Two days later, after successfully exiting Hell's Corridor, Lant's unit registered with Terry County's bustling, reforming Insect Hunter Guild. They accepted an immediate transport mission: delivering 500,000 Red Wasp eggs to Ison City for genetic culling. Upon completion, they would formally join the New Tanzan Duchy's army in Ison.
Of the hundred elite hunters who'd exited Hell's Corridor with Lant, only thirty would accompany him into the army. The remaining sixty split into two teams, reinforced to resume hunting in Hell's Corridor and the Tanzan Desert's Black Tiger Ant Nest.
Though losing two-thirds of his veteran squad, Lant received 200 new recruits to guard the priceless egg shipment—former Terry County city guard reserves who would join the army with him, expanding his unit further.
Riding at the vanguard in the New Tanzan army's black uniform with silver trim, Lant exuded confidence. Gone was the drunken vagabond Rick had met in Benning Town. Clean-shaven and trim-haired, he looked a decade younger, radiating the charm of a mature man in his thirties. He seemed to have returned to the glory days of the Spirit Lance family, now its brightest star.
Marching majestically with his unit, Lant drew countless stares. The envy and reverence in onlookers' eyes only steeled his resolve to serve under Emperor Arthur in Ison.
No one noticed the unassuming, scrawny figure beside Lant, overshadowed by his commander's brilliance. No one cared to know who this boy was, standing in the giant's shadow.
Moya, sensitive to such slights, felt a pang of bitterness. He understood humanity's worship of heroes, but he couldn't bear to worship those around him.
Moya's pride was fragile. He'd left Rick because he sensed Rick's rising star—people unconsciously gravitated toward Rick, shifting their dynamic. No longer the dominant partner in their journey, Moya grew insecure about Rick's growing influence and rapid growth, prompting his departure to chase his own dream.
Now beside Lant, he felt the same. Lant had found his path, but Moya remained a dispensable guide—nothing had changed.
"I refuse to accept this... Rick was just a pariah, lucky enough to rise. Lant's a fallen knight's descendant—no different from me. I just lack luck."
Riding his unruly Ground Wolf Insect, Moya swayed awkwardly. In a fit of frustration, he whipped the creature. "Damned beast! Won't even obey me? Even a beast bullies the unlucky!"
His rage only made the wolf insect more violent. It began bucking wildly, its black compound eyes glowing with a carnivore's ferocity. As Moya was about to be thrown, a strong hand seized the reins. The irresistible force calmed the beast instantly.
"Easy, take it slow!" Lant smiled warmly, the contrast with Moya's disheveled state making him flush with embarrassment.
"Th-thanks..." Moya mumbled, his gratitude half-hearted.
After a day's march along the Terry-Ison trade road, Lant reached a waystation before nightfall. Registering their mission and supplies, the guards treated Lant as an honored guest, quickly preparing an inn for his unit.
Lant oversaw unloading the egg containers and arranging night watches, managing everything efficiently. Moya stood by, useless.
Soon, the waystation delivered food. After a quick meal, Lant went on patrol.
Alone in his room, Moya lay on the soft bed, staring at the ceiling.
He felt like an unnecessary person, a useless waste, and now even worse than when he traveled with Rick.
"Alas... am I truly destined for failure?"
Moya sighed deeply, covering his head with a pillow to drown out the frustrations of recent days.
Just then, his sharp senses caught faint rustling. Curious, he inched open the half-closed door and peeked out.
Around the inn corridor's corner, four or five tense figures huddled together, furtively eyeing the egg containers loaded in the courtyard's center.
Moya recognized them—they seemed to be the same waystation workers who'd delivered food earlier, but their behavior was odd.
Instinctively, Moya partially transformed: two feathery antennae sprouted from his forehead, and fine fuzz grew along his ears.
Using his forehead antennae, he detected their auras—all had implanted battle insects. Their whispered conversation made his heart pound:
"That leader seems formidable."
"Didn't expect he'd have the unit eat in shifts. The knockout drug in the food won't take out everyone at once."
"No matter. I saw him eat too. Once he's down, the leaderless unit will panic. We just need to burn the egg containers."
"For the prosperity of House Zarok!"
"For House Zarok's revival!"
The diehards struck their chests solemnly, ready to execute their plan.
Behind the cracked door, Moya turned pale with shock. He never expected the waystation to harbor remnants of the exiled Terry County noble House Zarok.
Imagining their scheme, Moya broke into a cold sweat. He knew the supplies' vital importance to the New Tanzan Duchy and Emperor Arthur. If the eggs were lost here, it would deal a crushing blow to Arthur's plans—and Lant's budding military career might end before it began.
"Dam... damn... how could this happen..." Moya tried to mask his terror, hearing his teeth chatter.
"Pretend I saw nothing, or sound the alarm?" A fierce internal struggle raged.
"Dammit, they have battle insects! I'm alone in the room—if discovered, I'm dead. Better to keep quiet..."
Moya made up his mind and tried to close the door silently, but his retreating foot knocked over a flower stand by the door.
CRASH! The stand and vase crashed to the floor, deafening in the silence.
Instantly, the five figures around the corner spun toward Moya's direction. Peeking through the door crack,Moya froze, his body rigid as a statue.
"Com... complete disaster..."
The moment Moya was spotted, the five figures split into two groups. Three charged toward the egg containers in the courtyard with torches, while the other two raced toward Moya's room at breakneck speed.
"Help!"
Moya screamed hoarsely, slamming the door shut and scrambling toward the window to escape. But in the blink of an eye, the door crashed open under a massive kick, and a thick aura of killing intent enveloped him.
One was an Insect General, the other an Insect Soldier. Though not an overwhelmingly powerful duo, they posed a lethal threat to Moya, who had no combat ability.
Driven by forbidden zone survival instincts, Moya rolled awkwardly to dodge the incoming insect blade. The desk by the window shattered into splinters.
Amid flying wood chips, Moya crawled desperately toward the open door.
"Where do you think you're going?"
With a roar, a meter-long spike pierced Moya's shoulder, pinning him to the floor. If he hadn't flinched at the last second, it would have struck a fatal blow.
Though spared death, immobilized Moya couldn't evade the next strike. He squeezed his eyes shut in despair.
Shaking in terror, he awaited the blade, but it never came. Instead, he heard breaking glass and a familiar roar.
Trembling, Moya opened his eyes to see Lant—transformed—burst into the room. Wielding a giant shield, he smashed aside a Scythe Worm warrior, then swung his halberd to sever the Insect General's wrist.
In an instant, the tide turned. Before Lant, the two attackers had no chance. Though from House Zarok's collateral branch, their pampered upbringing lacked Lant's combat experience. The sight of blood sapped their will.
Lant's shield cracked one's neck, and his halberd swiftly decapitated the other.
After slaying both, Lant's ferocity ebbed. Leaning on his halberd, he panted heavily, staggering to Moya's side to pull out the spike.
"Ugh, dammit, I was careless—didn't expect them to drug the food. Fuck, my head is spinning..." Lant grinned at the terrified Moya. "Thanks to your shout, those three idiots almost reached the eggs. Hang on, I'll get a doctor..."
Lant rushed out, leaving Moya sobbing in a pool of blood.
"I'm saved... I'm alive..."
Overwhelmed by relief, Moya didn't notice the egg in his pocket glowing black where his blood had stained it. The red stone encasing it crumbled into dust unnoticed.
Fate seemed to have taken a sharp turn that night...