The sun had already passed its zenith when Milia and her group reached the forest that began just behind the residential area: a dark line of old trees that seemed to observe the newcomers with predatory curiosity.
Milia had never seen it so silent; there were no birds, no insects, not even the wind moving the leaves. It was a thick, heavy silence, as if the air itself were holding its breath.
The situation was unsettling, to say the least, but at the same time, an unavoidable necessity. After all, that morning's negotiations with Louise and the others hadn't exactly turned out favorable.
Of course, it wasn't entirely unexpected for Milia and the others given their history, but it was a discouraging situation nonetheless.
[Are we sure about this?] — Carlos asked, adjusting his glasses in an attempt to calm his nerves.
Milia didn't respond instantly. She walked at the front, bordering the dry bushes. Franco was at her side, holding an aluminum bat and covered in protective gear similar to the others.
[We don't have options,] — she said finally. — [All the nearby houses have already been looted...]
Bitterness washed over the group's faces almost instantly. They had originally thought about that possibility from the start but dismissed the idea... until it was too late. Now, most of the houses around them had been stripped of any useful supplies.
And they didn't even dare to complain to the one primarily responsible—someone always backed by a row of sharp teeth and a look that seemed to ask: "Would you taste good if I seasoned you with salt and pepper?"
[It's no use crying over the past... Besides, even with that, supplies would eventually run thin. Sooner or later we'll need to find sustainable food sources, and this is as good a place as any to start.]
Simón spoke, not with optimism, but as a tangible fact, to which everyone nodded.
[Then let me take the lead in case it's dangerous,] — Roinel said, puffing out his chest with confidence, trying to ease the tension.
He did it partly to be useful and partly because he felt guilty that his arrival, along with his group, had caused this complicated situation.
[Do you even know the way?] — Franco asked, playing along with a hint of sarcasm.
[Well...] — Roinel deflated immediately.
If Carla had been there, she might have been surprised by Roinel's growth as a person. After all, following the last experience, anyone could notice how he had become more empathetic and, at the same time, less explosive.
[[[[Hahaha...]]]]
Finally, a thin laugh ran through the group. They weren't being careless, much less did they feel safe. But they understood the intention and were willing to face the situation as a unit, with optimism. It was a significant improvement compared to when everything began.
[Lead the way then, Mowgli,] — Carlos teased.
[Yeah, yeah,] — Franco retorted, while flashing a reassuring smile at Milia.
Only then did the girl let out a silent sigh of relief, but in her mind, the argument with Louise kept replaying.
"I'm telling you this for your own good before it's too late: less playing democrat and more practicality."
Milia grit her teeth at the memory. Then, she looked at her group advancing into the forest. Their eyes were a mixture of fear and resolution. Not at all a desperate or resigned group.
[It's not perfect...] — she whispered to herself.
Milia remembered what happened before with the matter of her mother, but she didn't blame them. On the contrary, in her eyes, it was proof of the importance of having companions who help you see the truth, even if it's harsh. After all, the end result seemed obvious even now. Astrad himself leaving them behind, as rude as it was, validated that point.
[But we function too,] — she said with resolution, before joining Franco.
......….
The air inside the forest was very different from what Milia and Franco remembered. A sickly sweet and rotten smell filtered through the trees, accompanied by a wet, repetitive sound. Like larvae gnawing on flesh.
[I don't like this,] — Milia whispered.
[It's a bit different from our childhood...] — Franco replied, alert to his surroundings.
[Did you guys come here a lot as kids?]
[Yes,] — Milia nodded. — [We always came to play, Astrad would also teach us... to... collect things and so on...] — she said, her voice, which had started out cheerful from past memories, slowly fading away.
[Idiot.]
[W... What do you want?]
While Roinel was being pierced by disdainful glares, the group finally stumbled upon a clearing.
[Is that... normal?] — Simón asked, squinting his eyes. His gaze was fixed on a nearby campfire with still-glowing embers.
[That's relative, considering the situation.]
[Other survivors?]
Soon the whispers turned into murmurs as the group tried to evaluate the situation and decide what to do.
[If the other group were hostile, they would have ambushed us already,] — Simón couldn't help but mutter. His mind recalled Louise's words; in his eyes, situations like this proved her point exactly.
Milia, who heard him, bit her lower lip unconsciously, but before her frustration could surface...
[GET DOWN!] — Franco's voice rose with urgency.
No one hesitated. In an instant, everyone hit the ground, and a split second later, a trail of fire passed right over their heads.
[[[[[KYAAAA!!!]]]]]
The screams were immediate following the sudden event.
[What the hell? A flamethrower?] — someone asked.
[I hope so,] — Simón muttered, standing back up after the fire trail passed.
Of course, the comment surprised whoever heard it, but Simón was clear on it. After all, a human with a flamethrower was the least of their problems in their current environment.
Unfortunately for Simón, the apocalypse wasn't willing to make it easy for him.
CRACK
Along with the cracking sound of breaking wood, two figures came flying out from the thicket of the forest, crashing through enormous trees until they slammed into some nearby rocks with a force that shook the earth.
[Back! Everyone back!] — Franco shouted while raising his bat with one hand and covering his face with the other.
Some retreated in fear, while others, like Roinel, stepped forward alongside Franco, eyes fixed on the smoke screen in front of them and the shadow that seemed to writhe among the debris.
A chill ran down their spines when, through the thick dust, they saw the silhouette move with gestures that had been seared into their retinas.
crack squelch
The sounds—nauseatingly familiar—of flesh being torn and bones being crushed made them instinctively start to back away.
Finally, the dust began to settle, allowing the group to see the grotesque scene that paralyzed them in place once again.
Standing over a dying man with long blonde hair, wearing designer clothes made of peculiar materials that definitely didn't fit summer fashion, and pointed ears that were undoubtedly not a cosplay...
Was a creature the size of a large dog, but with a segmented body like an insect's and a bony skull that opened up like a flower to reveal multiple mandibles. Its eight eyes were as white as snow. It possessed no ears, and on its blackish exoskeleton, red markings glowed, mingling with the blood of its victim.
GRAAAAAAAAAAAAA
The creature screamed, lifting its head from the ground as if proclaiming victory. The sound emanating from it was a low hum that drilled into everyone's ears, forcing them to cover them with their hands.
[This has to be a joke.] — Franco's complaint found no one to listen.
---------
DIARY ENTRY NO: 308
SCIENTIFIC NAME: Nemus Vastator
REGIONAL ALIASES:
Biblical Scriptures (Apocrypha): The Hosts of Abaddon (Locusts of the Abyss).
Japanese Folklore: Jubokko-no-mushi (Parasites of the Vampire Tree).
Medieval Bestiaries: Myrmecoleon (The Ant-Lion).
Rat kid network: Debarling
NICKNAME (ASTRAD): Termites with "Wallhack"
📊 THREAT EVALUATION CLASSIFICATION: VENATOR (Swarm) / PARASITUS
They operate as a cyclical plague, similar to locusts, but carnivorous and with a nasty attitude. They aren't problematic because of quality, but rather quantity and persistence.
DANGER LEVEL: YELLOW (3 stars)
Individually, a Debarling doesn't have much to offer, but it's far from harmless. Even so, the real problem is that they never come alone. If you see one, there are ten watching you. A swarm can make things escalate from a problem to a catastrophe in a matter of seconds, depending on the size. Also, if they mark you, you're dead.
AGGRESSION LEVEL: OPPORTUNISTIC / RELENTLESS (Under Mark)
They have two AI modes:
Passive/Opportunistic Mode: They collect biomatter and attack only if it's an easy kill.
"Berserker" Mode (Relentless): If they apply their lock-on pheromone, they ignore their own survival to ensure the kill. They throw themselves at you like kamikazes. (I don't have a fucking clue about the conditions for applying or not applying their shitty mark).
🧬 COMBAT SHEET (TL;DR) TYPE:
Beast / Insectoid (Plant Biomimicry)
AFFINITY: Physical
🎯 PRIMARY WEAKNESSES:
Fire: They burn particularly well.
Just like an insect, it is quite likely that shrill sounds and certain frequencies affect them considerably.
📌 KEY STRENGTHS:
The Mark (Debuff): A chemical fluid that attracts every Debarling within kilometers.
Camouflage: When motionless, they look like piles of leaves and dry branches.
📚 ORIGINS AND COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY The Apocalypse of St. John (Bible): There is something eerily similar between these bugs and the biblical text of Revelation 9:3-4. The passage describes locusts coming out of the smoke of the abyss, which were commanded "not to harm the grass, but only the men." My theory is simple: ancient texts misinterpreted their behavior. They weren't following a divine order; they simply ignored common flora because they were looking for a richer energy source. (Your guts).
Greek Mythology (The Dryads): The legends of protective tree nymphs (Hamadryads) could be a romantic and erroneous interpretation of a Debarling swarm covering a tree. The Truth: Ancient Greeks saw a tree move and attack a woodcutter and thought "oh, it's a guardian spirit." No, it was a colony of these camouflaged bugs defending their nest. Humanity beautified a plague and called it a "nymph."
Cryptozoology (The Giant Stick Insect): There are 19th-century reports in Southeast Asia of aggressive phasmids (stick insects). It's possible this species always existed, dormant or in small numbers, mistaken for simple branches by entomologists.
📝 DETAILED ANALYSIS PHYSICAL AND SENSORY DESCRIPTION: They are small creatures (the size of a medium dog or a large badger), with segmented bodies covered in rough plates that perfectly mimic tree bark and rotten leaf litter. They possess six very thin and elongated limbs ending in hooks to climb trees at breakneck speed. Their most distinctive feature is their disproportionate jaws, capable of crushing green wood and bone alike. They smell of rancid resin and damp earth. When moving in a group, they produce a characteristic sound ("clack-clack-clack") similar to branches clashing in the wind, which often camouflages their advance.
☣️ PROTOCOLS RECOMMENDED
ENCOUNTER PROTOCOL:
DO:
Use fire (torches, flamethrowers, molotovs). Fear of fire is their only instinct for self-preservation.
Loud noises should work, but I don't think all types... maybe metallic ones? Or ultra-frequencies?
If you are marked… I don't know… run and see; if you survive, tell me.
DON'T:
Camp in areas with a lot of dead wood or exposed roots.
Show weakness.
Be without a functional fire source.
FIELD REPORT: (Extract from the Diary of a Human Explorer, Oldwood Frontier)
"...we've been in absolute silence for two hours. The Sergeant says the forest is listening to us. I think he's going crazy. There are no birds, just 그 damn sound... clack-clack-clack... like someone is tapping wooden sticks. It's constant….
A moment ago, Jenson leaned against a fallen tree to tie his boot. The tree... the tree opened up. It wasn't bark; it was plates. The thing bit his shoulder before he could scream, leaving the bitten area with a foul black coloration. But before we could even wonder what that damn monster was… the whole ground started moving. There were hundreds of those things. We fought, I swear we did, but it soon became obvious that the creatures had only one objective… Jenson… I'm sorry..."
🎤 ASTRAD'S ANNOTATIONS (THE ONLY SHIT THAT MATTERS):
You know what's the worst part? I can't even trust the fucking firewood anymore. You go to pick up branches to make a campfire and it turns out the "branch" has six legs, a bad attitude, and wants to chew your fingers off.
Nature in this world is a top-tier troll. It designed a termite on steroids and gave it a legendary camouflage skin. Basically, playing hide-and-seek with these bugs is losing by default.
But what really pisses me off is "The Mark" mechanic. It's the most unfair debuff in the game. It's a forced and infinite "Taunt." If that slime lands on you, congratulations: you've just become the protagonist of a horror Hentai, but without the fun part. The whole swarm goes into Berserker mode and you are the only NPC on the map.