The chemical scream of the approaching Rotifer Raiders – two distinct, overlapping clouds of predatory intent – hit Dave's enhanced chemoreceptors like a physical blow. Terror, cold and absolute, locked his pseudopods. The Evolutionary Menu pulsed mockingly before him. **Cilia Propulsion Array.** *Speed. Escape.* It was the only choice that mattered now.
*"OPTION ONE! CILIA! NOW!"* Dave roared internally, pouring every shred of his will and the newly acquired energy from the Glimmer-Skrimp into the command.
`> SELECTION CONFIRMED: CILIA PROPULSION ARRAY.`
`> EVOLUTIONARY OVERRIDE ENGAGED. RAPID DEPLOYMENT INITIATED.`
`> WARNING: HIGH ENERGY EXPENDITURE DETECTED. BIOMASS RESERVES CRITICAL.`
Agony, different from the Bloody Tooth's acid sting, erupted across Dave's membrane. It felt like thousands of tiny needles erupting through his surface, tearing and reforming his structure. He convulsed, his simple form rippling violently. Through the haze of pain, he felt them: countless microscopic hair-like structures, **cilia**, sprouting across his body. They vibrated erratically, uselessly churning the water immediately around him but generating no coherent thrust. He was a blender stuck on puree, going nowhere fast.
`> DEPLOYMENT COMPLETE.`
`> USER MANUAL: WILLFUL COORDINATION REQUIRED. SUGGESTED STARTING POINT: "FORWARD."`
The first Rotifer Raider slammed into the edge of the algae thicket, its whirling crown of cilia creating a miniature vortex that tore at the filaments. Its internal jaws snapped hungrily mere microns from Dave's trembling form. The second Raider circled, blocking his most obvious escape route back towards the open water near the glass.
*Move! FORWARD!* Dave commanded his new appendages, picturing himself jetting deeper into the algae forest. Instead, half his cilia beat frantically backwards, the other half forwards, spinning him wildly in place like a deranged top. He collided with a thick algal strand, bouncing off.
`> GRACEFUL AS A STONED DUCK, BLOBBY. TRY NOT TO VOMIT YOUR PROTOPLASM.`
The lead Rotifer pushed deeper, its jaws extending, aiming to engulf him. Pure, adrenaline-fueled desperation overrode the disorientation. Dave focused *everything* on a single, chaotic impulse: *AWAY!* He didn't care about direction, only distance.
His cilia, responding to the raw surge of panic, suddenly synchronized in a single, violent, spasm. He shot backwards like a microscopic cannonball, tearing through the algae. He ripped past the second Rotifer, which lunged and snapped empty water where he'd just been. Momentum carried him out of the thicket and into the relatively open water near the sandy substrate.
*It worked! Sort of!* Relief was short-lived. The uncontrolled burst had consumed a terrifying amount of energy. He felt *lighter*, weaker. The world seemed slightly less sharp through his chemoreceptors. Biomass depletion. The two Rotifers, enraged by the escape, reoriented and shot after him, their coordinated cilia propulsion making them far faster and more maneuverable than his clumsy lurching.
*Okay, okay. Think. Like… like rowing a boat. Alternate strokes.* He visualized tiny oars. He willed the cilia on his left side to beat backwards, those on his right forwards. He lurched sideways, slamming into a small pebble. Pain radiated through his membrane. The Rotifers closed the gap, their chemical signatures screaming imminent consumption.
*Opposite! Opposite!* He reversed the command. Left forward, right back. He spun clockwise, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of the first Raider. The second Raider clipped his trailing edge, tearing a tiny piece of membrane free. Agony and terror warred with exhaustion.
`> BIOMASS LEVEL: 63%. EFFICIENCY RATING: PATHETIC. ENTERTAINMENT RATING: EXCELLENT.`
`> RECOMMENDATION: AIM FOR THE HYDRA. A QUICK DEATH IS PREFERABLE TO SLOW DIGESTION.`
Dave ignored her. A faint, familiar scent cut through the predatory stench and his own panic: *Ambrosia immobilis*. The Hydra. It was anchored to a piece of gnarled driftwood nearby, its tentacles lazily undulating in the current, a deadly oasis of stillness. It was suicide. But the Rotifers were certain death.
Gathering the dregs of his will and energy, Dave focused his chaotic cilia again, not on coordinated movement, but on a single, desperate burst *towards* the Hydra. He shot forward like a drunken missile, straight towards the forest of stinging tentacles.
The Rotifers, sensing his trajectory and the danger, hesitated fractionally. It was enough. Dave plunged into the outer fringe of the Hydra's killing zone. He sensed the shift immediately – the water grew thick with paralyzing toxins emitted by the Hydra to subdue prey. He felt sluggish, his cilia beating slower. But so did the pursuing Rotifers. The lead Raider, driven by hunger, pushed deeper, its cilia churning the toxin-laden water.
One of the Hydra's tentacles, reacting to the disturbance, lashed out with lightning speed. It didn't aim for Dave, still a tiny, almost insignificant speck near its base. It speared the larger, more aggressive Rotifer Raider mid-lunge. The Rotifer convulsed violently, trapped in the paralyzing grip, before being drawn slowly towards the Hydra's central mouth.
The second Rotifer Raider recoiled instantly, emitting a frantic chemical scream of alarm. It darted backwards, putting distance between itself and the Hydra's deadly embrace. It circled warily, its chemical signature a roil of frustrated hunger and fear, but didn't dare enter the toxin cloud again.
Dave clung to the rough surface of the driftwood near the Hydra's base, trembling. He was trapped, but alive. For now. The Hydra paid him no mind, preoccupied with slowly digesting the paralyzed Rotifer. The toxins made his thoughts fuzzy, his movements leaden. He could feel his cilia drooping, barely functioning. He needed to get out of this toxic zone, but moving felt impossible. Worse, his biomass was critically low – 63% felt like starvation levels after the frantic escape.
*"AURA... status,"* Dave managed to think, his internal voice weak.
`> STATUS: ALIVE (MARGINALLY).`
`> LOCATION: PROXIMITY TO *HYDRA VULGARIS*. DESIGNATION: "FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD DEATH PLANT."`
`> BIOMASS: 61% (DEGRADATION DUE TO TOXIN EXPOSURE AND CILIA MAINTENANCE).`
`> RECOMMENDATION: STAY VERY STILL AND HOPE IT MISTAKES YOU FOR DETRITUS. AGAIN.`
Before Dave could muster a sarcastic retort, a new disturbance rippled through the water. Not predators this time. A deep, resonant *gong* sound, muffled by distance and water, vibrated through the tank. It was followed by a wave of complex chemical signatures flooding in from the direction of the palace – perfumes, oils, unfamiliar spices, and a sudden, intense surge of that shimmering electric scent – Aether. The water itself seemed to hum with a subtle, new energy.
`> SIGNIFICANT AETHERIC SURGE DETECTED. SOURCE: EXTERNAL. PROBABLE CAUSE: ROYAL COURT EVENT.`
`> ANALYSIS: AETHER CONCENTRATION INCREASING BY 300%. EFFECTS UNKNOWN.`
Dave felt it too – a tingling sensation across his membrane, a faint influx of energy counteracting the Hydra's toxins slightly. His sluggish thoughts cleared a fraction. He could sense the plants around him reacting, their faint glows intensifying. Even the Hydra seemed to pulse with renewed vigor as it digested its meal.
Then, the voices came. Not the deep, threatening murmurs from before, but a chorus. High-pitched, melodic, excited. Dozens of them, filtering through the water as distorted chirps and trills. They emanated from outside the glass, concentrated near the end of the tank closest to what Dave presumed was a grand entrance. Blurred shapes – a riot of colors and movement – pressed close to the glass. The Princess's sanctuary was no longer private.
`> MULTIPLE LIFEFORMS DETECTED AT PERIMETER. CHEMICAL SIGNATURES INDICATE… NOBILITY?`
`> EVENT DESIGNATION: "PRINCESS LYRA'S AQUATIC MENAGERIE VIEWING." POPULAR ROYAL PASTIME.`
A colossal shadow fell across Dave's section of the driftwood. A massive, distorted face pressed against the glass directly above him and the Hydra. Giant, curious eyes, magnified and warped by the water and curved glass, scanned the scene. Dave froze, pressing himself impossibly flatter against the wood. The Hydra retracted its feeding tentacles slightly, disturbed by the sudden dimming of light and the vibrations.
A high-pitched, delighted exclamation, muffled but clear in its intent, echoed through the water. The giant finger tapped the glass, *thump-thump-thump*, right above the Hydra. The vibrations rattled Dave's weakened form. The Hydra recoiled further, releasing its grip on the half-digested Rotifer carcass. The carcass drifted slowly downwards, landing perilously close to Dave.
The giant face pulled back, replaced by a flurry of other blurred shapes jostling for a view. The tapping finger belonged to someone else now, smaller, pointing excitedly. The water churned with displaced currents from the crowd outside.
Dave saw his chance. The Hydra was distracted and retracted. The toxins were diluted by the influx of fresh, Aether-rich water. The half-digested Rotifer was a risky but potent source of biomass right next to him. And the commotion outside might mask any small movement he made.
He gathered the faint trickle of energy from the ambient Aether surge and the dregs of his own reserves. He focused his cilia, still clumsy but slightly more responsive now, on a single goal: *The Rotifer carcass. Eat. Survive.*
He pushed off the driftwood, his cilia beating in a desperate, uncoordinated crawl towards the floating bounty. Above him, the distorted faces pressed closer, their excited murmurs a constant, unsettling drone. One particularly enthusiastic tap sent another strong vibration through the water, dislodging a piece of debris that tumbled down towards him.
Dave reached the carcass just as the debris – a sharp-edged fragment of shell – sliced through the water inches from his membrane. He extended a pseudopod, enveloping a chunk of the partially digested Rotifer. The influx of nutrients was immediate and powerful, dulling the ache of his depleted biomass. He ignored the foul taste, the violation of eating his former predator. Survival was the only flavor that mattered now.
`> BIOMASS INCREASING. 65%... 68%...`
`> OBSERVATION: SCAVENGING THE SCAVENGED. HOW METABOLICALLY EFFICIENT. AND DISGUSTING.`
Dave kept eating, clinging to the carcass, hidden partially by drifting silt stirred up by the external commotion. He was a shadow in the shadow of a half-eaten Rotifer, beneath a Hydra, in a tank surrounded by oblivious giants. But he was alive. He had cilia. He had food. And the chaotic energy of the royal viewing party, while terrifying, had inadvertently granted him a fragile reprieve. The question was, what happened when the party ended, and the Hydra finished digesting its meal and noticed the thief at its feet?