Chapter 115

  Written by Bayzo Albion

  "Damn..." I whispered. "This isn't right. This isn't me.”

  I glanced at her again. She was still watching, calm and quiet. But now, in her gaze, I saw something new—recognition. As if she'd glimpsed the real me beneath the surface.

  A shiver raced down my spine.

  For the first time, she didn't remain on the sidelines. She approached slowly, her steps soft and measured, but her voice cut through the air with unexpected sharpness.

  "Hurry. Extract the crystal."

  I blinked, stunned that she'd spoken again, but her eyes burned with cold determination.

  "What?" I breathed.

  "This ant is already releasing pheromones," she said evenly, each word a verdict. "The colony knows it's dead. The horde will be here soon."

  I tightened my grip on the knives and eyed the carcass. The scent had shifted—sharp, caustic, assaulting my nostrils and leaving a metallic tang on my tongue. It was as if the earth itself was exhaling in alarm.

  "Damn..." I muttered.

  Wasting no time, I dropped to my knees and drove a knife into the thorax. Chitin cracked open, dark ooze spilling out. I sliced through the flesh, prying apart plates, delving deeper.

  My fingers brushed something cool and smooth—a crystal pulsing with a soft, inner green glow.

  I yanked it free, held it up briefly, then shoved it into my satchel.

  In that instant, a distant rumble echoed from the forest depths—like the patter of rain, but heavier, more ominous. Not rain. Them.

  Thousands of legs. Thousands of mandibles.

  I sprang to my feet, knives at the ready, and shot her a glance.

  "Run. Now."

  We bolted in unison. I charged ahead, and she matched me stride for stride, never falling behind.

  Behind us, the rumble grew into a quake. The ground trembled as if the colony itself had risen. Branches shook from the thunderous stampede of countless limbs.

  I vaulted over a root, ducked under a low-hanging bough, refusing to look back. One thought hammered in my skull: just a little further, just a bit faster.

  Then I realized—the ants were pursuing, but erratically. Veering off course, losing our trail.

  "Thank the gods for your enchanted clothes too..." I gasped mid-stride.

  She glanced at me briefly, wordless, but nodded.

  It made sense now. Just as my uniform concealed my scent, her dress did the same. We were ghosts to them.

  Behind us, the crash of destruction intensified—the horde tearing through earth and trees in blind fury, unable to pinpoint us.

  We burst onto a wider path and finally slowed, my lungs burning. I gulped air, hands shaking, but a bitter elation bubbled in my chest.

  "We're alive..."

  She said nothing, merely adjusting her dress's hem and pressing on, as if the escape had been nothing more than a brisk walk, not a desperate flight from a ravenous swarm.

  We veered off the trail, pushing through thick undergrowth until we found a low crevice nestled in the roots of an ancient oak. It was dry, hushed, and concealed from view.

  I collapsed against the earth, gasping for breath. My heart still raced, the echo of the ants' fury ringing in my ears.

  "Damn..." I wiped my forehead. "A second longer, and we'd have been torn apart."

  She settled beside me with effortless grace, as if she hadn't just sprinted through the woods. Her breathing remained even, her expression serene as ever.

  I watched her, irritation mingling with confusion, building like a storm.

  *How can she be so calm?* I wondered. *I'm shaking all over, hands trembling, heart about to burst. And her... it's like she's not even human. Like none of it matters. Or like she knew we'd survive no matter what.*

  I swallowed a dry laugh.

  "You're too composed about all this," I said softly. "Mortal danger. A horde that could shred us to pieces. Does it mean nothing to you?"

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  She lifted her gaze to mine. Her eyes were deep pools of shadow, and that enigmatic spark flickered again, elusive and unreadable.

  She offered no reply. Just silence.

  And that silence chilled me more than the chase ever could.

  I leaned back against the roots, feeling fear not recede, but swell.

  Why was I so afraid?

  Because my pockets brimmed with wealth. I could abandon it all—live in peace, spend gold freely, savor honey and bread, wrap myself in blankets. No swarms, no death, no risks.

  That thought tormented me most.

  Or was it something else?

  Maybe I feared not the ants, but death itself—the kind that awaited everyone. A meaningless end, devoid of purpose or glory.

  My eyes drifted to her. She sat turned slightly, sunlight caressing the elegant lines of her legs, encased in those black stockings. Too perfect. Too alluring.

  And that terrified me too.

  I recalled how my Main Self had perished in paradise—not in battle, but drowned in pleasure, dissolving in the embraces of others, unable to withstand their pull.

  Now, I sensed the same peril. Not from the swarm, but from her.

  I shivered faintly.

  And then... she embraced me.

  Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, drawing me close. The gesture was sudden yet gentle, like someone who had long known exactly when it was needed.

  "I'll save you," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. "If you're in danger... I'll save you."

  I went rigid.

  Her words should have been comforting. But they twisted into a fresh wave of fear.

  Because for the first time, I heard not a promise, but a vow. And I wasn't sure I wanted her to keep it.

  Her embrace was warm, almost soothing. But that was what stung the most.

  Me—hiding behind a woman's skirts? Waiting for her to rescue me like a helpless child?

  I gritted my teeth.

  "No," I said, pushing her away with my small hands—feeble, almost comical, but insistent.

  She drew back slightly, her eyes narrowing. But I pressed on:

  "I'll handle it myself. Understand? Don't risk your life for me. I'm not the type to cower at someone's feet, begging for scraps."

  My voice trembled, not from fear, but from anger. From pride blazing within, scorching away any weakness.

  I stood, readjusting my knives at my belt.

  "I won't hide under the skirt of some beautiful girl," I declared firmly. "I'll walk this path on my own."

  She remained silent, simply watching me. No judgment in her eyes, no approval either. As if she were merely noting my choice, filing it away as fact.

  I drew a deep breath. The fear lingered deep inside. But now, it was smothered by my resolve.

  "Come on," I said, stepping forward. "We have a quest. And I'll see it through."

  We emerged from our hiding spot. The forest greeted us with an oppressive silence, as if it were watching our every move. Branches creaked in the wind, but beneath that sound lingered the distant hum of the colony—a stark reminder that we were intruders here, not masters.

  I led the way. Knives at my belt, skillet slung across my back, satchel weighing on my shoulder, but inside me burned a fierce determination. I wouldn't let that icy fear grip my heart again, the kind that had clenched it tight amid the tree roots. Even with my small hands and frail body, I had to push forward.

  Behind me, she followed. Her steps were fluid and hushed, barely disturbing the earth. I could feel her gaze on my back—not judgmental, not appraising... just observing.

  I gritted my teeth.

  *I don't know what's going on in your head. I don't know why you're with me. But I won't let you decide for me. This is my quest. My path.*

  We delved deeper. The air thickened, shadows deepened, and each step drew us closer to the ants' domain.

  I didn't look back, but I sensed her presence, forging her own mental trail. In the silence between us, a strange equilibrium formed—like two players yet to decide if they were allies or adversaries.

  I halted and pressed my palm against the damp, cool earth. Sticky mud seeped between my fingers. The ant colony before me churned and pulsed like an alien organism—unified, silent, and lethally dangerous.

  *No... charging straight into the nest would be suicide. Foolish. I have to do this differently. If the horde is a blind, collective swarm, then I'll hunt the stragglers. Pick them off one by one. Systematically. Patiently.*

  I drew a knife. The blade scraped against the bark of an ancient oak with a grating rasp, leaving a pale, sap-oozing notch. Then another on a nearby pine. I moved in a wide arc, circling the threat's epicenter, marking invisible boundaries. This wasn't just walking—it was etching a battlefield into the landscape, sketching a tactical plan onto the forest's very skin.

  "What are you doing?" Her voice echoed softly, careful not to shatter the fragile barrier between us and them.

  I didn't turn, my eyes fixed on a suspicious crevice in the underbrush. "Planning," I replied, my voice low and thick like resin. "To kill an enemy, you don't just strike at its strength—you exploit its weakness. And a swarm's weakness is its blindness. It's only powerful as a whole."

  Circling back to the first mark, I paced out the distance, trampling the grass into a narrow escape path. "Forty-seven, forty-eight..." I counted aloud, calibrating every step. In my mind, a vital equation formed: How many seconds to safety? How many heartbeats before the horde caught my scent, stirred, and gave chase? Five? Six? Too few.

  Each ant I tracked and eliminated would be a brick in my wall of experience. But I wouldn't let the swarm encircle me. Never.

  I carved one final, decisive notch and traced it with my finger, feeling the rough texture of the wood.

  "Here. I can take one and still escape," I murmured, more to myself than her. "Here—maybe two. But no more. Greed kills faster than fangs in a place like this."

  I felt her eyes on my back. Not just a glance—a silent question: *Why? Why waste time on these rituals when they're right there, and there are so many?*

  I smirked briefly, dryly, without looking up, testing the edge of my blade.

  "My plan takes time," I said finally, turning to face her. Confusion mingled with fear in her eyes. "And thought. This isn't a quest for heroism or a race. It's chess. And I intend to play it methodically, coldly, until this whole forest becomes my board, and they're just pieces for me to remove."

  She said nothing. But her silence shifted from inquiry to comprehension—or at least an attempt at it.