With mixed feelings, Arthur left the dungeon hiding countless secrets and returned to his study, his heart a whirlpool of emotions.
To be honest, he held little confidence in Rick's upcoming ordeal. Though the vanguard had a 6% survival rate, there was something he hadn't told Rick: those warriors had trained since childhood, meaning they could already function normally under 10x gravity before implanting wild eggs. Even so, the survival rate was a pitiful 6%. For Rick, who had only a week, this was almost an impossible task—his chances might not even reach 1%.
It was a cruel truth, too harsh for Arthur to dwell on. Logic told him Rick would never walk out of the dungeon, but he couldn't help hoping for a miracle from this boy who often defied odds.
"May the gods bless him... Maybe he can work a miracle... I just hope Anna won't be too heartbroken..."
Sitting on the throne of power, Arthur rubbed his furrowed brows, forcing himself to stop worrying about the lad.
Rick's mention of seeing pre-era tech in underground Tanzan City piqued Arthur's interest. Having lived across two eras, he knew how precious such artifacts were.
Recalling the dark days before the era's collapse, Arthur ground his teeth. For him, it was humanity's most shameful chapter—people herded like cattle, cities and civilizations destroyed by twelve demonic insects, leaving only biological research equipment. It was a catastrophe, and defeated humans could only tremble before that power.
Even now, Arthur couldn't forget that scene.
"I will take revenge. Sunken Tanzan City holds my hope!" He turned to gaze at the massive map in his study, fixing on the Tanzan Desert.
Tanzan City's sudden sinking made it likely the only intact ancient city, the only place to find well-preserved tech. Existing insect experts could operate them—biotech was the only surviving field. Though research tools and materials had changed, their familiarity with complex devices should suffice.
Arthur's finger moved down the map, stopping at the mark for Hell's Corridor. According to Rick, it teemed with rare battle insects, an ideal hunting ground. Turning this isolated forbidden zone into a strategic battle egg reserve would raise New Tanzan's military might to shocking heights, even enabling army formation.
"Army... a term long forgotten..."
Arthur closed his eyes, mind drifting back to the sword-and-armor life of two centuries ago.
"As long as there's hope, I won't give up. Damned boy... you're a lucky charm—don't die..."
Hours after Rick entered the gravity chamber, a plump insect-drawn coach from Terry County halted at Ison City's imposing gates.
The coach should have arrived two days earlier, but recent chaos had sent panicked rural folk flooding the trade roads. City lords, seeking to assert control, had set up guard checkpoints on once-unfettered roads, causing delays. Now, it finally reached Ison, soon to be the capital of the Duchy of New Tanzan.
"Phew... Finally here..."
Carrying bundles of luggage, Love hopped off, bid farewell to the kindly driver, and struggled to register with the gate guards.
With Ison set to be the capital, household registration checks had tightened to prevent the exiled Zarok and Ferdinand families from causing trouble.
"Name, household registration, purpose..." The city guard in charge of registration reeled off a list without looking up.
"Love, from Terry County. I'm here to find Rick," Love blinked, answering.
"Love?" The guard paused, vaguely recalling the name. After studying her cute face, he quickly pulled a confidential order from his desk drawer.
Issued by the newly formed Palais Saint-Rosel cabinet, the order bore the signatures of Emperor Arthur and Prime Minister Gria. It instructed guards to find a Terry County girl named Love, accompanied by a portrait drawn by the royal court's best artist.
Comparing the portrait to the girl before him, the guard jolted in surprise.
"Miss Love, please come with me," he said respectfully.
"What? Where to?" Love froze, then noticed two black-uniformed guards flanking her. Panicking, she waved her hands. "Wait, I think you have the wrong person! I'm here for Rick..."
"Where are you taking me? Help! Kidnapping!"
Amid Love's cries, the guards hoisted her into an insect carriage, loaded her luggage, and headed straight for Palais Saint-Rosel.
"I didn't do anything wrong! My grandpa is Terry County's Insect Association chairman! I really came for Rick—even though he was wanted, but... Waaah! It's not my fault!"
Confused, Love wept bitterly in the carriage, looking utterly heartbroken.
"Um... Miss Love, we're just following orders to take you to Palais Saint-Rosel. Maybe you're overthinking?" Finally, one guard couldn't take it anymore.
"Palais Saint-Rosel?" Love tilted her head. "Why there? I don't want to go! I need to find Rick!"
With that, she flailed wildly, trying to jump out. The caught-off-guard guard shoved her back onto the seat.
Upon arriving at the palace, Love suddenly refused to get out. The guard, now covered in scratches, pried her hands from the seat and carried her inside.
As per the order, guards could bring Love directly to Arthur's study after finding her. After a routine announcement, they were admitted.
Opening the study door, they saw Emperor Arthur, Finance Minister Manny, and Prime Minister Gria discussing affairs. The guard snapped to attention. "Your Majesty!"
"Ah, Love has arrived," Arthur looked up. Seeing Love slung over the guard's shoulder like a sandbag, and the guard's scratch-marked face, he blinked. "Eh... What have you—"
"Miss Love refused to come, so this subordinate..." The guard blushed, setting Love down.
"What do you want?" Love shoved the guard away as soon as her feet hit the ground, glaring angrily at Arthur.
"Hehe, feisty," Arthur chuckled, waving the guards off. "I'm a friend of your grandfather. He asked me to look after you, so I invited you here. Is there a problem?"
"Grandpa..." Love studied Arthur closely. She recalled seeing this dashing old man in Nanzé's study, realizing. "No wonder Grandpa let me come so easily—he must have had someone watching me."
"He just asked me to take care of you. And since you're looking for Rick, you'll meet him here soon enough."
"Rick is here?" Love laughed, shaking her head. "Don't lie! He's a wanted criminal—how could he be in the palace?"
"Your grandpa has revoked his warrant. Besides, we all know him here. Still don't believe me?"
Love looked at the three distinguished figures in the study, then thought of the scruffy Rick she remembered, gaping in disbelief. "Impossible... That small-time crook knows people like you?"
"He's no crook now." Gria stood, approaching Love. "I've transferred all my assets to him as agreed. He's now Ison's top tycoon—maybe even richer than your grandpa."
Love couldn't imagine it—super-rich? Was this the clueless Rick she knew?
"Then... where is he now?" Love asked tentatively, starting to believe.
"Ah... he's undergoing special training. If all goes well, we'll hear from him in a week."
As he spoke, Arthur tried to hide his worry, forcing a smile. "Love, your grandpa told me you're an exceptional insect expert. Would you help me with some research?"
"Research? Sure!" Love agreed easily. Since she had to wait a week for Rick, doing research wasn't a bad way to pass the time.
Pleased, Arthur rang the copper bell on his desk.
Moments later, Mistress Katherine, in charge of palace affairs, entered the study.
"Arrange a room for Miss Love and issue her an inner palace pass."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Love, follow Mistress Katherine to see your room. With this pass, you can go anywhere in Palais Saint-Rosel." Arthur paused, as if remembering something. "Oh, you know Anna, right? I forgot to mention—she's my daughter now. Would you keep her company?"
"Anna? A princess?"
This news shocked Love more than Rick knowing the king. Her mind reeled—was this still the world she knew?
Hell's Corridor.
The endless golden grass swayed like ocean waves in the breeze. Crunching across the rustling black gravel, a hundred-man unit hacked through the undulating pasture, delving into Hell's Corridor's depths.
Leading this team back into humanity's forbidden zone were Lant and Moya, who'd returned to Terry County. Originally, they'd left Rick with a dozen priceless Black Tiger Ant eggs, ambitious to carve out their own hunting ground in Terry. But the rapidly shifting situation meant the Insect Association no longer freely allocated hunting zones—all hunters now fell under direct Guild deployment, either joining the new Tanzan Duchy's army or hunting in assigned areas.
This harsh policy stripped the hunter profession of its freedom and adventure, forcing Lant and Moya to abandon their perhaps-never-to-be-fulfilled ambitions.
Thus, after their dream collapsed, they were dispatched by Nanzé, Terry County's Insect Association chairman, to Hell's Corridor again—this time to hunt rare battle insect eggs for Arthur's massive military expansion.
Of course, considering Hell's Corridor's danger, Nanzé provided Lant and Moya with 100 elite hunters, the Guild's finest equipment, and a promise: upon mission completion, they'd join the new Tanzan army, with this hundred-man unit under Lant's command.
Though not their original dream, a unit of 100 elite hunters was a force unmatched by any hunter team. Moreover, Arthur's prestigious reputation and the honor of military service made them eager for the future.
"Never thought I'd become a soldier," Moya said, riding a fierce Ground Wolf Insect alongside Lant. He gazed nostalgically at the land that held so many memories.
"Hehe, being a soldier isn't bad. I used to fantasize about warriors in the Century War charging the battlefield—men should die on the frontlines," Lant laughed, brandishing a halberd as he rode the Black Tiger Ant Queen tamed from its nest.
Eyeing Lant's imposing figure, then himself, Moya smiled bitterly. "Boss Lant, your family must be from a knight lineage—you're born to be a general, not a hunter. But me... sigh... Is someone with only good direction sense fit to be a scout?"
Moya couldn't hide his disappointment. He craved power more than anyone, but reality told him he wasn't cut out for battle.
"Maybe there's a battle insect suited for you. Don't worry, I'll find the right egg..." Lant tried to console him, though they both knew it was empty comfort.
As the atmosphere dulled, a scouting knight galloped to Lant.
"Report! Red Wasp nest one mile ahead!"
"Red Wasps!" Lant's eyes lit up.
Though merely Soldier-Class battle insects, Red Wasps were one of the few social combat species. Implanting their eggs could form a fearsome pike squad with sufficient numbers. Reaching the peak Insect General realm granted precious aerial combat ability—ideal for army formation.
"Luck's on our side," Lant turned to the unit. "Prepare for the hunt!"
In an instant, the snake-like column marching through the prairie dispersed abruptly. Following the scout's coordinates, they formed a fan-shaped encirclement around the Red Wasp nest.
Five minutes later, the hundred-man unit—hidden entirely—moved like hunting lions, slipping silently into position to await Lant's signal.
The Red Wasp hive perched on a heavily weathered lone peak. Its base appeared smashed, half-shorn off, tilting the peak like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The massive circular hive hung from the tilted summit, seeming on the verge of collapse.
After observing the terrain from the waist-high grass, Lant took a special crossbow from his ant queen's pack and loaded a long arrow tipped with an oval object.
"Bait ready. Set the net!" Moya signaled with the hunters' unique hand gesture.
Immediately, the fan-distributed hunters—each spaced ten meters apart—unfolded invisible fine nets, coated them with a special odorless liquid, and connected them with supports.
The waist-high supports hid in the grass, and the hundred-meter net became entirely invisible. Unless a stray flying insect interfered, no bug, however keen-eyed, could detect the death trap set by the skilled hunters.
"Ready. Begin," Moya, in charge of coordination, reported to Lant.
"Good. Hide well—don't get stung!"
Lant stood with his crossbow, aimed at the distant hive, and fired. As the arrow flew halfway, the oval pouch at its tip burst, releasing countless grain-sized red insects like a mist.
The next moment, the arrow—tipped with sulfur insect powder—pierced the hive, igniting a small flame that smoked the exterior. This attack wouldn't harm the hive, merely burning a patch of dry, discarded outer shell. But Red Wasps instinctually defend their home: even this trivial attack triggered a frenzied sortie.
When the dark swarm poured from the hive, the prairie sky darkened like an approaching storm. Compared to this whirlwind, a small red cloud of insects—attracted by the net's liquid—drifted toward the fine mesh.
All hunters held their breath, concealing their auras. The swarm circled overhead, finding only the vulnerable red insects. Instinctively treating them as invaders, the Wasps charged like lions attacking rabbits.
As a veteran hunter, Lant timed the lure perfectly. The red insects reached the net just as the swarm descended.
Instantly, a thunderous boom resounded as the taut fine net, struck by countless Red Wasps, billowed upward like a sailing ship's canvas, forming a black arc.
The strong mucus on the net trapped the wasps, turning the invisible mesh into a horrifying patch of black in the blink of an eye.
"Reinforce the supports! Armor hunters follow me!" Lant leaped from the grass, bracing the groaning supports. As the impact eased, he led thirty high-rank hunters implanted with beetle eggs. Shielded by their sturdy exoskeletons, they charged the hive now sparsely guarded by worker wasps.
Though the Red Wasps' stingers were sharp, they couldn't pierce thick armor. Lant's Phantom Insect-Class Rhinoceros Beetle carapace was impenetrable to them. The heavy-armored hunters fought valiantly, using insect hooks to subdue the scattered swarm.
Within half an hour, Wasps not caught in the net were bound like rice dumplings and strewn about. Now, the hive—stripped of worker defenders—lay exposed like a defenseless infant.
Lant climbed the hive first, tearing open its hard shell with his hook. Thousands of soybean-sized eggs lay in hexagonal cells, densely packed throughout.
"Dammit, there must be millions! Bring the gear!" Lant grinned widely.
Hunters cheered, rolling over wooden coffins to the hive. Inside, the coffins mirrored the hive's structure—veritable egg containers for storage and transport.
Each coffin held 50,000 eggs, but even with ten coffins, Lant could only take a quarter of the hive's eggs. Watching his men laugh and load the eggs, Lant envisioned a mighty 500,000 pike army, himself as the invincible general wielding a halberd.
Nearby, Moya crouched at the peak's foot, staring intently at a strange rock.
Crimson veins webbed its surface, pockmarked with corroded holes. Palm-sized, it didn't seem part of the mountain—perhaps its other fragments had sheared the peak into its odd shape.
But Moya's focus wasn't on that. What drew his eye was a pearl-sized black egg embedded in the stone-like material.
An egg in stone?