie as he watched the hound grow thrice his actual size to stand as tall as the bloody gates of Mortlake City. Those hefty steel monstrosities were ten metres tall, taken straight out of the numerous skyscrapers that had kissed the ground once the Seeding started.
Next to him, Beb was carrying his new charge.
If his #Display was to be believed. Whatever this dog wanted–Hounds of the Void, as he had called himself– he had been telling the truth when he said the moth was powerful. She would be a welcome addition to the city forces if she decided to stay once she woke up. Charlie would also have to check with Abigail about the ramifications and impacts of Beb's pledge on the city's political situation. A near-god entity from one of Earth's strongest factions wowing to protect a Mortlake citizen couldn't be nothing. Why did Beb do it?
In the eight years they had spent together, his lover had never shown such commitment and dedication for anything other than their relationship, and only because Charlie had told him in no uncertain words how he felt about love and loyalty.
Charlie was a lifetime guy, always had been, and always would be. Beb had taken his sweet time understanding this fact, and they had both suffered for a while because of it, but in the end, the demon prince had shown the depth of his feelings for the human-turned-Governor of the only insect-friendly Safe Zone on Earth.
His relationship aside, Charlie didn't fool himself into thinking he was something other than a killer and a leader, certainly not a caretaker. The plight the moth seemed to suffer from had been his, too, for a long time. He was not sure he wanted to convince someone else to embrace the madness and the violence. Deep in his heart, he sometimes wondered if death in his kitchen that first morning and the peaceful oblivion wouldn't have been the sweetest alternative to what his life had become.
Before he could further explore this line of thought, a new being appeared in sight of the massive gates. Abigail, Beb, his sleeping charge, and he had regrouped to an elevated platform a few metres behind the walls that was used for observation of the plains by the guards.
The woman appeared seemingly out of nowhere with her youthful, attractive face and lithe figure. She had long, flowing hair attached in wild tresses the colour of moonlight partially covered by a silvery diadem of crescent moon and stars. She radiated an aura of untamed, fierce wilderness in her knee-length tunic of shimmering metal adorned with intricate nature-inspired patterns and her golden bow of sublime cratsmanship. Her deep, forest-green eyes were focused on the colossal, unmissable hound.
"Fuck," Charlie heard Beb whisper.
"What?" He asked with the same subdued tone. Beb rarely swore, so this could only be a sign something was wrong.
"This is Artemis, the roughest, craziest bitch in the Olympians' outfit. She is the Goddess of the Moon, Hunting and Wild Things, and that is saying something. Mostly, she is the Council's top huntswoman, and her presence here is not good news, especially if she is after my new charge..."
"Fancy, seeing you here, Belzebtuh. How long has it been?" The young woman said in a clear, resolute voice.
"Well met, Artemis," Beb replied nonchalantly, giving the sleeping moth to Abigail. "Not long enough, if you ask me. To what do we owe the displeasure?"
"Come, now, Lord of the Fleas, failing to be glamorous, at least be courteous," Artemis mocked with a feral smile, "else I believe you are talking on behalf of the bug leader and his city and make them pay for your lack of deference... Where is the creepy, crawly buggery lord, by the way?"
"Damn, lady, you surely put the Y in crazy," Charlie stepped up to face the Goddess. "What do you want?"
"Brave words for someone cowering inside the protection of his Safe Zone," Artemis sneered. "Come on out, and I'll show you about crazy. I promise I won't be gentle..."
"Hard pass," Charlie replied with a yawn. "It's getting late, and I need my beauty sleep, so unless you decide to make sense, would you kindly piss off now, please?
"This hound is wanted by the Council of Apostles, and I would like to make sure he has not been granted safe haven within your hideous city before taking him back to the kennel he belongs," she explained. "After all, I would hate to be forced to raze this place to complete my divine mission..."
"I'm sure you would," Charlie mumbled to himself sarcastically.
He looked at the giant dog and felt a pang of shame and pity as he knew he would have to string him out to save the City. Charlie would love nothing more than to shut the Goddess' trap with his axes, but his duty was to his people first. The greater good, the needs of many, all that crap that was problematically true.
All the while, the Hound of the Void stood unmoving, a massive, ebony-hued behemoth of sinew and muscle. Its imposing presence was defined by bulging, sculpted shoulders and a barrel chest that bespoke raw power. His jet fur clung to its imposing frame, glistening like the very swirly void he hailed from. As he observed Artemis, the giant creature's brooding visage cast a foreboding, dark aura.
"I do not seek your protection, Lord Belzebuth," Q growled gently, "nor you, Governor Charlie Thatcher. I fight my own battle and don't need anyone's help. Therein lies the steadfast path of the Cultivator. Never shy away from a struggle. Learn and grow until the Cosmos welcomes you again."
"Well said, dog," Artemis jeered as she readied her bow. "Come on then, let's you and I resume our fight."
Quicker than the human eye could perceive, Artemis drew her bowstring and let loose five arrows of pure silver aimed at the hound's massive chest and head. Charlie had trouble following their trajectories and feared they would all hit true and end the fight early until the hound simply vanished from sight as if he had teleported.
The explosive arrows dug five enormous craters in the soil directly in front of the gate, shaking the ground and their platform vigorously. The falling rocks, dirt and snow patches hit the translucent energy dome that protected the city from outside aggression.
Qiziq's shape reappeared right behind Artemis, swiping his massive paw directly at her head in what promised to be a crippling blow. Right before the strike would connect and crush her skull, Artemis deflected it to the side with her free arm. She used Qiziq's loss of balance to advance inside the hound's guard and materialised a sharp, silvery-tipped spear out of thin air that she aimed straight at the hound's heart. Once more, right before the strike would connect, the hound teleported away.
He reappeared a hundred metres rearward and beamed lasers of white, celestial energy from his eyes aimed at Artemis's back. Charlie instantly recognised those lasers packed a mean punch as if they held the concentrated power of suns and stars.
Sensing the danger, Artemis didn't try to deflect and swapped the spear for a round, polished grey shield she used to redirect the lasers towards the city. The powerful lasers cut through the magic dome like a hot knife in butter, digging two holes the size of a basketball in their wake. Charlie watched helplessly as the beams wreaked havoc on his citizen's habitats as they travelled the entirety of the city and burst through the dome on the eastern boundary.
"Oops, sorry," Artemis said with a sardonic grin.
Charlie's blood boiled as he watched the insect population of Mortlake City wake up and respond to the unknown threat. Luckily, the place quickly swarmed with rescuers, workers, and builders who went from nests to hives to cocoons to help the victims. Charlie tightened his fists, reeling at Artemis's oops.
The Goddess perfectly knew that the only attacks that could pierce through the System-based defence of his city were those of the same species. Mortlake City was safe from humans, plants and elementals. The only dangers they had to stop by themselves were the beasts and bugs'. Qiziq's energy beams were another matter, and Artemis had aimed her deflection at the city on purpose. This was not an accident but a disguised act of aggression. The bitch indeed.
"Don't, my love," Beb's hand restrained his wrist. "She is provoking you. She wants you to engage to have a reason to destroy this place."
"But why?" Charlie didn't like the whiny tone of his voice. "We have been doing nothing but good for insects and our allies ever since the city's founding. Why would she want to destroy it?"
"Because her very own soul abhors what you have created here. She is the incarnation of the brutal, chaotic aspect of nature. In her world, there is no order, no protection to be given, only the hunters and the hunted. She was revered as the Mistress of Animals by ancient Greeks, but they never fully understood how she saw all beasts as cattle to be slaughtered to the exception of the big predators..." Beb's tone was pleading, as if he had seen a future he didn't want to pass.
"You know I can't stand impunity, Beb," Charlie fumed. He gently removed his hand from Beb's grip. "I don't care who she thinks she is or who she works for. You don't attack my city, kill my citizens, destroy their homes and get away scot-free to tattletale. I can tell you right now that if Qiziq doesn't finish her, I will... or die trying."
"I know you all too well," Belzebuth, the demon prince, replied worryingly. "I hope the hound will rid us of her because I don't know what I would do without you..."
This time, Charlie didn't resist when he felt Beb's fingers intertwine with his. They leaned into one another as they anxiously beheld the raging battle between a mad Goddess and an honourable hound.