Blooms of warmth and small insistent shocks filled his chest, tempting Nameless to manifest his Soul Reflection and see what changes had occurred within him. However he shook off the desire, quickly looking around him to make sure there were no further threats to him on the way.

“I can look once we all return to the Den.” Upon confirming he was safe, Nameless continued to rest, panting in exertion as his thoughts turned to his fight.

The fight had been quick and, for all its moving parts, had turned out perfectly in his favor.

“Three I’thekik killed by my claws all on my own…” He mused, looking down at his paws; their fur covered in clay, sand, drying insect’s blood, and pieces of meat and chitin, “And the only thing to mar my hide is filth, and blood not of my own.”

“But I shouldn’t let this small success make me complacent.” He raised his head, staring out over the rest of the basin.

Greye, Fang, Shiver, and Shade continued to fight the main mass of I’thekik – though the insect’s numbers were considerably reduced – broken corpses surrounding them and making the dried clay ground gleam with viscous blood.

Workers and the remaining false warriors heedlessly threw themselves at his siblings, still desperately locking themselves into a suicidal battle, and as his gaze was drawn to the back line of the I’thekik, Nameless could understand why.

Through the undulating throng of insects Nameless could see two hulking corpses, chunks of meat still being sheared off and carried away even under the threat of his approaching siblings. The corpses were of Granite Horned Mountain Goats, their stony curled horns a shade of muted grey and green obvious against the I’thekik workers’ reddish-brown carapaces, even buried as they were by the press of insects skittering about them.

“Their hive must be desperate for food.” Nameless supposed, that being the most evident answer to their zealous aggression, the need for food by the hive outweighing any self-preservation they may have had.

He was tempted to join his siblings in fighting the last of the I’thekik in the basin but, as he watched them fight around each other, he decided he would be more of an impediment to the conflict than an asset.

“Shiver and Fang are already snapping at each other over space while they fight,” He shifted his attention back over his four siblings, before moving on, “and I am not as brave as Greye to put myself in the middle of that... and Them.”

Letting his eyes drift, Nameless caught the Twins still playing around. They had trapped quite a few workers between themselves, killed a fair share it seemed too, shredded bodies; legs, tails, and pieces of carapaces scattered about.

The twins batted a legless worker between themselves, while also keeping three crippled I’thekik under confinement. They had snapped off or broken each of their legs and shattered their mandibles and pincers, leaving them completely harmless, unable to so much as put a scratch on the sadistic Sphinx.

He shook his head and put the Twins’… tendencies out of his mind, instead searching for the last of his siblings.

“Quiet.” When his eyes landed on her, he couldn’t help but smile. His sister had taken on three false warriors – though obviously not all at once given the distance between her kills – and remained hovering around her last.

He had an inclination she had gone the same direction as himself, trying to develop her Skills, but that the outcome that she was looking for was subtly different.

She circled the corpse methodically; looking it over, occasionally pausing to stare at certain parts, and using her paws to shift the body here and there. He wondered what she was thinking as she evaluated the fallen insect, what her instincts were pushing her towards.

He was confident in his assertion that he was the only one amongst his siblings with a true sense of self, that [Preternatural Wisdom] had instilled in him an identity far beyond his age and Stage. But watching Quiet – and even his other siblings – act with an obvious direction and individual character, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued, “Where does our instinct end and conscious recognition begin… and more importantly, when does that transition really occur?”

He could feel the weight behind that thought, how it was a question far outside what a being his age should be asking. But, as with so many things stemming from [Preternatural Wisdom], he couldn’t deny that the question was so frustratingly his…. That, despite the feeling of discord the Trait caused within him, the identity it had awakened was so intimately recognizable as just himself.

If not, a version that was merely older than the body it inhabited.

As his thoughts twisted around inside his mind, he began to feel as though there was something… more to his question, to his thinking. He felt an odd sensation begin to build in his head, as though his musings turned to liquid; cold, watery cogitations ebbing and flowing within his brain, breaking against a greater understanding just out of his awareness.

He allowed the feeling to begin to consume him, fearful that even a stray thought might shatter whatever he stood on the shore of, not so much as giving name to what he believed was happening to him.

Nameless’s focus narrowed, the world around him fading into the barest of shades and most basic of sensations, slowly submerging himself in the feeling that swelled within him… desperate to follow it to its fruition.

Every heartbeat brought with it a flicker of fear and a growing anticipation, the feeling in his mind morphing and changing every pulse as his awareness grew in tandem. His consciousness drowned in a growing basin of liquid fire, the former cold caress of his thoughts replaced by the heat of raging wildfire; he could taste ash, feel as though his skin were blistering, and his feathers were igniting into embers.

But he was oh so close to the end.

Nameless could hear it, a tone that made his soul and mind roar with desire and pride. It beckoned him further, to bare the pain and fight through, to see what he had touched upon and mak–

His instincts screamed in his head, fragmenting his Epiphany into ephemeral strands already fading from thought, ears twitching at a sound behind him.

Furious, he leapt up from where he had laid and whipped around, searching for whatever had interrupted such an integral moment for him, “What creature wants its head to be ripped apart now?!”

Dirt and stone tumbled from the bank that was once at his back, an I’thekik still halfway down its clay face. Nameless growled at the insect and took a step towards it, wings outstretched and fur standing on end… before he paused.

His rage remained, but he could still feel his instincts continuing to warn him, tugging at his mind like one of his siblings at his hair. His emotions running rampant, Nameless barely wrested enough control over himself to acknowledge that cautious impulse, forcing himself to stay still and really look at his surroundings.

The sole I’thekik he had noticed remained motionless, antennae twitching and pupilless eyes locked on him, “Why are you waiting there?” Nameless’s eyes scrutinized the area around the insect; from the empty space of the basin leading up to the dry bank it perched on, the bank itself, its red clay face devoid of any other presence, up to the drought browned undergrowth from which the I’thekik must have com–

His sight changed as his [Soul Sight] activated of its own volition, the world brightening into sharp contrasts giving fine detail to every object within his view, and he unconsciously took a step back.

The false warrior wasn’t alone.

Linning the brush above it was another swarm of I’thekik, every one of their emotionless eyes locked solely on him, their numbers far outstripping those of what had originally occupied the basin. At his sudden hesitance the horde of false warriors charged forward, seemingly understanding they had been spotted, covering the embankment opposite him in a flood of reddish chitin.

“There are too many for myself alone.” Nameless looked behind him, seeing his siblings still embroiled in their own battle, the scorpion-ants fighting with even greater ferocity now that more of their own had arrived.

“They are going to need more time.” Facing the incoming horde once more, Nameless made a decision, “It seems that I will be putting my Skills and Traits to the test sooner than I would have liked….”

He growled deep in the back of his throat, a deep bassy rumble that vibrated in his bones, and began to look over the new swarm in truth.

He didn’t spare any attention to numbers – there being far too many for him to reasonably prepare to fight against – merely draping his attention across the whole approaching mass. His mind raced with a fearful suspense, countless actions spinning out before him in a dizzying throng as thick as the swarm they were based around.

The stress of his rampant thoughts tore a snarl from Nameless’s mouth, his mind feeling as though it were being slowly shred to pieces, but he continued on observing, planning, searching for a path forward. The fury of his lost Epiphany faded to the background, focus narrowing to a point as sharp as his claws, his entire being centering on diminishing the number of alternative paths he could take for the coming conflict.

Looking for a way to stymie the swarm… and survive it.

He could feel the vibrations of the charging I’thekik getting stronger, their grating hisses adding to the chaos, the sound of their legs scraping at the clay soil below deafening him as they closed.

“No more time…” Nameless gave up on finding some singular plan to see him through, his mind far too strained to continue the effort and the false warriors far too close, “I will just have to make a choice… and hope it sees me safely to the end.”

Stolen story; please report.

He adjusted his posture, fully extending his wings as far beyond him as possible and roared towards the swarm.

The I’thekik hissed and clacked in reply, their already frantic pace increasing in speed.

Nameless sent his wings before him, the limbs screaming in exertion, creating a great plume of dust rolling over the front line of the I’thekik. He followed in its wake, choosing to charge slightly off center, seeking to prevent himself from being too heavily surrounded by the insects once they inevitably met.

With a leap and a flap of his wings, he struck the right side of the I’thekik horde. His lunge had him landing on a false warrior in another swirl of dust, his bulk punching his paws through the insect and killing it.

Nameless didn’t stay idle for even a moment, didn’t spare even a thought for the I’thekik he had already killed. The moment his paws touched solid ground he raked a claw ahead of him, feeling them catch and part their way through the insects’ exoskeletons, hearing the swarm’s hisses reach a fevered pitch.

He struck outwards once more, flapping his wings to continue obscuring his surroundings, injuring – or outright felling – more of the scorpion-ants.

But, even in such a short time, Nameless wasn’t the only one to do damage.

He snarled as a pair of mandibles latched onto his right foreleg, feeling as the tooth like ridges inside of them punched holes through his hide, preventing another swipe. He shook his leg, painfully dislodging the scorpion-ant, sending the insect off into the dust cloud and out of sight. However the false warrior had done more than enough by just distracting the Sphinx for an instant.

A stinger pierced his right flank, another lodged itself just below the joint of his left wing and shoulder, jaws latched onto his left hindleg, and a pair of pincers snapped at his face. The damage – and threats – built up almost instantaneously, the storm of pain causing Nameless to lose his composure and lash out wildly.

He reared back slightly, dodging the pincers coming at his face and using the movement to go after stinger in his shoulder, snapping through the tail with his fangs. Mouth filled with viscous ichor, he snarled and violently kicked back at the I’thekik still biting his back leg with enough force to impact the insect with a deafening *crack*.

The stinger still embedded in his side shifted causing him to twitch away and dislodge it, the new flare of pain giving him an instant of clarity. He leapt backwards, wings flapping to give him cover and distance; stingers, mandibles and pincers replacing the space he had just occupied.

He had lost himself to the pain he had experienced, allowing himself to dip too deeply into his instincts in defense, “I can not allow that to happen again.”

With a displeased grimace Nameless landed unsteadily, the impact of his paws against the ground irritating his wounds and reminding him of what his loss in composure had allowed…

The puncture wounds below his wing and on his side burned and throbbed, the venom injected through them already beginning to have a minute – but noticeable – effect on his movement. “The paralytic from only two stingers will not debilitate me yet, if at all, but…” He shook himself in frustration and sprinted to the opposite side of the swarm, using his movement to replenish the amount of dust in the air, “It will not end at just two; and the more damage I take, the greater the amount of venom I have to bare… the closer I will get to falling.”

“That is… unless I manage to hold out long enough to get support.” He spared the barest of glances towards his siblings, only managing to focus on where the bulk of the conflict was, and felt the slightest twinge of hope at what he saw. A claw’s worth of false warriors remained, the bulk of their opposition being frenzied workers, and his four siblings were rapidly cutting through all of the insects that threw themselves in their way.

“All that matters now is time then…” Nameless charged the approaching swarm once more, allowing the hope of his siblings arrival at his side to bolster him, manipulating his discomfort into a goading reminder of the necessity of focus.

Leaping with a powerful wave of his wings, Nameless roared in the air… and clashed with the I’thekik once again.

―――――――――

Nameless cracked another head underfoot, violently releasing an I’thekik by the tail into another couple of its own, before hunching down behind his last viable wing to catch two stingers against the muscled portion of the limb.

He had lost count of how long he had fought against the swarm; how many he had killed or injured and how many wounds he had taken.

His left wing hung loosely to one side, dragging against the ground, covered in cuts and holes. His fur was matted against his skin; with dust and sand, bits of meat and chitin, and copious amounts of blood – both from himself and the I’thekik’s – making him look filthy and feral.

His body was under extreme fatigue, the constant fighting and damage having every muscle of his howling in tension and on the edge of failure. But he held on, dodging a strike from a stinger before leaping towards the attacking insect.

Nameless’s leap was slightly off, the weight of his now useless wing turning it into more of a tumble. He bodily smashed through the I’thekik, crushing it under him as he rolled, the paralyzed wing dislocating with an audible *pop* as it awkwardly caught under him.

He yowled in pain, quickly scrambling to his paws, burying the new wave of agony that ripped through him in an effort to avoid further distraction from the conflict that surrounded him.

But it was too much.

His left foreleg collapsed under him, forcing Nameless to slash out with his right paw and flare open his working wing in order to try and clear a moment of space around him. His body was becoming numb, his vision blurring, each of his breaths coming out in great drained heaves.

He desperately struck out around him once more, hoping to create a small opening to think, to find a way out. But as his mind spun under the weight of the pain that he was experiencing throughout his form; he came to an unfortunate conclusion.

“I overestimated myself.” Surrounded by the vicious swarm of I’thekik, Nameless couldn’t help but chastise himself, his body slumping to the ground too weak to put up any significant amount of a fight.

Even with how cautious he had been after losing his self-control earlier; the damage had accumulated too quickly, and the swarm had grown too large for him to adjust for, the situation having run away from him and left him to scramble to just try and keep them occupied.

He huffed weakly as the I’thekik hesitantly approached his prone form, “I guess my time is done…”

“Now it will be up to them.” He smiled maliciously as a discordant hiss sounded from behind him, watching as the I’thekik swapped their focus from him to elsewhere.

Familiar growls and roars combated against the rising hisses and clacks of the swarm, the ant-scorpions ignoring him as they surged forward to attack the new threats.

Too exhausted to try and position himself to watch, and too anxious that the I’thekik would try and attack him again, Nameless merely listened as the insects came to find themselves against his siblings.

Clacking mandibles, the heavy *thumps* of bodies hitting the ground, snarls and *cracks*, hisses and scrapes, created an overwhelming cacophony of noise that nearly overwhelmed the last of his senses not fatigued and fading.

With little distance between where he was and the front of the swarm started, the volume of battle increased by the second, his siblings’ numbers helping to even the odds that had so nearly overwhelmed him.

A broken I’thekik flew past on his right, tangling up a clawful of its companions, with a roar following after it. Heavy footfalls sent vibrations through Nameless’s body, and he tucked his legs tighter under himself, readying to assist his siblings even in his injured state.

A blur of the same colour as Nameless referred to him after, charged in from his right, a still writhing I’thekik lodged between his fangs. The heavily muscled Sphinx crushed scorpion-ants with nearly every step, the swipes from his claws crushing the insects they fell upon rather than cutting them, and his thick hide enviously shrugging off most of the attacks against him.

With a pained growl Nameless rose to his paws, Greye’s appearance providing enough of an immediate distraction that he felt comfortable risking the I’thekik’s hostility once more.

His left foreleg was still numb however, with a gradual increase of weight on the limb, Nameless was confident it would not collapse under him once again. His wings on the other paw… he could barely feel either, the only presence they had to his senses being their weight as the hung limply to either side.

He tried to fold them to his body, roughly flexing the muscles in his back, but found his efforts to little avail; only managing to bring the limbs in up to the first joint of the wings. He glared over a shoulder at the uncooperative limb, feeling the slight phantom twitches as he continued to tense the muscles behind his shoulders, before huffing in defeat and relaxing his back.

As the wings slumped back down to the ground, sending up small puffs of dust as they impacted, Nameless caught another streak of movement dart past him and into the horde of scorpion-ants.

Shiver was as red as their mother but – unlike her – had deeper maroon and brownish orange stripes across her body, breaking up her profile. She was a bundle of violence, an unsettling grin stretching across her face, darting from I’thekik to I’thekik savaging them with her claws and fangs, heedless of any wounds they managed to put upon her.

Covered in cuts, slashes, and holes, Shiver fought as though no such injuries existed, as though the blood running in front of her eyes and the filth on her fur – so thick and dried as to crack and flake with every move – did not hinder her in the least.

“Terrifying.” He thought, batting away a false warrior as the swarm became aware of his presence as a renewed threat.

A sizable chunk of I’thekik followed the first he had sent away, however he couldn’t feel even a moments anxiety as two *thumps*, to either side of him, announced the arrival of yet more of his siblings.

He spared an errant glance to his left just as the I’thekik reached them, spotting the brindled red, dark-grey and brown fur of his sister Quiet.

An instant of surprise flashed behind his eyes, having expected his often-distant sibling to have remained just that, before he shook off the pointless feeling and focused on the combat ahead. She worked in perfect coordination with him, covering for his current weakness, precisely striking at the I’thekik to quickly debilitate them and render them non-threats.

However she wasn’t the only one providing him with assistance.

As Nameless slammed a paw down through the thorax of an I’thekik, a shadow to his right lunged.

Shade was the only one amongst his sibling with black in their fur like himself, though unlike Nameless his undercoat was a deep red with the ends of his hairs darkening to black. His brother fought with cunning and guile, like his oft cagey attitude reflected, darting in and out of combat using Nameless as shield and bait in equal measure.

Yet – much to Nameless’s appreciation – Shade never went so far as to completely allow him to fall into those roles. The dark Sphinx always sticking close enough to Nameless and Quiet to pull away threats when they were getting overwhelmed or moving between the two to take care of I’thekik in their blind spots.

Nameless fell into step with his siblings, pushing through the I’thekik swarm together. Their assistance gave time for his [Mythical Constitution] to begin its work, slowly reducing the severity of the venom’s paralytic effects and minutely healing some of the lesser of his wounds.

As his body repaired itself, Nameless required less and less of his siblings’ cover, his own contributions to the conflict beginning to match their own. He intercepted a stinger before it could reach Quiet, prevented two scorpion-ants from latching onto Shade as a mistimed dodge put him in range of their mandibles, cleared a path for Greye to retreat and recuperate by leaping bodily into a mass of I’thekik behind his brother crushing them under paw, and fueled Shiver’s lust for battle by tossing the occasional false warrior her way to gleefully savage as she pleased.

He evaluated each of his siblings, endeavoring to compensate for their weaknesses and play to their strengths to the best of his abilities. The swarm became a secondary thing to his position amongst his siblings, his capacity to assist their growth and spur his own on in doing so, inspiring him to focus solely on how he could leverage the battle to the greatest effect…

For all of them.

With all five of the Sphinx engaged with the false warriors – and Nameless’s clever attentions – the swarm found itself collapsing rapidly, their numbers paling under the inherent power of Nameless and his siblings.

“Almost done.” Nameless mused as he and his siblings pushed the swarm almost completely back to the bank they had arrived from, a field of dead and broken I’thekik behind them.

He couldn’t help but feel… impressed and proud of what he and his siblings managed to carry out – even if the I’thekik were considerably weaker than the Sphinx – to have managed to succeed against such large numbers, without having ever fought in such a manner before, was something he felt deserved recognition.

However, as he snapped another tail in his jaws and swiped his claws through the head of another scorpion-ant, he felt a… pressure fall on his back, dispersing his pride like dust in the wind.

It was something he was intimately familiar with, a feeling borne through a lesson that he and his sibling could never forget.

“The Gap.” His head shot up to the top of the bank, his [Soul Sight] flaring open at his panicked insistence, piercing through the dense foliage.

He gulped, legs trembling under him, at what his sight unveiled…

“A Stage Three…”