The train cabin rocked beneath Kita’s feet, groaning as it tore through the colossal fungi forest. Towering mushrooms loomed around the tracks like crooked spires, their broad caps blotting out the pale sunlight that filtered through the misty air. The forests in the empire were always alive, but now it was far, far more than that—it was hostile, and it was downright murderous.

  Kita’s fingers gripped the window frame as her eyes scanned the swath of forest rushing past. Something glittered there, flashing like liquid mercury in motion, and her stomach clenched.

  It wasn’t one ‘something’.

  It was many ‘somethings’.

  “... They’re here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rattling wheels.

  The cabin door slid open with a bang, and Machi stood at the door, her eyes narrowed with uncharacteristic urgency. “We are under attack,” she said plainly.

  “We see them,” Kita mumbled back, her voice steady despite the cold fear creeping up her spine. Her gaze didn’t leave the window. “Those are silver ants. Giant-Class. At least a hundred of them.”

  Zora raised a brow, placing a palm on the window. “A hundred?”

  “All D to C-Rank,” she added, her voice tight. “Fleet-footed. Fast. Silver ants are the fastest of the ten thousand or so ant species in the Attini Empire.”

  Her stomach churned as she watched the glinting horde streaking alongside the train, weaving effortlessly between the towering mushroom stalks. If she were to squint, she’d barely be able to differentiate between them and a tidal wave, but she wasn’t squinting, so she saw the silvery carapaces. The hundreds of giant blade-like legs. The way the silver ants moved—smooth, efficient, synchronised—made her skin crawl.

  “This isn’t normal,” she muttered, half to herself. “Silver ants shouldn’t even be in the northwest. They don’t stray this far from the northeast where they usually make their nests.”

  “Which means?” Zora prompted.

  “It means they’re confident,” Kita finished, her throat tightening. “They’ve got to be the ones ambushing the trains and convoys in the northwest for the past few years, but because they move that fast,” she gestured out at the horde, “nobody ever spotted them. Nobody ever sent Uncle Yiru any reports of silver ants.”

  Zora’s chuckle cut through the tension like a blade. He’d still been leaning against the cushion, one hand curled lazily around his wand, but now he straightened, his smile sharp and self-assured.

  “You say their specialty is speed, then?” he said, shrugging as he stuffed his wand back under his cloak. “My kids back in Amadeus Academy are pretty fast, too, but they’re never a match for a slippery floor. I don’t think I even need my wand for this.”

  “What’s the plan?” Kita asked, her hands dropping to the hilt of her blades. “Do we stop the train and go out to intercept them?”

  Zora didn’t answer directly.

  Instead, he spoke “tear out the wall and make the shrapnel hover in place”.

  The sound of splintering wood and screeching metal filled the cabin as the entire side of the cabin peeled away like paper. Kita flinched, her heart hammering as the open air rushed in, carrying the mingled scents of damp earth and fungal rot.

  “What are you—”

  “Sharpen the shrapnel,” Zora continued, his tone as casual as if he were ordering a meal. Kita’s eyes widened as the debris hovering alongside from the train—splinters, chunks of wood, fragments of metal—twisted and stretched, their edges becoming razor-sharp stakes.

  And then Zora spoke “fly forward”, and the stakes shot towards the horde like a storm of steel.

  Kita barely had any time to brace herself before the impact. The stakes hit the Swarm with terrifying precision, punching through giant chitinous bodies and making them erupt into bursts of blood. The train jolted slightly as the air filled with the high-pitched screeches of dying ants, and she counted the bodies that were instantly decimated—thirty or so giant silver ants. A third of the pursuing horde was taken out in a matter of seconds.

  The other seventy silver ants didn’t stop their pursuit. They paused for a bit, maybe, falling behind for a second, but then they recovered with a discordant chorus of screeches and began chasing after their train on both sides again. They weren’t as reckless as before, though. They all stayed a wide berth from the tracks just in case Zora flung another volley of debris at them, biding their time, waiting until the tracks eventually reached a thicker section of the forest where visibility would be lower.

  But for his part, Zora still sat on his cushion with a cup of tea in his hands, his face calm and serene. It was as if his cloak billowing violently in the rushing winds didn’t bother him a single bit—it was as if he’d been on a rushing train before, and this much speed rippling against his cheeks simply didn’t matter.

  “Did I hit them?” he asked. “I can’t really tell. I haven’t fought this many giant bugs at once by myself before, and my hearing’s a bit off when I’m on a moving vehicle this fast.”

  “... That’s thirty D-Rank Giant-Class ants,” Kita said, her voice trembling as she gripped onto the handle bars over her head, trying not to get flung out of the cabin without any walls or ceiling. “You just… what?”

  Zora glanced at her, his smile returning. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever explained my magic to you.”

  “Now is not really the time,” Machi interjected, her eyes darting toward the regrouping horde as she staggered onto the seat next to Kita, pulling buckled straps over herself and Kita to secure them to the cushions. “Are you alright, my lady? I can pull more seat belts over you if you are feeling shaky—”

  Kita ignored Machi. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Just what, exactly, did you do?”

  Zora gestured broadly out at the horde of giant ants “My Swarmblood Art, ‘God Tongue’, lets my voice manifest in reality. Whatever I say becomes real—within reason.”

  “Define ‘within reason.’”

  “It took me a while, but I have identified four hard rules to my magic over the past two years,” he said, raising four fingers as he crossed his legs. “Rule number one: my spells can only affect physical reality. I can’t make people forget things with a spell like ‘forget’ or implant knowledge with a spell like ‘read ten books and inject all the knowledge into my head’. The spells can only bring about tangible, observable, physical changes.”

  Kita nodded, gulping hard as she glared at the giant ants outside. They were nearing fast. The first ten were so close to the tail end of the train that they’d probably be able to jump on in just half a minute or so.

  “Rule number two,” Zora continued casually, “is travel time. My spells are physical sound waves imbued with a ‘command’ of sorts. Excluding any mutations that increase their speed, they only travel at the speed of sound, so they can actually be dodged if you’re fast enough to get out of their range.”

  Machi narrowed her eyes. “Dodged? What sort of monster can dodge a sound wave?”

  “It’d take an ungodly amount of strength and speed,” Zora admitted with a shrug, “but it’s not exactly impossible for a Mutant-Class or an Insect God with high levels in strength and speed. Furthermore, I have to actually finish speaking if I want to cast a spell, so I’m actually really weak in close-quarters where I don’t get the space and time to speak. If I run out of breath, I can’t cast spells. If someone’s up in my face, I may or may not panic a little and fumble my words. I am a mage, not a warrior, so I keep a distance from my opponents preferably.”

  Kita clenched her jaw. “And the third rule?”

  “The longer my spells, the stronger the effects,” he said. “If I were to recite an entire passage from a storybook about ripping an entire section of the forest from the earth, I’d be channeling more bioarcanic essence into my spell over time, which means the strength and range of my spell increases significantly. However, something curt like ‘rip that tree up’ contains less syllables, so it’s easier to say in a pinch. Considering I’ve been fighting mostly alone the past two years, I’ve been using my short and simple spells most often. In an ideal world, though, I’ll have enough people supporting me that I can afford to just stand back and cast a massive area-of-effect spell.”

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  “... And the fourth?

  Zora’s grin faded slightly, replaced by an expression of focus. “Rule number four is the tricky one: whether I can cast a certain spell in the first place depends almost entirely on my target’s aura.”

  “Aura?” she repeated, her brow furrowing.

  “Killing pressure,” Zora explained. “If I cast ‘crush’ on a tiny rock, it’ll crush itself because I believe I can crush it. I know I can crush it. But if I were to cast ‘crush’ on a Mutant-Class whose aura is superior to mine, nothing will happen. This is because the bug with the superior aura has more killing pressure than me. I may not show it, but subconsciously, I am afraid, and if I hesitate—if I even slightly doubt that I can kill it—any spell I cast directly on the bug will fail. In the same vein, other spells like ‘die’, ‘break its neck’, ‘burst its heart’, and anything of the sort that will instantly kill it will also be out of my reach.”

  Kita stared at him, the implications of his words sinking in. “So your magic… is a contest of killing pressure?”

  “Correct,” he said plainly. “Whoever has the stronger aura wins. ”

  Her mind reeled as she processed his explanation. His Art was both incredible and terrifyingly personal—a battle not just of strength, but of belief. Subconscious belief.

  “But then… how do you ever fight something with a stronger aura than yours?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “How’d you beat Nona, youngest of the Magicicada Witches? Her aura must’ve been way higher than yours back then, right?”

  Zora gave her an amused smile. “Mankind’s greatest weapon against fear is the will to face it,” he said. “It’s true I can’t cast any instant-kill spells if I subconsciously fear my opponent, but I can consciously cast other spells. Even if I’m afraid, I can imagine ‘striking’ them with a punch. Even if I’m afraid, I can imagine ‘picking up a rock’ and ‘throwing’ it at them. I can imagine ‘sharpening’ a giant wooden stake and sending it ‘flying’ at them. Inanimate objects don’t have bioarcanic aura, so my spells always work on the environment. Granted, I still need high attribute levels to subconsciously believe I can ‘pick up’ something like a super giant boulder, but just because I can’t cast instant-kill spells on a stronger opponent doesn’t mean I can’t fight back with the rest of the world at my disposal.”

  Kita blinked. “And if you keep ‘striking’ and ‘throwing debris’ at your opponent to injure them…”

  “Their bioarcanic aura will gradually weaken, their killing pressure will drop, and the moment my aura is so much stronger than theirs that I subconsciously see them as nothing more than a bug to be squashed underfoot…” He snapped his fingers. “There are many ways to die instantly.”

  “...”

  Kita shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

  “Your magic… is powerful.”

  “Not against them, not really,” Zora countered, his tone growing serious as he grimaced out at the silver ants. “They’re not called the ‘Swarm’ for nothing. In large numbers, their combined auras are typically much, much higher than me. I can’t just tell them all to ‘die’. If I’m facing only a single bug or two, maybe I can cast a few instant-kill spells, but when there’s fifty… sixty… seventy of them, I must thin out their numbers first.”

  Then, without warning, a screech of metal filled the air. The carriages jolted violently, almost throwing Kita out of her seat despite her buckle.

  While she steadied herself and peered out the side of the train, she spotted ten, maybe twelve, Giant-Class ants crawling onto the tail end of the train, hurling their massive bodies aboard with terrifying strength. Their mandibles snapped and clicked like a chorus of thunder, and their legs scraped against the metal, leaving gouges as they surged toward the front of the train where all three of them were.

  Machi unbuckled her belt and stood up immediately, her hand reaching for the knife behind her skirt. “I shall deal with them,” she said, her voice steady, but Kita pushed her hand down.

  “No,” Kita said, standing up herself. “I’ll deal with them.”

  She didn’t wait for a response. She didn’t need permission. Her hands were already on the twin sawtooth blades sheathed at her waist, and with a flick of her wrists, the blades slid free, sparking flames against each other.

  The ants were already closing in, their grotesque forms crawling through the carriages and tearing through metal as though it were paper. She drew a short breath, drawing her focus inward, and narrowed her eyes on the distant bugs.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  With a single, fluid motion, she launched herself out of the front cabin and down the train. Her blades sang through the air as she met the first ant head-on, her sawtooth blade tearing through its chitin. Chunks of flesh and chitin flew as the silver ant screeched in agony. She didn’t pause. She was already moving again, darting past the ant and towards the next, sawing through its legs in a blur of motion. The creature collapsed, but another took its place, its mandibles snapping hungrily.

  Slow!

  She twirled around it, her blades flashing as they cut through its head and thorax. The ant let out a high-pitched screech, but she was already on the next one, severing its head clean off. A few more ants charged, but they weren’t fast enough. Their chitins weren’t tough enough. The sawtooth edges on her blades were there because the average Attini Empire soldier had relatively low strength compared to soldiers in the other fronts—because they were the most populous front on the entire continent where points gained from slaughtered bugs had to be shared between more soldiers—so to compensate, they needed sharper weapons capable of sawing through thick ant chitin. The sawtooth blades were thus the empire’s trademark weapon, and she had two of them.

  One was a gift from her mother, when she’d turned eight, and the other was a gift from her father, when she’d turned fifteen.

  They were her pride and joy.

  Facing off against the last ant in the train’s final carriage, she slammed her sawtooth blades over each other, turning them into a massive pair of scissors. The ant surely recognised the technique, but it could do nothing as she dashed in with a hiss and snipped its head off from underneath, a rain of yellow blood falling over her. It was going to crush her, too, so she kicked it off the train by the abdomen, pulling her blades apart and sheathing them in one quick motion.

  That’s… all of the boarding ants.

  As she panted for breath and tried to relax, she heard footsteps behind her. She whirled. It was just Machi and Zora, and the man was leaning by the doorway of the final carriage with a small smile on his face.

  “Not half-bad,” he said, wiping a streak of bug blood off his sleeve. “At the very least, you didn’t slip.”

  Kita scowled, flicking strands of hair out of her face as she glanced back at the rest of the pursuing ants. “We’re not done. There’s still more of them, about fifty or so—”

  “Can’t you use your Swarmblood Art to deal with them?”

  “...”

  He walked forward, moving past her to stand at the very, very tail end of the train, casting “shatter” on the carriage wall. Wind immediately whipped into the carriage as both the wall and the ceiling ripped off, putting them in open air. “All nobles of the Salaqa Household have the same class, do you not? I hear your Swarmblood Art allows you to summon and control hordes of tiny army ants made out of your own blood, and those tiny army ants specialise in mending wounds. Can you also control them and make them attack your enemies?”

  After another long pause, Kita shook her head slowly.

  “No,” she said. “Realistically, they can only be used to mend wounds. They have very little attacking power compared to some of the other noble household’s summoned ants.”

  “I see,” he murmured. “But to wit, the only difference between a commoner and a noble in this empire is whether or not they have a Swarmblood Art that can benefit the populace. Nobles of high rank are able to summon tiny ants with their blood and let them crawl onto lower-rank soldiers, thus boosting the power of said soldiers with whatever abilities their ants can offer—and the nobles in your household are famous for being able to give soldiers under your command the ability to heal mid-battle. The Salaqa Household’s soldiers are half-immortal, are they not?”

  “... You know much about the Salaqa Household,” Kita said quietly, reaching down and cutting her palm on one of her sawtooth blades. Trickles of reddish-brown blood flowed, and as she gripped her fist and let them splatter against the shaking floor, she willed her Swarmblood Art to activate.

  ‘Red Legion’ was the name of the Salaqa Household’s signature magic, and at her command, the puddle of blood at her feet bubbled, writhed, and took three-dimensional shapes. About two hundred tiny army ants made of her blood, glowing reddish-brown, started skittering towards Zora’s feet in a few orderly lines. She didn’t have to give them verbal commands. She simply willed them to crawl up his legs, up his trousers, and then attach themselves under his amber cloak.

  “And how long do these army ants last?” he asked, sounding mighty curious as he fanned his cloak, trying to get a better ‘look’ at her now-dormant ants. “They’re very light, by the way. I barely even feel them under my cloak.”

  “They’ll automatically dissolve in about a week,” she answered, glancing at her palm and willing the blood on her wound to transform into army ants as well. Then she showed her palm to Zora and bit her lip, enduring the stings of pain as her army ants sewed her wound shut. “If they detect any wounds on your body, they’ll automatically crawl to the site of injury, enter your wound, and sew it shut from the inside before dissolving into your bloodstream. The number of ants expended during the healing depends on how serious the wound is. I gave you about two hundred ants just now, so that should be enough to heal a few minor scrapes and cuts over the next week.”

  Zora grinned, greatly amused. “And I assume this Art is why your father achieved such great success as a war general. If he could give a thousand army ants to a thousand soldiers, that is effectively a personal medic for each of those thousand soldiers.”

  Kita dipped her head. “Unfortunately, as I said, they have very little attacking power. Some of the other noble households have Swarmblood Arts that allow them to summon fire ants and bullet ants and the like, which are all attack-oriented summons that can be given to soldiers on the frontline. Those ants would automatically jump off and attack their enemies if the soldier is overwhelmed in battle, which is something my army ants will not do.”

  “That's a shame. I was hoping you’d just deal with the rest of them for me, but, you see, I’m starting to think I get motion-sick very easily,” he said, sighing as he took out his wand and pressed the tip to his lips. “If I have to be the one to deal with them, I need this train to stop right now.”

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