The air in the farmhouse had thickened, soured by the collective stench of fear-sweat, ozone from spent spells, and the coppery tang of old blood. Aqi and Gronk moved with a grim purpose that cut through the panicked chaos, heading straight for the storage barns. Most of the newcomers, still breathing hard from their frantic flight to the farm, their bodies aching from hours of fighting and running, had barely slumped onto the rough benches in the main hall. They were dreaming of hot food from the farm's kitchen, of a moment's respite to bind wounds and gulp down a Spirit tonic. That dream shattered with the sudden, frantic clanging of the alarm bell from the gatehouse, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of their bones.
Everyone jerked awake, scrambling to the boarded windows, peering through cracks and hastily drilled spy-holes. The sight that greeted them stole the breath from their lungs. The world beyond the farm's walls was gone, replaced by a living, seething darkness. A horizon of chitin and frantic wings, a tidal wave of hunger that blotted out the dying light.
"By the forgotten gods…"
"There's… there's no end to them!"
"Positions! Everyone to your positions! Damn it, this is no Tier 5 event!"
"The species… it has to be different! That's why the participant cap was 250!"
"It's them! They must have led the swarm here!"
Curses and shouts filled the air, but discipline, born of desperation, took over. Potions were unstoppered and chugged, weapons were checked with frantic fingers. Teams formed up, moving to pre-designated sections of the wall. Outside, on the flat plains beyond the farm, pinpricks of light—the running lights of skimmers—darted and weaved like panicked fireflies, chased by the encroaching black tide. Latecomers, fleeing for their lives, were inadvertently leading the storm right to the farm's door.
The Xie and Teng factions were already mobilizing, their members moving with a colder, more practiced efficiency. Xie Yong barked orders, but when he turned to include Xie Guangyu, he found the boy was not at his post by the main door.
In the storage yard, Xie Guangyu's expression was a mask of icy displeasure. He watched as Aqi and Gronk commandeered the remaining bales of hides, the tenant farmers scrambling to help them for a few extra coppers. He'd seen it too—the same tactical possibility—but they had been faster. His eyes met Aqi's across the dusty yard. Her gaze was flat, unreadable. He gave a slight, tense nod and turned away, melting back into the shadowed interior of the farmhouse.
Gronk let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Whew. Thought he was gonna make a scene."
Aqi was already directing the farmers. "He's not the type. It's just as well he's not his uncle or cousin." Her words were casual, but they carried a weight of specific knowledge that made Gronk's furry brows twitch. How does she know the family dynamics?
There was no time to ponder. "What're we doin' with all this?" Gronk grunted, hefting a reeking bale.
"Traps."
"You're sprinkling chili powder on it."
"…"
A small group of Arcanists, the last stragglers, stumbled up to the farm gate just as Aqi, Gronk, and a few farmers emerged, arms laden. Lao Zhang, the tenant head, miraculously remembered his duty. "Entry fee! Ten thousand copper or credit chip!"
The newcomers stared, bewildered and terrified. Aqi watched, a strange thought occurring to her. This 'Oaks'… perhaps he's not entirely a villain.For these farmers, coin wasn't just currency; it was dignity, survival, medicine for a sick child. In demanding payment, he was forcing the powerful to acknowledge a transaction, not grant a charity. Dignity was a luxury, but a fair price? That, they could understand.
"The swarm! They're right behind us! What are you doing? Don't go out there!"
"We're not planning to die. Get inside!" Gronk snapped, his tail lashing. He directed the farmers to drop their loads and flee back to safety. The puzzled Arcanists paid and hurried in, but lingered just inside the gate, watching.
Then they saw the plump, golden marmot heft an enormous bundle and, with a grunt of effort, simply sinkinto the earth as if it were water.
A stunned silence fell over the watchers, both at the gate and at the windows.
"That… rodent is not simple," Xie Yong murmured, a flicker of avarice in his eyes. A missed opportunity.
"Earth-walking…" Xie Jun muttered, impressed despite himself.
Xie Guangyu, who had rejoined them, merely glanced at Aqi, who stood alone now by the iron gate. She's the one to watch,he thought. The beast obeys her.
No one understood what they were doing. The bundle had been too large, too shapeless to identify.
Then the small, slight girl walked out, right up to the farm's main gate. She stood there, a solitary figure in simple, stained clothes, looking out at the approaching doom. Two hundred meters. One hundred fifty.
At the window of her reinforced room, Yao watched, her enhanced hearing straining. Aqi had begun to chant. The cadence, the phonetic texture… Yao's mind, a library of gaming lore and mechanical analysis, whirred. Compound trap. Not mechanical. Atmospheric trigger… ignition-based?She caught the opening syllabic patterns of an Air-Combustion matrix, but then Aqi's chant shifted, accelerated, weaving in secondary encryption chains and transitioning into a dialect or coded language Yao didn't recognize. She lost the thread, a faint frustration brushing her mind. So much I don't know.
But her eyes saw the effect. As the first wave of Scorpid-Tails reached the perimeter, a black cloud of gnashing mandibles and poised stingers, the hides Gronk had buried erupted from the earth. Not violently, but eerily. They bloomed. Great, ragged sheets and clumps of wool and leather rose into the air, not as projectiles, but as a vast, diffuse, floating miasma. They hung there, a grotesque, semi-translucent canopy over the farm, catching and tangling the leading edge of the swarm. Insects slammed into the fibrous mass, their wings snagging, their legs catching in the matted hair.
In the center of it all, standing calmly as the shadow of the swarm fell over her, Aqi completed her chant. Her hands came together in a complex seal, and she began the final, soft incantation. It was a thing of cold beauty, this small figure conducting the elements.
From a hole in the ground by the gate, Gronk popped up like a lethal jack-in-the-box. His rifle now sported a massive, drum-like Scatter-Incinerator attachment. "Eat fire, vermin!" he roared, and fired.
The shell screamed skyward. At the same moment, Aqi's outstretched palms bloomed with condensed, serpentine ribbons of crimson fire. They leapedfrom her hands, not attacking, but guiding, streaking upward to meet the incoming shell. The convergence was perfect.
The world exploded in silent white light for a split second, followed by a WHOOMFthat punched the chest of everyone watching. The floating hide-and-wool matrix didn't just burn; it detonated. The chili powder, the oils, the desiccated fibers—it all became fuel suspended in air. A rolling fireball of incredible size blossomed above the farm, a miniature sun that swallowed thousands of Scorpid-Tails whole. The heat wave blasted back, scorching the paint on the farmhouse walls.
Yao, watching through her slit, felt a thrill that was both professional admiration and cold reassessment. "Atmospheric Combustion combined with Pyrokinetic Conduitry. A linked technique, not a simple spell. Academy-level finesse. Her background is… notable." And troubling. Such skill, alone, unprotected…
Experience notifications, invisible to others, cascaded in her mind. Where a Verdant-Brown had been worth 1 point, a Scorpid-Tail was worth 5. Her share, one-third of that initial, catastrophic strike, was immense. The jump from Level 9 to 10 required 50,000 XP. In that single, glorious, horrifying firestorm, she gained over fifteen thousand.
The effect was catastrophic for the swarm and electrifying for the defenders. Jealousy and greed flashed in dozens of eyes. Men rushed to the farmers, demanding hides, only to be met with helpless shrugs. "Sold. All of it."
"Who is that girl?" someone hissed. "She's not from either of the top schools, is she?"
Xie Yong's eyes gleamed. He looked to his son and nephew. Xie Jun shook his head. Xie Guangyu's voice was cool. "Either she's from elsewhere, or she's wearing a Green-tier disguise. She doesn't wish to be known."
Xie Yong smiled, a thin, unpleasant thing. "Then she lacks substantial backing…"
Aqi and Gronk were too busy to notice the hungry looks. They were bathing in a torrent of experience. But Gronk's triumphant whoop was cut short by Aqi's sharp shout. "Gronk, down!"
He rolled, a fireball from a larger, faster variant—a Swarm Lieutenant—grazing his hindquarters, setting his fur smoldering. He yelped, sitting hard to smother the embers, and returned fire. The swarm, enraged and leader-directed, now focused its fury on the two of them.
Aqi, after her warning, was already a ghost. A backflip, a shimmer, and she was gone—Shadow-Meld. Another subtle cantrip purged the lingering heat-signature and insect-attraction pheromones from her body. The swarm, bereft of its primary target, turned its rage on the farm itself.
This was the signal for everyone else. The time for watching was over. The crippled, burning vanguard of the swarm was a target too tempting to ignore.
Tier 1 Luminous Orb. Firebolt. Arcane Missile. Frost Shard. The air outside the farmhouse became a kaleidoscope of destructive light. Yao, from her vantage point, cataloged the attacks with a scholar's eye. Then she saw it—from a second-floor window in the opposite wing, a creeping, insidious Black Mist oozed forth. It drifted, almost lazily, until it made contact with a cluster of Scorpid-Tails near the wall. Where it touched, chitin didn't melt; it dissolved, pitting and cracking with a sickening sizzle. Organic Corrosion. A rare, vicious school. Before the insects could react, a Tier 2 Serpent of Embers, a twisting, intelligent rope of fire, shot from the same window and coiled through the weakened swarm, igniting everything it touched.
Yao's blood ran a degree colder. There's a viper in the house. Level 15, at least. Corrosion specialist with fire follow-up.That combination could strip a knight to his bones in seconds. She made a mental note, a new entry at the top of her threat list.
A fireball, larger than the rest, slammed into her own window with a deafening CRUNCH. The reinforced metal plating held, but the frame shuddered, and heat radiated through the gap. Outside, the Swarm Lieutenant, a hulking brute the size of a calf, glared with malevolent, faceted eyes.
Aqi, still invisible, saw the impact. She didn't engage the Lieutenant. Instead, she wove a quick Gust cantrip, disrupting the aim of several other insects harrying Gronk. The moment his Earth-Walk cooldown ended, she gave a sharp whistle.
"Ready!" Gronk yelled, and vanished into the ground. Three seconds later, Aqi was a blur of motion, scaling the rough farmhouse wall with preternatural agility, reaching their room's window just as it swung open. She slipped inside, and it slammed shut, leaving only a narrow gunport.
Gronk's rifle began its staccato bark. "Dakka-dakka-dakka-DAKKA!"
Aqi, breathing hard, strung a sleek, composite bow. "Must you provide the sound effects?"
"Sure!" Gronk agreed cheerfully, and immediately switched to a different, wetter, more rhythmic sound. "Splutch-splutch-splutch! Hey, your ears are all red. What's the matter?"
Aqi's face, usually so impassive, flushed a deep scarlet. She refused to dignify that with a response, focusing on drawing her bow. In her room, Yao heard the exchange and pinched the bridge of her nose. She's even younger than I thought.The girl was clearly flustered. It was almost… endearing. And I thought I had patience.
The battle settled into a brutal, grinding rhythm. The Xie and Teng factions, with their numbers and higher average levels, began to stabilize as the primary defenders. Their output, while lacking the explosive initial spike of Aqi's trap, was relentless and would eventually surpass hers. The farm, a fortified island, held. But it was completely surrounded, a lone rock in a churning, black sea of rage. The swarm's numbers seemed barely dented.
Two stark realities soon imposed themselves. Spirit reserves were dipping dangerously low. Potions were finite. And bodies, pushed beyond endurance, were screaming for rest, for hot food, for a moment's unconsciousness.
Factions coalesced openly. Xie Yong and Teng Yunli gathered their orbits. The remainder—Aqi and Gronk, the unseen corrosive mage, a few other competent soloists or duos—formed a silent, powerful third bloc: the independents, isolated but formidable.
Afternoon bled into a smoky, fiery evening. In the kitchen, the cooks worked in a state of surreal terror. "I've cooked during hailstorms!" one bellowed, flipping a hash of tubers and dried meat. "I've never cooked while the godsdamned skywas trying to set my kitchen on fire!" The window above his station was a mosaic of cracks, blackened by near-misses.
Those on meal rotation crowded the makeshift dining area, shoveling down hot, greasy food, their eyes hollow with fatigue. They watched, with a mixture of resentment and grim amusement, as a servant carried a laden tray upstairs—succulent roast fowl, steamed greens, even a bright-red, steamed rock-lobster.
"He doesn't even come down."
"Why would he? Useless leech."
"Is that… lobster? That little shit eats better under siege than I do in my own house."
In her room, Yao ate methodically, watching the last light fail. According to the biological data she recalled, Scorpid-Tails operated on a shift system. Around 10 PM, a significant contingent of the drones would succumb to their circadian rhythm and enter a torpid, near-comatose state, swapping with fresher units. A window of opportunity, however narrow.
Others will know this too,she thought. It's basic Academy ecology.
At five minutes to ten, after ensuring her room was secure from prying eyes, she moved to the chimney. But as she prepared to climb, she froze. Her enhanced senses, the new hyper-awareness thrumming in her blood, caught a discrepancy. Not a sound. Not a smell. A presencethat didn't belong.
Her eyes, piercing the gloom of the roof space, locked onto it. A small, elegant gecko, seemingly molded from dark ceramic, clung to a beam near the chimney outlet. Its tail twitched minutely, its head rotating on a silent pivot. No living creature could survive out here; the swarm would have scented it. Therefore, it was not alive. A mechanical spy. High-grade. The sort of toy a wealthy, paranoid player would use to monitor comings and goings.
Xie. Or Teng.She didn't touch it. Touching it would announce her awareness. Instead, she activated her Cloak and became a wraith, slipping over the rooftop edge and down into the high, dry grass beyond the farm's light.
She melted into the landscape, a shadow within shadows, her breathing slowing to near nothing. The thinking was clear: Whoever placed that wants to see who hunts at night. They want to assess strength, identify rivals, then ambush.
The corollary was just as clear: The one who sets the trap must also leave to spring it.
A slow, cold smile touched her lips, invisible in the dark. She waited. Patient as stone.
Thirty minutes later, the shift change began. A low, drowsy hum replaced the aggressive drone as a swarm of perhaps fifty thousand Scorpid-Tails detached from the main body and settled in a grotesque, shimmering blanket over the far fields, their metabolism crashing into enforced rest.
Yao didn't move.
The stone felt the vibration first. A soft rustle, the faintest crunch of dry grass under cautious feet. A team of five emerged from a drainage ditch, moving with disciplined silence. They skirted the edge of the farm's light, eyes fixed on the slumbering swarm, and began to advance. Predators on the hunt.
Yao remained still, a part of the night itself.
A few heartbeats later, from a fold in the land to the south, another group detached itself from the darkness. Four of them. They moved not towards the swarm, but on an intercept course with the first team. Their intent was a silent, grim poem in the language of survival.
Black swallowing black.
Yao's fingers, resting in the cool soil, twitched. Gossamer threads, finer than spider silk and utterly silent, began to unreel from her ring, creeping through the grass like the roots of some carnivorous plant.
The night was deep. The air was cold. And in the darkness, away from the farm's desperate light, the oldest hunt was beginning anew.