Three days later…
Today, the sky was covered in layers of black clouds. Ink fell from the sky in steady sheets, and lightning flashed at an increasingly frequent pace. The atmosphere was cold and dreary, with an unease that rested along the horizon. What made it most unsettling was the silence that followed each arc of lightning. There was no thunder, only the constant static of falling rain.
The world felt muted.
-
Down the swamp-filled road walked a small party.
This was a group of Beastmen, or more specifically, the ant race, a group that walked the line between Beastmen and the Insect Clan.
Petra's small figure was slightly under a meter. To her left swaggered the mischievous ant trio, and to her right walked a tall bipedal ant, who stood slightly over two meters. Her carapace was smooth and curved, unlike the flat figures of the childish trio, she was shaped almost like that of a voluptuous and seductive woman. This 'ant maid' carried a wide black umbrella, carefully tilting it to shield Petra from the rain. Behind them, a massive six-legged ant followed quietly in the back. Its frame had been spliced with that of a rhinoceros beetle, giving it a heavy, armored shell and broad horn that flickered with runes whenever lightning flashed.
Together, they looked a little bit like a princess and her entourage, ready to go out for a stroll.
-
The journey to Darkwell began with traversing the Darkswamp Archipelago, island by island.
They followed what remained of the main road after the upheaval, occasionally passing over massive roots, walking through bubbling swamps, and avoiding massive monsters that could accidentally implicate them due to their similar species.
Along the way, they passed abandoned villages, broken watchtowers, and the occasional mercenary camp. There were battles, monsters, and treasures.
It was a mixture of good and bad.
As they progressed towards Darkwell, the air itself felt heavier, carrying a mood that was both despair-inducing and melancholic.
It felt like sinking into a swamp…
-
Their first stop on the journey to Darkwell was a small island, roughly five kilometers across.
Because she and her party were formed entirely of insects, they were treated with great caution. The giant Insects had become one of the biggest problems since the mid-stage of the Second Calamity, and people had learned to be wary of anything with too many legs.
Fortunately, Petra had taken precautions.
She had never allowed that corruptive substance that was mutating the western insects to accumulate in their bodies, so she and the ants retained relatively normal forms. Without showing any of the signs that the other insects had, they were ignored by most people.
This, of course, only referred to those that didn't have a strong understanding of the recent news.
-
After asking around, the information she gathered was slightly concerning…
As they moved closer to the City of Darkwell, the appearances of Dusk Dwellers had become more frequent. Since the start of the Black Rain, the Dusk Dwellers were no longer limited to only appearing during dusk. They could now appear at any time, in any place, 'within anything', and this change had caused many devastating battles across the western region. The insects were often reported as 'hosting' Dusk Dwellers, allowing them to pounce out and ambush the United Army after a battle had concluded.
That alone should have been enough, but there was something else that caught Petra's attention.
Some of the local creatures that had survived the Black Rain were beginning to mutate. The changes were especially noticeable in the swamplands, where the underwater creatures had started developing strange shells, poisonous properties, and even metallic traits. Along with a decrease in intelligence, their sizes had also begun to increase.
It seemed they were following the same path that the insects were taking, only much slower.
-
Moving on…
The next island in the Dark Swamp Archipelago was called Golldin, named after the large town near its center. The island of Golldin was enormous, stretching more than two hundred kilometers from one end to the other. Crossing it would take days, so Petra moved at a leisurely pace.
She passed quietly through the swamplands.
The air was cold and wet, carrying a chilling moisture born from the Black Rain. Petra splashed through the small pools of black ink like a child on a rainy day.
Small firefly-like creatures hovered just above the ground, creating little sparks of green light that drifted lazily through the rain. The ecology of the western region was most noticeable in the Dark Swamp, because the Cursed Hills were too hostile, and the Grey Plains were too barren. Many reptilian and amphibious creatures thrived here, known for their resilience and ruthless nature. It was kill or be killed… or simply be too thick to be killed.
Ahem...
While they progressed, Petra learned about the dangers of the Western Regions' Dark Swamp.
The Bog Toad was one of the most common creatures in the western swamplands. Its swollen body was covered in boiling black skin and bright green veins that stretched along its limbs. It reproduced rapidly, requiring monthly culling, and it released a toxic fog from its back whenever it was injured, and its tongue could shoot forward to paralyze prey within seconds. On a side note, this was also the least liked creature in all of the western region, often called the 'disgusting old man' by the female barbarians.
The Swamp Stalker was another frequent threat to travellers. This salamander-like beast swam through mud like water, moving with a terrifying speed before it lunged towards a target. It hunted through vibrations, rising from beneath a pathway and striking before its prey even sensed danger.
Finally, the Lightcane Leech was far more insidious. It lived in colonies that mimicked swamp water, copying its surroundings like a chameleon. If a traveler stepped into one, their leg would be latched onto by thousands of tiny leeches, and drained dry, leaving behind nothing but a husk.
These were the most 'common threats' in the Western Regions Dark Swamp. If someone asked what to avoid, these three would always sit at the top of the list.
Even so, none of them were considered the 'most dangerous'.
That title belonged to a magic beast known as the Hundred-Tongued Eel.
The Hundred-Tongued Eel slithered beneath the swamplands like a patient python, hiding in twisting tunnels below the black mud. Its shifting body could lengthen or contract, and its dozens of tongues mimicked the voices of those it had already devoured. It whispered through the rain, luring travelers close, then poisoned them with a single spear of its tongue, and dragged them beneath the mud to be consumed.
The most terrifying thing was that it was said to grow up to two hundred meters long.
Aside from these dangerous things, Petra also took an interest in a few special creatures.
The Runescale Swamp Tortoise was one of them. Its massive shell carried natural runes that flickered whenever danger approached, forming a temporary barrier that turned the creature into something like an armadillo, formed from stone and light. Petra had almost taken one home as a pet, but in the end, she settled for collecting a few vials of its blood for later experiments. The natural shielding ability fascinated her and seeing such a trait manifest on its own was worth studying.
This was not the only sample she collected. Petra had already gathered blood from nearly every creature that lived outside the influence of the corrupted world tree.
The harvesters created by the Warlord Forge Ant Queen were exceptionally good at this kind of thing. They were efficient at collecting samples and even better at recreating the traits found within them.
* * *
The next day.
The rain had grown heavier.
Thick drops poured from the dark sky in steady waves, beating against the muddy road that snaked through the swamplands. The world was wrapped in soft static, the kind that made everything feel slow and sleepy.
Petra walked along the road with her usual relaxed pace, her antennae swaying back and forth in the wind, while humming to herself.
Everything was peaceful.
At least, until three adventurers stepped out from behind a shard of root and blocked the path.
Two men and one woman.
Petra paused and examined this group of future corpses… Mm, cannon fodder!
The one in front was Petras's least favourite trope. He was loud and overconfident, with spiky red hair and a careless expression, a classic hot head who behaved as if the world revolved around him. His sword hung loosely in one hand, as he lazily tilted it back and forth, swaggering forward with uneven steps.
"Well, well, what do we have here~?" he said, smirking like he had practiced 'that expression'.
Petra tilted her head slightly, having to look up just to meet his gaze. Her large black eyes reflected his face back at him.
Who was this supposed to be?
She didn't react, even when he swaggered all the way up and crouched down in front of her, close enough that she could smell the poor decisions from his breath.
"I've never seen an ant-kin like you before," he said, smirking with malice. "What are you, some kind of pet that got lost?" He pressed his finger to her forehead and jabbed.
Petra's mind went blank.
"Ah…..?"
She couldn't understand why this man thought this level of suicidal behavior was appropriate.
After a long pause, she still didn't respond.
He grimaced when his joke landed like a dead fish. "What-what-what, can't you talk? Or are you too dumb to understand?" This time he poked her nose, even harder, and more aggressively, almost as if he was trying to push her down.
"…"
Petra's eyelid twitched.
Behind her, the ant maid's eyes narrowed, the mischievous trio stopped fidgeting, and even the guardian ant lifted its head. They all sensed Petra's mood shift like a lifting guillotine. A wave of killing intent rolled across the road.
The man's two companions stepped back, suddenly feeling their bodies turn cold.
Petra looked up slowly.
Her gaze was still calm.
Her eyes drifted to the two behind him. A bulky middle-aged man in leather armor, and a woman in a robe that was more revealing than practical. Both looked uncomfortable, but neither of them dared to speak. They were adventurers, not mercenaries…
That explained the lack of survival instincts.
When they met Petra's eyes, they stiffened.
Petra returned her attention to the hot head.
He couldn't even feel the shift in the air.
What an idiot.
Mages and cultivators were easy to distinguish by how their spiritual energy moved in their bodies. A mage's mana channels were neat and structured, following the skeleton, while a cultivator's meridians flowed through a second set of veins before cycling back into the dantian.
Petra possessed both properties.
This man was definitely a cultivator, and judging by the density of spiritual energy gathering around his dantian, he was around the third level of the Golden Core Realm. (Third Order / Realm) Someone at that level could float, skip meals forever, properly solidify their spiritual energy, and sometimes use it as spiritual pressure.
Petra could have easily cracked this idiot's golden core, especially from this distance, but something more interesting happened… Before the maid or the guardian could react, the trio behind her suddenly appeared next to the man, approaching like little beggars.
The man froze as they grabbed onto his legs and began tugging at his clothes.
"Hey—! Get off!" he shouted, trying to shake them loose.
They didn't listen.
'Annoying little brats!'
In his head, he cursed. He had only approached Petra, or her Ant Avatar, because he had heard the same rumors as everyone else. Recently, the problems with the massive insects had caused people to pay more attention to the Insect Race. This caused Petras's 'looting squads' to get noticed. People began to discuss the strange 'ant-kin' that had appeared across the western region, looting, robbing, and causing trouble. He had assumed this one was the same, maybe part of that group. The idea was that she would be a 'big-ticket target', either carrying a lot of goods, or possessing a big bounty. He didn't know, because he couldn't tell them apart.
Unfortunately for him, these particular ants didn't share his sense of… uh, you know. The trio kept tugging, their little claws catching fabric and armor.
"Stop that! What are you—!" he barked, swatting at them with his arm.
One of the ant children squeaked in defiance and began to pull even harder.
The man grimaced, then jolted. His head turned, and he discovered that one of the trio had stabbed him in the butt with a small vial of yellow liquid. The little ant looked up, its big black eyes reflecting an innocent expression.
The man's face twisted.
'What was that?!'
Quickly, he felt his body weakening.
His companions were too stunned to move. The woman opened her mouth, then closed it again. The large man simply watched in disbelief, still frozen from the shock.
The three little ants were relentless.
Within seconds, his robes began to tear. The man stumbled back, slipping into the mud as his armor plates clattered to the ground and its straps came undone. The paralytic toxin spread through his body, turning his limbs sluggish. Then, with one final, suspiciously heroic tug, the mischievous trio stripped him completely naked. Armor, sword, bags, dignity… all of it vanished in a single smooth motion.
The cultivator hit the ground with a wet thud, half-buried in the mud.
Silence followed.
A long, painfully long, silence...
The ants stood proudly, chittering to one another as they carried off his belongings like golden trophies.
The two remaining adventurers stared in horror.
Even Petra looked mildly concerned. She tilted her head, blinking slowly. "I really need to find out who's teaching them this," she muttered.
The man groaned, still face-down in the mud.
Petra watched him for a second longer, then sighed and turned away. "Let's go," she said, commanding the ants. Was it too late to say that she wasn't involved?
Whatever. She could just pretend that this didn't happen…
The maid nodded, tilting the umbrella back, and followed.
Behind them, the trio continued marching happily, dragging their ill-gotten goods through mud and rain while the guardian lumbered after them, humming faintly in the thunderless rain.
The storm carried on as if nothing had happened.