Happy belated Thanksgiving to all of you that celebrate it! I finally managed to get this chapter finished today, so here we are. You guys have all been incredibly kind lately, and I just want to say that being able to write for everyone is something I'm extremely thankful for. It's been a rough semester, but hearing from all of ya'll has always brought a bit of brightness during all the hard times. On a side note, one of you asked when I plan on ending this story, so I'll say this: I honestly can't estimate the number of chapters this'll turn out to be, but there are 100% more than ten, and probably even fifteen chapters to come after this, and that might be a very conservative estimate. There's a lot I want to write, and I want to rush none of it as best as I'm able. So don't worry about a sudden ending sneaking up. Hopefully, the last story arch will feel like the last story arch, and we have some time before we get there yet. Hopefully this assures everyone?
But I have spoken long enough. Without further ado, I present chapter 35 to you.
The glow grows like a swarm of luminescent insects shining like they could kill their rivals with their light. The bustling of feet swells with it, until finally the frontrunners come into view. In the firelight of torches, the human faces are cast with moving shadows. I roll my joints and lick out a tongue to taste the air. The smell of burning wood and sweat infuses it.
The humans slow their approach to allow more of them to fill into the area. Out of cowardice. If they were trying to block off our escape, they'd be a little lacking, considering the other side of the bend is entirely empty.
Suddenly, one of the men throws his torch. It lands between me and Hank, slightly nearer to me, sputters, then keeps burning strong. I'm turning my head back to the swarm when I catch a small sphere flying out of the corner of my eye. Immediately I step back to avoid, and the object hits the ground somewhere behind me with a pop.
A waft of corrosive fumes slams into my nose. My throat spasms. I hack and slap my hand over my mouth and nose, eyes watering from the one whiff.
Fuck! Is this what Killua was talking about?
There's no time to think more on it. More spheres soar our way. They're not hard to avoid, but with every burst the air grows more untasteable. My sense of smell starts to go numb.
A pained grunt draws my attention to Hank in time to see him half stumble, one of his front legs lifted off the ground. It twitches, and high on the bulbous part that's theoretically a thigh, a sizable patch flickers raw in the unreliable light. My eyes widen, then narrow as I switch my attention back to the humans.
How did they do that?
Another projectile is thrown, but it's not at me so I don't bother with it. Then Hank charges. Just as he's passed me, I spring out in front. The humans have just enough time to tense and shout before I collide with the nearest one and shove him to the ground. With so many enemies I can't afford to linger, so I grab him by his clothes and toss him away while reaching out to grab a spear thrust my way. The pole snaps under my grip and I yank away the broken thing and toss it into oblivion. Three more sharpened edges swing my way, and I easily slip around them to one of the wielders.
If I can't kill and I can't maim, the best thing to do is make sure they can't use their weapons.
So I aim for the arms and hands. And sometimes knock the breath out of them. And sometimes sneak in a hit to the head for good measure.
In the periphery of my vision, Hank also uses blunt force. He runs in circles, continually diving into the people on the fringe before rounding back and mowing down a few more. Half of the spears and swords he knocks away, and the other half hits harmlessly against thick leather skin hardened by aura. Whenever he backs away from the humans during his loop, more bursting spheres get thrown his way.
In my brain, it clicks. They can't throw those things if we're in close combat.
I shove one human down using another when I vaguely catch Hank's pattern break. Instinctively I turn my head, only to have to lunge towards another human to avoid a swinging sword. I evade the attack the one I leap towards makes and whip him around to use him as a shield for two seconds as I register what the boar's doing.
Running towards Mordred. Right! Why the hell isn't she fighting?
But I tear my eyes away before they can fully land on the mantis, Tar's warning from earlier tonight in my ears.
Do not look at Mordred during battle.
He was so deathly grim when he said it, my gut tells me it was for a good reason. That doesn't mean I'm not annoyed I didn't get an explanation!
The humans can't do a thing to me, but the cold air claws at the inside of my lungs as my breathing gets marginally heavier, cold hands pressing me down. I try to stay nearer to the humans carrying fire, but they keep shifting around in the crowd.
And then I'm surrounded on all sides, the spear holders pushing their way to the inner circle. Trapped in a sphere of spearheads, I vault up.
I scan for a cushion to land on, only for another sphere to hurl up my way and the crowd beneath me to scatter. I can't avoid it midair, so I hit it aside.
It explodes.
The first thing I feel is the scalding on my arm where I tried to knock it away, then tons of searing pinpricks scatter across my shoulders, neck and face as the pain in my arm bursts.
A scream splits the air and I cradle my arm as I fall, the noise trailing off into a vicious hiss. When my other hand touches the scorched arm, though, the sensation spreads. I jerk my palm away, venom filling my venom sacs painfully.
WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS THIS?
Something nicks my shoulder and the hiss in my mouth catches.
Fwipfwip fwip
Then there's a shock of blue, and instead of entering the range of the bladed weapons below, my trajectory flips sideways. Then we stop with a jerk and fall the rest of the short distance. When my feet touch the ground, I use the light of Killua's aura to look at my arm, breaths streaming in and out between my teeth. On my originally uninjured arm, an enormous, unsightly splotch of discolored and glistening skin stretches most of my outer forearm. I check where the unknown thing hit my shoulder, but the skin there looks unmarred. Whatever it was bounced off.
"You're a Hunter."
One of the humans, particularly tall and lean, steps out towards us, hands raised as if in preparation to punch. Stretching his arms and ending long after his fists are artificial claws that glint in the firelight. Much of his aura is concentrated in the weapons.
"Why are you helping the monsters?"
Killua shifts a step in front of me. If I was in a better mood, I'd laugh at the way his hair stands on end (like a cat, if he was an ant, he'd be part cat), but that fact it would have been amusing just makes my current mood worse. "They're not here to cause trouble. I won't cut someone down who wants to live in peace, and I won't stand idly aside if someone else wants to cut them down."
"They've already killed over twenty humans who lived here."
"It was self defense. The humans were asking for it."
"How old are you, kid?"
"That's not relevant."
"This isn't a profession for youngsters. Hunter's can't be soft, or we'll get knifed in the back. It's a lesson we all gotta learn. I've been hired to take care of these beasts. Step aside, or I'll have to go through you."
When Killua responds, cockiness drips from his voice. "I'd like to see you try."
The rest of the humans keep a berth as the two Hunters clash. A number of them change their direction, probably towards Hank and Mordred, while some start to skirt around the battle of Hunters, malicious eyes on me. Some just stand and drool.
A small herd successfully avoids the fight, and approaches me with blades drawn. I don't dare do something as pathetic as back away. I open my mouth and hiss. A drop of venom drips onto my bottom lip, then runs down to my jaw. Just the thought of sinking my fangs into their flesh, of forcing all the pressure in the roof of my mouth into their veins and watching as my venom descends them into a twitching soon-to-be corpse makes my mouth go dry in want. To see the terror in their eyes as I tear them to shreds for daring to cause me pain. Watching their pride suffocate.
I don't let the group surround me. Two seconds later, I've snapped one of the swords, but even with my blood boiling, the cold presses down, and I miss my grab at the next one. A spear jabs at my head. I shatter the metal with my teeth.
Every time the muscles in my burned arm contract, the whole limb trembles, but I force as much strength into it as I can.
Once their weapons are broken, the cowards don't dare get close. Instead they toss more of the burn-causing balls and I have to avoid every one of them. It would be so easy to just rip open their necks and watch them die in a bloody fountain. But Killua said keep them alive. I'll eat my own arm if I can't handle these weaklings without resorting to killing. The strong can deal with their prey however they want!
The unarmed humans retreat the way they came, at first looking towards the man fighting Killua, but when they see the two have come to a standstill, they do, too. The two guys, an adult, and the other on the edge of adulthood, stare at each other. Neither one appears injured.
Then, the older man turns and walks away.
When the group that fought me breaks out of their stunned silence, they scramble after him and clamber for an explanation. Whether he gives one or not, he leads them back in the direction of the town, and the dark oasis falls into silence.
...Silence?
I whirl to find the rest of the humans. They haven't disappeared. Other than the small group that left, the rest have all stopped. Their arms hang limp at their sides. Some of them even dropped their weapons. Torches flicker on the ground by the feet of the people who'd held them previously. All of them face a single direction.
Modred stands well-lit by a torch lying in front of her, her mouthparts moving in agitation as she glares at the human wall facing her. Her eyes don't have eyelids, have anything about them that could express emotion, but somehow it's still obvious she's glaring. Hank stands off to her side.
...Are the humans just waiting for their heads to be bitten off?
The insect's wispy voice carries over the crowd.
"Go home."
There's a few seconds of delay. Then, in perfect synch, the humans turn around and walk off like it's business as usual.
The oasis is left empty. The torches on the ground illuminate the emptiness, only four beings left in the wake, and spotted stains of blood soaked into the dusty ground. Killua flashes away and returns a second later.
"Looks like the townspeople up top have also retreated," he reports. Shortly after, Tar flaps down, and lands outside the torches' lit circles.
"Whoo. Is anyone injured?"
"Do I look uninjured to you?" I spit. I plop down next to a torch and treat myself to its heat.
Hank gushes, "Fine and healthy, and the humans, too! Some of them coughed up some blood, but they all could still listen to Mordred. They all went home!"
"Estelle was affected by the initial attack," Killua tells him, walking over to me. He kneels down, and I readily show him my arm. He takes it gingerly and examines it. "In addition to hiring a Hunter, it looks like they've switched to chemical weapons. I might have convinced the Hunter to keep out of it, but if their chemicals are potent enough to do this much damage to an ant's skin, you need to make peace with them as soon as possible." He looks up at Tar. "Are you confident the enemy's gone?"
The owl ant's feathers rustle. "Whoo. All but that one." Seeing Tar turn his head, Killua does too, and I also follow their gazes to look.
A motionless, human sized shape lies in a pile by the ravine walls, barely visible in the darkness. The aura around it swirls faint, as inconsistent as the light. After we observe it, Killua stands back up.
"Don't touch them. I'm going to get Alluka."
I pretty much said everything I wanted to say before the chapter, so I'll just say I hope you enjoyed, and I'll hunker down to get out the next chapter as soon as I can. See you then!