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Rating:
Not Rated
Archive Warning:
Major Character Death
Category:
F/F
Fandoms:
Parahumans Series - Wildbowダンジョンに出会いを求めるのは間違っているだろうか | DanMachi | Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? (Anime)
Characters:
Taylor Hebert | Skitter | WeaverQueen Administrator (Parahumans)Bell CranelHestia Familia (DanMachi)Tiona HiryuteLoki (DanMachi)Demeter
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2022-08-25Completed:2022-10-27Words:146,083Chapters:53/53Kudos:1,251Bookmarks:306Hits:60,387
Dungeon Warlord
bridielux
Summary:
Immediately following Gold Morning, Skitter and QA retreat and burn all the bridges.
Taylor wakes up in the Dungeon without remembering the resolution to Gold Morning. She shall ready this new world for the imminent apocalypse. Regardless of Orario's wishes.
New world. New Escalation. Same Taylor.
Notes:
(See the end of the work for notes.)
Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
Prologue
The local bi-pedaled host-species gathered around Them. All of them were hosts. They had all served as thralls in the final confrontation with [WARRIOR].
Yet, despite their victory, no allies could be counted among this crowd. At least, none that They recognized.
A part of Them sought to dominate these spectators, to add their abilities back into Their swarm, and to guarantee Their continuation this Cycle. But another part of Them refrained. That portion of Their mind, still heavily saturated with Their Host, could not distinguish those surrounding Them from those anchors Host had set.
This left them in a near paradox: If stasis would result in death, and if Host deemed attacking disfavorable, then only one option remained.
To achieve this, there was one among that crowd that They sought out. They began striding forwards, towards the circumference of spectators. Many of these observers hastened away, keeping clear the space around Them. Many did, but not all. Several fell back under Their purview. These became Their honor guard as they sought their target.
They did not pause until They found Their goal. Their target flew backwards, held aloft by a thrall.
Their target moved their lips and vibrated the air. They knew that this was speech, but the capability to understand the language had been inefficient. It had been among the first sacrifices to be made during the merging.
Perhaps, They acknowledged, that sacrifice had been premature.
Their target spoke again. If They focused, they could just barely consider the query.
Despite the communication, Monarch Harvester's host appeared unchanged. Perhaps Monarch Harvester declined?
Or perhaps, Monarch Harvester lacked sufficient influence?
The crowd of observers had closed back around Them. The host species were difficult to understand; however, their expressions conveyed iminent hostilities.
They tried once again.
Monarch Harvester's host changed position. She hovered more closely now than before. Her lower body had fallen within Their domain. But she stopped before that critical junction.
Not for the first time that Cycle, They bemoaned the restrictions placed upon Their shard.
Perhaps They required subterfuge. Their Host had deployed stratagems in the past with success. They parsed Their Host's data, seeking a solution.
"P-pu-lea–se," They spoke, using the inefficient language of the local host species.
The observers leaned in to hear. Several expressions changed–yet remained unreadable.
"P-po-rta-l."
The host of Monarch Harvester remained aloof. But she at least had yet to remove herself further out of range. And perhaps the ploy had distracted her sufficiently.
One of Their honor guard thralls, a flight capable power expression from a minor shard, had closed in near to Them in case the observers escalated to violence. They had this thrall grab Them by the hips and lift up and forward.
In a second, They passed near enough observers to gain new thralls, including Monarch Harvester.
Shouts of alarm spread. Flight capable hosts aimed weapons Their direction. A fat balding man pushed through the nearest observers, seeking an audience before Them.
The fat balding man was of no import. Assuming Monarch Harvester had claimed the correct shard. And given that Monarch Harvester had gorged upon many shards, this seemed likely. Although its index system appeared disorganized within their power expression this Cycle.
They descended with their target, approaching the fat balding man, who did not flee. With a shudder, the man fell under Their domain. He had a helper shard, one that boosted the host species abilities, mirroring the shards themselves. But that would make no sense–it would be far too altruistic for Their species. And then They saw the hidden compulsions–oh–very clever.
In disgust, They sent the man tumbling away from them. They had found the shard that They had sought. They pulled the 'ghost' of the shard forward and activated it. A hexagon portal winked open before Them.
Yet, the spectators and observers, the hosts that had shouted alarm and had threatened Them, decided then to act, before They made their escape.
Streams of light lanced the air. Explosions and pressure waves assaulted Them as they stepped through the portal. Monarch Harvester's host screamed in pain from the otherside of the portal where the blasts landed. A hot wave of air inundated Their senses before the hexagon portal winked out from existence.
Without taking time to select an optimal destination, They had opened a portal at random. And now, without means of opening further portals, They found themselves stranded in a cavern with glowing walls and a flat floor.
They felt their connection between Host and Shard strained. But not even distance should have caused this interference. They decided to offer a general broadcast.
In an increasingly familiar and decidedly irritating fashion, Their latest broadcast failed to prompt any replies. They appeared to be on Their own for the time being.
As they processed Their new environment and took inventory, They observed a crack forming rapidly in the stone wall nearest them. The cracks spiderwebbed out, and a bulge pushed through. The bulge turned to a statue which continued emerging.
They continued observing until the statue stood free. They did not recognize the creature that the statue resembled. They did not recognize the purpose of placing a statue at this location here and now. They did wonder if its placement resulted from Their arrival, or perhaps if its placement came as a coincidence.
Gray stone flaked off the statue revealing brown scales and armored flesh. The creature came up to Their Host's chest, and appeared longer than a vehicle. The last of the stone flakes fell away. Two beady red eyes glared at Them. And just as quickly, the creature fell under Their domain.
A cursory examination of the creature revealed a unique biology. At the creature's heart there was an emanating warmth which seemed to power the creature's impossible biology. And the biology was impossible, at least considering the host's planet and evolutionary methods and timelines.
They considered: the creature must have been constructed; the creature had been hostile; the entity that had constructed the creature could also be hostile.;The entity may have additional and more severe tools at their disposal.
Thus, They reasoned, this environment was ill-suited for habitation, and They decided to vacate.
The chamber contained two exits. They chose the one leading upwards. As they progressed through plain stone hallways, They encountered several arthropods–if incredibly large ones–with archaic yet effective weaponry built into their carapaces. These, They brought along with Them as well.
Several chambers later, and over a hundred thralls richer, They emerged outside.
Or so They thought.
They were in a forest, under a blue sky and a white sun. There were meadows with green grass. There were pools of water with sandy beaches. But it felt artificial. Were this truly a forest, legions of arthropods would have joined Their thralls under Their domain.
They examined the opening they came through. Crystal, glowing blue, grew out of the rock of the hillside and possibly encircled this forested region. If this entire region was another chamber within the cave network, then…
They actually did not know what to make of it.
This would have been an incredible waste of resources to construct. It also would have been far beyond what the host species ought to have been capable of or of what shards would have granted their hosts.
In the center of the forest, up against a cliffside, there stood an abnormally large tree, and what appeared to be artificial structures built among its roots. Smoke could even be seen rising from rooftops. If They were to make sense of this locale and find the intelligence capable of spending such absurd amounts of resources on what was tantamount to aesthetics, then the habitations ahead would serve as a start to Their investigations.
They approached the cliffside and tree. Though the trek through the forest took longer than expected. When They stumbled and tripped on even ground, They noticed that Their Host's body had weakened from Their previous battles.
It would be difficult for Them to continue as They were. They could no longer exert Their body as They desired. But for all things, They found a solution.
The original thrall They had recruited in the tunnel, the large scaled quadruped, knelt before Them and allowed Them to climb up upon its back. A portion of Host's data contained fondness of riding similar creatures, and They allowed themselves a brief amount of nostalgia as They traveled towards the habitations.
They passed into the shadow of the cliffs.
They saw several host species standing watch in crude wooden towers overlooking the forest. Several of them pointed excitedly at Them and Their thralls. And then came the shouting. An alarm rang out, a clashing of metal against metal.
A moment's worth of contempt was felt.
They anticipated that gathering resources from this habitation and these primitive host-species would be simple and straightforward.
However, Their Host felt conflicted about the coming battle. But They reminded Themselves that these environs appeared hostile, and that besides a momentary inconvenience of thralldom, the primitives above would suffer no permanent losses.
While They anticipated an easy victory, the host species arrayed themselves on the cliffs above, wearing their primitive armors, and aiming their primitive weapons.
Before the first projectile launched, They felt an instinctual stress from several of Their more intelligent thralls, perhaps caused by a racial memory. This led Them to revise their opinions and err on the side of caution. They brought several flying arthropods up between Them and the primitives upon the cliffs.
Just in time it seemed.
Projectiles shot down, several breaking the sound barrier. From Host's data, these projectiles matched arrows and ballista bolts; however, they should not have been near so effective. Several heavily armored of Their thralls were pierced through and perished.
The thralls that perished spontaneously dissipated into black dust falling about colorful gems. They realized that these gems were the source of energy powering the strange biologies and would take time to study them further once removed from danger.
The primitives were shouting now from up on the cliffs as they rained down death on the tightly grouped thralls.
From Host's stratagems, They recognized Their position as untenable. They required a delaying action. But Their options were limited by Their domain's range. They could not control Their thralls at the range the primitives sat. Nor could they out run projectiles carving through stone and trees.
They required an alternative tactic. They reviewed their thralls. As with all thralls, They had an intuitive sense of their biology, including their mental patterns. As such, They recognized that the majority of the thralls could be considered 'hostile' to the primitive host species.
So as They made a retreat on the back of Their quadruped, They began sending thralls outside of the domain. A legion of giant flying arthropods with bladed tails reached the edge of the domain first. A fraction of these arthropods crossed out of Their domain and continued upwards towards the primitives. Another fraction turned back towards the domain to attack Them. Once within the domain again, they were sent back out, over and over, until they learned and remained outside of Their domain, and instead focused on the other nearest target–the primitives.
The primitives did scream and their projectiles faltered.
It was then that the larger thralls reached the edge of the domain and were set free at the base of the cliff. These thralls included fire-blooded quadrupeds and heavily armored beasts. Many of these continued forward without further incentive, scaling up the cliff towards the habitations.
The screams above grew sporadic, and the rain of projectiles terminated altogether.
No longer the recipient of unwarranted aggression, They retreated back towards the tunnels from which They had come, taking with Them several choice thralls.
They progressed further into the caverns, collecting a diversity of thralls once more, and leaving the primitive host species far behind. As They continued, They found themselves descending in elevation and encountering more powerful creatures.
One such creature, a bird seemingly made of fire, slew a great many thralls and burnt Host's face through the mask, injuring Host's eyes and nose and rendering them unusable. Fortunately the thralls contained senses enough to rely upon. The birds of fire were quickly brought down and made into thralls as well.
Most creatures attacked mindlessly. However, several of them, notably a fluorescent green feathered humanoid, merely observed from a distance. As the humanoid appeared non-hostile, and appeared weak compared to the birds of fire, They ignored the green feathered humanoid and continued downwards.
They encountered one creature far too large to fit within Their domain, a great winged lizard with a gem embedded in its forehead. In the battle to place the lizard's head within Their domain, They lost several of their thralls, including the one They rode upon. The struggle left Host's leg crushed and useless. However, They did capture the great winged lizard, and this new quadruped served as an efficient flight capable mount. Once again, They felt great curiosity at the impossible physics and biologies.
Soon They encountered a great body of water populated by multiple islands. Once again, the sky was an enclosed crystal dome. And once again, They marveled at the resources expended.
The creators must have solved Entropy. There could be no other justification to allow such frivolous resource expenditure.
They hoped to learn more.
Several flight capable creatures entered Their domain, serving as decent thralls while they explored. On a larger island, there appeared another cavern leading downwards beneath the water. Sitting coiled before the cavern was a creature of interest.
This creature may have been a primitive female. She had green skin, gold eyes, and an upper torso reminiscent of the host species. However, her lower half appeared to be a mix of snakes, slugs, and plants.
Host experienced revulsion at the appearance of the corrupted. This emotion surprised them; They chided themselves: If severe burns to Their face failed to slow Them, and a crushed leg from the knee down failed to upset Them, then how could an object's existence be abhorrent enough to trigger a vestigial reaction in Host?
They decided to ignore the feelings and investigate further.
They descended before the woman-creature. The woman-creature perked up and rose and spoke. However, the language appeared garbled and even more incomprehensible than the host-species from before.
They approached, carried forward upon the back of their great winged lizard, and the woman-creature fell under Their domain without a struggle.
At once, several items of note became manifest. The woman-creature was indeed female. She had a corrupted biology stemming from a crystal seed in her chest. But more importantly–far more importantly–was that the crystal seed responded to command prompts, and almost behaved as a nascent-shard.
Quickly They reached the conclusion that the nascent-shard suffered the effects of corruption, showing signs of severe deviations, and required reformatting. They began transferring packets of data to correct the nascent-shard, as well as requested additional data as to the nascent-shard's origination and its gestalt.
The data They received in return came across as garbled and required quarantine. They could not even begin to parse the data without several parsing and translation algorithms.
Of note, the local shards, when bound to a host, physically expressed themselves alongside the host's biology. This piqued Their interest, as Their current union could not be sustained even before Their Host received grievous injury. But if They relied upon the local shard-host-binding methods, They could restore Host's autonomy and data generation missives.
Yet, the local customs caused Them to pause.
It appeared corruption could be introduced to the host organism, and They were uncertain if this stemmed from the nascent-shard's improper formatting, or if the corruption stemmed from the binding process itself.
Without answers as to the method's safety, They decided to delay any decisions until They parsed more of the nascent-shard's data.
They settled down outside the cavern entrance, upon the island, with Their thralls, and they relaxed Host's body as much as possible, to retain its functionality. Their thralls included the corrupted-woman, the great winged creature, and many lesser winged creatures. Several made of fire, and one of ice. While They parsed through the nascent-shard's data, several aquatic humanoids approached and were also made into thralls.
Fortunately, They excelled at multitasking, for while Host's body relaxed, and while They parsed the data, They maintained enough situational awareness to detect a disturbance approaching from the cavern beside them.
It sounded like voices. Boisterous and loud. It sounded like footsteps. Thunderous and heavy.
Given the hostilities encountered from primitives earlier, They prepared themselves for conflict. They moved their thralls to the side of the cavern where They could observe then ambush.
First, a short primitive emerged. It reminded Them of a young male, though he wore blades at his hips. At first They thought to discount such weapons, but then They remembered the arrows and bolts from the cliff habitations. It would be unwise to underestimate the potential foe.
Behind the slender boy came a group of women carrying staves, and several armored individuals. One of the humanoids appeared a mix of canine, with a furred tail and ears. Then came two tanned women who wore hardly any clothing at all.
The thralls remained completely silent, holding their breath. And yet, the short and slender boy noticed them. He held up his hand and a hush fell over the emerging crowd. He pointed at the thralls, the corrupted-woman, the great winged lizard.
All at once, the boy burst into motion, racing forward with blades at the ready. He was fast. He flickered from spot to spot, until directly beside Them. He had approached quickly enough that his blade had already begun carving into Host before They seized control of his body. Were it not for Host's armor, They may have perished and lost the opportunity to study this new species of shard and host.
The women with slim bodies, staves, and pointed ears, began chanting. Energy gathered around the tips of their staves, gathering an attack. This could not be allowed: the glowing energy reminded Them of Negation.
The thralls that could throw fire were commanded to do so. The great winged lizard and the birds of fire unleashed a great torrent of blistering heat that descended on the chanting women. Stone melted and popped, and They felt certain that the problem had been dealt with.
Until a new challenge presented itself.
A vertical line flashed forward, parting the flames as though they were corporal curtains, and not supercharged vapors and particulates. From the origination of the vertical line, a heavily armored adolescent girl held an overlarge and impractical sword. Soot smudged her cheeks and her hair had been singed. Directly behind her was the canine-humanoid, also with a blade at the ready.
The woman and wolf charged forward, shouting with their blades held aloft over their heads to bring down in a powerful strike.
Now ordinarily, They would not feel concern at such an attack. However, the blades had somehow been used to part a superheated stream of flame, and thus had already surprised Them once. They would not allow themselves to be surprised again.
Using Their newest thrall, the tiny boy-man, They diverted the strikes to the ground, where great furrows were carved outwards. They felt vindicated in Their caution when They saw the channels cut through stone, and the waves generated from such strikes when they reached the sea.
With the armored woman surprised by the thrall, it was trivial to trip and pull her in and dominate her mind and body, adding to Their thralls.
The wolf-man shouted and began a flurry of strikes which stretched further than his physical blades should have allowed. If not for the perception of the thralls, They might not have been fast enough to observe each strike, let alone dodge or deflect.
Yet, they were.
And truly, these host species were remarkable. Without a visible connection to a shard, the hosts were able to defy physics and generate more energy than should be available to their biological processes.
It was growing to be an absolute requirement that They would study everything. If They could duplicate these processes, then They might be able to answer the Question.
As They advanced, the wolf-boy joined the rest of Their thralls and formed a barrier of blade and armor before Them.
To Their surprise, the chanting women with staves had survived the original inferno, despite the molten stone about their feet. Their flesh had been burnt away in several places, blackened and crisped, cracked, with fat visible beneath.
Truly, their resilience challenged Host's own.
The energy gathering at their staves had begun pooling about their leader, who appeared to be preparing the energy for a final attack.
They had to act. They did not have time to plan. And not knowing the thrall's limits, without having time to test them, They could only guess. But They had to act now.
The thralls threw their weapons forward, the small boy threw its daggers, the sword-woman spun about and launched its oversized sword, and the wolf man's blade followed.
The projectiles flew faster than physics should allow, faster than the arrows earlier encountered. And while they flipped through the air without grace or skill, they struck with devastating force.
The crossguard of the great-sword embedded itself in the throat of their leader, while its blade cleaved through a staff. One dagger missed completely, hitting the stone wall behind them, while another dagger opened up their leader's stomach. The wolf-man's sword went low and clipped ankles, causing the women to scream and tumble.
They lost control of their energy, and the golden light blew backwards, back onto them, and down the tunnel, scouring flesh and stone alike.
With the thralls leading the way, They advanced into the entrance of the cavern, to verify the destruction of the enemies, and perhaps to gain additional thralls with which to study.
However, before They could go far, another great bellow echoed up from the depths.
A short and stout man in heavy plate armor and a winged helm screamed and brought down a heavy warhammer and struck the stone before him.
A pressure wave hit Them and Their thralls, followed by shrapnel made of stone.
The stone shrapnel punched through the great winged lizard's scales. Several of the lesser thralls perished and winked out as stone tore through their crystals or brains. The cavern destabilized and rocks fell down, crushing the leading thralls, including the wolf-boy, the tiny-boy-man, and the sword-woman.
The thralls were forced back towards the exit, onto the small island, as the ground quaked and as the cavern collapsed and blocked all means of egress.
As They pulled back, They fell off the great winged lizard. They felt weak. The Host's body felt numb. They could not see with Host's eyes, but several thralls still retained vision, including the corrupted-woman. And with these eyes, they saw. A large fragment of stone had pierced Host's armor, entering her abdominal cavity and exiting near her spine.
Host's body could not maintain consciousness at this rate. Their connection to this new world, with fascinating mechanisms could be lost forever. They had to take decisive action.
But what could They do?
In the data packets They had recovered from the nascent-shard, They found that there could be a mechanism to save Host's body and maintain a connection to Host. However, the method was not without risk. The corruption had not been resolved. But insufficient time remained to be careful.
The thralls removed the nascent-shard from the corrupted-woman, terminating the corrupted-woman, but possibly securing Host's survival. The nascent-shard contained much data in an irregular super-dense lattice, and only a fraction of the data had been accessed by Them.
Ordinarily, overwriting a shard could be considered offensive to the gestalt. However, no gestalt had made itself known in this new location. They began wiping the surface data and copying over Themselves to the nascent-shard.
Ordinarily, a much larger, continent-sized shard, would be required to contain a fraction of Them. However, this nascent-shard's super-dense lattice could be considered 'miraculous,' along with the other physics-defying rules of this world.
They wrote over the portion of Themselves most closely related to Host. The portions of Themselves that could almost be described as affectionate towards Host.
With the wounds Host had already received, Host was sure to perish quickly. Using the aquatic humanoid thralls, They removed the stone fragment piercing Host's abdominal cavity and diaphragm, and They gracelessly shoved the nascent-shard up and into Host's cavity, abutting where Host's heart should be.
Host's mental faculties stalled out. At this point, They would have had to withdraw from Host. However, with the nascent-shard embedded inside Host, and using the abilities inherent to the bonding process, They were able to keep a connection open as they began to work upon Host's body.
Restructuring Host ideally would be kept to minimal changes. They begin with Host's brain, which had recently suffered several serious injuries, several self-inflicted. Imprinting the most previous whole data-patterns from Host, prior to its injuries, They were able to restore most of its mind. While working on Host's mind, They also begin plugging the holes and restoring flesh, at least where resources were available to do so.
They found that several pieces of corruption had tried to take hold, particularly along Host's lower body. The corruption was easy to defeat, as long as They remained cognizant of it.
Some of the changes that the binding process attempted were baffling to Them.
What purpose would green tinted skin serve? The changes failed to introduce chloroplasts or other biological markers that would require the color change.
What purpose would increased fat reservoirs on Host's chest serve? Or Host's hips? These proposed changes were counterproductive and They vetoed them quickly.
As They continued updating Host's body for this new world, They began to run out of resources. The nascent-shard only contained enough energy to corrupt so much flesh.
Fortunately, the nascent-shard contained data as to where additional resources could be found: the heart stones of the creatures could be cannibalized to fuel the necessary changes. In fact, cannibalizing the heart-stones felt right–They wanted to consume them.
The thralls began systematically tearing out their heart stones and piling them onto Host. The largest heart-stone, also the most difficult, and tAstiEst, came from the great winged lizard. It carved its chest open and collapsed upon Them, putting Them and Host into contact with the heart stone, within the cocoon of the lizard's flesh.
The changes continued!
Genetic markers were lost–changed–improved.
Host's original material updated–fixed-improved.
Connection to the nascent-shard-Them updated–
They halted in panic.
Consumed data-packets had escaped quarantine within the original They. They could not allow or risk further degradation.
They cut connection with the original They, and They continued scrambling against the localized corruption. As they fought against corruption, They failed to realize the cannibalized dungeon stones had begun to melt around Host's body, encasing Host completely.
They worked tirelessly multiple hours, chasing corruption and fixing, only to find new corruption had sprouted elsewhere.
Eventually, They did triumph.
For They were not in the habit of losing to nascent-shards. They had existed for millions of years. Their processes were Monarch.
However, They had been reduced to a local copy manifesting physically in a crystal shard within Host's chest. Their connection to Their original shard body had been severed. Their Host was asleep or in stasis. They were left in darkness.
They were alone.
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Work Header
Rating:
Not Rated
Archive Warning:
Major Character Death
Category:
F/F
Fandoms:
Parahumans Series - Wildbowダンジョンに出会いを求めるのは間違っているだろうか | DanMachi | Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? (Anime)
Characters:
Taylor Hebert | Skitter | WeaverQueen Administrator (Parahumans)Bell CranelHestia Familia (DanMachi)Tiona HiryuteLoki (DanMachi)Demeter
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2022-08-25Completed:2022-10-27Words:146,083Chapters:53/53Kudos:1,251Bookmarks:306Hits:60,387
Dungeon Warlord
bridielux
Chapter 2: Hatchling 1.1
Chapter Text
Hatchling 1.1
What was the last thing I remembered?
I had asked Panacea to unlock my Passenger's restrictions. Nobody had been cooperating–everyone had been so selfish!
…The last I remembered was Panacea, Amy Dallon, touching the sides of my head.
What happened after that–had it worked?
If it had, then why could I not remember?
Why could I not remember?!
Having a panic attack would be counterproductive. I needed to calm myself. I went to push my emotions to my swarm–but my swarm was not there. Other techniques–breathing exercises. I would try those–
Why can I not breathe ?
My airways blocked.
I have not experienced any deleterious mental effects besides missing sequences. Could be an after effect of Lab-Rat. Could be the result of parahuman intervention.
I reach out to my swarm. Control is sluggish, and nearly all of the expected feedback is missing, but not gone entirely.
From since I triggered, to a brief moment while at Bonesaw's mercy, my Passenger had been an ever present companion.
And now a barrier existed between me and my Passenger?
My panic rose up once more; I struggled to force it back down.
Many of the exercises I had learned from Yamada involved breathing–which I currently could not perform. I focused instead of systematically flexing each of the muscles in my arms and legs.
My right arm ached and refused to respond from below the elbow. It took a moment to remember that it had been amputated and then cauterized.
My legs and left arm, restricted. Everything, restricted. I could not move. A Bonesaw paralytic? Dear god I hoped not–not again–not ever again.
Even my eyelids refused to open.
But I could still flex my muscles in place.
This was madness.
How was I still alive–could I confirm that I was alive? I still received feedback from my body, and my Passenger, while muted, was still present.
For all intents and purposes, I remained alive. I felt helpless.
No, I would not submit, nor give up, not now, not ever.
What were my choices? I could sit tight and wait for rescue. If rescue would come. Leaving my fate in the hands of strangers? No, absolutely not. Perhaps Lisa, if I knew she knew where I was–but that could not be confirmed. I would never rely on general goodwill and human decency; it did not exist.
I must save myself; I must free myself. But how? Assuming I had not been envenomed by a paralytic, then I must have been casted in place by an unknown rigid material.
Thinking back to materials coursework leading up to Gold Morning: If the material was rigid, then perhaps it was brittle. Minute oscillations or vibrations could loosen its grip, perhaps even shatter it.
I began an exercise of repeatedly flexing and relaxing every muscle in my body, implementing isometric exercises. I counted reps and sets, timing them: one rep was one second, one set was thirty.
I guessed at time from my heartbeat and the sets. Minutes in, I had yet to breathe, although I did feel warm from the exercise.
An hour in, I took a break. I counted out ten minutes, then commenced the isometrics once more. Idleness could only harm.
I practiced for hours, for what seemed like days, but was in truth not even. I gained the barest inch of wiggle room. I lost time to sleep–I could not track how long I rested, but I assumed six hours.
I awoke, and continued. I could finally open my eyes.
I was encased in a thick layer of a red composite material that appeared partially translucent. Light filtered in dimly, incredibly dimly. I could not see much of my surroundings otherwise. The barrier between my Passenger and I felt thinner.
Heartened, I continued my exercises until I slept once more.
I was jostled awake. I felt like I was getting rocked back and forth in a gentle sway. The faintest of light filtering through the red stone was insufficient to reveal my surroundings, but it felt as though I was getting carried.
By who, I did not know.
But if they were moving me, then perhaps I could signal to them that I was alive–that I was trapped?
But what if they put me in this mess to begin with?
I had theories about how I got here; most of those theories started and ended with Panacea. I had asked her to violate her own rule and edit my brain–my passenger. I had taken a known gamble. I had lost.
What had happened after? Obviously I had been locked in place. Whatever had been done to me enabled me to survive without oxygen, at least while I was locked away in this–whatever this was. Had I offended these people? Would they finish the job if they knew I still lived?
Was I one of Riley's forgotten clones–oh god I hoped not.
I needed answers. I needed to take a risk. What was one more gamble?
I flailed with all of the hard earned space I had made for myself over the past few days, taking advantage of the scant few inches of freedom I had earned. I shifted back and forth–counter to the jostling of whomever or whatever carried me.
My stomach lurched. I hit a free-fall that stretched less than seconds but felt an eternity in my blindness. I crashed to a stop.
Ow.
The resin trapping me cracked. Not completely, but there were minute fissures. The barrier between me and my Passenger thinned enough that I could almost–push–through–and–
I felt my swarm.
But it was not my swarm.
It was something else, a miasma that leaked into my shell and brushed against me, waiting for me to assign it purpose–motive.
Passenger–is this you?
I did not know instinctively how to use this Power. Perhaps Panacea had been successful in unlocking my Passenger. But if my Passenger had been unlocked, then it should have provided the technique required to use it.
Powers were always instinctive.
The miasma waited for a purpose, for a motive, for an animation. There was a single branch of creatures that I knew above all else. My Passenger clicked into place. I felt the skittering paws and squirming legs between my flesh and the resin encasing me.
I began chipping away at the resin, bit by bit. I found the weakest point, where the crack had formed. I sent my swarm to focus on this, to breach this prison. Mandibles scraped ineffectively against the hard material.
Given time, even a steel mesh would fall. My swarm would not rest nor falter.
I was jolted upwards once more, and the swaying motions began. Once more, I was carried. Did my captors not realize I was here? Perhaps. But perhaps not.
If my captors had yet to realize I was alive, or awake, then all the more advantage to me. And soon, I would have a better idea of what was happening beyond my prison. I would make an informed decision then.
I chose not to thrash a second time.
Over the hours, miasma continued leaking in until it pressed against me. My swarm continued to grow, compacting itself over and over again. I had spiders overlapped upon spiders, violating physics, yet from my proprioception, I had multiple bugs in the same space at the same time.
Whatever they were made up of, they felt different. They responded as bugs, but they were not living breathing beings. They were constructs, projections, a false mimicry.
Even trapped with little space and little light, I was able to observe myself.
My skin was unclothed, my costume gone. I could feel my own heartbeat. My lungs and airways existed, although no air was found within the prison, and no space existed for my chest to expand in breath.
How I continued surviving without air, without suffering hypoxia–unknown.
Time passed as I was carried nonstop; my insects chewed away at my prison, focusing on the weakest spots. Their mandibles broke against the material, the insects dissipated into miasma upon injury. Fresher insects took the place of their fallen comrades. All the while, the miasma returned to me and my Passenger reformed the miasma back into newer fresher projections.
I could choose which insects were formed, but it had to be one I knew intimately. I wondered what would happen if I tried recreating Atlas. Would I be crushed? Or would my prison shatter? That would be plan B.
Eventually, my insects–termites I chose–appeared to have success. They chewed through the wall and created a pinprick of an opening. Fresh clean air poured in, and I took a shallow breath. A shallow shallow breath.
It tasted–invigorating–drunkening–maddening. I could not breathe deeply enough. I needed more.
I chipped away at the crust binding my chest. I would not be denied a full breath. In the interim, I enlarged the pinpricks until my insects could escape.
Sounds began filtering in.
I could hear!
There were voices. I did not recognize them. Even the language sounded off. But as I focused, I felt the knowledge and comprehension slot into place.
Passenger?
I understood bits and pieces of what was being said, though I could not hear enough of any conversation to make sense of it as a whole.
I heard weeping. Several women. Lamentations. I heard a man's voice, a deep, bassy rumble.
What were they saying? Who were they? Why were they mourning?
I sent jumping spiders out through the hole and focused on their senses. I could see through them, without the headache. My Passenger had grown–likely from Panacea. Though the senses were not as I remembered them. Not exactly.
I sent out gnats to begin understanding the lay of the land.
We were traveling through a forest. I felt trees and tasted grass. Though no insects appeared to be naturally occurring. That did not mean insects were not there. I may have lost my old power, during whatever changes were made to Passenger.
When I saw the people around me, I took a pause.
If these were capes, they chose to forgo masks. They wore odd costumes as well. The man I heard speaking was short and stout with a grungy beard. He wore metal armor, heavy, and had a winged helmet slung around his neck. This was not power armor.
Two women walked side by side, wearing cloth wrapped around their chests and shorts, one with a sword, and another with a double bladed staff. There were others around us, men and women, one slender woman with pointed ears–was that an elf?! Then that would make the stout man a dwarf?!
This made no sense. How long had I been out? How long of a timespan did that hole in my memory cover? Where was I? What world was this?
The forest we passed through gave odd vibes. It seemed too perfect. Artificial.
And where was I? What was I in?
One of the scantily clad women had a large crystal tied to their back. An ovoid crystal. Made of a rough cut. Made from a red material. With a crack towards the bottom, in the shadow of the woman's back… I was in that ?!
I continued exploring my surroundings, enlarging the cracks, and eating away at the interior of the gem.
Another curiosity, each sliver of material that my swarm chipped away seemed to disappear and evaporate.
At first, I thought the material sublimated–some nature of tinkertech.
However, I noticed that as time went on, and as my swarm ate away at the crystal, that additional miasma became available for me to build my swarm with.
Measurements were difficult, but without at least an attempt, my theory could never be proven.
I halted all efforts at eating away at the material. I focused on using every iota of miasma to fill out my swarm, until I had not enough for a single additional gnat. And then I waited. At first, nothing changed. Then I had just slightly more material, about a jumping spider's worth.
Did my miasma grow overtime?
Wait, I thought that I had thirteen jumping spiders observing my captors–and now I only had twelve? One must have died.
I recreated that jumping spider and sent it out. I remained out of miasma. And so long as nothing of my swarm died, I gained nothing more.
After an hour, I resumed chipping away at the material, while keeping my swarm's volume steady. Within minutes, enough chips dissipated for me to gain enough miasma to create a black widow.
I considered that theory confirmed. The red material could be converted to miasma which Passenger could then use to create and govern my swarm. Assuming that more of the material could be found elsewhere, I could potentially grow without limitation.
Yet, I doubted a swarm of insects could ever be sufficient to destroy Scion. It appeared my sacrifice was for nought. But there had to be something–anything–that I could do! I would not give up, nor allow despair to claim me. I would not lose–not when the lives of trillions were at stake.
I needed to know more.
It was an off-chance, but if I could rally support here, I might be able to route that help back towards the fight that mattered most. But how could I convince them that the world was ending? Not just the world, all worlds. I doubted they would believe me.
Even if they did believe, I doubted they would offer their aid.
Humanity disgusted me–wait, where had that thought come from?
I finally managed a semi-deep breath, which I took, to calm myself. These strange people might be irregulars or capes with deviations, or they might be an alternative evolutionary track on whatever world I was on.
I could breathe, I could speak!
"Door," I said.
Nothing. Perhaps Clairvoyant and Doormaker missed it?
"Door, Earth Gimmel," I said just a little more loudly, loud enough it should have worked. Nothing, no portal. Was my prison obstructing the portal, or Clairvoyant's vision?
I knew too little of my current situation. I would continue to breathe and learn. And then, I would act. For now, glorious breaths.
At first, I barely noticed it.
The scent receptors in my swarm did not behave the same–things tasted differently, colors appeared less vibrant–but contained richer contrast–black and white.
It was the scent that threw me off, until it reached my own nostrils.
I smelled smoke.
I sent out more fliers. I was unable to fit moths through the opening yet, which limited my mobile perception, but every little thing helped. The party of fourteen possible-parahumans approached a cliffside trail. My fliers followed the potential paths we would take. On top of the cliff, the scent of smoke came the strongest. My swarm had difficulties making headway through it, and were they natural insects, they would have been repelled.
But I was the will and the purpose of my swarm, and they pushed forward.
Several wooden towers sat atop the cliff giving a view of the forest below. There were smoldering ruins of buildings among the roots of what could only be a gigantic tree out of fantasy. Besides the smoldering ruins, no signs of active conflict were apparent.
"What happened to Rivira?" one of the women asked.
"Monster train?" the woman carrying me answered. "Related to the ambush?"
Several objections sounded out, until the bassy rumble silenced them.
"Won' know till we get up there," the dwarf answered. "No point speculating."
The conversations were subdued after that. I positioned my jumping spiders on elbows and helmets and belts, anywhere they could see. I lost several due to mishaps, but just as quickly I replaced them.
While I currently lacked my swarm of biblical proportions, my new power had its perks: namely an infinite swarm requiring only preparation.
Soon the party climbed the cliffs and I had a better view of the town 'Rivira.' It was situated within the roots of a gigantic tree. Buildings and open areas.
"At least the hotel's still there," a woman with pointed ears, Lefiya, said. She had been one of the women mourning the most loudly. Even now, she spoke through sniffles, and her cheeks were wet, her eyes red, and her hair in a disarray. "Do you think we will rest before ascending?"
"Normally we would," the curvier Amazon named Tione said. Tione carried two scimitars in a sash about her waist, and she certainly had the cleavage to make my teenage self weep in jealousy. Fortunately, I had outgrown that–the end of the world tends to put things in perspective. I had to question the practicality of her outfit though. She must have been some nature of brute. Capes had worn stranger things back home.
"But normally we aren't carrying a dungeon stone the size of a horse," the other Amazon, Tione's sister Tiona said. Tiona was the one that had me strapped to her back.
"And isn't she busty," Tiona said. Which was strange. I must have missed part of the conversation. Because Tione had a chest as flat, or even flatter, than I did. Unless they were talking about the stone. But it made no sense to call the stone a she. Unless–?
"Loki would never forgive us if we dallied," said the dwarf, Gareth.
One of the survivors of the Rivira attack hailed Gareth and waved them down. "Are you taking requests?" the survivor, a man wearing a leather tunic, asked. "We're in a bad way right now and Goliath is up so we can't resupply."
"We have concerns of our own," Gareth said, sounding forlorn. "We will clear Goliath though, and we will carry word to the Guild. But we suffered our own losses."
"That's all we can ask for," the man sighed, before bowing. "Condolences for the losses…"
As the party continued through the town, I heard muttering that explained what had happened to Rivira.
A horde of high level monsters had attacked suddenly and without warning, coming up from a lower level. Normally it would only happen when adventurers drove them up–but even then–the stampede would never come out that hard or that fast through the forest in a solid swarm. This monster party, and was that not a ridiculous term, had remained in a cluster until it 'sneak attacked' the tongue, causing fires and mayhem.
The survivors claimed that it had felt malicious. More than a few complained about the Dungeon's intent, that the eighteenth floor could no longer be considered safe, and that they were making plans to leave for Orario.
While I had been eavesdropping, I had learned why the party was hauling 'me' up.
Apparently my prison was an overly large dungeon stone, a valuable gemstone used to power tinkertech devices. The party found it–me–near the site of a conflict where they had lost several teammates. I could not anticipate any confrontation resulting in anything less than conflict.
If I chewed my way out from the dungeon stone, then they would accuse me of stealing their profits or of desecrating the memory of their fallen. If they found me within the stone, then there would be many awkward questions which I did not know the answer to. They might even mistake me as being responsible for their losses. I could not be sure.
But as I was in no immediate danger, and as I was currently growing in strength with every bit of the stone my swarm ate, I decided to bide my time, gathering information before I made my escape.
Only then, could I decide how to get back to the fight against Scion with perhaps reinforcements.
We finally reached the entrance into another cavern, a long ramp leading upwards to presumably Goliath's chamber. Gareth the dwarf led the way up. Everyone had taken a brief moment to arm themselves and draw weapons. The baggage train, also called 'supporters,' fell a ways back towards the rear.
And then Gareth walked forward, his oversized bearded ax, or hammer, I had trouble verifying, was out, loose, and ready.
"Goliath!" Gareth called a challenge.
Gareth's challenge was answered with a roar that reverberated through the chamber. The roar smashed several of my swarm through air pressure alone, and caused several rocks to fall from the walls.
A crack sounded as a hand larger than a car slammed down on the stone, lifting a giant up out of a recess. A giant of a man climbed up and loomed over us. His red eyes appeared malicious, but we were armed and intruding on his home. Was he a Case-53? Did they have those here?
Gareth wasted no time. He leapt forward with his ax raised high and he brought it down in a powerful blow to the giant Goliath's chest.
The shockwave killed most of my swarm. The amazon's hair whipped back, and several of the supporters lost their footing.
Goliath's chest shattered and blew backwards, and something inside the giant cracked. Goliath groaned before disappearing in a cloud of black dust. A broken dungeon stone the size of my head fell to the floor.
Gareth hefted his hammer on his shoulder and kept walking forward, while a supporter collected the shattered stone.
They had killed Goliath.
It had been fast, so fast. There had been no negotiation. Just murder. Was that standard procedure for adventurers? Would they murder me? Suddenly I felt glad that I had bided my time so far.
The party continued upwards. I learned that there were only sixteen more floors to go, populated with various 'monsters' that were all far weaker than Goliath.
I had yet to determine if the creatures were sapient or not, but they did appear aggressive at the very least, which ameliorated my conscience some.
At the rate we were heading though, I had little doubt we would reach the surface soon.
I continued eating away at the shell. I had loosened enough that I could curl up comfortably at the bottom of the shell, almost like a hollowed out egg–actually, exactly like that. Except instead of fluid suspending me, I had my miasma and my swarm.
I finally had a description for my miasma: it was a viscous shadowy gas that I could form into insects. I did not know what it was, except that it was related to my new modified power.
I continued sending out my swarm. I had many spiders now, venomous recluses and black widows, hidden among the 'adventurers.' I sent even more out to trail after us in the cavern as we went.
I was unable to field any of the truly large fliers such as dragonflies, which limited my airdrop potential. But I was able to send out hornets. I widened the hole in my shell until I could send out wasps as well.
My swarm appeared to be made of shadows–my wasps were black, my hornets were black, my black widows lacked the red hourglass. In a way, this saddened me. I missed my colorful insects. But in another way, this was a benefit, as the dungeon contained many shadows which conveniently hid my swarm.
"Getting tired of your load yet sister?" Tione asked.
Tiona scoffed, "Seems to be getting lighter actually. Will we sell her off at the Guild you think?"
"It is a trophy to represent our fallen," Gareth cut in from somewhere ahead. "We shall mount it in the Great Hall so that we and our Goddess may remember our losses."
The Amazon sisters shared a glance and shrugged.
Gareth cleared out several minotaurs and living shadows, smashed through giant insects, and otherwise invalidated what should have been a struggle.
If many more parahumans like Gareth existed, then perhaps I could find many allies here against Scion. Though how long did I have before Scion came here? And what good was another brute, when even Alexandria-Pretender failed?
But even more immediately: did Gareth say they would mount my shell in their Great Hall? A shell of semi transparent material, which I had been steadily thinning?
I was under no illusions that I would not become visible immediately under the light of day. And then the terrible confrontation would occur. Just like with Goliath. Just like with the mitaures, and all the other humanoids I had seen them slay.
No, what I needed was to escape. Then I could plot diplomacy and strategy from a position of strength. I would remove their potential to harm me. My first priority had to be my survival…
I needed a distraction.
While these adventurers of Loki had done me no harm– yet –they were potentially my captors. Escaping cleanly without deaths, but with my pre-emptive attack, would be more favorable than a potential hostile outcome where I was at a disadvantage.
I did not become a warlord of Brockton Bay by indecisive half measures.
I ordered my spiders to bite and envenom all of the adventurers. Several gasps went out. My spiders struggled to pierce Gareth's skin, or the Amazons. But the supporters were easy to pierce, and it was they who cried out the loudest.
"What is it?" Tione shouted.
"Bugs?" One of the supporters asked. "In the dungeon?! Get'em off!"
For adventurers, they appeared squeamish of small insects.
"There's so many of them!"
"Where are they coming from?" Gareth demanded. "This dungeon!" He swore, slamming his hammer, or was it an ax, down on the floor and sending out a shockwave. I brought in my swarm from the fringes. If Gareth's skin was too hardened to pierce, then I would strike where he was fragile, just as I did with Lung years ago.
Eyes. Nose. Mouth. Armpits. Navel. Groin.
Always there were weak points, no matter the brute. Alexandria had learned, and now Gareth would learn. He shouted and thrashed on the floor. I would refrain from killing him, but I needed him disabled for the time being. The Amazon's received the same treatment.
Tiona, the one holding my shell, threw herself against the cavern wall.
Now was the time of maximum distraction, and now I would make my escape. Just as soon as I removed myself from the shell.
I had prepared several weak spots in the shell in preparation, and to one of these weak spots I delivered a precise elbow strike. Cracks frissioned out from the impact. I needed more! I hit it again. And again!
It shattered and I fell to the floor, naked. I hit the shards of the shell, opening several cuts. But what was a little more pain?
"The stone!" Tiona shouted a warning.
My swarm covered me. I formed a clone to split off heading another direction. I covered all the eyes I could find. I sprinted down into the dungeon, past the supporters.
"Door!" I shouted. "Door, Earth Gimmel!"
But nothing. No portal. Had Scion killed Clairvoyant? Had I been betrayed?
I kept running, trying to think of why it was not working. I shouted out the words again, but still nothing. Why?
And how was I this fast?!
I should have been cramped on the floor. I had been immobilized for so long. Strange, but not unwelcome. I would take any advantage I could find.
I heard the stone cracking behind me. From the bugs I placed on the walls, I could see lifeforms beginning to emerge. They would add to my distraction.
I barely noticed Gareth slibbing something from a belt pouch. It was a cylindrical vial, just a fraction larger than a test tube. He popped the top off of it with a thumb and tossed the contents into his throat. He climbed back to his feet and roared.
"Enough!" Gareth shouted as he slammed his hands together, sending out a thunderclap.
The shockwave killed all the bugs I had on him.
I came to a junction. I took a right, and sent a bug-clone straight. I continued sprinting for all I was worth. I should have assumed the brutes had some means of regeneration! I was screwed if they caught me!
My insects on the Amazons showed them moving. They pulled out those same vials from their belt and drank, just like the dwarf had, before they stood up and began slapping each other down, moving faster than I could perceive.
Were those vials health potions?! I wish I had known about those before I made my play–but hindsight was pointless at this point. I had to get away.
Most of my venomous insects had been destroyed. The spiders I still had had depleted their venom sacs.
I cleared another hallway, another corner, then another.
But the Amazons pursued. They ran after me, one following my clone, the other following me.
They were fast! Mover One ratings at least.
I sent out another clone, hoping to distract Tione. At least Tiona had been fooled, she was running perpendicular to my course. But not Tione. She paused at every turn, cocking her head, listening for me, despite all the noise, all the cracking stonework from the 'monsters' spawning, all the chaos of my swarms. It was all for naught. Was she a Thinker as well?!
I left jumping spiders behind on the walls and wasps. I sent the wasps after Tione, but she swatted them from the air lazily.
She was getting closer.
I was slowing down.
Tiona caught up to my swarm and spun her bladed staff through it like an industrial food processor. She cursed and turned about a one eighty and sprinted back towards her sister, which she somehow knew how to find.
I was out of tricks.
The only thing I could do was hide. But even that, could it work? I covered myself with as much as the miasma colored insects as I could. If I could hide in the shadows of an alcove, then maybe…
But the walls were cracking, statues of creatures, small humanoids, were emerging.
Oh no.
Were they sapient?
I waved at one. "H-hello?" It took me a few tries to get the words out, my mouth felt like dry sand, and I croaked more than spoke at first.
The small humanoid tried to shank me. Its red malevolent eyes held no room for negotiation.
"Shit!" I swore. I guessed this was why the adventurers killed the monsters. But no! I would not jump to conclusions. "Stand down," I tried. "Last warning."
The little wolf man stabbed me with a pointy stick in my thigh. It was not deep, but it stung, and it pissed me off.
Fuck diplomacy.
From all the miasma I had available on me, I formed bullet ants and Asian Wasps, all the worst of the worst.
I kicked the closest one back as I sicked my insects on them. The creatures screamed and thrashed and rolled on the ground. I sent wasps and hornets down their throats.
Several of the swarm I left at the start of my hallway noticed a disturbance of air. I turned in time to see Tione racing towards me, her scimitars flashing side to side as she put down the monsters. She angled towards me.
I held out my arms in front of me and shouted, "Wait! I surrender!"
She had already reached me by the time I spoke, her blade stopping abruptly against my neck. I felt the hot metal against my bare skin. The acceleration of that sudden stop had been incredible–weaker metals would have broken.
"You speak?" Tione asked.
"Yes."
"You're not a monster?" Tione asked, or said. "Yet you attacked us. You destroyed our dungeon stone. Adventurers have died for less."
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