The Unmaker

Silver threads, followed. Silver flower, destroyed.

The City of Feasts burned in the night.

Wind whipped up dust and sand and sparks as Dahlia slammed her warhammer into the ground, lungs heaving. Her heart was racing from the impact of her last swing, the handle still warm in her hands from the bug blood spattered across it. It wasn't even a Giant-Class that lay twitching at her feet—it was a generic, black chitin Critter-Class beetle the same size as her, its mandibles still clicking even with its head caved in and its body sagged.

[...There are still more to deal with,] Kari reported matter-of-factly, and the little bug on her shoulder pointed left, right, and down the centre of the street. [I detect well over two hundred Giant-Classes and five hundred Critter-Classes remaining.]

"I… can tell," she muttered under her breath, wiping sweat off her brow with a tremble in her fingertips. Her mouth was dry. Her throat tasted like sand and smoke.

All around her, the sandstone city was chaos. Oil fires, collapsing roofs, and smoke-billowing streets choked with flame and blood. But the bug-slayers moved through it like wind. Even the ones who'd dropped out of the first stage of the exam—dozens of washed-up participants and former soldiers—had thrown themselves back into the fray. Most weren't uniformed, but with swords and spears, rifles and wings, and chitin-bladed legs and eyes that flashed, it'd be easy for civilians to mistake their ferocity, if nothing else, as that of an actual unified army.

They fought together.

Still panting, she looked around to check on the others. She'd killed two Critter-Classes and six Giant-Classes of her own, but Emilia was standing with her boot on the cracked shell of a dozen giant horned millipedes, brushing soot from the corner of her lips. Otto was reloading his rifle from atop a nearby roof, having shot several giant antlions out of the sky that now lay in a bloody pile beneath his building. Wisnu's sawtooth greatsword was blood-streaked, Muyang's giant beetle helm was undented, and Blaire was still wrangling a giant ant while attached to its back.

Dahlia flinched as she watched the Plagueplain Doctor rip its head off, a spray of blood drenching the sand before her.

We're all doing just fine with the Giant-Classes.

[The Sun and Alice did drop all of you off here by the edge of the city so you can help contain the Giant-Classes with the rest of the freelance bug-slayers.]

But—

"Oi! You six!"

All of them turned in time to see a group of bug-slayers sprinting up past the alley barricades at the edge of the city. One of the men—his figure was too hazy in the mirage for Dahlia to tell what he really looked like—pointed up at them with a soot-covered hand.

"You're the ones who flew out with the Arcana, right? With the Sun and the Hangman?"

The bug-slayer's voice cracked, but he didn't sound accusatory. Just out of breath.

"Well, go help them, then!" another bug-slayer shouted. "They're fighting the Spider Gods!"

Dahlia blinked hard, heart hammering.

The six of them looked at each other for a beat—then without a word, they ran.

It was easy to know where they had to go. All they had to do was follow the heaviest thumps of combat in the city. They leapt over smoking ledges and rubble-strewn courtyards, scaled cracked balconies and shattered staircases, all of them clearing the last collapsed walkway their way up and clambering up onto the highest rooftop they could reach.

And there, on the same roof Dahlia had caught Emilia stealing her radishes on her first day in the city, they all gathered to stare down at the same battlefield.

The old sandstone bazaar—half of it collapsed, the other half smothered in flames—had been turned into a warzone. Wind screamed through broken archways and whipping banners of fire as four blurry figures clashed below. Dahlia crouched low behind the lip of the roof, eyes wide.

The Sun blazed forward with twin flaming short swords, fire coiling behind each cut like dragon tails. Alice followed closely behind, cycling through a dozen silk-woven weapons at the same time. Oh, they were fast to be sure—faster than Dahlia could follow—but even a layman like her could tell the Spider Sisters they were facing moved like true dancers of death.

Apocia was massive: brute force in motion, every step shaking stone, every blow capable of cratering a street. She was the frontliner. She stayed in the front, intercepting every slash the Sun threw, her six arms a blur of poisonous spines and bulging chitin plates. Protected behind her, Thracia leaped and bounded between broken stalls and collapsed buildings, never standing still. With every second Apocia brought her, she anchored her limbs into the closest solid surface and charged up spiralling spears of threads in her mouth—and those fired out with devastating power, forcing the Sun and Alice to jerk themselves off balance just to evade each shot.

The Spider Sisters were coordinated. Perfectly so.

Every time the Sun went in for a clean strike, Apocia blocked it, and the moment she was overextended, Thracia's web spear would shoot in from the side. Alice would try to weave a silk shield to cover for the Sun, but she wasn't fast enough. Her shield wasn't strong enough. The Sun had to either dodge the projectile or slice it out of the air herself, unable to focus on dealing with Apocia right in front of her.

And the pressure.

Dahlia gritted her teeth. The wind coming off the battlefield made her eyes water. It wasn't just the heat from the fire. It was killing intent. Four different fields of pressure, each as thick and heavy as a tidal wave, crashed into each other below and intermingled to form something… cruel. Sickening. Her fingers shook on the edge of the roof. She turned her head slightly and saw Otto gripping his rifle tighter than usual. Even Muyang's posture wasn't perfectly composed, and Wisnu's brows were drawn low.

And Emilia—Emilia looked... afraid.

Dahlia had never seen that before. Not in the colossal fungi forest. Not when she was staring down a charging Mutant-Class sun moth. Not when they were navigating blindly through the underground tunnels.

But now?

The strongest participant looked frozen. Pale.

Dahlia supposed it was only the effect of facing a true Insect God for the first time—killing pressure that was starkly different from that of a Mutant-Class.

And you're telling me… Alice isn't afraid?

She can still move like that?

…

No one said anything.

The only sound was the screaming wind, the explosions, the crackle of fire, and the roar of bug-slayers containing the spread of Giant-Class bugs in the far distance.

And then Blaire stood up.

Hunch-backed, sudden, like a rusted blade snapping loose from a sheath. Without hesitation, she yanked out four thick syringes from her belt, unscrewed the empty syringes on her claws, screwed the new ones on, and then jammed them all into her neck at once.

The fluid inside lit up faint green as it disappeared into her bloodstream.

"What the hell are you—?" Otto said, half-rising and half-flinching as Blaire stumbled back. She let out a low growl and convulsed, her spine cracking as if trying to reshape itself. Muscles twitched under her coat. Her head snapped back, her skin started bubbling, and when she looked up again, her eyes were wide and glowing that same eerie green—bright, glassy, bloodshot.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Then she started laughing.

A dry, guttural cackle that didn't sound quite human.

"Gods, look at yourselves," she rasped, voice thick with venom. "And you call yourselves future Hasharana?"

She staggered forward, claws flexing.

"You're all waiting, aren't you?" she cooed. "Waiting for the Spider Gods to be crawling and half-dead before you jump in? Want 'em weak, malnourished, and broken?" She jerked her head forward at the battlefield. "But now that they've had their little blood drink—now that they're burning hot with godhood again—you all just freeze up?"

She turned, slow and taunting, to look each of them in the eye.

"Cowards. The lot of you," she snarled. "Save your sob backstories. Save your righteous speeches. Nobody gives a shit about why you're here."

With that, she stepped up to the ledge, her boots crunching against the scorched tiles of the roof, the wind tugging at the edges of her raven feathered coat. Her syringe claws gleamed, long and cruel and dripping with green ichor.

"A bug-slayer slays bugs. Fuck motivation. Fuck righteousness. You gotta be proper mad to go up against these ones, so does anyone need a dose of performance boosters?" she asked, tilting her head mockingly as she threw her arms back. "Or are you gonna keep standing there and piss yourselves while I finish the job?"

Nobody answered her.

But when she shifted her weight and readied herself to leap down, another figure stepped forward beside her.

Wisnu.

"... I don't need your poisons," she said quietly. "I will not taint my blood with Plagueplain filth."

Then she reared her sawtooth greatsword back, gripping it tight in both hands. The desert wind swept over them both, lifting strands of their hair and tugging at their cloaks. Firelight danced on the metal of their weapons.

Then Wisnu turned to face the others, her eyes steady and unwavering.

"But the Plagueplain Doctor has a point," she said. "Are we to be bug-slayers or not?"

Jiayin spun her shortswords, one in each hand, the steel lined with bombardier beetle chitin still crackling with heat from their last explosion. She swatted away another volley of Apocia's medium-ranged poisonous spines, her footing sliding against broken tiles as the ruined bazaar twisted around her.

Faster!

She ducked, twisted, and her blades hissed through the air as she parried another barrage of spines. Then, with practiced ease, she dropped into a crouch and the swords split at the hilt—metal reshaping, folding, stretching into her bow. In a single motion, she nocked an arrow and loosed it towards the far end of the bazaar, intercepting a web-spear that flew like a viper straight at Alice.

Both projectiles detonated mid-air, flames licking the night sky. Jiayin cursed under her breath, already breaking her bow apart and turning it back into twin blades to block Apocia's next six-claw swipe.

Her shoulder trembled under the hit, and if it weren't for her detonating the bottom of her feet to propel herself backwards—grabbing Alice along the way to put some distance between them and the Spider Sisters—she'd have been crushed to death already.

She couldn't keep this up.

While the Spider Sisters stood in tandem on the other side of the burning bazaar, Alice was standing too close for comfort, breathing heavily, her four silk-woven blades dangling loosely at her sides. She wasn't injured. Not seriously and visibly, but her shoulders sagged. Jiayin only had to take one look at her to know she wasn't made for drawn-out fights.

Grimacing, Jiayin glanced down at her own leg. Three of Apocia's poisonous spines—the tarantula's Art, she supposed—still jutted from her thigh, soaked in black venom. Her skin was numb, but the muscles beneath were twitching, tight and sluggish. Every step was slower than it should've been.

This was not a good matchup anymore.

Apocia and Thracia weren't fighting alone. They moved like a single body. Apocia crashed forward with brute force, always shielding the thinner Thracia as the younger sister hung back and spit webs like spears. Alice couldn't keep up with both. She may be small, fast, slim, and versatile, being able to weave a weapon from nothing in a heartbeat, but she lacked something much, much simpler.

Experience.

While Alice had most certainly killed an Insect God by herself three years ago, Jiayin would be remiss to not mention that it was a very, very special case, and the only reason why Alice was given the title of the 'Hangman' was because the Magician—ranked two of the Arcana—wanted to keep a close eye on her.

… Because she was only eleven when she killed her first Insect God, for the Worm God's sake.

She's only fourteen now. She doesn't have the experience of fighting in a team.

Alice could dance with brute force, that much was clear. Her silk weapons were clever, her reflexes sharper than most, and her speed—a blur to the eye—matched Apocia's heavy blows surprisingly well. Against sheer power, Alice could hold her own. Maybe, just maybe, she could take Apocia one-on-one.

But this wasn't one-on-one.

Jiayin sucked in a breath, watching Thracia's spidery silhouette lurking behind her larger sister, spinning another spear of webs inside her mouth. Alice could match Apocia, but not Thracia. Right here, right now, Jiayin had to cover both the frontline and the backline to keep Thracia's projectiles at bay.

But how long can I do that… for?

Her muscles ached as she shifted, blood still seeping from the wound in her thigh.

Across the ruined bazaar, the two Spider Sisters straightened, their voices weaving together like strands of silk.

"Is that all?" they jeered in unison. "Fading already? Don't worry—we'll hold out until she bursts. When our eldest sister's heart explodes, it'll take this whole filthy city with it."

For a second, Jiayin felt the words hit her like a stone to the chest.

Then she blinked.

What are you talking about?

If the Fool says he'll stop it, then he'll stop it. Don't be stupid.

He's nothing like you or any of us.

Her grip tightened on the bow. The Fool didn't make promises he couldn't keep, which meant stopping the two Spider Sisters up here came down to her.

She didn't have time to think.

She had one chance.

One arrow.

"Step back," she said, voice low, turning to Alice.

Alice mustered a tired, bloody grin. "What do you wanna—"

"Just step back, brat."

Without another word, Jiayin raised her bow. No arrow nocked. She didn't need one. The tension in the string alone drew heat from the air, the string vibrating with a low hum that set her teeth on edge.

The Spider Sisters froze across the field. Their smiles faltered, eyes narrowing.

They knew.

This wasn't a trick. This was the shot: the one she'd used to kill a Sun Moth God once. The one that'd left her lungs scorched and her arms limp for weeks. She hadn't touched it since, not because she couldn't, but because there wasn't any bug worth using it on.

Her breath slowed, each inhale tight with pain as a fire arrow formed itself between her pinched fingers—

But before she could loose it, Apocia surged forward, six arms raised in a blur. Thracia pried her jaw apart further, web coiling into a spiraled spear.

"You think we'll let you finish that?" Apocia spat.

Jiayin tried to move. Her body didn't listen. The poison in her leg was creeping higher now, numbing her hip, slowing her movement. Her thighs locked. She felt it in the marrow of her bones.

Alice darted in front of her, threads flying, weaving four giant shields of silk.

"Don't block, you brat!" Jiayin's voice cracked. "I got this! Get out of the way!"

She knew Alice's silk wouldn't hold.

Apocia's claws tore through the first shield, then the second, then the third, and—

Then the air cracked.

A sound split through the world, raw and ragged. Emilia, garbed in an amber cicada wing-patterned cloak, crashed into the ground beside Alice. Her throat widened, and when she screeched straight ahead, she bent the air into a barrier that caught Apocia's claws alongside Alice's final shield.

At the same time, Wisnu and Muyang landed further in front of the two, sawtooth greatsword and giant beetle helm ramming into Apocia at the same time with the force of a freight beast. Their weapons didn't penetrate the tarantula's armour, but it made her stumble, snarl, her spines bristling as she took a single step back.

The Plagueplain Doctor was next, needle claws gleaming. Blaire didn't hesitate, pouncing from out of nowhere onto Apocia's broad back to pump her full of something thick and green. The Spider God grunted, whipping around, but Blaire was already gone, flipping away to land beside Alice with pulsing bloodshot eyes. At the same time, Jiayin's eyes flicked up just in time to see Thracia's web-spear shredded mid-air, a bullet tearing through it cleanly.

Otto. The Pioneer was calm and steady, perched on the roof behind her and reloading his rifle like it was any other day.

The Hasharana-lings were all here.

Emilia glanced around and flashed Jiayin a sharp grin, wiping dust from her cheek with the back of her hand.

"You said something about walking through fire, right?" Her eyes gleamed. "Well, we're here to throw more fuel on it. Let's split—one takes the little sister, the other takes the big one. What's the play?"

… Hah.

Jiayin exhaled, steadying her breath. Her fingers loosened slightly on the bowstring, her eyes flicking from one Spider God to the other. Thracia's spindly frame coiled in the back, while Apocia, towering and seething, still looked like she could keep coming at her with sheer brute force.

A beat passed.

Then Jiayin's lips curved into something fierce.

"Thracia's ours," she said, nodding once toward the smaller of the two gods. "Alice will handle Apocia alone, though I think… you won't exactly be alone."

Her eyes searched the sky, the shadows, and found no trace of the last Hasharana-ling.

She was always the least conspicuous one, Jiayin supposed.

"One is still not here."