With Minki supporting him, Sparrow limped down the tunnels to the Barrows one short step at a time, rasping for breath that’d yet to recover since Kuraku detonated a cloud of explosive ants on his chest.
“Why are we at the Barrows again?” Minki asked, voice tight with worry. “You must sit down and rest. Our hands will heal, but only if we let them. We can think about Vice-general Kuraku later–”
“We are close,” he whispered back. “Just a little bit more.”
Minki wasn’t looking so good herself—her brows and cheeks where shrapnels of her shattered obsidian knife had cut into were still bleeding, and the skin on her palms were just as bloody as his, but they were soldiers of the Attini Empire. This much wouldn’t keep them down. As long as their legs could still walk and their arms could support each other, they could get down to the chasm in the Barrows.
A crowd of a hundred Worm Mages surrounded them the entire time, walking alongside them, each shooting off with their own burning questions as to what had happened down at the slope—the elders tried their best to ward the younger children away so the two of them could have some space, but when they emerged into the open cavern and came face to face with the chasm, it was a familiar voice who snapped at everyone to quiet down.
Sparrow glanced briefly around, eyes black-rimmed and weary. It was Utu who’d spoken, with a wet rag pressed over his charred left eye and the triplet brothers trying to pull his arms back.
“... You’re gonna get big sis back, aren’t you?” Utu choked, before glaring at the two of them, resisting the triplet brothers’ attempts to drag him back up to the village for bed rest. “You’re gonna get her back, right? That lady… she thinks she can walk up here like that and just take one of us? No! I won’t stand for it! We–”
“Don’t be reckless, Utu! They use the same weapons as Sparrow and Minki” Ammu shouted, the eldest of the brothers. “Go up! We need to look at you!” Nammu said, the middle brother, whacking Utu over the head with an empty basket. “If we get a salve over the burn quickly enough, we can still save your eye. What do you think is more important to big sis? That you get your eye back or–”
“Who cares about my eye? We have to get her back now! There’s no telling–”
“I’m sure we’ll get her back soon enough, but not if you go down there like this!” Immu growled, the middle brother, dunking an empty basket over Utu’s entire head. “Just go up! Lay down! There’s gotta be a reason Sparrow and Minki came down here, so–”
“We are Immanu!” Utu snapped, and his warping voice tore a hole through the basket, throwing Immu to the ground. “We are children of the worms! These mountains belong to us! If we don’t get big sis back, do you really think that lady’s gonna let her come back? You weren’t there so you wouldn’t know, but that lady’s eyes, Immu! Her eyes! She has seen horror! She has brought terror! She is–”
“I thought I told you all not to bother me again.”
The Envoy’s voice reverberated throughout the cavern as Sparrow limped to the edge of the chasm, a physical sound that knocked everyone off their feet. If it weren’t for Minki supporting him with an arm under his shoulder, he would’ve fallen, too—but instead he glared across the other side of the chasm, eyes brimming with cold fury as the Brightworms craned their heads to stare at him, their gazes indecipherable.
“... Utu,” he breathed, without turning to look at the younger boy. “This, I promise you, as a fellow child of Immanu: I will bring Ninmah back safe and sound.”
“...”
He didn’t turn and look, still, but he didn’t need to. The rushing chatter and the worried whispers and the chaotic arguments around him died down the instant he made his promise, and he felt—even with his eyes staring straight forward—that the only thing Utu did was give him a fierce, fervent nod of trust.
That, in itself, wasn’t likely a blessing to break whatever tradition he wanted—but with Minki’s help, the two of them took a step forward and warped a combined twenty metres across the chasm, emerging before the tall fields of crystal weeds.
Immediately, the Brightworms around them reared their heads back, letting out unholy, demonic screeches. Their warping voices made his eardrums rumble, but he didn’t let them faze him; he took a second, third, and fourth step forward, Minki supporting him all the way, and eventually they were standing before the narrow tunnel at the other end of the cavern.
‘Wormnest’ was the only word he whispered to Minki before stepping into the tunnel. Time and space warped, distorted, the walls of the tunnel undulating to jerk them forward. If he hadn’t experienced this nauseating sensation of being forcibly pulled through a warp that wasn’t of Worm Mage origin, he most likely would’ve thrown up here and now for how much his body was already aching, but instead there was just a simple flash of silver light—and then the two of them stumbled through, treading snow into the pristine silver workshop.
The moment they did, invisible weight crashed down upon Minki’s shoulders and made her knees buckle. She almost brought him down along with her, so he tensed every muscle in his arms, his legs, and pushed against the weight to keep her on her feet; their roles were now reversed, but he didn’t mind the exertion on his end.
She’d supported him thus far, and now, it was his turn to pay her back.
Decree Three: Always repay what you have been given–
“I was against the children of Immanu’s decision to bring you into the fold five months ago,” the Envoy said, Minki’s eyes widening as the giant silver worm curled down from the top of the dome. It sharpened its crown of teeth by rubbing them against one another, its whole body curling over him threateningly. “I knew you would bring trouble. You warmongers of the Attini Empire have been knocking on Hagi’Shar’s doorsteps for the past few years… do you believe I do not see everything that is happening on this continent? We, who were humanity’s first and final divine patrons—what do you think we feel, watching you twist and corrupt our systems and turn them against each other?”
The invisible weight lifted off Minki all of a sudden, and she was allowed to fall onto her rear, gasping for breath; that just meant the Envoy could focus solely on Sparrow, darting in so close its crown of teeth was hovering just an inch before his face.
Cold, freezing air billowed out the Envoy’s mouth, but Sparrow’s glare barely shifted.
“Ninmah has been taken by the Vice-general,” he said, gritting his teeth. “She will not be returned completely unharmed. I know this as a soldier with understanding of the Vice-general’s interrogation tactics. Before Ninmah can suffer any permanent damage, we must retrieve her and–”
“You brought war to the children of Immanu,” the Envoy growled, its warping voice knocking prototype weapons off the benches, cracking the silver plates across the floor and walls. “Once, humanity looked outwards to push the Swarm back to the edges of the world, and we even made the worm systems for the select few mages to fix the Wormwall with. Did you succeed in pushing the Swarm back? Did you take our gifts in stride and achieve anything with them? You did not. All but a hundred and eleven Worm Mages have been slaughtered, and the Swarm surrounds humanity’s final continent. There is no hope for humanity anymore, so why do you continue to struggle? Why do you continue to yearn for power and bring war to our peaceful Immanu?”
Sparrow twitched an eye. “As opposed to doing… nothing? If the Attini Empire does not claim the Hagi’Shar region for the construction of more Swarmsteel factories, we would not have enough weapons to hold back the Swarm in the south. If the Attini Empire Front falls, this entire southern end of this continent would be overrun, including Hagi’Shar, including Immanu. War would come to this village regardless of what we do.”
“So it does not matter whether it is the Swarm or the Attini Empire that destroys the peace of Immanu?”
“Correct. If war would come to Immanu no matter what, then, at the very least, the Attini Empire can harvest the natural resources of this territory for the Swarmsteel factories. The Worm Mages’ lives may be slightly disturbed by the Empire’s presence below the mountains, but if you truly see and hear everything, then you know I will do my utmost to preserve this village’s nonexistence–”
“At least the Swarm will slaughter all the children indiscriminately, without remorse, and without deceit,” the Envoy snarled, clicking its teeth in front of his face. “I do see everything that happens on this continent. The Six Swarmsteel Fronts defend the borders of this continent, but none of them work with each other. The Deepwater Legion Front regularly barrages the Plagueplaint Front with mounted vessel cannons. The Hellfire Caldera Front sends its Igniscale Warriors to ravage and pillage supply chains heading to the Rampaging Hinterlands Front. The Spore Knights of the Attini Empire Front regularly skirmish with the Nocturna of the Mori Masif Front, as though all of you are not of the same race, united under the same banner of ‘humanity’–and do you think I know nothing of the Attini Empire’s atrocities?”
“...”
“Acarna. Camarca. Muito. There had been many, many hidden villages in possession of secret resources and unique system classes in the past. Once their existences were revealed to be within Empire territory, you people were swift to take them under your control,” the Envoy said, sneering, mocking him. “I do not suppose I have to remind you, someone from the infamous ‘Bullet Ant Battalion’, what was done to those villagers? In your desperate, futile war against the Swarm, you can justify any ‘research’ as a pure and innocent effort to save humanity, and the children of Immanu with their unique systems will meet the same painful fates: strapped to a table with their spines torn out, every pound of their flesh used to strengthen soldiers like you. Death by Swarm is a painless demise in comparison.”
“... I know,” he said, a quiver to his voice. “And that is why I have mentioned, time and time again: I will do my utmost to preserve this village’s nonexistence. The Vice-general and those soldiers with her may know about us, yes, but there is still time. She may not have relayed any important information back to the General, and subsequently, the Capital.”
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Then he squared his shoulders and stiffened his muscles, trying to stand as straight as possible. “I believe we can reason with the General,” he said, putting strength and confidence in his voice. “He is a rational man who only cares about annihilating the Swarm on the southern frontlines. As long as Minki and I can exterminate the Boreus nest by ourselves and pledge our undying allegiance to him, I believe he would be willing to not investigate Immanu any further on account of not wanting to stay in Hagi’Shar any longer. It is only the Vice-general by his side who is unpredictable, so as long as I can eliminate her and the rest of her soldiers, Immanu can still remain hidden–”
“And why do you care so much?”
The fluorescent tubes lighting the workshop dimmed. Minki shot to her feet and pressed her back to his as the Envoy started curling around them in circles, clicking its teeth to an unheard beat; the frigid sharpness of the cold air in the workshop only made the exposed skin on Sparrow’s palms sting even more.
“You are a bullet ant soldier,” the Envoy remarked softly, curling left, behind him, to his right, back to the front; Sparrow didn’t try to follow its crown of teeth with his eyes. “Surely, you stayed in Immanu because you wanted to learn as much as you could from the children. You wanted to become stronger. You wanted to be of service to the Attini Empire. Sooner or later, you would return to your people and tell them all about the powers of Immanu—so why side with the children, still? Why do you even consider eliminating your own general and your own comrades in the army just to protect the children?”
Something in Sparrow went taut—chest, throat, stomach. The Envoy noticed his hesitance and pounced on it, curling around them faster, sharper, its own silver chitin plates screeching against one another as it aimed to crush them in its body.
“Just leave Immanu and rejoin the Attini Empire,” the Envoy whispered. “You are correct that, no matter what happens, war will come to Immanu eventually. The only difference is whether it is the Swarm or the Attini Empire that holds the butcher’s blade. In that case, why not give up the children to the Empire? Offer them to your ‘researchers’ and pick them apart to see what knowledge you can gain from their systems. Perhaps you could even brainwash them. Remove their memories and turn them into living weapons just like the two of you. They would be sure to serve humanity well in some capacity, even if it all futile effort in the end–”
“If I may, whatever… you are,” Minki said, her warping voice calm and somehow remaining even. “Since you removed my silver ant system and, subsequently, the emotion and memory suppression device, I… have begun to remember certain things.”
The Envoy stopped moving. The two of them were still standing, surrounded by its gleaming silver body, but no longer did Sparrow feel they were being ‘contained’ in any way, shape, or form.
Minki raised her head and spoke of a free world.
“I… lived in a town called Hanuco, on the southwestern coastline of the Asanyon continent,” she said, her steady voice somehow soothing. “My father was a fisherman, and my mother was his skipper. I used to follow them out onto the seas, and I think… I was good at swimming. Maybe that was where I got my strong lungs and legs from. When the border continents fell and the Crawling Seas finally caught up to the Asanyon continent, though, I was told by my father to dive off our fishing boat so I could swim back to the town—my parents ended up sailing their boat around to distract the Crawling Seas from catching up to me. They bought me an extra two minutes. It was long enough for me to climb onshore, but not long enough to warn everyone to run, so… Hanuco was destroyed in four minutes. By mere luck, I alone managed to run far enough inland to avoid the destruction.”
The Envoy’s silence was deafening. Sparrow kept his head low, his chin tucked-in; he cherished the serenity while it lasted.
“It was not just Hanuco that was struck, of course,” Minki continued, drawing a diagonal line in the air. “The entire southwestern shoreline of the continent was sunken in a single day. Hanuco, Prawan, Pisac, and all the neighbouring towns did not last. So I ran deeper inland, joining up with refugees everywhere I went, and everything that could catch up to us took huge chunks out of our group. Giant mantises chopped up bridges and intercepted our caravans. Colossal flies sprayed their petrifying venom over our heads. Pillbugs were volleyed from the encroaching Crawling Seas and crashed into our shelters like meteorites. Dying was the easiest thing to do back then, but I… I lived. And I made it to the borders of the Attini Empire, alongside five hundred or so refugee children from various villages and towns along the way.”
“...”
“Please do not blame the young Vice-general for being violent,” she said plainly. “You may not understand, but ‘starvation’ and ‘desperation’ can gnaw at a child’s sense of self. I was six when I ran from Hanuco, and eight by the time I was taken into the military—I did not need to be taught how to wield a blade, nor how to open a man’s throat in the middle of the night. I had already killed for far less than a single slice of bread; going to war as a weapon for humanity was much more ‘reason’ for living than I deserved. Because I could fight for humanity, I could endure the carpenter ant builder training. I could endure the surgery to upgrade my system into a silver ant system. I believe I could still kill if I deemed it ‘good for humanity’, and that much has not changed even if I now possess a worm system.”
“...”
“... And yet I do not desire a do-over,” she whispered. “I am but one of tens of thousands of orphans displaced by the war and forged into a weapon. I am not alone. Perhaps, in another life, I could have been a normal child leading a normal life. In another life, I could have been born a human and stayed one like the children of Immanu, but not this life. I have already spent more than half my life as a living weapon, and I am a silver ant scout destined to fight and die on the battlefield—for all that I remember about my past now, my memories of being a weapon still triumph over that of being a human. I still do not remember my old name.”
“...”
“When is the best time to live, sir worm?” Minki looked up, catching the head of the Envoy curling past her face, and the silver worm froze in place. “For me, it is right now, at fifteen years old. I do not wish to change the past. I wish to fight for a better future as a weapon of the Attini Empire, and as ‘Minki’, named by the children of Immanu.” Then she tilted her head, real confusion in her expression. “Is that… not reasonable at all, sir worm?”
“... And you, ‘Sparrow’?” the Envoy asked; quiet, but not angry. Firm, but not mocking. “What do you remember of your past?”
The question was strange, and, as such, he tilted his head up at the Envoy as it curled in front of him.
“My past is irrelevant,” he said curtly. “Minki said as much. I am but one of tens of thousands of displaced orphans with the exact same story. It could have been anyone rescued by the Worm Mages that night, and it did not have to be me—but now I am here, and I must do what I must as both a weapon and a child of Immanu. I believe you are no different from the two of us in that regard.”
The Envoy turned its head slowly. “And how… are we not different?”
He gestured broadly at the workbenches around him: the discarded components, the hovering blueprints, the skeletal prototypes of projects never to be completed. “Ninmah said you gave up on humanity. That the Brightworms no longer believed we could defend you and the Brightmoon. I cannot claim I understand what beings you are—where you came from, what you are defending inside the moon, and why you know the things you do—but if you had truly given up on humanity, I do not understand why you are still here in the Barrows. Surely, you can simply ‘return’ to the Brightmoon and avoid death from the Swarm, no?”
Minki cast a soft, befuddled look at him from behind, but he couldn’t turn around and explain right now; his focus was solely on the Envoy.
“But you do not leave because you are like the two of us,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “You have a duty to protect Immanu, whether it was ‘written’ into you or something you created for yourself. You can say you believe humanity’s war against the Swarm is futile and useless, but if you truly believed that, you would not have even entertained the Worm Mage’s request to transplant the worm systems into our bodies. You did so because you wanted to believe we could still win, no?”
So, he reached inside his cloak and held out a broken wooden handle of his rifle.
The Envoy stared, the air heavy with its silence.
“Even a weapon needs a weapon,” he said. “My anti-chitin rifle was broken, and the spare rifles we still have from the other silver ant scouts will not break the Vice-general’s chitin. If we are going to attack into an entrenched position to rescue Ninmah, I will need my old weapon back, and that would be a bullet ant rifle. Can you make something like that for me?”
“...”
Silence for another good half a minute.
Then the Envoy pried its crown of teeth open, snapping forward at his arm, making him flinch and close his eyes and reel away—and the Envoy curled back up to its original position in the middle of the workshop, its silver plates shimmering transparent so he could see his broken rifle shard floating inside its body.
“... I could make something much more powerful than a ‘bullet ant rifle’ of the Empire kind,” the Envoy muttered, as a dozen Brightworms wriggled through the tunnel behind them and started shooting between the workbenches, picking up chunks of raw metal and components and tossing them up to be swallowed by their leader.
“Your Empire rifles are outdated compared to the ones used in the Rampaging Hinterland Front,” it commented idly, contorting its body to combine components seemingly at random. “The bolt is easily jammed, so I will switch it out for something that will not. The striker is blunt and slow, so I will replace it with a faster one. The wooden grip is warm, but liable to rot in rain and snow, so I will use diamond glass with a wooden veneer to make it appear the same. The sight is also a few degrees misaligned. While you may have learned to compensate for your weapon’s deficiency, it is simply better to have a weapon that works properly in the first place. That, or I can just make you a railgun.”
Sparrow’s lips thinned into a line. “A ‘railgun’? What is that?”
“If humanity does not know it, then it is too early for your kind,” it mumbled. “I will fix the improper weight distribution, harden the bayonet, and make it so it does not require actual bullets to fire. If you pull the trigger with no bullet in the chamber, it will fire an air shot that deals little damage. If you fit a handful of snow into the chamber, it will fire hardened snow. If you fit dirt into it, it will fire hardened dirt. I trust you will be able to make something out of this upgrade.”
He blinked. That sounded… powerful. “Can you make several more for us, then? One for me and one for Minki, and then maybe twenty more for the rest of the elders?”
“No. I do not have enough raw materials and energy. This weapon for you will be my last for a while—afterwards, I will go into temporary dormancy in order to recover my energy, and you humans will truly be on your own for at least the entirety of next month.” The Envoy snapped its head to glare at them, wiggling a single tooth as though to flick them out of Wormnest. “I do not believe the two of you can afford to just stand around waiting for me to finish, however. It will be eight hours before I can finish the construction of this one rifle. Return by nightfall, and I will have a weapon ready for you.”
This was no request. It was a demand, and Sparrow knew he’d pushed its buttons hard enough for long enough. He grabbed Minki by her hood and started dragging her back, cracking his neck, his heart pounding in his ears.
“First, we tell Utu and the others the news,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the tunnel and at the tiny, tiny Worm Mages all the way across on the other side of the chasm. “Then, we eat until we die.”
Minki glanced back at the Envoy, biting her lips. “And you will tell me what that… that ‘thing’ is?”
The two of them stepped into the tunnel, out in the next second; the Worm Mages on the other side jumped and waved at them, most of them immediately warping over to wrap them in a massive hug.
They must’ve been worried.
And that wouldn’t do as long as he was here.
“... I will let Ninmah tell you tonight,” he said, eyes flashing cold as he nodded back at Minki. “You and I both know she is a much better talker than I am.”