… It was a particularly dark night when they first came.
On the first day of Year Zero, the day the world saw its ruin, flesh rained and mandibles the size of mountains stabbed into the earth. Winter was catapulted into summer from the sheer mass of heat and life that fell from the stars, and everywhere that could send their reports all spoke of the same occurrence: they were material creatures, like humanity, but that was where the similarities ended.
In the far east, the Mori Masif Moths tore through the lands with their sky-spanning wings, their hunger for human flesh insatiable. The Colossal Attini ants drove the hermits out from mountain hollows and claimed the far southern lands for their own. The Deepwater leviathans decimated the far west before the great cities could even mount an evacuation, the cyclones they made felt even across the vast marina seas. The Hellfire Beetles syphoned magma from the volcanoes in the north, freezing a quarter of the world. The Spinner Spider Brood were travelling gourmets, their silk rendering whole swathes of land untraversable, limbs easier to sever than to attempt removing the webbing.
Reports from other continents stopped coming in eight days after they first descended. It was just one wave, one big mass of chitin and carapaces. It was more than enough. Our ancestors, the Sharaji Prophets, were prudent enough to have already constructed a vast system of underground towns to shelter the remnants of humanity in case anything of the sort happened, but… we knew it. The Prophets knew it. It'd take a bit of time for them to terraform the surface world to their liking, yes, but once they conquered the surface, they will descend again to take the undertowns for themselves.
Do we stand a chance against them?
Or have our fates already been made since the day we were brought into this world?
…
… Year Zero. Midnight, when the moon was dimmest and the night was darkest.
The Swarm descended, and they were the dark stars that blinked.
- Excerpt from ‘The Alshifa Records’, Chapter One
----------------------------------------
… Dust choked Dahlia's lungs. Pillars of light leaking through the earth. The sound of sediments compressing and the ceiling caving was shadowed by the utter chaos that was the giant black cocoon descending, plummeting—and then it was ten seconds of pure, primal dread.
Her heart beat a hard note against her ribs. She vaguely knew she had to jump out of the way, but moving was easier said than done. The falling cocoon was something she thought—for the briefest of moments—was the encapsulation of the word ‘beauty’. It sank through the air like a pebble would in shallow waters, but, unlike a pebble, it wasn’t going to leave a small dent once it hit the bottom. It would crash, like the invading insect meteorites in stories of old, and–
“Move, little Maker!”
A scorpion tail coiled around her waist and jerked her far back, throwing her into the carriage just as the cocoon hit the ground hard. Water sprayed everywhere from the crushed fountain, the pretty clay tiles rippling before exploding into clouds of earthen dust. Shrapnel ripped across the town square, and Dahlia had to squeeze her eyes shut and grit her teeth, bracing her face as a few small cuts opened across her forearms—she couldn’t see how everyone else was faring, but she could at least tell Issam and the others had been thrown into the same carriage right next to her.
Like her, then, they peeled their eyelids open once the shrapnel stopped flying and the dust was trying to settle.
… Alive.
Still alive.
She snapped back to reality when Issam shook her shoulder and yelled at her to move, but he was the only one in the town square who had the sensibility to do so.
The rest of the townsfolk, just like her, were rising from whatever they’d been taking cover behind to stare, because the giant cocoon sitting over the crushed water fountain wasn’t something anyone could just ignore. At five meters wide and ten meters tall, the… the thing pulsed and ebbed like a malignant tumor, viscous oil leaking from its every seam. Bulging, distending veins marred its surface as though worms were wriggling across, but beyond the thin veil and pinkish membrane she could easily see it was no worm that lurked inside, nor anything she could call a proper ‘human’. If she had to give it a name, though…
It was an ‘insect’.
And then dark sapphire claws stabbed through the cocoon.
The townsfolk shrieked and backed away from the bug tearing through the cocoon’s leathery membrane. Foul-smelling pus rushed out and immediately flooded the air with its assaulting scent. The bug itself took its sweet time prying its way out; the human-like hornet was gurgling, bubbling, sparks of blue lightning crackling beneath its uneven wings and between its armoured fingers. It was two metres tall and covered in slime all over, but it stumbled out on all six limbs at first… and when it stood up straight on two legs, four hands scraping slime off its face to blink with its compound eyes—it followed, immediately, by clicking its mandibles together in the rhythm of tick, click, flick.
Tick, click, flick.
Tick, click, flick.
Dahlia’s eyes widened.
The rest of the Swarm exploded through the cocoon before she could finish her thought, and hundreds of giant bugs emerged from the oily black scum. The bug trader whipped his tail around to slap the carriage further back, taking the six of them along with it, but then the giant bugs charged the rest of the less fortunate townsfolk; all manners of ants and beetles and hornets in the sky, crushing the square with their slick black carapaces. Screams tore into the sky, the streets ran red with blood, limbs torn asunder.
All six of them watched in horror as the black bugs began their indiscriminate slaughter, but then Dahlia heard a thump atop their carriage.
… There’s something up there–
Issam unsheathed his greatsword and unfurled his whetstone mantis scythes, sharpening his blade as he swung. Amula darted to the side with the twins’ necks in each hand, while Jerie dodged to the other side after shoving Dahlia to the ground. There was no pause, there was no hesitation—Issam swung hard, bisecting a giant yellow hornet from down under before it could sting through the carriage.
Fast!
By the time Dahlia managed to take a breath and realised he’d just saved all of them from getting their skulls pierced through, there was another loud thud outside the carriage. Issam swung instinctively, his blade cleaving through the wood—only to be stopped by the bug trader's ant chitin gauntlet.
The man in the moth mask flung Issam's blade back, and then he swerved around the back of the carriage to stare at all of them.
“... Not ta worry, eh? I know this undertown’s got an emergency shelter in case the Swarm ever breaks through,” he muttered, popping his shoulders and stretching his neck as he counted their heads one by one. “You kids know the way over there, or am I gonna have ta play the responsible adult here? I’d like not ta lead the way when I don’t know where’s the shelter, but, hey, I’ll pretend like I know–”
“We’re bug slayers!” Issam snapped, sharpening his blade as he readied to vault off the carriage. “Students or not, we have the obligation to fight and make our stand here! Amula! Jerie! Go back to the school and get your Swarmsteel, then come back here as soon as possible! I’ll keep them contained here-”
A whack on the head was all Issam got as the bug trader swung his tail. “That’s a small-sized Swarm if I’ve ever seen one, but even then it’s too much for you undertown folks ta handle. Leave those people for the guards, so just look out for your girlfriend and all your other mates. They’re the only ones you can trust not ta feed you ta the bugs when the going gets rough.”
“But–”
“The little Maker’s utterly petrified, you see?”
All eyes turned to her, and the blood in her veins ran even colder. Just the sight of the giant bugs in the fair distance was making fear coil so thickly inside her that her lungs felt tight and her muscles felt taut. Issam saw the shaking in her eyes and took a step closer; she shuffled backwards on her knees before she even knew it. He took another step forward, she shuffled back again. Then he took another step forward, snatched her hands, and the warmth that flowed into her bones as he knelt to look at her was like… a field of flowers, growing in the fields outside her house, her dad playing tag with her while her mom watched from the rocking armchair inside the bedroom.
No.
I… I can't–
She doubled over the railings of the carriage and gasped immediately, her face paler than ever as she wheezed out the panic in her chest, but Issam didn’t let go. He saw the disgust on her face and said nothing, showing only concern, and the thought of him pitying her made her sick—someone strong like him should be helping fight off the Swarm, not being with… with a bug-slayer who couldn’t even stand the sight of a giant bug.
But her vision blurred, and the words couldn’t come out her throat. Issam narrowed his eyes and looked to the bug trader, nodding resolutely.
“... We’ll go to the shelter,” he said, as the bug trader nodded back in satisfaction and turned to face the Swarm, scorpion tail swaying left and right. “And what will you be doing, mister? Even if you’re fast and you’re wearing some sort of Swarmsteel that augments your speed and toughness–”
“Shelter, now!”
Cold sweat poured down her brows as the bug trader kicked their carriage down the slope to the lower distrct, away from the slaughter and the screams of the town square.
The twins, Jerie, and Amula held onto the railings tight, all of them shouting words at Issam she couldn’t quite make out; making sure she didn't hurl from the motion of the carriage rolling violently down was already taking enough of a toll on her. More unholy screeches ripped into the air around them, followed soon after by sounds of chitin breaking, tails swinging like clubs, the bug trader single-handedly fighting off dozens of giant bugs descending on them from every conceivable direction. The carriage didn't stop. It followed the straight path down to the emergency shelter, where hundreds of townsfolk were also racing towards from every corner of the town.
But… what can we do?
Where can we run?
How big is the shelter? Will all of us fit inside?
Aren’t we all just living corpses already?
This time, though, she managed to shake her head and clear her thoughts. Issam’s hand was still locked around hers, and she latched onto his warmth, feeding off it for courage. He had to be scared, too, and so was everyone else. The twins weren’t chatting as they held each other, Jerie had dropped his wooden flute somewhere along the way, and Amula was… quiet. Deathly, angrily quiet. The cries for mercy behind them fell upon deaf ears as the Swarm raged on, uncaring, but the six of them were just as uncaring as they ignored the plights of their fellow townsfolk—if they stayed and fought, they would die, and even Issam had accepted that fact at this point. There were too many bugs. Too little unity amongst themselves.
Getting to the shelter was the first priority. Once they got there, they could gather themselves, regroup, recoup, and mount some sort of resistance—that had to be possible, and she had to believe in it.
She squeezed Issam’s hand back, biting her nails with the other hand.
“We’re not that far off from the shelter, Issam! Let go of Dahlia and start running ahead to help move the crowd!” Ayla shouted, her voice ear-deafeningly loud. “Control them and have everyone move into the shelter one at a time! If we all get stuck outside while the Swarm arrives, none of us will get through the night!”
“I know that! But Dahlia–”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Can live perfectly fine by herself, can’t she?” Amula snapped back, glaring daggers at Dahlia from the side. “Honestly! Stop bein' a bother and grow a spine! Someone with no confidence like ye should’ve just dropped outta school ages ago, back when ye stopped showin' up to afternoon classes and spent yer days–”
“Stop the bickering and focus on getting ready ta jump at any time, won’t you?” the bug trader interjected, slamming an oversized beetle into the tiles before them before leaping off with it a second later, immediately stabbing another hornet on their trail with his scorpion tail as he did. “Bug-slayers don’t leave one of their own behind! You know how much this town must’ve spent ta train you up from birth? You just gonna leave one of your own ta die?”
Dahlia's eyes were spinning a bit too much, now, so she couldn’t see the expression on Amula’s face, but she felt it was probably irritation or pure, unbridled wrath—either one of the two. And maybe under normal circumstances she would’ve felt the sting in Amula’s words, stewed a little in the poison in her cuts, but right now… the bug trader whirling and leaping and fighting in circles around them was all she could focus on.
He was a blur of a warrior, zipping and leaping across rooftops to intercept giant bugs rushing down the slope, and he showed no signs of fatigue. He was more muscular than she’d thought. His footwork, the way he used his tail to swing off lamp posts and signboards, the sheer dodges he could pull off before launching a counterattack punch that could immediately cave a giant bug’s head in—he was no mere merchant after all.
And to think someone like him, too, had always been hanging around someone like her–
Her blood ran cold again.
Without notice.
Without rhyme or reason.
The hair on the back of her neck jolted up straight, and she glanced around, staring at the top of the slope where the first human-like insect had emerged from the cocoon.
The hornet standing on two legs was staring down at them, sparks of blue lightning swirling around its claws.
… Move!
With an underhanded throw, the hornet tossed a lightning javelin their way, and for some reason—for some reason—this was the one attack Dahlia felt coming.
Her body moved on its own.
She lurched forward, knocking both Issam and Amula down. In that split second, Issam whirled to see what she’d done, but he was a bit too slow this time. The lightning bolt slammed into their carriage, and it would’ve killed them all had the bug trader not jumped in front of them to tank the brunt of the blow; and still all of them went flying across the street, scattered by the sheer force of the exploding lightning.
Dahlia and the bug trader—just the two of them—soared over the railings by the side of the slope, and they began plummeting twenty metres down into the sewers.
Oh.
No.
She fell, her head a swirl of motion as she felt herself hurtling down the streets. A scream didn’t even manage to tear out her throat before the bug trader hugged her tight and softened the impact for her, a shock of pain rattling her bones and making her clench every single muscle in fear.
Cold water. Dark water. Foetid water rushed up her nose, down her throat, and by the time she clamped her jaw shut it was already too late. Her head was absolutely filled to the brim with the smell of dissolved sulphur, and if she knew how to swim she didn’t remember it now. Her ears were ringing. So loud. So painful. Her lungs burned for breath, her muscles screamed for release, her fingers clawed at the water in an attempt to break the surface–
And it was the bug trader who flung her onshore with a violent jerk, after what felt like minutes getting washed along the sewage, travelling through the underbelly of the undertown.
Breathe!
There was a moment of disorientation as she gasped, sticking her fingers into her mouth to get rid of the soil and hair clumps, and then she hacked and coughed to spill out all the water in her lungs. Air. It’d never tasted so fresh, so pure. Through the burning pains along her back where she’d been thrown onto the sewage room, she managed to catch a glimpse of the bug trader pulling himself out of the sewage river as well—only, she’d have to be blind to not notice something was very, very wrong with the way his limbs were twitching.
She crawled towards him, stomach aching, as he threw himself onto his back and chortled with a series of heavy wheezes.
“... A Mutant, huh?” he muttered, as he raked his fingers over the charred hole in his chest where the lightning bolt had run right through. “Well, could’ve been a lot worse. Ta think your disgust of bugs is so strong you felt that coming before I did. You’d make a damned good bug-slayer for sure. Don’t you ever get comfortable around them. Feel your gut roil, goosebumps over your skin, and-”
“Mister, please don’t… talk! Danger!” she hissed, as she pushed her upper body off the ground and cried, elbows nearly buckling under her own weight. Still she persevered. The bug trader needed her help. “Hole in your… chest! Need to stop now! If I have… do you have a… no, you don’t. Your pockets don’t look full at all!”
The bug trader swivelled his head over to look at her worriedly. “You alright, little Maker? You’re not hurt, are you? Would suck if I took that lightning bolt for nothing at all.”
But Dahlia wasn’t listening anymore. One look at the bug trader’s mantle and she knew he barely had anything on him she could use to stop the bleeding, so she wasn’t looking at him. She stuck her hand in the sewage to fish out a rugged patch of fabric, wrung the rag dry, and whipped up a makeshift bandage just long enough to wrap around the hole in his chest.
“I’d never seen you work up close,” he commented idly. “You’ve got fast hands, don’t you?”
“Not… now!” she snapped back. Why didn’t he seem worried at all? He was the one bleeding here. Dying here. Was she really going to listen to him make idle comments with his final, dying breaths?
Was she going to have to see someone dying at the hands of a bug again?
… The bleeding won’t stop.
It didn’t work. Her twisted rolls of fabric weren’t thick enough to stop the bleeding. She’d need to lift him, sit him up straight, and then she could maybe hug him from the back to forcibly keep his blood inside him… but then what, after that? They weren’t anywhere near the surface. Issam and the others had been tossed off to god knows where, so there was no way they could expect any help from anyone at all. They were alone here–
The bug trader grabbed her by the neck and pulled her down all of a sudden, pressing her body flat against his.
Her lips were half parted when he placed a finger on them, and it was just in time—a giant leg stabbed into the ground next to their heads, missing them by inches.
…
Her blood ran cold. Even trying to take a peek at it from the corner of her eye was a struggle, considering how hard the bug trader was holding her head still. The giant bug was huge, nearly three metres wide and five metres tall. Cold water dripped from its armoured pores, the spiky, tiny hairs on its legs vibrated as it stood over them, and its long and sharp antennae swept the ground before it as though it was walking around blind; it probably was blind. Its back legs were twice as long as its forelegs, its antennae too long to be useful in any environment other than dark, enclosed spaces.
It was a cave cricket.
She knew its name only because her dad had made her study every known and documented insect in the Alshifa Records, all to make up for her lack of skill in the actual fighting department.
And, if she recalled correctly, a cave cricket’s forelegs were hypersensitive to all types of movements. Even breathing would spell disaster for the two of them.
The bug trader didn’t need to warn her twice. She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged him tight—hoping it’d go away soon enough.
Can it hear my heartbeat?
How do I… how do I stop that?
A hundred errant thoughts were flying through her head, all too fast for her to catch and consider properly. She was almost sure the cave cricket could hear her pulse, the beads of sweat rolling down her forehead, her biceps shivering and her thighs quivering as the bug trader remained still as a statue. How could he even be so calm in a situation like this? A giant bug was standing over them, tapping the ground over their heads with its eerily arm-like antennae. Could the bug trader possibly fight it off even in his current state?
… She wouldn’t let it come to that.
He’d already done so much for her.
So, as slowly as she could, she raised her head and opened her eyes, aiming where the cricket was looking—and her tongue found a lump of dirt stuck between her teeth that she hadn’t worked out of her mouth previously.
Her lungs were tight. Very tight. Her cheeks must be burning red with heat, her chest gripping in pain, but she managed to pucker her lips and spit the dirt lump forward.
That courageous little decision of hers changed everything.
She trembled as the cave cricket heard the dirt lump bouncing off the ground, and it immediately pounced forward, forelegs smashing into the ground only to hit nothing. The dirt lump rolled even further away. Faintly, she heard the cricket clawing up moss, cobblestone, half-stumbling into the sewage river, and soon it disappeared deeper into the sewage room.
Her bones finally gave out and her face fell on the bug trader’s mask—the painful clang of the motion made her jolt wide awake, and she threw herself off the poor man she’d been crushing under her weight the entire time.
Shit!
No!
Her vision blurred when she noticed the slick, growing puddle of blood that was already pooling beneath his body. Her nails dug into her arms and she racked her head for anything she could do with what she had, but there was… nothing around. Nothing in the immediate vicinity. Maybe she could try ripping up his mantle to stuff the hole in his chest, but at this point, what was that going to do?
“Mis… Mister,” she breathed, crawling forward, slinging both arms over his chest as she shook him lightly. She didn’t know what she was doing. What was she hoping to accomplish? “Please tell me what to do. Instruction. What can… what can I do? Do you have some… a Swarmsteel that can heal you? Some sort of healing potion?”
The bug trader rested the back of his head flat against the ground, moth eyes blinking idly once. “Eat the bug first, and then we’ll talk.”
“What…? No, mister! What! Can! I! Do? Do you have a potion? Or something to… to stuff the hole with? Do you have special powers? If I scoop up your blood and pour it back in, will I–”
“Eat the bug first, and then we’ll talk.”
“–it won’t work, right? Then please, please, please, please tell me what to do! I can’t do it myself! I’m not my dad! I’m not a doctor, or a slayer, or… should I call for help? I’ll find a way past that cricket, get to the shelter, and bring someone! Anyone! My dad’s… my dad’s the best doctor in town, so–”
“Eat the bug first, and then we’ll talk.”
His raspy voice punctured through the wall she’d built up in her ears, and then she noticed—the little thing he was holding up in the palm of his hand, right next to her face.
A living, writhing little silver worm.
…
It was an instinctual reaction, one she had no control over. Panic exploded through her and her breathing stopped, all the mental fortitude she’d managed to build up over the past minute vanishing as she jerked herself back, eyes glazing over. The bug trader didn’t seem to care. He had more than enough strength to snap a hand out at her throat, and he pulled her back in, squeezing just hard enough to bring back that painful sensation of ‘breathlessness’ again.
No!
Why?
Why, mister?
“Eat the bug,” he said. “Swallow it whole. Don’t chew.”
Her panic came out of fight-or-flight mode. She made her decision. She let herself squirm in uncontrolled, choking gurgles as she kicked the bug trader in the mask, trying to get him to let go. His head didn’t so much as budge a single inch. Her dirty nails went to claw at his fingers, trying to pry them off her throat, but if she couldn’t wriggle out of Issam’s grip, she sure as hell wasn’t going to get out of his.
He didn’t show any reaction to her crying out for air. He pulled her in closer, closer, pressing the rounded head of the metal worm against her lips—and it slid into her mouth quite easily, like she was slurping on a single strand of flat noodle from an old baba’s shop.
“Don’t chew.”
He released her throat so she could swallow, but gripped the back of her head and clamped her mouth shut so she couldn’t puke the worm out. That didn’t stop her from trying. She fought off the waves of panic that threatened to engulf her as she squirmed in place, tears wringing out the corner of her eyes. The worm was moving, curling across her tongue, wiggling deeper into her mouth. She felt every ridge of the bug, tasted cold silver bumping into her teeth, before it finally found the entrance to her throat.
It threw itself down, and then all of a sudden the taste of metal vanished, like she’d never put anything in her mouth to begin with.
“Good. Very… good,” the bug trader breathed, as he let go of her and she immediately leaned forward, coughing and moving to shove two fingers into her mouth. He caught her wrist before she could try. She moved her other hand, and he caught that one as well, shaking his head firmly. “Keep it inside you. That bug. As long as you don’t try ta dig it out, it won’t ever try ta leave. Work with it, and it will be your greatest weapon.”
Her eyes were watery. Everything looked hazy and swirly. Still, she felt she sent her message across with her twisted lips and her quivering face: ‘what did you just make me eat’?
The bug trader laughed softly, and let go of her hands one final time.
“I promised you, didn’t I?” he murmured, closing his eyes, his once-heaving chest still like the surface of an undisturbed pond. “That the next we met, I’d have something super, super special for you. A Swarmsteel like no other. An extension of your body like no other. Something, I think, is just right for a talented little Maker… like… you…”
And he trailed off, head falling listlessly.
“... Mister?” she managed to croak.
No answer.
She stopped trying to stick her fingers into her mouth, her hands were locked around his collar, as though shaking him now would wake him up.
“Mister,” she begged. “You have to help me here. I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
No answer.
No movement.
Something inside her chest went crack.
She’d accompanied enough people by their deathbeds to know she was alone yet again—and that was, until she felt as though her vision was brightening by the second.
Something wriggled in her ear canals, something nibbled on the top of her spine. The silver worm. It was still alive. Drearily, she lifted a hand and dug her nails into her nape, hoping just the slightest bit of effort would be able to rip it out–
[Please do not attempt to remove the worm while system integration is in progress,] the worm said, and it was a distinctly metallic, distinctly female voice in her ears.
And then it happened before she could even blink.
One second there was nothing, and in the next—there was a small, six-legged black bug wiggling on the bridge of her nose, trying to catch her attention.
[... Greetings, Dahlia Sina,] the bug said, waving one of its legs. [I am designated ‘Eria’, your personal bug assistant, here to support your integration with the Altered Swarmsteel System. You appear to be in quite the bind. Would you like to check your status now?]