The thunder of anti-chitin explosive shells echoed through the ruined district, each detonation sending waves of heat and force rippling against Eurypteria’s armoured exoskeleton.

  What is this shit?

  Her six bladed limbs and her scorpion tail was a whirlwind of destruction. Dozens of shells screamed down towards her in relentless volleys every ten seconds or so, and she had to either slice them apart mid-air or let them strike her hardened carapace, absorbing the shock. She wasn’t hurt by them. She couldn’t ignore them, either. A lesser bug would’ve crumbled under this onslaught long ago, but she was no lesser being. She was an Insect God, and even now, she felt this battlefield was still beneath her.

  Irritation clawed at her mind. Artillery. She hissed under her breath, the sound like steam escaping a vent. This wasn’t a fair fight. The humans were too cowardly to face her directly; instead, they had to rely on their machines, their artillery, and their swarm tactics. Who were the nasty, pesky bugs now?

  A shell veered too close. Eurypteria spun, her tail whipping around to shatter it mid-flight. The explosion sprayed fire and shrapnel across her chitin, but she paid it no mind. It was insignificant. The next shell came faster, followed by another, and another—for a brief moment, the smoke parted, and she glimpsed the source: the far-western autocannons out on the great blue, responsible for holding back the Crawling Seas for the better part of three decades.

  Her tail lashed angrily at the sight. Those guns—they reminded her of something.

  … Two decades ago.

  Depth Three.

  The Whirlpool.

  Her vision blurred, the present moment slipping away. She saw herself as she had been back then: a mere weakling of a Giant-Class water scorpion, her carapace raw and untempered. Cannons roared all around her in Depth Three, their iron mouths vomiting fire and death. Her brood—hundreds strong, her brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers—had been annihilated in minutes. Their screeches had filled the whirlpool’s depths, drowned out only by the cacophony of explosions.

  A rage she thought long buried flared within her. Her bladed limbs clenched tightly, the memory sharpening her strikes as she obliterated another shell.

  But even now, she thought, they’re making a grave mistake. If the far western autocannons were focused on her, they weren’t targeting the Crawling Seas, and if the Crawling Seas continued their relentless advance, the humans wouldn’t stand a chance. This was fine. Every minute those autocannons weren’t firing on the Crawling Seas was one step closer to victory for the Swarm of the Deepwater Legion Front.

  Her lips curled into a sharp-toothed grin.

  Fine!

  Throw everything you have at me!

  Let them break themselves upon me!

  But just as she was about to slash at the next volley with renewed vigour, the ground rumbled beneath her—a subtle shift at first, then violent. Incredibly violent. Her grin faltered for a moment as geysers of water erupted from underground sewer pipes around her, shooting into the air. The intense heat of the battlefield immediately turned the water into thick clouds of steam, blanketing the district in a suffocating, opaque fog.

  She hissed as she took a step, her vision obscured. Steam clung to her carapace, making her exoskeleton slick. She swivelled her head, trying to catch movement through the haze—

  And something shot toward her, a blur of motion.

  Before she could react, a solid impact struck her side. A kick. An electrified kick. She staggered, claws scraping against the ground for balance, and a flash of pink blue darted through the mist in an attempt to circle around her.

  The water strider girl.

  Eurypteria’s eyes narrowed. ‘Marisol’ continued skating in circles around her, but she still couldn’t believe it—the little water strider had charged her directly? Even after seeing the power of her Swarmblood Art?

  What is she doing?

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  She still dares approach me?

  Before Eurypteria could counterattack, though, another volley of shells screamed toward her. She clicked her tongue as she whirled, bladed limbs carving through the air to detonate them preemptively. Explosions rippled around her, flames licking at her armor.

  Then, from the edge of her vision, she spotted flashes of light—Pistol Shrimp Class Imperators firing shockwaves with their giant claws from every conceivable direction. They surrounded her. They hid behind mounds of rubble. The concussive shockwaves blended in with the explosions, and she didn’t see them coming until they rattled her, sending sharp vibrations through her carapace.

  It’s still… annoying!

  Stop with the artillery!

  As she went into defense, the shockwaves stirred up another memory, unbidden and sharp. The first Imperators she’d ever killed, back when she was a mere Mutant-Class—they’d been Pistol Shrimp Class users as well. Their shockwaves had devastated her back then. Sure, she’d torn them apart limb by limb in the end, but the sound of their attacks still haunted her for years after.

  Why won’t the rest of you engage me in melee?

  Are you too afraid?

  Eurypteria snarled, her focus snapping back to the present. She spotted a Pistol Shrimp Class Imperator standing perched on a broken watchtower in the distance, her giant claw poised for another shot.

  “You think you can hurt me?” Eurypteria roared, her voice sharp, cutting even her own ears. She crouched low, her bladed limbs tensing like springs, and in one powerful leap, she launched herself towards that Imperator.

  She activated her Swarmblood Art mid-air. A blood vortex began forming at the tip of her tail, swirling, distorting the air around her. Snow, rain, debris, smoke, and even the fog were being sucked into its maw. She was going to absolutely annihilate the Imperator to make a point—that artillery would hurt her no longer—but before she could reach the watchtower, something jerked her backwards, and it wasn’t a silk thread or anything of the sort.

  Whirling around, she swung her tail preemptively, the vortex screaming as it slashed through the air. A sharp clang reverberated through the battlefield. Her tail struck something solid—something equally powerful.

  Her eyes narrowed as she saw the source.

  Water scorpion girl!

  ‘Reina’, the Lighthouse Imperator, stood firm. On the tip of her blocking water scorpion tail, a black and electric blue vortex spun in perfect counter swirl to Eurypteria’s own, and their Swarmblood Arts collided in an equal match of suction force.

  Eurypteria blinked.

  For the first time in decades, she felt… disoriented. She may not have used it too often because it was a trump card Rhizocapala always told her to keep up her sleeve, but her Swarmblood Art had never been opposed like this. Never. Its pull had always been absolute, dragging everything toward her inevitable dominance—but now, Reina’s tail was clashing with hers. Holding hers in place.

  Her mind churned, unearthing yet another buried memory. The Worm God. That was the only other time she’d ever felt trapped, when his wormhole had twisted space around her and sucked her into a world where space and time was distorted for an entire month, rendering her immobile.

  And a snarl rose in her throat, irritation prickling beneath her carapace.

  So you are looking down on me.

  You dare use my own Arts against me?

  Eurypteria ripped her tail back, and so did Reina. Their tails clashed once again, vortex meeting vortex, sending ripples of force through the air. The battlefield blurred around them. Reina’s body trembled under the strain, but she held her ground, her tail swinging in precise arcs to parry Eurypteria’s faster, wilder, more frenzied strikes. She was evidently struggling—her breaths came in ragged gasps, her muscles visibly straining—but she was enduring, and Eurypteria couldn’t even bear to watch even a second more of it.

  It was infuriating.

  So, with a sudden lunge, Eurypteria drove her tail forward. Her vortex spun faster, churned harder, its pull magnified by the force of her strike. Reina was only a copy of her—a poor imitation of her Swarmblood Art—so there was no dodging it. Her tail pierced through the girl’s abdomen, the barbed tip punching clean through flesh and armour.

  Reina gasped, blood spilling from her lips, but Eurypteria twisted her tail deeper without revelling in her victory. She wasn’t classified as an ‘anti-personnel specialist’ for no good reason

  Movement from behind caught her attention.

  Marisol.

  The water strider had been skating around in circles, leaking lightning everywhere in an attempt to disorient her vision, but she’d ignored the girl until now—now, as Marisol leapt into the fray, a single glaive poised for a devastating downward kick that’d cleave her from head to toe if it were allowed to hit her.

  Without turning, she whipped one of her bladed arms backward, aiming to bisect Marisol mid-air.

  She’ll kick with full force before drawing back at the last second, feinting her attack in an attempt to catch me blocking preemptively.

  She’s already used this move back in Depth Five. Predictable.

  All I have to do is not fall for the feint and continue my swing.

  But something was slightly… off.

  Eurypteria felt the faintest hesitation in the air, a shift in Marisol’s trajectory.

  The water strider wasn’t slowing down at all?

  … She’s going to follow through?

  If she continues kicking, my bladed arms will cut her in half.

  What is she planning?

  But in that moment of hesitation, Marisol’s glaives bent mid-air.

  Eurypteria’s eyes widened.

  The glaive curved sharply, the bladed edge screeching against her bladed arm to deflect it slightly—pushing it off-course just enough that she missed Marisol’s waist—and then the glaive continued downwards.

  A new mutation!

  She can bend her glaives and—

  With a sickening crunch, the curved glaive slammed into Eurypteria’s shoulder, cutting deep into her exoskeleton and carving halfway through her torso.

  Pain exploded through her body, white-hot and blinding.

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