Chương 71: Roly Poly

Parsnip always thought that her mother-mother made dancing through the streets with the head of your enemies look effortless. She had since grown up, and in growing up learned that getting that head was anything but. The lizard-things — cruel creatures made of scale and fiery eyes and hate — had followed the wake of destruction their great whirly-fiend had cut through the forest. Entire glades were ablaze and shredded. The air was thick with the smell of cut plants, insect blood, and acrid ant acid.

The progeny of the matriarchs Izzbl, Kraka'tak, and Qeeqee had thrown themselves in its way, and were torn asunder as they attempted to scale the towering ball of junk and whirling metal blades. They were fools. Anyone who wasn't encircling the loud and rowdy lizards behind it was wasting their effort. The ball didn't need fuel, but it did need direction. Removing its handlers from the equation would ensure that it ran itself aground all the sooner It just wasn't easy.

There was a lot of effort in making it seem like you just so happened to land on a lizard head, twisting your leg-claws just so as to tear through its jugular. It wasn't easy to dodge the scrap-throwers its allies showered it with, tearing it to chunks moments after you hopped away. The walking, bug-like lizards were effective in laying cruel traps, and their cruelty didn't stop with their enemies. She sailed in a long backflip, landing on the shoulders of another one intent on repeating the feat.

But she must have been slow, or telegraphed her intentions too honestly. A clawed hand wrapped around her ankle. She swung her own claw, a pair of wicked curved blades severing its tendons, but bouncing off of solid bone. The grip remained, if weakened, and there came the second arm, moments before she kicked off the creature's face, clawing out its eyes as a farewell gift. Parsnip was a whirlwind, a menace, a terror.

When she put herself inside a circle of lizards, violence exploded, and left her standing in steaming masses of gore.

"Hiyah! Eyah! Shaw, shaw, shaw!" The third group fell as she stood there, mouth gaping wide open, the feathery slits below her armpits that led to her lungs expanding and contracting quickly. She reached for a chitinous water container and found it empty. A near-miss had cut its bottom open. Hot. Too hot. She stumbled towards some shade, counting her enemies and the scars they had left on her chitin. More dead enemies than scars. Mother-mother would be proud, after a scolding on reckless behavior.

But on second look they were thin lizards, nearly as gaunt as a bug, dehydrated muscle and sunken stomachs revealing a critical lack of energy stores. They are not sending their best first. Smart. Mother-Mother would have never let them so much as touch her. As if on cue, another column approached fast. These lizards were taller than the previous ones by a head, and those had already towered above her.

Their faces were hidden behind crude plates of sharp metal, some welded together across their body, some attached directly to their skin with clamps, screws, and other such fixtures.

"A pithy imitation of good chitin," she grumbled, leaning on her curved claw-swords as she forced herself to stand. The smell of metal was heavy in the air now. They too had killed their way through the forest. They were almost here. Then, quietly, somewhere in the distance Parsnip heard a rumble. The whirly-fiend was moving. Pom-Pom had taught her the art of echo-sensing.

She put a hand to a tree and a rock, able to measure not just direction from the two slightly delayed points of impact, but distance, and with that speed. It's coming. Giant trees that had stood for hundreds of lifetimes shuddered. Lesser ones bent, and the youngest broke in a cacophony of shattered bark and wood. Birds and lesser insects took to the air, a small wave rushing past Parsnip as she readied her blades. I will face this foe that is beyond any of us. I will break it upon my body.

I will take its head and sing a song so great, seventeen thousand grubs shall be born following the raucous celebration of my greatness. The tree line parted. It is here. The ball of so many metal things crashed into the clearing, propelled by a malevolent intelligence… and an odd bug running backwards on top of it?" Mierda!" the bug yelled in perfect Spanish. Not a bug. That's… Sam? She looked different. Black chitin gleamed on her skin, swallowing all light.

She was taller, looked stronger even as her seven arms flailed for balance. She had antennae too, finally, and not those weird soft-skin ones; real, tangible antennae, long and whip-like, curling around her past her back in a half-circle. The ball seemed to be trying to toss her off so it could crush her underfoot, but with every step she remained right on top, no matter how much it jerked. The ball rolled down its previous path. The columns of marching lizards froze, then suddenly broke in panic.

Parsnip watched with hanging mandibles as the ball rolled over the greatest share of enemy forces, turning them into little green and red smears. Sam was controlling the whirly-fiend? How!? Was she — she was luring it in one direction or the other based on where she was standing. It was ingenious, and so risky Parsnip would have laughed at anyone suggesting such a stunt. But here she was.

Parsnip barely noticed that she had cooled enough for the shade to start feeling cold instead of comforting, as the giant ball of metal finally reached the end of the column. And from there, it promptly ran into a cliff. Most of the lizards had dispersed, crushing each other in a stampede, or were crushed by the ball itself. Their growls and cries turned muffled beyond the fronds, where predators and pheromone-crazed ant soldiers busied themselves with the hunt for stragglers.

Soon, peace would return to the forest. Even this path would regrow given time, though the scar in the jungle would remain. Parsnip rushed ahead, more worried about others than about attracting predators. She arrived at a ginormous pile that smelled of rust and dirt and acrid things.

"Sam! Sam!"

"Owww," came Sam's voice, "Newton was right. Objects in motion stay in motion. I really should have paid more attention in physics classes."

"Sam? Where are you?" Parsnip looked at the pile of metal scrap. Was she stuck underneath?

"Can you hear me?"

"I couldn't figure out how to crack the nut, get to the core." The voice sounded mumbly, almost delirious.

"Best I could come up with."

"Hold on, I shall fetch some ants. They are good at moving heavy things."

"Oh well. I guess that's two out of four." Parsnip turned around, only for the pile of metal to explode behind her. She jumped back, weapon in hand. A large, clawed hand covered in striped black-and-orange chitin rose from the pile, steam billowing off it. It shrunk before her eyes, and was entirely skin-colored by the time Sam's head popped up over the edge. She was all smiles, and a few cuts. Two eyes were pressed shut as a gash ran between them. Alive and well, clambering from the guts of her foe.

She made it look so effortless, one could almost imagine that she was having fun. And in that moment, Parsnip wanted nothing more than to capture that for herself. +++ Something in the water is turning the bugs gay. At least, that was the best explanation I could give for why Parsnip was clinging to me, chittering like a giggling schoolgirl. I'd rushed out of the trial grounds the moment I'd made my choice as a matter of course. There was a threat outside Bugsrest, and Pom-Pom required satisfaction.

Well, she probably didn't. She seemed more beat down by the fact that she couldn't dance on one leg than the fact of her loss of limbs. Regardless, I recognized the giant ball of scrap and blades for what it was immediately: A poltergeist mech, made by the lizardmen. They didn't seem that evil as I had perched atop it. When I saw them pulling bugs apart by their limbs and wings, my opinion did a one-eighty. Then the ball kept rolling. And rolling. And rolling.

The core was somewhere buried beneath thirty feet of metal. I needed to shoot the last of my Lucky 7 ammo at it, the bullet charged with trust, but if I truly wanted to hit the center, I had to keep the dang thing from moving. So. Here I was. Sewn with cuts and bruises, and with an overly excited bug girl hanging off of my arm.

"Teach me," she said.

"No."

"Teach me senpai."

"Also no."

"Teach me sensei."

"Why are you so obsessed with mortal combat?" Didn't she just get out of a fight for life or death herself? Have some work-life balance!

"You destroyed that which nearly slew my mother-mother. You beat the seventh trial! I want to be you. Teach me everything you know."

"Everything?"" Everything." I shivered.

"Everything I know isn't safe for work, and you're definitely underaged."

"What does that have to do with work?" The gore-covered bug said. I blinked at Parsnip. She didn't blink back. No eyelids and all that.

"You know what, ask your mother-mother. For now, help me get this stuff out of the way." There were still a few feet to dig until we hit the core of the poltergeist-mech. I didn't know what exactly was powering it in the middle, though I had seen the coffin that held it. My bet was that it was structurally significant enough that shooting it with my Lucky 7 would damage the entire thing; that plus the high-speed impact with the cliff sealed the deal.

But that didn't mean I could just leave the poor tortured soul inside of it to rot. Imagine, being buried under tons of iron and concrete, not knowing what time it is as you slowly die of dehydration. A terrible fate. And not one I could abide by. I was a magical girl after all. Magical girls help people.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

"Something squishy," I said, rummaging through the pile with seven arms. I'd gotten two extra with the additional Body scaling from my Essence of the Great Deceiver. It wasn't as difficult as going from two to four, or four to six arms, but the single missing arm was hella annoying to my [Proprioception Sensors]. Stupid Pactmaker.

"Ah yes, the squishy heart of every whirly-fiend. Are you perhaps going to tear it from its confines, guzzle its blood, then clean the remains and throw it on a Bee-Bee-Qeue?"

"I am going to save it, if possible. I found Rico in one of those."

"Ah yes. The fae mosquito." There was an awkward pause.

"Do I have to find my own mosquito if I want to be like you?"

"I doubt it's a prerequisite. But having a funny lil' mascot can't hurt." Though looking at it from that perspective, Moe was my first true mascot. He managed my backpack, cleaned and repaired my entire inventory. Rico was fun, but he'd made it clear in no uncertain terms that he didn't like dancing to my tune. I wasn't one to keep him around any longer than he thought necessary. As I tossed aside some toaster-looking thing, I finally found the coffin. It was small, like the one that had imprisoned my pixie friend.

Maybe there was going to be another pixie inside? Gasp! What if I get two pixie friends? That would be… well, not so nice if this one also swears to fulfill its life debt towards me, but still. Rico would finally have company. Maybe it'll be a girl pixie. Maybe they'll kiiiss. Huh. I'm feeling awfully bubbly today. Maybe it was the transformations at fault. Or my other new skill. I'd picked the Essence of The Great Deceiver. Of its three options for skills, the only one that had stood out to me was this.

[Of Many Colors - Joy] Channeled Ability Cost: Minor Channel joy to change your appearance slightly. This includes changing skin tone, muddying contours, blending in with your surroundings, and various cosmetic alterations to your body, apparel, and wielded items. Ceasing to channel this spell will cause you to slowly revert to your natural appearance. Focusing on your current appearance allows you to save it as a template. Speed of alteration scales with Soul.

What seemed like a minor ability to change my skin color, hair length, or other detail was actually a skill with limitless potential. The spell used my favorite emotion, making it easy to upkeep, and the speed of alteration was already fast enough that you could watch the changes happen in real time. But the real kicker were the templates. There were no limits to how many I could make. Much like [Elasticity], it required a level of preparation and planning, but in turn it could do so much.

Next time someone tried to abduct Addy, I could disguise myself to look like her, ambushing the ambusher. It wouldn't be convincing if I copied her human form due to the height difference, but her hybrid form? Oh yeah, that was absolutely on the table. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. What more, I had previously attempted climbing up the great tiramisu, er, wall that would lead back up to human controlled Cauldron territory, and failed miserably.

Evidently I wasn't sneaky enough. With the ability to take on the color and contours of the terrain beneath me, there was a good chance I could just avoid any and all birds. Stupid bird. Stupid physics-defying bullshit. And then there was the transformation. Oh the transformations. They filled me with so much giddy joy and anticipation that I was having trouble recharging my body doubles. Alas, a story for another day. In the present, I held a tiny sarcophagus in my hands.

It had a hole drilled straight through it, many thin lines and geometric patterns carved into the surface. How the lizards managed to turn pain into magic I had not the faintest idea. But the fact that they did implied enough about them that every death made me as happy as it did sad. The lid popped open. And inside the sarcophogus was… a steel ball? A steel ball with a red eye, and cables roughly tugged and variably sheared in half, frayed, or with crushed adapters running off of it and into the surrounding mess.

I poked the orb. And immediately got a system message. <<I am a bad, bad turret>> <<Q. Q>> Something about this seems familiar… I snapped my fingers.

"It's you!" The weird tinkerer-built turret from Hill 43, the one Moe and I oiled and repaired. At least, it was a machine that talked like it.

"You're a lot smaller than I remember." <<this is my core>> <<I hit the floor>> <<please don't drop me>> This was a computer. A tiny machine. And somehow, the lizards used its pain to power a truly gigantic scrap golem. Which implied it could feel pain. Which implied it was, on some level, self-aware and sapient enough to have emotions. This also implied that computer-based consciousnesses were close enough to poltergeists to work as a substitute, which also implied that they had a soul. Do…

do the envoys of the system have a soul? What about murderbots, do they also have a soul? What even is a soul? <<I can't take it anymooore>> <<please hug me>>"Oh. Um. Okay?" I hugged it, and the thing immediately latched onto my arm stump, cables whipping about wildly. One tried to tug my Lucky 7 off my belt, but I was stronger. Instead, it managed to snatch my Web Gun, disassembling it with wiry tendrils in front of my eyes.

Scrap was pulled onto it, forming muscles, a wrist, a hand, and I hissed as there was a sharp pain as it dug into my scarred stump. [Connecting to: iamagoodturretoilmeplease] [Connection established] My jaw dropped. I felt the mechanical hand twitch. Slowly it made a thumbs-up gesture before returning. <<you need a hand>> <<I'm at your command>> <<feed me the blood of your enemies>>"... what?" I opened the hand, closed it, flexed it — and suddenly, spider silk shot out of a nozzle in the middle of the palm.

The Web Gun was incorporated in the forearm, its sloshing container taking the place of my brachioradialis. Oh my god. That was awesome. I'm a real spider now. I stared at the thing so long it took Parsnip poking me in the side to wake me up again.

"The threat is neutralized," I said.

"Friends have been made."

"With the metal rock?" Parsnip asked.

"Yes. I talked to it. It's chill."" Chill." Parsnip pondered, then poked my new cybernetic arm.

"Hello little thing. Are you well? Perhaps you too can be cold, or hot." <<perish, mortal bug, for me and my meat-mech shall plunge you into a million yotta-decades of despair and tyranny>> The cybernetic hand made wiggling motions toward her.

"Aww look, its hungry." She handed it a piece of scrap metal. My hand absorbed it, adding it as plating around the Web Gun.

"I think it likes me!"

"I think it should, considering you're my friend." I gave the hand a glare. It slumped, like a chastened puppy. <<noted. bug friendly. >>"So, you can just use scrap to rebuild yourself?" <<extended deployment of good turrets requires self sufficiency>> <<i am a big boi>> <<i have iron deficiency>>"Well, if you're along for the ride, then that's fine with me." Its weight was actually helping balance me out again.

"But you need a name." <<big boi>>"No." <<oiled up big boi>>"Absolutely not." <<... Sin. >>"Ominous. But if that's what you want, I shall respect your desires." I shook my head.

"Alright, let's return to the huntress shack before your mother-mother succumbs to the pillbug's shenanigans."

"Shenanigans is actually the conscience of the trio, and the most well behaved. Snick-snatch is the one to watch out for. I recommend checking under your pillows for any errant bug-moss, and also in those things you call shoes…" We started the long trek back, Parsnip chattering on and on while I organized my thoughts in my head. There was a lot to talk about. Lizards, soul-having robots, the question of succession.

The dead pain-mech was a big propaganda win for whichever side could accredit themselves with its downfall. To that end, we were definitely gonna have to dance our way back to the huntress shack with a piece of it as a trophy. And then, when all affairs were settled, I would finally have to say goodbye. Something told me that Pom-Pom wasn't going to be any more thrilled by my plans of departure than Parsnip. But I had to go, had to try it one more time.

After all, what use is a magical girl stuck fifteen miles underground? +++"Dirt." Pom-Pom gave us both a withering glare.

"Dirt. Humus. Excrement-of-the-world, what were you thinking?" We were in the huntress lodge, having danced our way here with bits of scrap in our hands. The performance had gone more than well. Honestly, we shouldn't be being yelled at at all.

"She's jealous," Rico whispered with a giggle.

"Oh this'll be good."

"Maybe she's just annoyed because of all the painkillers she's taking," I whispered back.

"She isn't taking any."

"Then maybe that's the reason why she's so cranky. Now shush, we're supposed to act properly chastened." Parsnip was kneeling in front of her, antennae drooping, and I was sitting right beside her. As the instigator, it only felt right to share some of the blame.

"You cannot simply dance through the streets, proclaiming the whirly-fiend as your own kill after it slew three score soldiers and more."

"I did my part and lived," Parsnip mumbled.

"It's not my fault the ants were too dumb to pull off that second part."

"Speak up. You are a grown lady, a huntress. And as such you represent our entire institution. If the army starts knocking at our door-hatch, it will be your fault for sowing animosity and harvesting division. We do not divide. We inspire. And you!" She whirled around to face me.

"Me?" I pointed at myself.

"What did I do?"

"You are sitting here, waiting to tell me that you are leaving. Is it not so? The first in a hundred life cycles to defeat the seventh trial, and you are leaving. The knowledge, the potential… I would tie you to this city by a rope if I had one that was long enough and which you didn't know to cut."

"Oh. Uh. Yay?" I scratched my cheek. Not sure if that was more compliment or threat.

"I hope you liked our performance. I know I'm not the best dancer, but I've been really getting into the whole menacing-beauty bit."

"Liked the performance? Liked the performance!? You let her have the leading act! I know very well the limitations of my daughter-daughter, and she could not have done the feats she claims."

"Hey, that's—""— entirely true," I interrupted Parsnip.

"I beat the whirly-fiend, and the dance was my idea. Should I not have done either?" She threw her two right hands into the air.

"It's not right! Huntresses don't take other people's kills. Additionally, there only ever has been one active huntress. Now that you have revealed yourself and broken this tradition, it is only a matter of time before all the other traditions are put into question too. We aren't soldiers, we are entertainers, and balancers, and bringers of hope."

"Technically, Sam didn't reveal herself." All eyes went to Parsnip.

"On the battlefield and when we danced through the streets, she carried herself armored in chitin, jet black and reflective like legendary moonlight." Pom-Pom turned to me.

"Is that true?" I nodded.

"I beat the seventh trial after all. Got some good loot from that." For a long while, Pom-Pom sat there in silence. A sharp knock cut through the ponderous mood. At the front of the huntress hut, there stood three ants; one black, one yellow, one red. The red one was large, with the build of a bodybuilder, while the black one looked like all the other army ants, a patch of chitin-glue slapped onto a cracked eye.

The last one was small, and yet the acrid stench coming from its glistening stinger implied it was no less lethal.

"We bring to you the bodies of our strongest kin, oh great huntress," the middle ant said.

"Your feats are as legendary as your resilience, matriarch. For this gift, we but ask to partake in a piece of your wisdom." Pom-Pom just stood in the doorway, mind probably churning with surprise. She had to lean onto Parsnip as she only had one leg to stand on, and yet somehow she managed to stand tall enough to look down on even the tallest of them. And as she did, I cast One Moment. It lasted long now, four, nearly five seconds. My Mind had nearly doubled after taking the essence.

Entire railway stations full of trains of thought ran smoothly in parallel. Ants. Military. Practical minded. Counter to Hunters and Huntresses, image-minded. Magical empowerment of one leads to envy by the other. Ants took losses. They fear further losses. They desire power. Can all bug people use a huntress' power if trained? They have souls. What are souls? Magical potential slash power? Military power will outstrip huntress power again eventually.

If the ants see the huntresses as useless, they will be discarded. A new deal needs to be brokered. We have broken tradition. Tradition may be broken again. They want to become hunters and huntresses. Which bode ill for Parsnip, the current heir to the huntress name. Given that Pom-Pom could no longer act, if she were removed, then Pom-Pom would have no choice but to choose a new successor. All this happened in moments, leaving me ample time to act within the silence hanging over everyone's heads.

"Why not give them access to the magic of only the first trial?" I whispered from out of sight.

"Allow us to deliberate on this matter. It shan't take long," she said before closing the door and breathing a sigh.

"Why should I?"

"Basically, you want to keep your position and traditions alive. You have their respect for the time, so it's time to push for some advantages now. You can't compete with a well-organized military in the long term, no matter how magical you are. You're just one huntress after all."

"I have come to this regrettable conclusion many times, yes."

"I propose that you weave yourself into the military apparatus. The military may choose a handful of individuals to receive the lower levels of huntress-like power, while you get to curate what that power looks like. You still hold the secrets on how to make this magic work, don't you?" She nodded, and I continued on.

"You'll be like their revered trainer. And in turn, they will ensure that you and your kind are treated well."

"A daring move. Yet, there are many broods of soldiers, and their matriarchs bicker and fight whenever given the chance or resources."

"Then let them. Be impartial. Choose one individual from each matriarch's forces to be trained at once. Give them this as reward for returning the bodies of the strong, thereby enshrining your own power base, ensuring their interests are aligned with yours." Because in the end, that was the problem with Custodians and wizards too. Both wanted to save the world, but wizards didn't want to become obsolete in the face of a quickly growing body of competent Custodians.

It wasn't even a full replacement; I had yet to see a tinkerer Custodian in person, though I knew they existed thanks to my little turret friend. Tinkering just required too much magical expertise and in-depth study, which most Custodians didn't have time for. Same with alchemy and potion making. Same with a lot of things, really. The problem there wasn't a clashing of interests; it was division of labor. Who gets to take credit for what.

Mayhaps if the system had rolled out more slowly, given the long-lived wizards time to adjust, the whole Academy fiasco could have been avoided. Sadly, the so-called end of the world was approaching, and I had the feeling that whatever technologies were necessary to create us, they weren't created too long ago. I suppose I might have to deal with a full-on wizard rebellion when I get back up. Not looking forward to that. Pretty sure that's not one problem I can just hug away.

After taking a while to think it through, Pom-Pom came to a decision.

"Your foresight is as commendable as your recklessness is vexing." She rubbed her face.

"We can work with this. Parsnip, you will state that your ability summoned an ancient warrior, with whose assistance you managed to outsmart the whirly-fiend."

"But that would be lying!" Parsnip said, outraged.

"You are already a liar, what is one more lie?" Sullenly, she plucked at her cushion.

"You said huntresses don't lie."

"I certainly didn't enter the third trial after my mentor told me I was ready," Pom-Pom huffed.

"A little bit of sanding the edges off of things can get you far." Parsnip's mandibles were hanging, flabbergasted as she was.

"I, you… you are a scoundrel!"

"I was. And you will have to be a scoundrel, and a huntress, and many things if you wish to carry our lineage forth, alive. If I take in the promising ants as my own, then you are in grave danger. You must become strong, or make stronger allies. Apropos," Pom-Pom turned to me.

"I have been meaning to ask: wouldn't you kindly leave a child or twelve behind?" My mind, which was great, powerful, yadda-yadda, sputtered to a halt.

"A what now?"

"It doesn't have to be with myself. I know more than most that I am less… appealing now that I have been peeled of my limbs." She put one hand on Parsnip's shoulder.

"But my daughter would surely be receptive to your advances." I blinked in disbelief. The problem was, I could totally see it, the glint in Parsnip's eyes, the fantasies. Imagine studying all alone at a warrior monastery, only for a mysterious alien to crash into your life, fight for life and death at your side, and teach you mysterious techniques such as cooking.

"I, uh, am not sure that would work," I said, slowly inching my way back.

"Why not?"

"Well for one, I don't think we're the right species."

"That has never mattered for us," Pom-Pom said.

"I have had seven different males of four separate species in my lifetime. How do you think bugsrest has become so diverse?"

"I…" One moment.

"Oh my god. You're Asvexians."

"Not quite," said Pom-Pom.

"Our history slabs are quite clear on the matter: We were created as an ever-adapting ecosystem by the Asvex Confederacy. We inherited their method of procreation and were set loose to multiply and diversify, creating endless genetic variation from which they could harvest the best for their own spawn. We are to them what the wild bugs are to us."

"Then they made the mimics and you sorta know the rest," Parsnip chimed in.

"Our kind fled our home planet, and found that our makers were unwelcome on other worlds, as were we. So we made a home in the most dangerous of places, a temporary one that turned permanent," Pom-Pom nodded wisely.

"Which means, we are always on the lookout for new possibilities, new… adventures." The way Parsnip was looking at me like that made a shiver sprint down my spine and back up again. Her mandibles were slightly ajar, and she was drooling.

"Setting aside the questionable mating habits of mantises," I said, preparing a [Trigger] to cast a body double the moment Parsnip pounced on me.

"I'm sad to say it still wouldn't work. I'm a girl, and last I checked, so are both of you." Their twin stunned faces were priceless.

"Wuh?" said Parsnip while Pom-Pom more eloquently elaborated her own confusion.

"But-but, I thought… but you have short hair-antennae. And, and you are so mighty and daring and… you take the initiative so well, I thought you must have been some sort of prince or son of a general. And those are always male."

"Yeah, uh, well. Maybe don't take what you learned from manga at face value."

"I can still try," Parsnip said, suddenly resolved.

"We won't know until we try."

"Eeek, no, absolutely no. Please, I just wanted to say goodbye, don't make me remember you as a bunch of weirdos!" Parsnip didn't listen. She proceeded to chase me through the house and across the fields. Rico was howling with laughter. In the end, she didn't catch me, and she didn't try anything, bless her little heart.

"I will miss your hugs," she said when it was time to say goodbye.

"I'll miss your cooking. Promise me that you'll practice while I'm gone?" Parsnip nodded. I turned to Pom-Pom.

"You are a terror and a whirlwind, with the constitution of an immortal being and the mind of a trickster-god. You will become a legendary dancer one day, and my only regret is that I won't be around to watch you. I will, naturally, also miss your hugs."

"Awww. Thank you, Pom-Pom." I gave her an extra long hug for that.

"I wouldn't have had a good time down here without your help. It would have been quite short and violent. And you three too!" I picked up each of the pillbug brothers. Shenanigans curled up into a ball while his brother Snick-snatch bravely took the hug like a real warrior bug. Hack-choo, the pill bug that had been cut in half, ruffled my hair with his antennae. Then, I turned to Parsnip. My friend. My fellow magical girl trainee in bug form.

Just the thought of leaving her and everyone else behind filled me with sorrow. But I would come visit again. The way my life was going, I wouldn't be surprised if I got knocked off the edge of the world a second time in the next year or two.

"I have something. For you." I handed Parsnip the staff I nicked from one of the Fowl clones, the one I'd tipped with a spear tip. I never managed to get it to work. Another thing wizards were better at than me. The dang thing didn't even have iron sights or a trigger.

"This is a staff-slash-spear that won't ever break. It's bendy if you're strong enough, and it has a magical… secret." I looked to Pom-Pom.

"Your magic lets you naturally wield the weapons bestowed upon you, right? Some kind of [Psychometry] meets [Arms & Arms Proficiency]?" She nodded.

"Perhaps. You are taking a part of us with you, and have in turn shed part of your own carapace. We are grateful and indebted, joyous and saddened." There was a distant explosion. Both of us looked at the smaller mantis, who was cackling manically as she variably pointed at and exploded parts of the field in front of the huntress hut.

"... but my daughter-daughter is mostly grateful. Her life will be more joyous for having met you, you who have proven that the seventh trial is still within our reach, you who is not afraid to attempt that impossible climb, you who are like us in so many ways." She cleared her throat.

"You come from a place where grubs don't die of disease, and giant creatures don't regularly stalk your territory, no?"

"I, uh, yeah." I blinked, slightly flashbanged by the change in topic.

"Infant mortality is at an alltime low of like, half a percent? And I guess that while convergence events are happening more often, they're still mostly contained so yeah, it's pretty safe?"

"And you are part of a larger organization with many more people like you, some of which are male?"

"Statistically, like fifty percent? Why, are you gathering references for your magical girl fanfics?"

"Dont be silly," she said, despite knowing full well that I'd discovered her attempts at carving a manga starring a magical bug girl onto some old chitin shells.

"I am merely asking for curiosity's sake. And to determine if there is perhaps some habitat we may yet find peace in should catastrophe find our people. Earth was unknown to our ancestors; it has to be filled with so much novelty and good things. Which is why I'm sending Parsnip with you as your companion."

"You're doing WHAT!?"