Midday. One week after the destruction of Vice-general Kuraku’s base camp.
The way the Worm Mages were celebrating today, Sparrow would never have known they’d almost started a full-blown war with the Hagi’Shar Forward Army.
Having stopped their daily expeditions to the glacier for Boreus hunting a week ago, all of them still able-bodied—anyone that wasn’t him or Ninmah—had started shoring up defences around the village. That meant sharpening the rocks on the surrounding blackrock mountains, digging twenty-metre-deep crevices right outside the fences just to cover them up with snow, and hanging wind chimes on every boulder they could find outside the village; the chimes would alert them to any imminent Boreus invasion, the crevices would trap any trespassers, and the sharpened blackrock mountains meant crawling around them to enter the village from any other side would be impossibly painful for giant insect legs. It wasn’t perfect defence by any means, but it was better than nothing, and it gave the children something to do while the elders handled the important work.
The morning after Ninmah had been brought back from Vice-general Kuraku’s base camp, the elders had kidnapped Minki from her bed in the library and dragged her up to the shrine at the top of the world. It was rather strange participating in the ceremony from a spectator’s perspective, but Sparrow thought it was only deserving that Ninmah also gave Minki the diamond flower hair ornament all of the Worm Mages had. Without Minki’s support as a scout, he wouldn’t have been able to figure out the number of soldiers, their guard locations, and their general firepower by himself. He probably wouldn’t have gotten Ninmah out of the camp by himself.
Now Minki was a child of Immanu, and she wore her ornament like a hair band, tying up a tuft of her short and wild hair like a crooked beetle horn.
Military discipline would have her put her hair back down, but the General wasn’t here to yell at them, so Sparrow supposed she could do her hair however she liked. The person who hadn’t been allowed to do as she liked, however, was the village chief herself—the children had been adamant about locking her in the library for most of the past week, fearing she’d be kidnapped again, so to assuage their fears she’d reluctantly played the damsel’s part and never once attempted to leave. Not even through the windows for a quiet midnight stroll.
Though, with the curtains drawn over all the windows from the outside, maybe it was more so she couldn’t leave by warping.
It was only this week that Sparrow finally realised none of the Worm Mages could actually warp with their eyes closed, or if they couldn’t see where they wanted to reappear. Vice-general Kuraku had discovered an unexpected weakness of theirs he’d never considered—and for good reason, too. The first time he’d been brought to Death Rope Passage, Ninmah had put her hands over his eyes and he warped just fine, so he’d automatically assumed all of them could do the same… but that was far from the case. He’d tested it out with Utu a few days ago. When the Worm Mages were blindfolded, they quite literally couldn’t bring themselves to warp; they were too afraid of the unknown.
But he and Minki could warp with their eyes closed just fine, so that was a skill he’d have to drill into the rest of them if he could find the time.
…
… The big word was ‘if’.
If he wasn’t helping with shoring up defences, butchering Boreus meat, or just handling his daily chores, he’d be sleeping daylight away in order to recover from the incredible strain he’d accumulated during his assault on the camp. He’d really pushed himself to the brink of death that day; getting both his hands scorched in the morning, overstuffing his stomach with Boreus flesh in the afternoon, and then fighting over a hundred soldiers in the blizzard at night had left his body more than bruised and battered. He hadn’t had a single bite of Boreus flesh this past week as a result. There was a soft limit to how much insect flesh a single human could consume in a short period of time without bloating, and the last thing both he and Minki wanted were to die of overeating.
So, in order to rest their bodies, both of them were sitting out today’s ‘Worm Dance’ celebration.
The celebration was exactly as its name suggested: instead of napping quietly for an hour after lunch, the hundred and eleven children each picked up a giant silver ring and held it over their heads, lining up to form the segments of colossal worms. There were five groups of twenty, so there were five colossal worms and five ‘lures’, who were elders with buckets of crystal quartz strapped onto their backs.
The ‘heads’ of each worm had to lead the way for the rest of the children behind them, and the ‘tails’ were always trying so hard not to be left behind. If there was a gap of five metres between any two children, it’d count as breaking formation, and all the children behind the broken segment would have to sit the rest of the game out. If any of them let their rings fall off their heads, they’d also be breaking formation. Only the heads could tag the lures with their slinkies, and if anyone else tried to tag, the entire group would be disqualified. And, at the end of the hour-long stamina-draining game—after going through so much trouble just to adhere to the rules—whichever group survived with the most length or managed to tag the most lures would win… something.
Sparrow hadn’t really caught onto the ‘reward’ part of winning the game during Utu’s explanation, and he didn’t think most of the children knew what they’d win, either.
It was just a fun and ridiculous game to spectate from atop the bell tower—a hundred children shouting and laughing and trying not to tip off balance from their heavy rings, while the running lures stuck their tongues out and taunted the heads with their last-second warps.
He’d been watching for the past fifty minutes, and not a single lure had been tagged yet.
“... It is not a fair game,” Minki commented, eyes slanted as she followed one of the colossal worms trying to jump across a roof; all of the children had to jump in sequence, each segment keeping within the five metre distance, and that was just not easy to coordinate. “The lures can warp, but the worms can barely run in a straight line. How are the worms supposed to tag a single lure?”
“Tagging the lures is the miracle win condition,” he mumbled, crossing his arms behind his head and lying back on the gabled roof of the bell tower. “The real win condition is surviving until the end of the hour with the most length. Look at the other three worms. They have all lost at least half of their segments because they broke formation while trying to coordinate insane movements to tag the lures.”
Minki tilted her head. “I see. So if they simply stand there and do nothing for an entire hour, the other worms will gradually shorten themselves as they try to tag the lures.”
He nodded. “And if they all curl into a circle, they can even rest the weight of their rings against each other.”
“Laziness is the optimal strategy.”
“Indeed.”
“Should we participate with just the two of us the next time they play this game?”
“Yes. We will win with minimum effort–”
“I sneak out for once, and cheating’s the first thing I hear?” Ninmah warped behind the two of them and whacked them on their heads, scowling fiercely. “You’re not supposed to just stand there. It’s not fun if the head doesn’t try to tag the lure and the rest of the segments don’t have to chase after the head—we really should add ‘stop moving and you die’ to the rulebook next year, huh?”
“Agreed, big sis,” Utu said, warping in front of them to whack them on their heads again. Then the one-eyed boy with a flower-patterned eyepatch pulled Minki to her feet, grinning from ear to ear with a rifle in his hands. “Teach me how to shoot again. I still don’t really get how to quickly chamber a bullet, and Sparrow’s useless at teaching. His hands are too fast and he doesn’t know how to slow down, so you’re the only one for me.”
He might’ve hallucinated it, but Sparrow felt as though he saw Minki’s cheeks reddening before the two of them warped away—likely to the eastern edge of the village where the children had made giant Boreus snow statues as archery practice targets.
Since he and Minki had managed to rob about a dozen crates of unused rifles and ammos from the base camp, the elders of the village had been training to use the Attini Empire’s weapons against invading Boreus. Rifles were more accurate over long distances—though it didn’t matter much when wormholes could shorten the travel distance anyways—and bullets were also far superior at piercing chitin compared to arrows, so the elders hadn’t been stubborn about keeping to their traditional weapons. They were resolved to see this battle through to the end. Utu, especially, had really been trying to hone his accuracy with his rifle recently, and the rest of them were… slowly coming along as well.
Frankly, Sparrow thought rifles were far less technical weapons than bows and arrows, but for some reason the Worm Mages were simply slow at handling their rifles. He didn’t understand how, with their superior attribute levels, they couldn’t simply fire more than eight shots in a single second like he could, but maybe it was just as Utu said. Maybe he was just a terrible teacher. In that case, he supposed he could just leave teaching the elders how to use the Attini Empire’s rifles to Minki; as long as they didn’t expend too much ammo during shooting practise, he didn’t really feel the need to supervise Utu and the rest of the elders whenever they wanted to train.
For his part, he simply needed… to rest a little longer. And then he’d start eating Boreus flesh again. And then he’d resume his personal training, the elders’ training, check up on the village’s defences, assess the Boreus’ strength by the glacier, plan an assault on their nest, and–
“You’re lucky I can’t hear your thoughts,” Ninmah said, flicking him on the forehead as she sat down next to him, taking Minki’s seat; then she curled up in a ball and smirked at him, the children still shouting and laughing far below them. “If you’ve decided to be lazy and sleep, then just be lazy and sleep. If not, then that’s fine as well—at this point, I know I can’t really control what you do anymore.”
“...”
He glanced at her bandaged left hand with his arms still crossed behind his head, frowning slightly.
“... Your hand,” he started, “Is it okay?”
She pumped her left arm with her cheeks puffed, her grin joyfully brimming. “It’s healing. Slowly. I guess none of us have any super-regeneration mutations, huh?”
“Regeneration mutations are usually in tier five. You should be able to see the option since you already have that tier unlocked.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t have the points to unlock it anyways, so it’s fine. I can still do my chores and stuff with one hand.”
“Okay.”
“...”
And that was the end.
Maybe there was more they could talk about—like the new vocabulary he was still learning every night, or the younger children’s growing enthusiasm to take more active roles in fighting off the invading Boreus—but ever since he’d returned to the village after the base camp slaughter, he’d been wondering when, exactly, he’d started trying to look for something to fill silence with.
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When he’d been in his Bullet Ant Battalion, nobody talked. Part of it was because they couldn’t talk with their vicious paramandibles mutation, but they could draw and gesture and mime to each other. They’d just… never done it. Not during firefights. Not during mealtimes. Not in camps, not in baths, not anywhere at all. Silence was a precious commodity; without it, the sounds of movement wouldn’t be apparent and they wouldn’t be able to respond quickly to an ambush. Without it, they wouldn’t be able to hear the winds and the clouds blowing in, and they wouldn’t be able to adjust their aim properly depending on the weather.
What was so wrong about silence?
Why did he feel so ‘awkward’ in both his chest and throat as he sat with Ninmah, doing nothing but staring up at the cloudy sky?
“... You can tell big sis anything, you know?” Ninmah whispered, lying back against the gabled roof as well, their heads touching just barely. “I’ll listen. You know I will. And you just know I’ll give you the best responses every time, so what’s to worry?” Then she craned her head just very slightly, giving him a soft, small smile. “Is it the Attini Empire you’re thinking about?”
He closed his eyes halfway, nodding slowly. “I may have made a mistake back at the base camp.”
Ninmah turned her body sideways, resting her head against her arm. “How so?”
“The Forward Armies of the Attini Empire almost always lose their first skirmish against any new enemy faction,” he said plainly. “Of the Six Swarmsteel Fronts defending the borders of the continent from the Swarm, the Attini Empire has the largest number of humans, and that is because all of our soldiers have ant classes. Individually, our soldiers are extremely weak compared to the grunts of the other Swarmsteel Fronts who utilise other insect classes, but we make up for our lack of individual strength with superior military structure and coordination. We always lose our first skirmish against a new faction because we are slow to adapt, but once we have seen the capabilities of the enemy, we are the best at developing countermeasures—there is no question about it.”
“Mhm.”
“Even if I didn’t let a single soldier escape from the base camp, the General is skilled at dissecting a lost battle. He will realise the strength of ‘Worm Mages’, and he will be able to develop army-wide countermeasures accordingly. Even if the Forward Army were to suffer great losses while attacking Immanu, we will definitely lose eventually,” he continued, closing his eyes fully. “However, I still believe the General is not a cruel man. He cared for us like we were his children. I believe he will allow all of you to stay hidden as long as I can eradicate the Boreus nest—and if Minki and I return to serve as his aides afterwards—but I fear… that by killing everyone in the base camp, I may have irreversibly soured relations between Immanu and the General. Despite knowing he might suffer great losses trying to capture all of you, he might still choose to attack Immanu.”
“Mhm.”
“I believe… that my plan remains unchanged,” he finished. “I will exterminate the Boreus nest as quickly as possible and return to the General with Minki. We will swear our loyalties to him, endure whatever punishment we must for the crime of killing the Vice-general, and ask him to look away from Immanu forever. I was sure he would be able to empathise with not wanting to turn all of you into soldiers, considering he is high-ranking enough to not have his emotions suppressed by his ant system, but now… convincing him might be difficult.”
“Mhm.”
“I still would have killed the Vice-general no matter what, since she would never be able to accept not turning all of you into soldiers as a purely logical soldier without emotions herself, but perhaps I was… hasty?” he said, after a pause. “I did not consider what the General might feel knowing his aide was killed by one of her own. Since his emotions should not be suppressed, I believe he might be feeling… ‘anger’? Or ‘sadness’? He might not care about suffering great losses while attacking Immanu anymore. He might attack purely because he wants to avenge his close aide.”
“Mhm.”
“I have thought about appeasing him with a gift. The Envoy has made me a powerful rifle, so I had tried to approach it again, hoping I could ask for an advanced blueprint or something of the sort to give the General in place of you. However, as it had told me when it was making my rifle, the Envoy was still ‘slumbering’ when I visited it three days ago. It might be another few weeks before it reawakens.”
“Mhm.”
“If I cannot appease the General, and he orders the Forward Army to move forward until all of you are captured, then… it might be difficult, but I considered having all of you relocate the village deeper into the mountains.”
“Mhm.”
“Our Forward Army does not have endless resources. There is a time limit to our campaign as well. Sooner or later, we must return to the Attini Empire to reinforce the army at the southernmost front, and we will return with or without this region under our control.” He paused for another moment, tilting his chin up. “If all of you can outrun the General and hide somewhere he cannot find you, there is a chance he may lose interest, or decide you are not worth the time and effort—it will be very, very difficult for all of you, but Hagi’Shar is an extreme terrain. If you move further north past the borders of the Attini Empire, even the Capital will not be too willing to chase you there. This is the last resort that will most certainly keep you safe, but… if you move, then your parents would not have a home to return to. They would not be able to find you. That is not what I want.”
“Mhm.”
“Therefore, I must appease the General. The Forward Army cannot be allowed to march. I must become strong enough to replace the Vice-general and the soldiers I killed, and then some more—that is the only way he will even consider not attacking Immanu.”
“Mhm.”
“I cannot sit still. I must move. I must become stronger. Worst case scenario, if the General does not accept not turning all of you into soldiers and decides to attack Immanu, then I… must prepare to destroy the entire Hagi’Shar Forward Army,” he said, after a moment of hesitation. “I will kill everyone, including the General, and then take their place in the war against the Swarm. I simply need to become as strong as the entire Forward Army to make up for humanity’s loss of total strength because of their deaths. Then, having surpassed the General, I can negotiate with the Capital to place Hagi’Shar under my control, and then I can… I might be able to…”
“... Mhm.”
He trailed off, losing his train of thought.
That must’ve been the most he’d ever spoken in his entire life, and he didn't think he even remembered half of what he'd said.
None of it was a concrete ‘plan’.
None of it was purely ‘logical’.
When had he gotten so scatterbrained, so… ‘irrational’?
Did he actually have a plan, or was he just pretending like he had one?
“... It’s funny,” Ninmah said, flicking the tip of his nose. “You think and care about everyone’s future a lot more than we do. None of us ever gave a thought about fighting for humanity or anything, and here you are, preparing to take on an entire army just to keep us hidden. Do we really mean so much to you?”
He opened his eyes slowly, turning to look at her. “Decree Three: Always repay what you have been given. You saved my life, and so I must protect yours. Any soldier of the Empire would have done–”
“I don’t think so,” she said, a small, wistful smile twisting her lips. “Do your decrees allow you to fight and kill your own people in order to protect outsiders?”
“...”
“I’ve been… thinking about what that Vice-general Kuraku said to me recently,” she continued, reaching down and clasping his bandaged hands in her own; her eyes were unabashedly blue as she stared straight at him. “Maybe… maybe we don’t need to be in this village. Not all of us, anyways. Kuraku said it’s not fair that only we get to have our little peace while the rest of humanity is fighting for their lives, and I think… she’s right, in a way. We’re strong. We should be helping out however we can. Even if it’s not fighting, we can help with supplies or transport or something that we don’t have to spill blood for. It can't be that your entire army is composed only of soldiers, right?”
He furrowed his brows, but she squeezed his hands before he could speak.
“You’re gonna say your General’s going to make us go through painful training or something, right? That maybe he’ll force us to fight regardless?” she said. “What if that’s not the case? You said you don’t believe he’s a cruel man, and that there’s a chance he’ll keep us hidden because he cares about children—if that’s the case, then why don’t we all go down there to meet with him? We can talk to him about our situation and offer our services in other ways, and if he can see that our young are too young, then maybe he’d make an exception for us. He’d let the kids stay in the village until they’re of age, and then they can come down once they’re ready to help. In the meantime, we elders can join you and Minki in the army, so it’s a win-win for everyone, right?”
It was… idealistic, to say the least. His plan hinged on the General not knowing how many Worm Mages there were, and not being able to see just how powerful they actually were first-handed. If the General decided turning all the Worm Mages into soldiers would be worth the effort for the Empire's sake, he'd no doubt refuse Sparrow's request to not investigate them and the worm system any further, even if that was Sparrow's requested reward for taking out the Boreus nest solo.
The General shouldn't be allowed to meet the Worm Mages.
And… helping the Attini Empire in the war against the Swarm wasn't what the Worm Mages wanted at all. Even if only the elders descended to take on non-fighting jobs, they’d wanted to be free. To avoid conflict with the outside world at all costs. If they settled for anything less–
“We’ve always been willing to meet everything halfway there,” she whispered. “If wormholes connect two worlds into one, then we, the ones who make the wormholes, create the ‘in-between’. I’ve learned your tongue, and you’ve learned ours. We’ve learned your army hunting methods without completely abandoning our traditions, and you’ve learned our techniques without abandoning your training. If we want complete freedom while the rest of the world wants us to fight and shed blood for humanity… then maybe we can meet humanity halfway there, too, by fighting for humanity’s complete freedom. And we can start by meeting your General.” She squeezed his hands again. “Together.”
“...”
… Creating the ‘in-between’.
Negotiating with the General as equals.
Working with, and not for the Empire.
Getting the best of both worlds, and not wanting any side to lose.
Could it be done?
Could he make it work?
…
Exhaling slowly, he shook his head and squeezed back—careful not to put too much force on her bandaged hand.
Maybe ‘he’ couldn’t do it, but ‘together’, maybe they could.
The Worm Mages were living miracles, after all.
“... Okay,” he said, and Ninmah’s eyes twinkled with delight, lighting up with hope; she’d gotten through to him, and she knew it. “Maybe… maybe we can go down and talk with the General together, but only after we exterminate the Boreus nest. That part still has not changed. To begin with, humans should not be worrying about humans, and the anti-human Bullet Ant Battalions should not exist—the Swarm is the ultimate enemy.”
“Right!” She nodded furiously. “Also, it's not ‘you’ who will exterminate the Boreus nest—it’s all of us. All. Of. Us. You're not alone here.”
He blinked, surprised at the forcefulness in her voice.
At this moment, she sounded far stronger than him.
It made him feel… warm inside.
Strange.
“R… Right,” he muttered, and for some reason, he felt a bit of heat in his face. “We can do it… together.”
Ninmah shot him a pretty, teasing smile as she poked at his cheeks. “If you don't have a concrete plan, then we'll think one up together. We'll work it out together. Just come crying and confessing to big sis anytime your head's feeling like it'll explode from all the pesky thoughts swirling around, and I'll give you a whack and a snack–”
His vibrational senses made his spine tingle, and a half moment later, the wind chimes south of the village rang aloud in sequence.
Everyone heard it.
And the worm dance below them stopped at once as he warped onto his feet, gripping his rifle tight in one hand.
…
In the far distance, three humanoid shadows clawed over the edge of the three-thousand-metre slope, and Sparrow instantly recognised their gleaming black teeth.
Vicious paramandibles.
The same teeth he used to have.
… A week of rest is all we get, huh?