Morning came slowly, painting the sky in muted golds and pale blues. A light breeze ruffled their hair and made their antennae quiver, carrying the earthy scent of the forest floor.
The wheeled containers creaked rhythmically as their armored legs propelled them forward, tiny pebbles scattering under the rolling wheels. By midday, the carts were nearly full, heaped with fruits, grains, and other gathered supplies, the faint clatter of shifting loads echoing with each step.
Sunlight glinted off the hard plates of their exoskeletons, warming their backs, while the distant groan of shifting branches reminded them the forest was vast and watchful.
"Thank goodness," Isla sighed, hugging herself as she walked. Her antennae drooped low, brushing against her hair with each step. "This terrain is too unsettling. I just want to get back to the colony."
Rory smirked, folding his arms across the hard plates of his chest. His antennae flicked once, betraying his amusement. "Scared of the dark, Isla?"
"N-No!" she stammered, her feet scuffing the dirt. Her antennae twitched restlessly, as if searching the air for reassurance. "I just… hate feeling like we're being watched."
Ari shared her unease but kept his thoughts quiet, his lips tightening before softening into a faint smile. We should be heading back by nightfall, he said evenly. So you don't have to worry anymore. And besides, that means my idea actually worked.
Rory nodded, the plates of his shoulders shifting as he relaxed. His antennae flicked upward with approval as a grin spread across his face. "Yeah. You really pulled it off—you're something else, Ari."
Ari shook his head, brushing a hand across the back of his neck. "Don't thank me. Thank the workers who built these carts in record time and gathered all the food. They're the real reason this mission is going so smoothly."
Beatrice, who had been marching nearby, stepped closer, her antennae flicking nervously as she cleared her throat, drawing Ari, Rory, and Isla's attention.
"Listen…" she began, avoiding Ari's gaze, her eyes darting toward the ground. "I won't lie," she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was skeptical at first. But now I see how clever these carts are, and they did serve their purpose. We've saved time, and the workers aren't exhausted from making multiple trips. You really came through, Ari."
Ari chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair and tilting his head slightly. Honestly, I just remembered how I built toy cars when I was alive. That's how I knew how to instruct them on building these carts, he thought, a small smile playing at his lips. Memories came rushing back—how, as kids, he used to make them all the time, and he and Keiko would play racecars together.
Suddenly, one of the cart's wheels popped off with a sharp crack, sending a jolt through the entire load. The weight of the supplies shifted abruptly onto the worker ants pushing it forward. They scrambled aside, antennae flaring, as several berries and grains tumbled from the cart, bouncing and rolling across the dirt path.
The heavy load rocked dangerously on the uneven ground, pebbles skittering under the pressure, and the scent of disturbed soil and crushed fruit filled the air.
The sharp crack snapped Ari out of his thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, scanning the chaos. Beatrice stood nearby, drawing a deep breath, her antennae flicking with tension.
"I… I retract my statement." She turned on her heel, eyes darting briefly to the broken cart before striding away.
"Ari, what are we going to do?" Isla's brow furrowed, her hands curling at her sides as her antennae twitched nervously.
"Don't worry. I prepared for a situation like this." Ari's lips pressed into a thin line, gaze steady as he nodded toward the makeshift bag of wood and leaves Rory carried. "Rory, hand me the materials."
Rory adjusted the bag on his armored back, antennae flicking sharply in acknowledgment, then stepped forward. Ari hefted the supplies toward the broken cart, muscles straining beneath his exoskeleton.
He crouched beside the cart, testing the fallen wheel. The stone was heavy, rough under his fingers, and the cart tilted dangerously with the shift in weight. "Careful," he murmured, few of the workers steadied the cart from the opposite side, legs braced and antennae quivering with effort.
Ari rolled a thick log into place under the wheel, wedging it securely. He pulled resin from the bag, its sticky texture clinging to his fingers as he carefully coated the axle. Slowly, he lifted the wheel into position, feeling the heavy stone grind against the wooden frame. Sparks of dust floated into the air with each slight adjustment, settling on his exoskeleton and hair.
"Hold it steady," Ari called, eyes narrowing as he guided the wheel into alignment. Rory and two soldiers gripped the cart, their legs braced, arms straining beneath the load. Sweat beaded along their exoskeletons, droplets running down their backs.
Once the wheel was in place, Ari pressed the resin firmly around the joint, smoothing it with precise movements until it sealed tightly. He tapped it lightly with the log, listening for any movement, his brows furrowed in concentration.
"Good… finally done," he muttered, exhaling slowly, shoulders relaxing for the first time in minutes.
The workers and soldiers let out collective sighs, antennae flicking and legs shaking from the strain of holding the heavy cart. Several berries and grains that had spilled earlier had been crushed underfoot, leaving a faint sweet scent in the air alongside the earthy aroma of disturbed soil.
"We were delayed by a problem, but it's resolved. Move out!" Lieutenant Brooks's voice rang with authority, eyes bright with command as he led the group forward.
Suddenly, a faint buzzing rippled through the air, low at first, like the hum of a distant storm. The vibration crawled along Ari's skin, lifting the hairs at the back of his neck. With each passing second, the sound grew louder, the rhythm drumming against the earth until even the soil beneath their feet seemed to tremble.
Ari's antennae flicked sharply, angling toward the noise as he strained to locate its source. The air shifted, carrying with it the distinct, unsettling flutter of many wings beating in unison.
Beatrice froze, her lips tightening as her antennae shot upright. Rory's stance widened, muscles coiled beneath his exoskeleton as though bracing for impact. Both of them moved instinctively, the subtle tension of soldiers who knew danger was drawing near.
"Something's coming," Rory muttered, his jaw tightening as he unsheathed his mandibles. The blades caught the fading light as he raised them into a ready stance.
"Everyone, stay on guard. Protect the workers." Ruth's voice cut through the rising hum, cool and steady. Her face remained blank, unreadable, as she stepped forward and drew her mandibles with smooth, practiced ease.
The soldiers reacted at once, weapons rasping free as they snapped into formation, their movements sharp and disciplined.
Behind them, the workers broke into panic. The once orderly column collapsed into chaos as they abandoned their loads, berries and grains scattering across the ground. Some stumbled in their rush, tripping over each other as they scrambled for cover. Many pressed tight against the wheeled containers, exoskeletons rattling faintly as they huddled together, eyes wide while the droning overhead deepened.
Then, they appeared.
A massive swarm of over a hundred winged insects descended with a deafening roar. Their translucent wings caught the fading light, shimmering in eerie hues as the sky seemed to darken under their numbers.
Their elongated, humanlike faces twisted into smug, mocking expressions, compound eyes glinting with cruel amusement. Unlike ordinary flies, these creatures stood tall, each boasting four muscular arms that flexed menacingly as they closed in.
Ari's breath hitched. No way… these are flies? His grip tightened around his mandibles, the blades trembling faintly in his hands as he fought to steady himself.
One particularly large fly, his carapace gleaming with a blueish-black sheen, drifted forward with lazy confidence. His dark eyes gleamed with arrogance, and his smirk stretched wide as his antennae swayed in a taunting rhythm.
"Name's Zippy," he announced, voice smooth and dripping with self-satisfaction. "Remember it. You'll be hearing it plenty before this is over."
His gaze slid over the large wheeled containers piled high with food, and his grin widened, teeth flashing.
"Well, well… looks like luck's on our side. We came out here hoping to stock up for the winter, and wouldn't you know it—you've already done all the heavy lifting for us."
He gave a mocking little shrug, his wings humming louder.
"So here's the deal," he continued, voice turning sharp with amusement. "Hand over the haul, and your precious little workers get to walk away in one piece. Simple as that."
The swarm behind him erupted with laughter, the sound buzzing in time with their wings until it became a deafening chorus of mockery.
Isla whimpered, fingers clenching the hafts of her mandibles until the blades rattled faintly. Her lips pressed together, and her eyes darted nervously between the approaching swarm and the soldiers nearby. A few privates shifted their weight uneasily, exoskeleton scraping softly, jaws tightening as a ripple of unease passed along the line.
Beatrice stepped closer to the front, mandibles gripped tight in her hands. Her voice was quick, low and urgent with concern. "We're not outnumbered, but we have eight hundred twenty-five non-combatants to protect. What's the plan, Commander?" She kept her gaze on Ruth, searching her calm, unreadable face for any hint of guidance.
Ruth stepped forward, her movements measured and deliberate. Expression blank and unreadable, she drew her mandibles from their sheaths with smooth, practiced motions. Her grip was steady, posture perfect, exoskeleton taut but relaxed, giving nothing away. "Fear not. I will handle this," her voice cutting through the din with a flat, even tone. She remained completely still, antennae barely moving, as if the chaos around her meant nothing.
Lieutenant Brooks advanced, each armored foot pressing into the soil with weight and authority. He paused, scanning the swarm, muscles coiling beneath his exoskeleton. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, exuding calm command. "Stand back." His voice carried across the clearing, strong and unyielding. "Your priority is the workers' safety. Do not break formation for any reason at all."
He unsheathed his mandibles, the metal sliding smoothly from their holders, and held them loosely at his sides. Grip firm but relaxed, eyes glittering with deadly intent, he allowed himself a slow, confident grin. Every muscle beneath the exoskeleton was ready, yet he remained composed, exuding the ease of someone who had faced countless battles. "I'll take care of this," his voice steady and unwavering.
Zippy's smirk twitched, the blueish-black sheen of his carapace catching the last light. He tilted his head, dark eyes glinting with a cold amusement. "You'd risk the lives of your workers over a few containers of food?" His voice was calm, deliberate, each word carrying a quiet threat. "Brave… or foolish. Which are you, I wonder?"
Brooks's grin widened, eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed the swarm. "Make no mistake. We'll cut all of you down before anyone gets hurt." He let his hands fall to his sides, mandibles lowered but ready, exoskeleton taut beneath his arms. His posture remained deceptively casual; the subtle gleam in his eyes betrayed the lethal intent coiled beneath.
At that moment, a familiar screen flashed before Ari's eyes.
[New Quest: Kill Thirty Flies]
Rewards: ???
His heart pounded, a tight rhythm against his ribcage. Another quest?
The rewards were still unclear, he thought, jaw tightening. I don't even know why I'm doing this… when there's no certainty of gain. But… I have no choice. His fingers clenched the hafts of his mandibles, blades trembling slightly in his grip.
Steeling himself, he stepped up beside Brooks and Ruth, mandibles gleaming in the fading light.
"Let's do this." His voice was calm, steady, carrying the determination that coursed through his chest.