Chapter 5

Roasted cicada was one of Rillia’s favorite meals. It reminded her, painfully though, of Distir. They used to take one down after being schooled in the Venom Drench martial art enough and cook it over an open fire. To be honest, the more she was around Jason, the more he reminded her of Distir.

“You gonna finish that?!” he asked Melsil.

He pointed to the small piece of flesh in the fungus person’s hand that he had nibbled off of. Beside him was Vesha who was eating relatively little as she was still recovering from what the White Spore sword had shown her. As Vesha weakly held the insect’s flesh to her mouth and chewed slowly, Melsil looked rather uncomfortable as Jason had shoved himself in the older person’s personal space.

“Well…” he said. “I...us fungus don’t eat meat that much...so...I suppose so-”

Jason scooped it out of his hands before gobbling it down. He smiled pleasantly before ripping off more of the roasted insect’s flesh and piling it into his mouth. Melsil appeared rather interested in both the amount and nonchalant manner he devoured. Jason had eaten more than all three of them combined during their meal break.

Unlike Melsil and Vesha who ate rather slowly, Jason scarfed his food down. An entire leg of the cicada he took down he shoved down his throat before munching on it at the beginning of their lunch. At first, Rillia was afraid he might choke but it reminded her so much of how Distir and her used to eat before he betrayed their dream that she found it charming. As she saw him gulp down chunks too large to feasibly be eaten without excessive chewing and jaw straining that it reminded her of a rude child that still had to be taught manners.

He’s just like a child. She thought. As pure and innocent as a little kid...like how we once were. He reminds me of one of the reasons I wanted to go to the Primeval World...to never let go of my inner child by feeding it new places to have wanderlust for.

After half of the insect that was twice as tall and as big around as Rillia was he had taken down was in his stomach, Jason rubbed his belief before sighing. Jason yawned before laying down on the pine strewn ground, quite relieved of his hunger. He laughed.

“Huh-” he said. “That cicada was easier to take down than the frog I gave to Rillia. Maybe there’s a reason I need to go to the Primeval World...because it’s the only place monsters like me belong in!”

“No argument here,” Vesha said.

“How did you know not to kill sentient creatures?” Melsil asked.

“What?” Jason asked.

“You know,” he said. “The rule of only hunting animals?”

Rillia had never noticed it before the fungus man brought it up. There was a law in Wassergras that hunting was allowed so long as no one killed and ate sentient creatures. Cicadas, grass frogs and grasshoppers were not cognizant, therefore they were fair game as they had no mind or ability to reason. Species like ants, crawfish and fungus were outlawed since they were species’ whose governments would retaliate and punish anyone caught murdering their kind.

“I didn’t know about that,” Jason said. “I just found whatever looked tasty and punched it until it no longer moved.”

Everyone besides winced in surprise as he kept gobbling down the roasted meat in his hands.

Glad he didn’t think I looked like a meal when he rescued me. Rillia thought.

They had docked the lotus vessel after Jason had brought them their food, the stem of the lotus tied to a non-poisonous mushroom at the edge of the shore with Rillia’s solidified venom. They made a fire with dry pine straw and oak leaves before creating the flames with friction of hitting small stones against one another. The meal hadn’t taken long to prepare or consume but the sun began setting sooner than Rillia had hoped.

But that wasn’t the only thing that disturbed her. During their meal, rain clouds began sneaking up on them. The sky was turning a dark gray as what little light left in the day began to be choked out. Light precipitation fell on the grass above them to mostly protect them from the drizzle. Rillia groaned in exasperation upon realizing the weather wasn’t in their favor.

And we were so close to getting to the bend in the river. She thought. Near where Melsil said the Dushil family was stationed.

“The rain’s about to pick up in intensity,” Vesha said. “We’ll need to get further inland and carry the lotus boat with us if we’re to get to safety.”

“I agree,” Melsil said. “The storms here are usually severe and traveling down the river after the rain has passed will still be dangerous. With as much water as there will be and as fast as the current is after a typical rain, it’ll be dangerous to navigate the Blue River. But we’ll have to be stationary on dry land until the rain passes.”

“Actually we won’t,” Vesha replied. “I’ve traveled down this area before and there are plenty of flower trees’ whose canopy is thick enough to completely shield us from the rain. The only question is, who will carry the boat?”

Jason lunged at her after finishing a fourth of the entire cicada’s body. The crawfish looked dangerously uncomfortable as close as he was to her. He gave her a big, childish grin.

“I got it!” he yelled.

And he did. The entire duration of the storm Jason held the bottom portion of the lotus boat in the air with his bare hands, the vessel barely wiggling in his grasp as strong as he was. The lotus blossom at the top of the boat’s stem threatened to scrape the ceiling of the dome of white flowers above them. And Vesha was right. The forest of flower trees not far from the shore had a thick, white blanket of blossoms above them that prevented most of the water from hitting the ground.

What little did was only enough to make the ground they marched through slightly damp. The ground wasn’t even layered with pine needles or oak leaves as the forest of flowering trees prevented anything from above falling down. The earth was instead covered with lime green moss that was soft beneath Rillia’s feet.

It wasn’t until they met the end of the flower tree forest that they stopped. The rain was pouring down heavy still, creating a torrential wall of falling water that was nearly impossible to see past. Considering the storm had not lifted, no one needed to say a word as they all understood they’d have to wait until the storm was over.

Vesha and Melsil had their bodies against the trunks of the blossom filled trees to sleep while Jason and Rillia sat on the mossy ground. The bipedal fungus person crossed his legs and had his back against the wood while the crawfish had curled up near the trees, the right side of her body to them. She and Jason weren’t able to rest as Rillia was too anxious, worried she’d never make it to the Primeval World while Jason was just full of boundless energy. He looked up at the flower tree above him as they sat down, seeming dazzled by their beauty.

“Pretty strong blossoms,” Jason said. “To think, they can just shield us from any sort of rain no matter how strong it’s coming down.”

“Yeah,” Rillia replied, a little lost in her head. “The flowers are coated in a sort of waxy material that makes rain flow right off them. It’s so strong that very little precipitation or sunlight hits the surface below. The moss we’re standing on grows in terrain where there’s little sunlight but plenty of moisture. What little water leaks down from above stays here because the sun doesn’t dry it up, creating the perfect habitat for them.”

“Wow!” Jason said. “You seem to know a lot about this world! Everything you tell me about it just...it just makes me more excited and want to explore it all the more. There’s so much to this vast and open plain of existence that I...I can’t stand still. What more is there to discovery?”

She smiled at him, so happy at his childish mirth. He was the spitting image of Distir, someone who found happiness and joy in small discoveries of the world just as much as huge ones. There wasn’t a word Rillia could use to describe how lucky she was to meet someone who was also an explorer at heart.

“You really are like my old friend,” the ant said. “I only wish I knew where you were from...I wonder if there were more people like you that shared your...excitement.”

“Honestly the species here are so cool that I barely care about my own kind,” Jason said. “Crawfish, mushrooms, ants and apparently people who are born from seeds...that’s crazy! But...but I love it! I mean, if this is all in Wassergras then how much more is there in the Primeval World?!”

“You certainly have a lot of enthusiasm for this world,” she said. “But there’s something interesting you said when you were fighting all those fungus swordsmen...you said that you remember feeling something from before you lost your memory...something about anger at unjust actions or...something like that?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t remember much at all but...there are small things like...like I remember liking a certain hat called...sombreros I think that look like what the fungus people have growing on their heads. I remember how to speak...I remember how to make fire with stones but most of all...I remember being angry. I was angry about...injustice.”

“Injustice?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

For once she actually saw Jason frown. It was downright disturbing that such a happy, carefree person like him would have such a downright depressed look. She wanted to look away because his expression was so unnatural. Rillia watched as Jason hung his head as a mournful aura seemed to emanate from him.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “But...when I heard Melsil talking to you about wanting to make up for the mistakes of his ancestors...something about that clicked with me.”

“You mean when you were rowing?” she asked. “But I thought you weren’t paying attention!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jason answered. “I wasn’t eavesdropping but...as I was rowing...I sort of knew what he meant. It’s no different for a person to turn away and ignore the sins of their ancestors than partaking in them. If everyone just moves on with their lives and doesn’t care for the needs of the oppressed...you leave those in a state of squalor. What happens if you’re that person in squalor? Wouldn’t you want someone to drag you out of it…?”

“Oh no,” Rillia said as she crossed her arms. “Not you too. Bewitched by that fungus man’s lies.”

“Rillia,” Jason said. “I don’t know much about this world...but I know it faces the same problems my own world did. And I hate the idea of leaving my own world because I wanted to escape its problems and responsibilities.”

“But you said you don’t even remember much of your old life!” she shouted. “You don’t even have memories of the events that made you angry at this supposed injustice to begin with!”

“I may not have memories of physical events,” he said. “But there’s something almost that...that my soul can’t forget. My anger isn’t embedded in my mind...it’s deeper, so deep I can’t forget it no matter how hard I try.”

“That makes no sense!” Rillia said.

“I know it doesn’t,” he said. “But if I think really hard, or I don’t think it all...it’s there. This...this intense darkness that I can’t remember the source of...like the face of a person you know well but can’t think of the name of. I sense it in my dreams sometimes...this anger, this pure black hatred...caused by something that went wrong because...because of a great evil…”

I began to glare at the ground.

“And I can’t envision anything worse than allowing it to exist,” Jason said.

She shook her head, almost wanting to cry. He really did remind her of Distir. Jason was a person with a carefree, childlike spirit who felt he had to sacrifice his freedom for people that were too weak or cowardly to pursue their own dreams. Rillia now couldn’t decide if her biggest fear was never seeing the Primeval World or losing her new best friend.

She began to cry, turning her head away so Jason couldn’t see her. Just as she began sniffling he crawled toward her to look up at her. She tried turning her face away again before he merely faced her again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Please…” Rillia said. “Please just...just don’t leave me like Distir did. He was my best friend until he decided maintaining the status quo in our homeland was more important than fulfilling our dream of travelling the world. We didn’t just want to see the Primeval World...we wanted to go farther than anyone else had. And he threw it all away because he considered it foolish compared to living a normal life.”

He smiled up at her.

“Rillia,” he said. “I’m not leaving you. For better or for worse, I’m not like Distir. I’m too much of a wild card to serve and obey a specific group of people. I can’t control myself...if the sun still rises, I want to see every place that it shines on. There’s no place I don’t want to see before I die. However…”

He still smiled but his expression became a little forlorn.

“Don’t you ever think about people who don’t have the same freedom as us?” Jason asked. “And how it bothers you that there are people out there so evil they deny others freedom for their own selfish ends?”

Rillia shrugged.

“My people have always been well taken care of,” she said. “They weren’t unable to have freedom...they just never used it.”

“Well that’s the difference between you and the rest of us,” Jason said. “You’re so used to a species with unlimited resources, food and protection. As much as I love the pursuit of pure and unrestrained adventure I hate the idea of those restrained by another’s more selfish pursuit of freedom. Because, at the end of the day, isn’t that what we all want? Some form of freedom but some gain it by taking others freedom?”

She shook her head.

“I never thought of that,” she said.

“I don’t want to live in a world with any oppression,” he said. “Because I know I would hate the idea of being oppressed and unable to go adventuring. The world might be full of adventurers if only there weren’t evil people like the Red Fungus going around and making a nuisance of themselves.”

“I…” she said, trying to make an argument but finding nothing she could say. Jason’s logic seemed sound to Rillia. “I...well...couldn’t you just fight without assistance from someone helping you? I mean, I know the fungus people were taken advantage of but-”

“If you’re locked down by another, stronger person,” he said. “It’s harder to go wherever you want. I want to go and pursue my dream, but what if that dream means making other people’s dreams a reality?”

“I-I never thought of that,” Rillia said. “But is it really your dream to give others the freedom you have?”

“Definitely!” Jason shouted.

He jumped up into the air and, with his strength, his raised fists grazed the underside of the flower canopy far above them. When Jason came back down to solid ground his feet slammed hard enough into the moss to create prints in the floor-like plant. He smiled at her incredibly bright, his mournful demeanor gone.

“I want everyone to be so free that they can jump even higher than that!” he yelled. “I don’t want anyone in the world to be shackled by anything! Not a government, not prejudice, not their own inhibitions, not even their own physical limitations! I want a world of pure and absolute adventure where no is unable to do anything they don’t want! And, as cool as this world is, if that’s not this world, then I’ll make a world like that!”

She smiled up at him, crying from pure joy and not fear of losing him. Rillia began to think it silly the idea that she could ever lose him. Jason couldn’t be lost, he was too bright and immortal. He may have had strength without equal but there was something deeper than that that inspired her. Just as Rillia began looking up at him, she leaned to the right to see the rain just past them had dwindled to a very light drizzle. The storm had passed.

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“Hey,” she said. “The rain’s gone...we can keep going.”

He smiled, her words obviously not factoring into his behavior at all.

“I’ll do what Distir couldn’t,” Jason said. “I’ll free people and defend those without hope to my dying breath. But I will never stop being your friend. And I’ll always go where you do.

“What you showed me disturbed me beyond words,” Vesha stated.

She was curled up near the base of the trees, Melsil beside her. He leaned against a flower tree as he sat down. His expression was somber, not judgmental as Vesha feared his gaze might be. The crawfish, despite her size, felt intimidated by the much smaller mushroom swordsman. Vesha kept staring down at the sword at his waist, afraid of it being drawn again to give her another terrifying revelation. She silently begged that Melsil would never pull the blade out in her presence again.

“I...I…” she said. “I never knew I was so self-consumed.”

He barely moved as he spoke, something that disturbed her.

“I never knew either,” Melsil answered.

She gasped in surprise.

“So…” Vesha said. “The sword...it showed you how you were selfish as well?”

His quiet, calm expression painted with somber regret didn’t change a bit.

“Yes,” he breathed. “After all, I was raised to be a killer. Us Duchil...there’s something about our eyes that...that makes you know you’re in the presence of a powerful force capable of ripping you apart. Even other fungi are afraid of us. Of course I was meant to be another assassin in their ranks and brainwashed into believing their propaganda but...but I never liked the idea of killing. It always bothered me and...and the idea of murdering innocents for the supposed greater good was...hard on me. After traveling through this very area of the land of oak and pine...I came across the White Spore sword. And any inhibition I had with killing people was magnified while any faith I had in the Red Fungus dissipated. I defected and never looked back.”

“What even is the White Spore sword?” Vesha asked. “Of all my reading material, I’ve never heard of it. Not even once.”

“Do you remember the story of the Black Poison thorn and the White Magnolia tree?” Melsil asked.

“The primordial plants of myth?” Vesha asked as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “That claims the two original life forms were located near Wassergras before disappearing? If I remember right, they were what all plants and subsequent animal life originate from.”

“True,” Melsil said. “Just as the legends say the Giants were originally our size before eating the poison of the Black Poison tree. Once they plucked the thorns of the tree to gain its power, the poison spilled onto the ground and infected the land, contaminating every living thing on the Earth as a result. The Black Poison tree not only contained poison but evil itself from which all malice, hatred and selfishness in every creature derives from. The White Magnolia’s influence of purity was tainted and the once kind creatures of this world became animals. I wish to return this world to its more beautiful and perfect state.”

“But I thought that was just a myth,” the crawfish stated.

“I was unsure about the story as well,” Melsil answered. “But after first hearing the story of the first two plants something about them...something about them stuck with me. I didn’t want to tell my family as the Duchils cared little for anything that didn’t concern prosperity or power but...but I eventually realized I did believe the story whether I knew it or not.”

He looked down at the sword sheathed at his side.

“And then I found the White Spore sword while traveling through the land of oak and pine,” Melsil explained. “And my doubts about the story’s validity disappeared. The White Spore sword is practically made from the White Magnolia.”

“Made from it?” Vesha asked. “But, according to the story, all plants descended from the two. You act like it was constructed from the White Magnolia.”

“It may have been,” Melsil said. “I’m not sure but it’s at least the closest descendent of the White Magnolia in existence. It not only carries the attributes of the White Magnolia, but also it’s will.”

Vesha raised her claws, something crawfish did in response to suspicion.

“You’re referring to the part of the story that says both of the original plants were sentient and had a will?” the crawfish asked. “That’s preposterous. No plant can be sentient.”

“No plant in Wassergras,” Melsil said. “But in the Primeval World there very well could be.”

“That has yet to be proven,” Vesha said. “As with the original plant story. There’s no evidence for the existence of either the Black Poison thorn or White Magnolia tree.”

“The swords the mushroom swordsmen use are descended from the Black Poison,” Melsil stated. “Just as the Black Locust tree is. The flower trees are similar to the White Magnolia.”

“That, again,” Vesha replied. “Is just another legend.”

“The sword told me,” Melsil stated. “Just as it told us both of our selfishness, it told me of its ancestry. The White Spore is the White Magnolia in the form of a fungi. Both have healing properties that no other organism has.”

The crawfish shook her head.

“That…” she said. “That just cannot be true. I may believe that whatever weapon you have has some unique power but...to believe in the original twin plant narrative...it just goes against everything I know.”

“And why is that?” Melsil asked.

“Because,” Vesha said. “It defies all known logic on how the world runs. The original twin plant myth tells of...of some vaguely defined free will that a plant just cannot have that both possessed. The Black Poison’s was purely selfish and evil while the White Magnolia’s was benevolent, pure and altruistic. I can believe a being with the power to create or at least influence nature being selfish but I cannot believe the White Magnolia being benevolent.”

“For what reason?” Melsil asked.

“Because, like I said,” Vesha stated. “Creatures do not survive by being selfless. They survive by being the opposite. All creatures, whether sentient animals like us, non-sentient animals like frogs and birds and plants survive by being ruthless and pragmatic. It’s an eat or be eaten world out there and if a creature were to not act as such its species would subsequently die. No creature is truly moral without purposefully helping or aiding their survival. Good and evil are relative concepts. What one calls good is good for them while what that same person calls evil is what does not benefit them. For any organism to be purely good they would have to put on the chopping block their own advancement.”

She sighed.

“No one actually believes in good or evil,” Vesha said. “Only what helps them or what doesn’t. Then they label what does and does not as morally acceptable. When us crawfish...bullied you fungus people out territory, us crawfish called us good. But you fungi called us crawfish evil. The White Spore sword revealed that to me.”

“But do you believe in good or evil?” Melsil asked.

She looked up at him as if he were stupid.

“O-of course I do?” the crawfish said. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because if good and evil are relative concepts,” the mushroom swordsman said. “In other words, not actual realities but figments of our choosing, then why do we believe in good or evil? Why is it so strongly ingrained in us?”

Vesha glanced to the side repeatedly, unsure of how to respond.

“I-I’m not sure how to respond,” she said. “But the best I can come up with is...yes but not because there are things that are inherently good or evil but because people everywhere believe in it so strongly...something that isn’t real has become real. Good and evil are constructs.”

“Then why did you react so badly to the White Spore showing you your real self?” Melsil asked.

“Be-because,” she stuttered. “I...I wasn’t...I wasn’t as good a person as I thought I was. I...I suppose the wool over my eyes was ripped off to reveal my selfless seeming intentions were selfish.”

“But if good and evil are just relative and only made by sentient species,” Melsil stated. “Then why would you care so much?”

She looked down, her gaze blurred at being asked such a question.

“That-that,” she said. “That’s a very good question. Why did I care so much? Why do I still care so much? If I’m selfish...how is that wrong?”

“Because good and evil are hardwired into your being,” Melsil said. “Much like everyone else. You know what is good and evil but carry on your way anyways. They’re not constructs but because all sentient life chooses to sacrifice others for the sake of their own survival, it causes many to no longer believe in that division.”

“But…” Vesha said. “How do we know good or evil if we’re taught that division doesn’t exist? I mean, children are told what’s wrong and right but once they become older they...their sense of such is thoroughly blurred. And certainly not everyone is taught the difference between good and evil. How do you expect those who’ve never heard of it to know such a thing?”

“Because,” Melsil said. “It’s ingrained in us. According to the legend, the Black Poison and White Magnolia reside in all sentient life forms. The moral distinction of motives and actions is ingrained in us through their influence and that is evident in the conscience of a person.”

“Oh,” Vesha said. “So you mean to say the conscience is evident of objective good and evil? The part of you that...that reflects on whether your decision is...morally justifiable. That prevents some from stealing, murdering and lying while others don’t seem to exercise one?”

“Precisely,” Melsil answered. “Over my travels and through the instruction of the White Spore, I’ve discovered that all intelligent life has some form or another of inherent knowledge between that which is right and wrong. Even if they don’t realize it, they will often question if what they have done is wicked or not. It prevents some from committing grave sins while it has no effect on others. It is as if an invisible law is written in the heart of every intelligent person so that there is no excuse for what wrongdoings they have inflicted upon the world.”

“I-I-I…” Vesha said. “I don’t know how to refute or support that.”

“When the White Spore revealed your true intentions of why you joined the Exploratory Pincer brigade,” Melsil stated. “It showed how you were doing a selfish action while trying to keep your conscience clean. You didn’t truly care about others or even your own species, only yourself. Many don’t know that their seemingly altruistic choices are only for the sake of quieting their conscience in order to do something they know is either wrong or will help no one. You are one of those and I was little different before I came into contact with the White Spore.”

Vesha sighed, lowering her claws so that they hung limply at her side.

“I still don’t know if I believe in good or evil,” she said. “I always thought whatever helped me, and by proxy my species, was good and what did them harm was bad. If people do not treat good or evil as real, only regarding it as justification for selfish acts, does that still make it real?”

“Well,” Melsil asked. “Let me ask you. Does not seeing the sun not make it real?”

“No,” she answered. “That’s preposterous.”

“Then so is the law that all creatures unknowingly are aware of,” he answered. “It’s so deeply embedded in us that it goes beyond even the mind and lives in the soul. Our understanding of right and wrong, called the conscience, is simply the manifestation of the inherent laws of good and evil.”

“I cannot believe that,” Vesha said. “If that’s true then everyone is evil since all they do is selfish and serves only their own self-interest. Survival and advancement of their own status is what all creatures, whether sentient or not, live for.”

“Then let me ask you,” Melsil said. “If a person attacks and kills a child to devour, is that evil?”

“Of course!” Vesha said. “That’s deplorable and he would be executed on the spot!”

“Yes,” he replied. “But why is it evil?”

“Because...because that’s...that’s a horrid act!” the crawfish replied. “You don’t need to explain why it’s wrong!”

“But if it isn’t you or your child,” Melsil said. “What does it matter? If good and evil are subjective, like our preferences for one food over another, then what does it matter what heinous acts one commits?”

Vesha shook her head.

“It-you…” she said. “You would still be taking the life of an innocent creature.”

“Yes!” he shouted. “But how would you know it was heinous if you didn’t have some inherent knowing of good and evil! Just as we have instincts on how to survive, we also have moral instincts. Even if it doesn’t harm you it still is wrong...just as the sun rises even if you don’t see it.”

Vesha couldn’t stop blinking, trying to ascertain what exactly he was saying.

“But if we have moral instincts…” the crawfish said. “Then why do we also have survival instincts? They routinely clash with one another.”

“My belief is the Black Poison tree gave us survival instincts,” the mushroom swordsman said. “While the White Magnolia gave us the morality based ones. It fits with the creation story of the Black Poison being born second in defiance of the original White Magnolia, the former’s influence tainting all of existence...like poison infecting flesh.”

“If that’s what you believe,” Vesha said. “I can’t argue. But I can’t act like everyone is evil. I mean...that’s just not true. If everyone does evil...well, does it make it evil or merely...merely pragmatic?”

The mushroom swordsman laughed.

“Pragmatic,” he said. “That's what tyrants and liars call their brand of evil.”

“Well when did you become so high and mighty that you know everyone’s bad?!” Vesha demanded.

“When the White Spore sword has revealed to me the dark truths of this world,” Melsil said. “How can such a pure being show you such an ugly, pitch black world? The only answer is that every species has gone wayward, destroying and subjecting the peoples around them for the benefit of themselves. No species has ever acted truly altruistically and every endeavor is for their own advancement. Yet...we still call things good and evil. We all act evil but still want to apply good to our own desires and evil to what gets in the way of those desires.”

His already sad expression seemed to harden.

“I was evil, my family was evil, our species was evil,” Melsil stated. “Our rivals were evil, their species was evil, our allies were evil, neutral parties were evil...everyone, everywhere stomped on those not as strong and called it pragmatic. Or necessary for survival. And I kept my mouth shut because I didn’t want to rock the boat until I could stand it no longer.”

His hand went straight for his sword hilt, causing Vesha to jump. She scurried away at the sight. She was more afraid of the sword revealing something worse about her than it ending her life. Melsil’s anger began to manifest at the tightening of his body.

“I will destroy this world,” he said. “Not just my family but the world’s system. I will do so to pave way for a new one. And if I must become the enemy of the entire world...then so be it. Crawfish, ants, fungus, acorn, pines...and I bet whatever Jason’s species is...all are corrupted by greed.”

He seemed to relax, letting go his sword hilt as his arms went limp. Melsil looked up at the canopy of flowers above him, his eyes brimming with tears. He couldn’t seem to hold in what seemed to be self-loathing.

“I came so close to being an assassin for my family,” he said. “I came so close to killing the innocent. And if I had ever slain a single innocent person then the sword would have rejected me. I-I’m unworthy to wield such a weapon considering my family.”

Vesha scurried back toward Melsil, unsure of how to respond. She viewed the mushroom swordsman as very self-righteous, inwardly hating him. He was such a stickler for his dogmatic belief in good and evil that was so rigid no one could follow it. Vesha felt irritated by his childish beliefs but also pity for him, clearly hurt by his perspective. However, she knew there was a great deal of truth in his words nonetheless. Honestly, she didn’t know whether to mock his insane beliefs or seek counsel from him.

“Melsil…” she said softly. “Ever since the White Spore...showed me who I truly am...I’ve been wondering...what must I do to...what must I do with that information?”

“Quit the Exploratory Pincer brigade,” he answered. “Do good for everyone and not just your own kind. I’d say join an affiliation whose sole purposes benefit everyone at the expense of themselves but...but I don’t know any affiliation remotely like that. The Red Fungus isn’t like that, far worse than any crawfish army and the Red Mountain ants step into everyone’s affairs whether they’re wanted or not. I guess you’ll have to be like me and walk the lonely road of pain...trying to help others turn away from selfish ambition but fail in vain many a time.”

“I can’t abandon my race!” Vesha said. “Selfish of me or not to use the Exploratory Pincer brigade for my own ends, my race is still my race! They raised me from the time I was a child, taught me everything I know while protecting and nourishing me! I...I have to give back to my people!”

“I hate that mentality,” Melsil said. “I have to give back to my people. Giving back to those who took care of you is still helping those who help you. It’s still selfish. Why not give to those who are worse off?”

“Well then what do you want me to do?!” Vesha yelled. “Just go around acting as a servant to the lowest urchin I can find?! Never advance in my career or rank, always remaining a lowly do-gooder who never makes progress in their own life?! And turn my back on those who love me in the process?!”

“If that’s what your conscience dictates,” he answered. “And if the revelation the White Spore gave you...I say you do.”

“Well-well...well….!” Vesha shouted.

She rose her pincers defensively in the air, as though ready to fight before slamming them into the moss covered ground. She left prints of her own claws in the green carpet-like plant as she sighed in frustration. Vesha felt defeated, too tired to move or say much more. After a long moment of reflection and gathering of her strength she finally gave a reply.

“I understand what you’re saying,” Vesha said. “Giving back only to those who help or love you is no different from living for yourself...but if I reject my kind...I don’t know if I can forgive myself. Even worse...I don’t know if they’ll be able to forgive me. My family, my comrades in the brigade...they’ll think I betrayed them.”

Melsil sighed, laughing.

“I know the feeling,” he said.

“Hey!”

They turned to see Jason waving at them, Rillia right beside him. The ant was pointing to the outside of the flower tree forest. Vesha found that the rain had come to an almost complete halt, rain water flowing over the land.

“Time to go,” she said.

“Yes,” Melsil said, standing up. “Time to betray my own kind.”