Duke followed behind the bear-sized beetle and wooly pig walking side by side, their mounted owners conversing with one another while keeping Duke in the dark about the conversation’s contents. He didn’t really appreciate that fact, but after his time in Et Serpentium, he knew better than to let his discontent be shown. At best, he’d be mocked; at worst, he’d be eaten. His best shot at accomplishing his dreams was to lay low, not attract any attention, and do what he had to do.
“So, these Anunaki, they listen to you?” Greg asked, gesturing behind itself at the graylings following after their group. That was the lead mantid’s name. As for why its named sounded so similar to Gregor’s, well, they were related.
“Yes,” Vercedei said.
“Because?” Greg asked.
“I’m charismatic,” Vercedei said. “Does there need to be a deeper reason?”
Greg stared at Sam, its compound eyes unblinking, not showing any signs of reaction. It would’ve been unsettling for a regular human to witness, but Sam couldn’t even see its eyes; all he could see was his impression of the creature through his All-Seeing Gaze. Even if Sam were intimidated, it wasn’t like he was the one doing the talking anyway.
“You don’t think so?” Vercedei asked. “Mantids are supposed to be xenophobic and aggressive, but that’s not the impression I’m getting from you. Either those rumors are bollocks, or you’re treating me in an unusual manner compared to most humans.”
“It’s true,” Greg said, nodding his green head. “We’re treating you differently than we would another human, but it has nothing to do with your charisma.” The mantid looked down at the wooly pig. “It’s because of the higher-dimensional being you’re riding on.”
“You recognize it’s a higher-dimensional being?” Vercedei asked. “How could you tell?”
“It’s too obvious,” Greg said. “We have a great educational system, and the characteristics of different higher-dimensional beings are one of the courses we can take. I happened to take that course and excelled in it.”
“Really?” Vercedei asked. “Then what kind of higher-dimensional being am I riding right now?”
“Shoku’Ka, the unstoppable force,” Greg said. “Shoku’Ka is a force of nature, and it is said nothing can get in its way. When it sets its eyes on a goal, Shoku’Ka will achieve it no matter what, morals and cost be damned.”
“Shoku’Ka, huh?” Vercedei asked. “And what exactly gave its identity away? Which detail did you notice?”
“The dimension warping around it,” Greg said. “Shoku’Ka isn’t moving; it only fakes the action. Am I wrong?”
“No,” Vercedei said. “You’re right. Very impressive.”
“Do not flatter me,” Greg said. “It makes me uncomfortable.”
“Oh, okay,” Vercedei said. “Is that a you thing, or do all mantids hate flattery?”
“The only time a mantid will flatter another is when they’re about to kill them,” Greg said. “So, unless you plan on attacking me with the intent to kill, don’t compliment me.”
“I see,” Vercedei said. “How interesting. When you do a good job, you’re not praised?”
“Should you need praise for accomplishing what is expected of you?” Greg asked in return. “Congratulations, you’re not a failure. Is that how humans praise one another?”
“Right,” Vercedei said as the illusion of Sam turned towards Gregor, who was following along on a beetle in the back of the group. “And if someone fails to do what’s expected of them, they deserve death?”
“No,” Greg said. “Some tasks are more difficult than others to accomplish. If someone fails, anyone else would’ve failed if they were in the same position as them, so when a mantid fails a task, more mantids are assigned to the case.”
Sam recalled the time back in the dungeon where Gregor had practically been a corpse but was revived by Joe’s healing aura. “Really?” Vercedei asked. “Is this true for all mantids? Gregor was pretty convinced he’d lose his life since he lost the world seed.”
“Gregor is a bit of a worrywart,” Greg said. “If a mantid’s failures are grievous and numerous, then they’re simply not a good mantid.”
“So, the mantids who fail repeatedly die as punishment,” Vercedei said.
“By the queens, no,” Greg said, his intonation horrified. “They’re demoted. You see, mantids are promoted when they prove they can accomplish the tasks they’re assigned. If they fail to measure up to their office, they’re demoted back down to doing the tasks they can manage.”
“I’ve seen mantids cut off their own heads because they failed their task,” Vercedei said.
“Who, Gregor?” Greg asked. “He’s always been a bit dramatic. Also, his wife, who also happens to be his boss, has extremely high expectations of him, and if he fails, well, domestic violence is highly frowned upon but happens regardless, not that I’m saying Gregor’s wife is violent—she isn’t—but his head might be ripped off and eaten.”
“Oh,” Vercedei said. “Is that socially acceptable for her to do?”
“Of course,” Greg said. “It’s well in her rights as the wife: at any given time in the marriage, a wife may rip her husband’s head off and eat it with impunity.” Greg stared ahead. “We may be smart and intelligent, but in the end, we’re just insects with base desires. Also, the new head queen ate her husband’s head recently, and it was less messy to write a law to make the action legal than to overthrow her with force.”
“Fascinating,” Vercedei said. “How does your society view humans?”
“Prey,” Greg said, “but that’s just our base desires speaking. To us, everything is prey. Sometimes, we even prey on each other. Of course, with certain prey, it’s better to be friends with them than foes, and we would rather not be foes with humans.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Quite frankly, your kind isn’t very tasty. There’s a strong taste of plastic,” Greg said. “We feel it’d be terribly wasteful to invest our resources into eradicating humans when they aren’t appetizing, and most of their bodies would just go to waste. Most mantids are environmentally conscious, mind you. We’re taught to never leave a single drop behind—not even one carapace shell, eyeball, or foot—when we kill something to eat.” Greg paused. “Unless they’re cows. Then, we can only drink their blood and eat the organs and soft parts of the face; we have to leave everything else.”
“What about reptilians?” Vercedei asked. “Are they tasty?”
“Reptilians are delicious,” Greg said, “but the problem is they think we’re delicious as well, so we both attack each other on sight, but we mostly stay out of each other’s territories.” The mantid rubbed its finger-like appendages against its mouth parts, wiping them down. “I realize I went off on a tangent, excuse me. You don’t have to worry about your health or safety here in Silva Volucris unless you find yourself a wife. Oh, also, don’t walk around like a normal human would; keep riding your pig. You’re prey-sized, and accidents do happen.”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
It was a good thing Duke hadn’t heard the mantid’s advice. Sam checked on the man with his All-Seeing Gaze. His aura was a sickly green. Everyone’s aura was a shade of green thanks to Joe’s ability to make the creatures around it as relaxed as the sloth. At that moment, another vision entered Sam’s perception, and he blinked as sunlight struck his eyes for the first time in what felt like centuries. The snake’s purple head allowed him to see once more, and Sam stared in silence as he took in the details around him.
With his All-Seeing Gaze still in use, Sam saw things differently compared to before. Underneath his regular vision, traces of colored lightning existed, how he usually saw with his All-Seeing Gaze but more muted. A voice entered Sam’s head, Werchbite telling Sam he was proficient with his All-Seeing Gaze, so it was allowing him to see again. Sam was about to celebrate, but the snake’s body wound itself around his neck and choked him with a loving hug that crushed his windpipe.
“If it makes you feel better, we haven’t had any incidences of humans being eaten by mantids in a while in Silva Volucris,” Greg said.
“How recently has it been since the last human visited Silva Volucris?” Vercedei asked.
“A while,” Greg said, its aura flickering with a pink hue. “It’s technically the truth.”
***
A shadow fell over Sam’s face, blocking the sun from his view, allowing him to get a detailed look at his surroundings. The buildings were gleaming with vines growing across their surface. There were windows, gaps in the metallic surface where mantids could be seen stretching out their wings, warming them up with the sun.
Upon crossing over the threshold of greenery, Manga turned around, and the illusion of Sam looked down at Duke from atop the wooly pig. “The mission is complete,” Vercedei said. “I’ve safely escorted you to Silva Volucris.”
Duke swallowed and looked around. He had really made it. People had called him crazy and suicidal when he told them about his dream, but look at him now. Now that he was basically all alone in a foreign country where he was probably lower on the food chain than everyone else…. Now that Duke thought about it more, were those people right? Was he crazy? A grin appeared on his face. “Thanks,” he said to Sam. “Before you go, can you….”
Duke’s voice trailed off as the wooly pig trotted away. It had turned to leave the moment Vercedei had deemed the task as completed. Duke stared as the wooly pig and giant beetles walked away. The crowd of graylings walked around him as if they were a river flowing around a rock. He stood in silence until the graylings had passed him by, leaving him all alone beside a spherical, metallic building which Duke wasn’t even sure was a public place or not.
Sam turned his head to look back at Duke, but he didn’t say anything to stop his familiars from doing as they pleased. Duke wanted to be brought to Silva Volucris, and the man obviously had his own goals, or he wouldn’t have even tagged along in the first place. As an adult, Duke was responsible for taking care of himself. As for Sam, he had his own mission given to him by that being he had met whilst basically dead: locate and absorb the mantids’ heritage stone to unlock his heart chakra. At the same time, he wanted to experience as much of Oterra as he could.
“Are there any touristy areas?” Vercedei asked. “Do tourists come to Silva Volucris?”
“We have a tiny tourist resort,” Greg said. “Is that where you’d like to stay during your time in our country?”
“Am I free to go where I wish?” Vercedei asked. “Aren’t I going to be interrogated about the world seed?”
“In due time,” Greg said. “For now, we want to make sure you’re comfortable. We can talk after we get to know each other better, so we can figure out a better way to go about things.”
“I see,” Vercedei said. “Well, in that case, let me experience what Silva Volucris has to offer. What do you do for fun around these parts? Pretend you’ve had a bad day at work, and now you want to blow off some steam, where can you go to do that?”
“For fun?” Greg said. “Having fun is for those who can afford to waste time and resources. The more people who spend time having fun, the less productive we become as a species.”
“Oh,” Vercedei said. “So, what…? You work until you die?”
“Isn’t that life?” Greg asked.
“Is it?” Vercedei asked. “Duke was pretty certain mantids had plants that could prolong someone’s life, maybe even allow them to live forever.”
“We do,” Greg said. “What are you trying to get at?”
“Well, if you prolong your lives, aren’t you simply going to work forever?” Vercedei asked.
“Of course not,” Greg said. “No one wants to work forever, so hardly anyone extends their lives.”
“Alright,” Vercedei said. “So, mantids don’t have forms of entertainment. No wonder why you’re all so chatty.”
“We’re not chatty,” Greg said. “That’s quite rude of you to say. We talk a perfectly normal amount; if anything, humans are the ones who’re too quiet. You need to speak up. Let your voice be heard, and set your dramatic secrets free for others to indulge in.”
“My apologies,” Vercedei said. “Mantids aren’t chatty; you’re right. So, the plant to extend your lifespan does exist?”
“Yes,” Greg said. “We only give it to the most heinous of criminals.”
“You extend the lifespan of criminals?”
“Life is suffering,” Greg said. “Criminals should suffer to atone for the suffering they’ve caused; by extending their lives, they can suffer longer.”
Sam stared at the mantid. It didn’t seem like it was telling a joke or making up a lie. Since that was the case, mantids seemed to live really depressing lives, so much so that death was a better alternative to living. Perhaps it was even worse than being a talentless; then again, mantids knew other mantids suffered in solidarity while talentless had to live forever jealous of the awakened.
“So, what?” Vercedei asked. “Mantids don’t believe in caring about their mental health?”
“I never said that,” Greg said. “We have plants that make us numb to the suffering of life.”
“Oh, I understand,” Vercedei said. “So, it sounds like these plants are what you consume to have fun.”
“To not suffer,” Greg said.
“Yes, to not suffer, that’s what I meant,” Vercedei said. “Where can I get some of these plants?”
Sam shifted his eyes to look down at the snake’s body blocking his mouth. He wasn’t sure why Vercedei was interested in the mantid’s drugs, but he was sure the snake was doing things with a clear purpose in mind.
“They’re minced and placed inside of our meals,” Greg said. “We don’t need to go anywhere to get them.”
“Oh, that’s convenient,” Vercedei said. “So, where do we go for our meals?”
“The cafeteria,” Greg said. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah,” Vercedei said. “Can you take me there?”
***
Duke fidgeted, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right, from his right foot to his left. He was standing behind a large praying mantis, and behind him, there was also a large praying mantis. Right now, he was standing in what he thought was the cafeteria. After separating from Sam, he had made friends—at least, he hoped they were friends—with a mantid. Duke had expressed his hunger, and the mantid brought him here—hopefully to be fed, not sold and eaten.
“I don’t have any currency,” Duke said, turning to look at the mantid standing behind him. “You’re sure that’s alright?”
The mantid nodded, responding in its own language but the insect’s words being translated in Duke’s head. He had gotten used to this method of communication in Et Serpentium. “There’s no problem,” the mantid said. “We don’t believe in paying for food. Food, shelter, and water are the basic necessities of life; there’s no reason for people to struggle to have those.”
“That’s wonderful,” Duke said, blinking his eyes as he took a second look around the cafeteria. It was a metal hemi-sphere that practically sparkled from how spotless the interior was. There were metal tables and chairs along with plants growing from metallic pots. Sunlight flowed into the cafeteria from a window in the ceiling, but to Duke’s surprise, there wasn’t any glare from the rays reflecting off the glossy surfaces. “What is your preferred meal of choice?”
“There’s only one meal offered,” the mantid said. “The council of queens decide what we eat. It changes gradually over the week, so our digestive systems aren’t thrown out of whack.”
“Oh,” Duke said. “What’s for lunch this week?”
“Ground grub and sauce,” the mantid said.
Duke swallowed. “Thanks,” he said and turned his attention back onto the line in front of him. Soon, it was his turn to reach the counter where he was passed a metal sphere with a straw on it. It reminded him of a coconut. Duke looked around and saw mantids holding the sphere with their mandibles while the straws were occupying their mouth parts. Duke brought the straw up to his lips and hesitated before taking a sip. He was hungry, and he wasn’t going to starve himself because he wasn’t daring enough to try new food. Hopefully, ground grub and sauce would sit well with his stomach and not give him any parasites or other unpleasant surprises.
The taste of the ground grub and sauce was surprisingly savory, and Duke took another sip, a longer one, from the metal ball; it was pretty good, delicious even. It was no wonder why the mantids didn’t mind eating the same thing every day for every meal. There was something about it that made Duke relax, his mind easing of worries. Why had he been so anxious about surviving in Silva Volucris without Sam? Food, shelter, and water were free, so Duke’s basic necessities were covered. He had a feeling everything was going to be fine, and even if they didn’t, well, that was life, and at least, he tried.