The main streets of Nohoch Ik’Balam were living rivers surging with bodies, voices, and motion. Merchants shouted over one another, their voices slicing through the early summer heat. Carts and ant-pulled caravans rattled on uneven stone streets, groaning under the weight of goods: crates of gold ingots, sacks of dried insect flesh, and bundles of weapons destined for the factories. Zora sniffed and smiled. The air was thick with the scents of roasted meats, pungent spices, and the faint metallic tang of insect resin—it made him feel a little hungry now.

  As he walked with Kita abreast, Ifas and Machi trailed a few steps back, their voices a quiet counterpoint to the city’s roar.

  “You think this is a good idea, driver?” Machi’s voice was tight, sharp like a knife edge.

  “I think it’s not my place to question the master,” Ifas shot back, his tone easy, almost lazy.

  “That does not mean it is smart,” Machi pressed. “Letting him and my lady walk around like this—exposed, in the open—what if something happens?”

  “Then he’ll handle it like he handles everything else,” Ifas replied plainly.

  Zora let their quiet argument fade into the background. Machi worried about Kita deeply, of course, but her fears extended to Zora as well. And he appreciated her vigilance. It was misplaced, sure, but it came from a place of goodwill, and he’d never dismiss goodwill like that.

  Kita walked silently beside him, her steps light and steady. She hadn’t said much since they’d left their quarters in the Nohoch Lord’s factory a few hours ago to take a walk around the Region Capital. Her silence wasn’t unusual, but Zora could practically hear the gears in her mind spinning. The little lady had a habit of weighing her thoughts before speaking, like a swordsman testing the heft of a blade, and honestly? Sometimes, he’d rather she just speak her mind honestly instead of forcing him to play the adult game of trying to guess what she was thinking.

  Teenagers.

  And she was the one who said she wanted to follow me out on a walk.

  As the midday sun bore down on all four of them, he sighed and let his thoughts drift, turning inwards.

  Two months ago, he’d constructed the first five-pointed star-shaped effigy just a bit north of Nohoch Ik’Balam, along one of the five main railways leading to a large Swarmsteel factory town. After crafting its skeleton out of giant ant carcasses, Yiru’s soldiers had further reinforced the effigy with metal beams, plates, and wires—making sure it’d stand the tests of time as a grotesque and unmistakable ‘mark’ of the Thousand Tongue.

  In all honesty, that first effigy had been nothing but a test. Zora hadn’t been completely certain it’d work. The Swarm weren’t unintelligent, but it wasn’t like they operated entirely on reason, either—there were times when they simply moved with instinct, primal and brutal. Still, over the following weeks, they constructed more giant star-shaped effigies across the northwest. First along the five major railways, then along the smaller lines, and finally along the caravan routes that wound through the more isolated outer regions. The work had been relentless, the labour grueling for the workers who had to follow up on Zora’s shoddy construction work, but the results were undeniable.

  Sign language was a language the Swarm understood, and they understood his effigy’s message very well: stay away.

  The attacks had dwindled accordingly.

  At first, there was hesitation. No merchant wanted to be the first to test the safety of a route marked by such grim and grotesque-looking monuments. Then, one caravan had dared to travel along the route between Nohoch Ik’Balam and a small refinery town just two days northeast. Zora smiled faintly at the memory. After all, that brave caravan master was just one of Yiru’s soldiers—a calculated plant to spread the good word. Zora himself had tagged along with that caravan, unseen and unheard, to ensure nothing went wrong.

  And the gamble paid off. The moment the caravan managed to travel back and forth between two relatively distant settlements without getting attacked, word spread like wildfire, carried by merchants eager to reclaim lost profits. It took two weeks, but now the trade routes were coming alive again, bustling with activity. Smaller caravans and independent merchants took to the roads with growing confidence, their faith bolstered by the stars that dotted the landscape. The effigies weren’t just grotesque monuments anymore. They were symbols of peace guaranteed by the Thousand Tongue.

  A few more weeks passed. The railways followed suit. Trains once left to rust now roared back to life, their wheels grinding against tracks that had been silent for years. A hundred and sixteen factories, twenty-four refinery towns, and fourteen mining outposts had reopened, forges glowing, chimneys belching smoke into the sky. Workers returned to their stations, their hands blistered but steady as they resumed crafting weapons and equipment for the empire’s endless war against the Swarm.

  Here, in Nohoch Ik’Balam, the change was most apparent. The Region Capital thrummed with energy, its streets once again crowded with people and goods. With the Swarmsteel factory production lines in this city running at nearly maximum speed, the Nohoch Lord was also finally able to begin fulfilling his overdue weapons orders for the Capital.

  Zora’s lip twitched in the barest hint of a smile again. The Capital’s meddling had been postponed for now. With the northwest getting back on its feet, they had no pretext to send the Royal Capital Guards into the city under the guise of peacekeeping. In particular, it gave him breathing room—a chance to focus on what truly mattered—because if the Capital wanted to kill him, they’d have to spare no effort sending a covert force of assassins or Spore Knights into the northwest, and he doubted the Capital was willing to waste that many resources on him.

  I imagine nobody’s happier than Yiru, though.

  His city is alive again.

  The Nohoch Lord had every reason to be pleased. His factories were running again, and his coffers would soon swell with the profits of renewed trade. Workers who’d been idle for months could move with purpose once again. Certainly, there was still a lot to be done regarding bringing the northwest back to order, but Zora was no lord, nor did he aspire to be one. Administrative work bored him, and his mind wasn’t built for the tedium of ledgers and decrees. He’d leave that to the Nohoch Lord.

  His role here was done. Almost.

  A snatch of conversation caught his ear, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. Two merchants debated the best route to the southern frontier, their voices rising and falling like the cadence of a song.

  “You’re amused,” Kita said, her tone flat.

  “People,” Zora said simply, “are endlessly interesting.”

  “But this isn’t all good.”

  Zora tilted his head, inviting her to continue.

  “Your effigies,” she said, her voice quieter now. “They’ve made it clear to the Swarm that this land is off-limits, but they’re also a message.”

  “To the Capital, you mean?”

  She nodded, though he couldn’t see it. He felt her hesitation in the pause before she spoke again.

  “They’ll come for you,” she said. “Not the Royal Capital Guard—not with no excuse for peacekeeping anymore—but assassins. The Death God or whatever they’re called is still out there, aren’t they?”

  “It’s possible,” Zora admitted. His voice carried no fear, only quiet acknowledgment. “But I am very, very close to being done here. By the time this ‘Death God’ arrives, I’ll already be long gone.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

  He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his focus inward, scanning his status interface over in the corner of his mind’s eye.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  [Name: Zora Fabre]

  [Grade: D-Rank Mutant-Class]

  [Class: Magicicada]

  [Bioarcanic Art: God Tongue]

  [Bioarcanic Aura: 7,336]

  [Points: 621]

  [Strength: 6, Speed: 6, Toughness: 6, Dexterity: 6, Perception: 11]

  [// MUTATION TREE]

  [T1 Mutation | Resilin Tymbal Lvl. 5]

  [T2 Mutations | Rhythmic Tympana Lvl. 8 | Timbral Abdovoid Lvl. 6]

  [T3 Mutations | Basic Chitin Lvl. 4 | Basic Wings Lvl. 3 | Basic Setae Lvl. 4]

  [T4 Mutations | Basic Ocellus | Basic Digestion | Basic Spiracles | Basic Dormancy] 500P

  Two months of nearly weekly combat against hordes of Giant-Class ants had left him an abundance of points, a portion of which he hadn’t yet spent. He’d gotten around four thousand points in two months, which was already more than what he’d gotten in two years marching down to the Capital. Granted, he’d still given away a significant portion of his points these past two months to Kita and Yiru’s soldiers—because they were the ones who’d be defending the northwest from here on out—but four thousand points was a lot to spend nevertheless.

  Now, he’d thought about unlocking all of his tier four mutations all at once, or maybe even get the first branch mutations for all his tier three mutations, but instead, he’d spent around three thousand points on increasing his attribute levels across the board. Mainly, he’d put his points into perception and ‘Rhythmic Tympana’. He was blind. He needed the ability to hear more than anyone else could see, and then some more—his hearing was especially bad on a fast-moving train, after all, so before anything else, he’d made sure he’d never be unable to detect his surroundings.

  Thankfully, he still had around seven hundred points left. That was more than enough to get a tier four mutation and a tier three branch mutation, so he’d do just that later. There was no need to unlock them in a hurry.

  “... I don’t know about you, but I’ve been listening,” he said casually. “To the city. To the northwest. To the people.”

  Kita’s frown deepened. “And?”

  “Thousands of testimonies from people I’ve interviewed across the northwest,” he continued. “The workers, traders, soldiers, even the beggars—they all tell me the same story. Most of them seem to agree that the Empress and Her Four Families changed a decade ago when a certain ‘Divine Attendant’ arrived in the Capital.”

  “The Divine Attendant?”

  “You’ve heard of her?”

  “No. This is the first time.”

  Zora lowered his voice. “Since this ‘Divine Attendant’ arrived in the Capital, she has wormed herself into the circle of the Empress and Her Four Families with so-called ‘divine prophecies’. Supposedly, she’d been advising the Empress and shaping governance of the empire in ways nobody understands these past ten years. Lots of people believe she is a ‘magician’—she performs impossible feats and makes prophecies that defy all common reason. A woman who walks through walls, who knows things she couldn’t possibly know. Isn’t it quite unusual that a no-name from nowhere can just walk into the Capital and become the Empress’ most confidential advisor?”

  Kita’s breath hitched. “So you think it’s her?”

  “Decima,” Zora confirmed, his voice like a blade slicing through the noise. “The Magicicada Witch we’re looking for. She probably used her magic to quell suspicions and suppress dissension within the noble court… though I have no idea what sort of spells she can cast.”

  The noble princess’ steps quickened, her boots striking the stone with more force. “If this Divine Attendant is her… can you beat her as you are now?”

  Zora thought for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I still have time. The year’s end is still nine months away, so I’ll get as strong as I can before facing her in battle.”

  The determination in his voice left no room for argument. Kita said nothing more, but he could sense her unease in the way she carried herself—she probably had something she wanted to say, but couldn’t.

  … Hm.

  If she wasn’t going to say anything, he wasn’t going to say anything.

  The noise of the market began to fade as they approached the main factory in the centre of the city. Steam hissed from its chimneys, and the low roar of machinery filled the air. Waved through by the guards at the front gate who’d no doubt been told never to impede them, they ascended the winding staircase to the Nohoch Lord’s office at the very top, and when Zora pushed the door open, the familiar smell of ink and parchment immediately wafted into his nose.

  Yiru was already standing behind the massive round table in the centre of the room, his hands resting on its edges. A physical map of the northwest stretched across its surface, dotted with three-dimensional wooden markers representing towns, railways, and Swarm activity. It was a map specially made so Zora could run his hands across it and feel out all the important information, after all, and he was glad Yiru was an accommodating lord.

  Being a kind lord was just a bonus on top of that.

  Yiru’s smile was wide, his voice warm as he looked up and greeted them. “Enjoying the city, Kita? Thousand Tongue?”

  “Very much,” Zora replied, inclining his head slightly. “But now it’s time to talk business.”

  While Machi closed the office door behind them and Ifas made himself comfortable on a cushion in the corner of the room, Zora, Kita, and Yiru stood around the round table. Zora immediately placed his fingers lightly on the table’s edge, using the vibrations of Yiru’s steady breathing and Kita’s shifting weight to orient himself.

  Then he swept his hand slowly across the map, feeling the markers dotted across the terrain.

  “... Have either of you fought Mutant-Classes before?” he murmured, turning his head slightly toward Yiru and Kita as he confirmed the statuses of all the giant effigies constructed along the five main railways.

  Yiru cleared his throat. “No,” he admitted. “I’ve fought Giant-Classes back when I was younger and enlisted in the army, but nothing beyond that.”

  “I’ve studied them at the Royal Ayapacha Military Academy,” Kita said plainly. “The professors spoke of their cunning. Their brutality. Their ability to use Bioarcanic Arts.”

  Zora nodded in satisfaction. “Then, do you understand why I had the effigies built this way?”

  He reached under his cloak and retrieved his wand, and without another word, he began tracing the outline of the effigies on the map. Line by line, he connected the markers slowly, deliberately, and precisely. Kita and Yiru were quiet at first, but the more lines he connected, the higher their brows raised—and once he finished, a sharp intake of breath came from Kita, while Yiru let out a low whistle, the sound tinged with disbelief.

  After all, by connecting all of the giant effigies to their two closest counterparts, he’d created a giant star-shaped pattern stretching across the entire northwest that could only be seen from a top-down perspective.

  “Bold,” Yiru said, chuckling softly. “It’s as if you’ve claimed the entire northwest for yourself. Who’s the Nohoch Lord now?”

  “I wouldn’t dare, my lord,” Zora said, his lips curling into a grin. “Don’t be mistaken, however. Even if you hadn’t noticed I was building effigies in a giant star-shaped pattern across the northwest, there are plenty of flight-able insects in the Swarm. There’s no chance they didn’t notice this pattern from the sky. They won’t ignore it, either. They’ll see the completed pattern as a challenge. An insult. They won’t just quietly retreat from the northwest.”

  Then he tapped his wand against the centre of the star-shaped pattern, and Yiru frowned as he noticed what was at the centre of the effigies. Nohoch Ik’Balam. The Region Capital, the beating heart of the northwest.

  “So, how will the Swarm regain their dominance in the northwest?” Zora continued, tapping Nohoch Ik’Balam on the map. “I’ve already told them how to do it. They see the star, and they have their target—to kill the man who has been bringing them so much trouble these past two months and to regain their dominance, they’ll target Nohoch Ik’Balam, and they’ll make sure to do it with flair by sending all of their Mutant-Classes after me.”

  Yiru, the lord of the city, was evidently suspicious of his statement. “You want the Swarm to target Nohoch Ik’Balam.”

  “Yes,” he said plainly. “But they’ll be targeting Nohoch Ik’Balam and me at the same time, so this is where I’ll draw every Mutant-Class leading the Swarm in the northwest out.” He traced one of the five major railways leading away from the city with his wand: the shortest of the five. “I’ll board a train and travel along this railway. The Mutant-Classes won’t attack while I’m riding away from the city, though. They’ll wait. They’ll only attack on my return trip to the city so they can kill me and destroy Nohoch Ik’Balam by jumping onboard.”

  The room was silent save for the faint scrape of Yiru’s hand as he adjusted one of the markers on the map.

  “... But you won’t let them ride into the city, will you?” Yiru asked, staring at him pointedly.

  “No shit, my lord,” Zora said, “because I’ll be on the train. The shortest of the five major railways is a six round trip to and from the city. In those three hours of the train coming back, I’ll dismantle all the Mutant-Classes and give you their heads.”

  Yiru nodded, his resolve palpable. “Then I’ll have the train ready by nightfall. By midnight, it should be en route to return to the city.”

  “And if everything goes well—if we achieve an overwhelming victory against the Mutant-Classes—the northwest will be able to stand on its own two feet come tomorrow sunrise.”

  With that, Zora turned toward the door, yawning and stretching his arms over his head. It was only midday, so he had about six or so hours to get a quick nap in before he had to board the away train.

  And I’ll use that time to take a look at the tier four mutations.

  But before that…

  He didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to see Kita, exactly, but he still did as he asked her a question.

  “I have no proof, but I believe there’ll be at least four or five Mutant-Classes jumping onto the train tonight,” he said. “You can stay behind if you don’t think you’re ready, but—”

  “I’m going with you,” she said, and her response was immediate, sharp as a blade. “I am graded at E-Rank Mutant-Class, after all.”

  Zora tilted his head slightly. He couldn’t help but notice most of their conversations ended up like this—with one side completely adamant—but he didn’t think the midnight train was going to be that dangerous.

  Besides, it was true that the young princess had followed him on basically every ant extermination mission in the past two months. If nothing else, she could support him from the back and throw clumps of army ants at him for instant healing.

  “... Then get ready,” he said, yawning once more as he headed out of the room. “We’ll meet up downstairs at the station in six hours.”