The oppressive quiet of Depth Five wrapped around Eurypteria like a vise, broken only by the distant hiss of volcanic geysers and the groan of the whirlpool’s depths shifting restlessly. Here, in the ‘Sulfur Fields’, everything was skeletal—fields of long-dead corals rose like spiky bones, and the faint glow of bioluminescent algae around smoky geysers danced and flickered with every subtle current.

  Unlike the Whispering Canyons, it was mostly flat ground here. Eurypteria hauled her older brother through it all, her claws digging into the cracked barnacle shells that made up his shoulder. His limp body dragged behind her, leaving a trail of dark, shimmering blood that spiraled lazily upward like ink in water. The hole she’d left in his chest—when her tail had speared him to save his sorry exoskeleton—still wasn’t healed, but somehow, that crooked, lopsided grin was plastered across his face like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  So when she reached the edge of Depth Five, she stopped and threw him forward with a sharp, irritable flick of her arm. Rhizocapala skidded over a jagged coral, scattering barnacles that chimed faintly as they broke apart. He ended up sliding to a halt on his back, staring up at her with that insufferable grin.

  “Ye wound me, .” Rhizocapala snorted, propping himself up with one clawed arm. “What kinda bug d’ye take me for? ‘Ah ain’t playin’ puppet to no one, and ye could’ve just let go of me normally. What if ‘ah fell into one of these geysers and got myself incinerated? Then there’d only be the two of us old souls alive in Depth Five, no?”

  “Alive,” Eurypteria echoed, her mandibles twitching faintly as she sat down cross-legged, curling her tail underneath her like a cushion. “A fleeting condition these days. Especially for you.” She turned her gaze back to him, sharp and cutting. “That lightning nearly killed you, . If she’d pushed just a little harder—”

  “She didn’t,” Rhizocapala cut in as he sat as well, his grin returning, jagged as ever. “She flinched. Same as the others. Same as they always do. Humans—always hesitatin’ at the edge, always lookin’ for somethin’ that ain’t there. Mercy, maybe. A second chance. Whatever it is, it makes ‘em weak.”

  “They learn,” Eurypteria said darkly. “The strong ones always do.”

  Rhizocapala chuckled, low and rough. “Ah, don’t be like that. Had it all under control, ‘ah did.”

  “You were a heartbeat away from being filleted by all three of them—”

  “Was ‘ah really?”

  …

  Eurypteria clicked her tongue, but didn’t press the matter further. Truth was, Rhizocapala may have been F-Rank for thirty-one years straight, but of the Four Leviathans, he was the only one who’d never been replaced. The rest of them were all born after the Whirlpool City was created, while Rhizocapala had been born outside. Her, Kalakos, and Marculata—E-Rank, D-Rank, and C-Rank respectively—were all second or third generations who’d never been in the great blue outside the whirlpool.

  In every measurement of power humans used to grade their strength, the three of them were far stronger than Rhizocapala, but… he was the one who lived.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  The ever-elusive.

  Maybe he been in any danger, after all.

  “... ‘Ah will admit, though. Didn’t think that water strider girl had it in her,” Rhizocapala offered, shrugging slightly. “That Art of hers… been a while since we’ve seen somethin’ like that, eh?”

  The water around them seemed to grow colder, darker, stirred by the weight of unspoken memories. Eurypteria’s tail stilled. Her next words came out quieter, tinged with something that wasn’t quite fear but wasn’t far from it either.

  “Lightning,” she whispered, almost to herself. “The bane of all insects.”

  “Aye.” Rhizocapala’s grin was gone now, replaced by something harder, sharper. “Cuts through the carapace like it’s paper. Can’t say ah’ve forgotten the last time we faced lightnin’, either. You remember, don’t ya?”

  Twelve years ago. They didn’t need to say it aloud. The memory hung between them like a shadow, and Eurypteria would do better without it.

  She shook her head sharply, as if to banish the thought. “We can’t fight her down here,” she said, her voice regaining its usual steel. “Lightning is the universal counter to all bugs in the world, which is why those fireflies in the northern Hellfire Caldera Front are so damned strong… but if that water strider can use lightning underwater and fry herself, she’ll be dangerous. Lightning’s much stronger underwater.”

  “Don’t matter,” Rhizocapala said plainly. “Depth Four ain’t the goal. Never was. Just needed to buy some time, and ah’d say ‘ah did a damn good job of that. A whole month of holdin’ off those Imperators on my lonesome? Not bad, eh?”

  Eurypteria didn’t respond. Her gaze drifted past him to the massive shadow at the edge of Depth Five: the giant hundred-metre-tall crab carcass lay still and silent, its legs curled inward like a death throe frozen in time. Its surface may be pocked with bioluminescent crystals, but she couldn’t see the whole thing even as she craned her head completely backwards.

  “And this is what we’re pinning everything on?” she asked, her tone skeptical. “A loaned corpse from our king?”

  “It’ll work just fine enough.” Rhizocapala laughed again, his voice raspier now. “That ‘tactic’ worked just fine against that strider, and it’ll work just fine again. Fear does funny things to folks. Makes ‘em see what ain’t there. Makes ‘em hesitate.”

  Her eyes narrowed further. “It’s not going to fool them forever. If this fails—”

  “It won’t fail,” he cut in, his tone uncharacteristically firm. He glanced toward the shadow looming behind the carcass. “Not when yer there as well, aren’t ye, ”

  Eurypteria followed his gaze again. Beyond the crab’s massive shadow, in the hazy mist of Depth Six, the water was alive with faint, irregular pulses of light. Streaks of dark red blood swirled in the currents, and every so often, the faint outline of something worm-like shifted in the shadows. Oh, Kalakos was here alright—she may not be with them, chatting the day away, but she was most assuredly listening in on their conversation.

  “It’s all on ye now, Kalakos,” Rhizocapala called out. “Whether this plan succeeds or fails in the end—it’s all in yer fangs.”

  The Remipede God didn’t answer directly—she was probably a bit too far away and a bit too distracted, anyways—but the water seemed to grow heavier, vibrating faintly with an unseen, confident response.

  Eurypteria’s mandibles twitched. “Kalakos better be ready. If she’s not, and the Imperators descend with literally everyone in two, three months, even the two of us—”

  “She will be,” Rhizocapala said, hauling himself to his feet with a wince. “And we’ll hold Depth Five until she is. This is the last line, . No Marculata, no Corpsetaker—just ye, me, and as many bugs we can throw at them to slow them down. If we’ve gotta stake our lives just to buy three more months for Kalakos to get ready, then so be it.”

  “… Hmph.”

  Three more months.

  Just three more months, and she’d be able to see the outside world again.

  So her tail flicked once, sharply, as if punctuating his words.

  Then, slowly, she rose to her feet as well and extended a hand to him.

  His grin sharpened just a fraction.

  “For the Swarm,” she said.

  “For the Swarm,” he echoed, bumping his fist against hers.

  here with over five hundred members, where you can get notifications for chapter updates, check out my writing progress, and read daily facts about this insect-based world!