I agree, this is a rather short chapter but I felt like I had to upload something. Truth be told I could've added more to this since I have already written the next part and began writing the part after that, but I found it necessary to wait and re-read the next part more than once. I'm a bit uncertain about it. I will try uploading it later this week or the next.
I've got a question for you: neither manitds nor any other insects have skin, at least it's not called "skin" as far as I know, but what is it called? I've written shell for now but i'm uncertain what the correct term is. What's an insect's skin called?
This was new. He had heard of how a paragon would sleep, as if dead. Not feeling, not seeing or even sensing. He would be trapped in an eternal silence until the time was right. And so he had. But the sounds that first drew him half to awakening were not the ones he had thought. Far from, these were the sounds of shrieks, of mocking laughter and breaking limbs. What he heard was the sound of fear, and he could feel it infecting his vessel, his... prison. Yes, from that moment the protective amber encasement had become his prison. There was nothing he could do as this corrupted force made its way deeper to consume him. He was trapped, and that fact alone seemed to strengthen the foul thing for it awoke fear in him.
Fear, he never thought he would feel it in the face of death. Or was it death? The fear that approached him was not his own, but the strange tugging in his chest was. And the sounds and nightmares invading his mind, echoing around him, they hurt his senses, drove him to the edge of madness.
But then, to his relief, they vanished, as if they had never been there at all. He could feel the taint withdrawing and in mere moments another sound rippled through the silence. The right sound. It was good to finally hear the call of the Klaxxi, but it was vague as if something was blocking it. He sensed a presence, no there were more, but the one that caught his interest was the most foreign one. The one that did not belong to a mantid.
For the first time in centuries the paragon opened his eyes. His vessel began to crumble around him, the amber moved and he could feel his body obeying as he took control of it. The encasement broke, the force of which the amber rushed off him caught him by surprise and made him stumble as he tried to gain balance.
The effort sent him to his knees as the amber flooded off him. Air forced into his lungs. The pain it caused was unreal. He vomited uncontrollably feeling his body already miss the rejuvination of amber around it.
It took time until his senses began to awake. As they did he could hear the sound of battle around him. Weapons clashing, mantids screaming in pain, he had awoken in the midst of battle and that made him grin.
But that was not all; there were some kind of energy as well, one which he had never felt before. Again he felt that foreign presence, this time stronger and for some odd reason he felt some attachment to it.
Pushing the thoughts away he could hear the Klaxxi call to him, this time more clearly. They told him what he needed to know to make it to Klaxxi'vess. His awakening had been urgent and thus there was no sap to replenish his powers with, but it had been necessary.
A sting of disappointment filled him as the whispers silenced. He had not been awakened because of the need of him but rather the need of not having him corrupted. No matter.
The paragon forced his body to stand and looked upon the two combatants fighting to protect him: one was mantid with garments and weapons that noted his importance. A skilled warrior, the paragon noted. The other one was something he had never seen before, but there was no mistaking this strange creature was the one who had awakened him; the bond he sensed to it was unmistakably the attachment between a paragon and his wakener.
Around him lay hatchlings dead. Their shells were tainted with the same unnatural power that tried to take him in his sleep. Among them were warriors, swordwielders, their amber swords were of a good quality, he noted. His arm trembled as he outreached it to pick one up, he was still drained. Holding the sword in his hand his tired arm lifted it from the ground. Good weight to it too, he concluded, however he still preferred another choice of weapon. But this would have to do.
"I am returned," he stated causing his protectors to turn to him. Gripping about the sword with both hands he readied himself for battle. "I heed the call of the Klaxxi." It was a tactical move; to assume battle position he heightened his senses and thus would be able to not only prevent himself from being injured but also slay those foolish enough to attack him. And the odds of that were high.
Merely moments later the swarmborns saw his weakness and did what all newly hatched do; kill. At least they tried but as of his reputation there had not been a single one to even scratch him. Who were they to think they'd be the first?
The paragon sensed them coming. Clicking his mandible, as to physically announce the time was right, he stepped to the side, dodged every strike, feeling their claws move past him, then he countered. Much slower than he'd hoped he nevertheless killed his opponents, piercing through their tiny bodies, slicing them to bits. It felt good to be awake again.
Indeed, Malik the Unscathed had returned.