Between training her mama’s five Sand-Dancing techniques, skating around the city to find the natural air currents, and diving into the whirlpool to kill Giant-Class bugs for more points than she could reasonably eat every single day, another month passed by for Marisol in the blink of an eye.

  There’d been summons for mission debriefing. She’d ignored them all. There’d been tons of extermination missions to kill Giant-Class bugs down in the whirlpool. She’d accepted them all and went on those missions solo. The truth was, she didn’t care so much about whether the Imperators allowed her to do certain things or not—she had a single-minded focus to get stronger so she’d never be caught off-guard by the Insect Gods anymore, and to that end, she was taking a break this morning to study her mama’s technique book in her room again.

  No training. No dancing around on the roof or kicking Highwind Dolls with Archive projecting the image of Rhizocapala on them. Sometimes, she just needed to sit there and… consolidate. Summarise. Remember all the tools she had available to her, and figure out how to use them all for maximum speed.

  So, she checked her status screen.

  [Name: Marisol Vellamira]

  [Grade: E-Rank Mutant-Class]

  [Class: Water Strider]

  [Swarmblood Art: Charge Glaives]

  [Aura: 6,215]

  [Points: 3]

  [Strength: 6, Speed: 7, Toughness: 6 (+1), Dexterity: 6, Perception: 6 (+1)]

  [// MUTATION TREE]

  [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 5

  [T2 Mutations | Filtrating Gills Lvl. 6Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 7

  [T3 Mutations | Laminar Apiclaws Lvl. 5Streamlined Wings Lvl. 5Basic Setae Lvl. 2

  [T4 Mutations | Spraying Discharge Lvl. 5Basic Sonar Lvl. 4Basic Underchitin Lvl. 3Basic Chitin Lvl. 3

  [T5 Mutations | Surfactant Domain | Basic Vision | Rapid Rehydration | Segmented Flexion | Hydrokinetic Redirection] 1000P

  [// EQUIPPED SYMBIOSTEEL]

  [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: -200)]

  [Remipede Earrings (Grade: F-Rank)(Per: +1/1)(Aura: -100)]

  She looked to the side and glanced at her status screen for a moment. She’d barely increased her attribute levels the past two months, but that was because there just weren’t a lot of extermination missions now that the Imperators had Depths One to Four in complete lockdown mode, and because she’d also spent a lot of points unlocking her final tier four core mutation: ‘Basic Underchitin’.

  [T4 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Underchitin Lvl. 3]

  [Brief Description: You have grown thin chitin plates beneath your skin that will significantly increase your endurance in high-pressure underwater environments. Subsequent levels in this mutation will further increase your endurance deep underwater]

  It wasn’t a visible mutation, but if she pinched her skin, she’d feel what felt like extremely thin chitin plates layered right under her normal skin, and the Archive hadn’t been lying when it said the chitin would also help her conduct lightning across her own body better. Activating Charge Glaives underwater was much, much, less risky now.

  Apart from the strength that be quantified in pretty little numbers, there were also the five Sand-Dancing techniques she’d put into real practice the past two months: the War Jump, the Silent Step, the Whirlwind Spin, the Homeward Pause, and the Steel Charge. She’d been practising each technique individually over the past month, but chaining them together and ingraining them into her normal fighting pattern as if they weren’t anything special… would still take some time. She wasn’t a born fighter, after all.

  Someone else was, though, and when her senses flared, she raised an arm and extended an apiclaw. The pebble that shot into her window impaled itself on her claw, sliding along the blade like a meatball on a skewer, and she had half a mind to return it to sender—but then two, three, four more pebbles came volleying at her, and she to turn to catch them all out of the air between her fingers.

  But she didn’t have enough fingers, and a fifth pebble nailed her on the forehead. She winced as she nearly fell out of her chair.

  “... Just because you blocked the first projectile doesn't mean Rhizocapala will stop shooting you, so don’t ever let your guard down!” Victor shouted, and she couldn’t even see the old man outside the window. He was so damned far away she had no idea where he was. “Also, Maria’s awake! She’s gone back to her house! Pay her a visit before you get sent down to Depth Five, yeah?”

  Marisol was going to rub her head and grumble and shout back at the old man angrily, but at the mention of the Second Lighthouse Imperator, she shot out of her chair and leaned out the window. The early morning drizzle soaked her curly hair, but she didn’t care about that. She didn’t even bother vibrating her hydrospines like she usually did to form a thin water-repelling barrier around her.

  She just wanted to figure out where Victor was.

  “Where?” she shouted.

  “Ask your Archive, dumbass!” he shouted back, and the crowds on the main street below turned to give her a strange look. “I’ve given your Archive special permission to access Maria’s personal information! Just follow the map and get—”

  She didn’t let him finish his sentence. She vaulted out the window, flipped up onto the roof, and began skating along the Archive’s silver arrow in the sky.

  Marisol had skated urgently plenty of times in the past month, but never as desperate, and never as anxious.

  The mansion the Archive led her to stood like a crown jewel atop the polished northeastern streets of the upper city, and it was a manor made of polished stone and glistening glass. Marisol hesitated at the gate, her fingers brushing the iron bars as she stared at the grandeur before her—frankly, she just didn’t think she was at the right place, and that maybe the Archive led her completely astray.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  From the way Maria dressed—always loose and informal with her few-buttoned uniform—and her gruff, aggressive demeanor, Marisol had imagined a crumbling building in the lower city. The kind of place with peeling paint and broken windows. A gangster’s hideout, maybe. But certainly not , with perfectly trimmed hedges and fountain centerpieces, its waters sparkling like diamonds in the morning light.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by raised voices cutting through the tranquility of the manor. She froze, straining to catch the muffled argument coming from the second floor.

  Before she could decide whether to knock or retreat, though, the wide iron gate creaked open, and a well-dressed butler emerged, bowing politely.

  “Miss Marisol. Victor Morina has informed us of your imminent arrival, so we have been expecting you. Please, this way.”

  Marisol swallowed hard. Her stomach twisted as the butler beckoned her to follow him in. She’d raced here the moment Victor told her Maria was awake, but now that she was actually , the weight of her nerves made her glaives feel like lead. The fact that Maria had protected her from Eurypteria was both a relief and a gnawing guilt she’d never allowed herself to work through the past month—and the butler most certainly didn’t allow her to work it through now, because he was staring at her so pointedly she found it impossible to keep him waiting.

  She followed. She kept herself light on the tip of her glaives, avoiding scratching the pristine stone pathways as much as possible. The inside of the manor was even more stunning—marble floors, chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace, and walls adorned with swirly paintings of leviathan-sized cannons, warship designs, and blueprints of Symbiosteel weapons she couldn’t make heads or tails of. The Archive was immediately willing to tell her more about the Sangroja Household’s history, but… the voices grew louder as the butler took her up the stairs.

  “This isn’t up for discussion. Go back to the infirmary.”

  “Chill, Hugo. I tend to listen to my patients when they say they wanna rest where they’re most comfortable. I’ll just check up on her every few days.”

  “Your infirmary’s not comfortable? This room’s cluttered to all hell anyways. How’s she supposed to get any proper rest here?”

  “She’ll manage. She ain’t a kid. Ya gotta let the doctor and patient call the shots.”

  “The shots are unreasonable. We her healed up as soon as possible so she can dive again—”

  The butler cleared his throat and led Marisol to a door at the end of a long corridor, opening it with a soft creak. Inside was a bedroom larger than anything she’d ever seen. It was packed with… Violins rested in stands near the window, the shelves were lined with handcrafted dolls, and broken looms stood in one corner with threads of every color spilling from its frame. A blade even leaned casually against the wall, its edge faintly shimmering, while a rack of cookware gleamed near a small hearth. It was like a hoarder’s room. A hobbyist’s room. It was like whoever lived here bought everything she wanted to try her hand at and just left them here after she was done playing with them.

  It wasn’t a noble or a princess’ room at all.

  Her eyes eventually landed on Maria, who was sitting upright on a grand canopy bed, her lower jaw tightly bandaged. Despite the injury, the Lighthouse Imperator had an air of poise as she calmly patted Reina’s head, who was dozing off on a stool with her head slumped against her legs. Maria’s other hand scribbled in a notebook with a feathered quill, her writing an elegant contrast to the palpable tension in the room—because it wasn’t just Marisol, Maria, and Reina in the room. Hugo and Claudia were here, too, and the two older Lighthouse Imperators were flanking the bedridden Maria like she was getting interrogated.

  And, in response to Hugo’s pestering Maria to go back to the infirmary for better rest, Maria held up her notebook and showed the man her pretty handwriting.

  “It’s dusty here,” Hugo said, his voice sharp as he gestured around. “C’mon, Claudia. You can’t possibly think she’ll heal up quicker here. You won’t have to waste time going back and forth from the infirmary just to do your daily checkup, and hey, while Maria’s there, she can also train the other injured Imperators. Two birds, one stone.”

  Claudia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she shook her head slowly. “Just let her be, man. Look at her. She’s going to claw your face off if you ask her to go back one more time.”

  Maria wrote. ‘

  “Great Makers, it’s for sake,” Hugo said exasperatedly, crossing all of his spider arms. “The Second Lighthouse Imperator can’t be gone for too long. We you for the next dive—”

  Maria wrote. ‘

  Then Maria tilted her head back and smirked with her eyes, staring straight at Marisol. Hugo and Claudia whirled as well, but Reina was truly well and fast asleep.

  Marisol could only manage a small little wave at the two standing Lighthouse Imperators before Hugo clicked his tongue, storming out of the room and brushing past her without so much as a glance.

  That wasn’t the fun, laid-back boss of the Imperator initiates that Marisol knew, and while she looked a little taken aback at his anger, Claudia also walked past her, patting her on the shoulder.

  “Take care of them,” Claudia whispered.

  And all Marisol could do was nod numbly as the butler led the two Lighthouse Imperators out, closing the door behind them.

  The silence was heavy, broken only by Reina’s faint breathing as she slumbered. Marisol hesitated for a few more moments before she shuffled forward, her nerves prickling under Maria’s calm gaze, and she found a second stool next to the bedridden Lighthouse Imperator.

  She took her seat, fidgeting with the hems of her shirt.

  “Are… you alright?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is your jaw… okay?”

  Maria didn’t answer with words, of course. Her jaw was too bandaged for that. Instead, without a hint of hesitation or modesty, the Imperator began unbuttoning the bottom half of her shirt.

  Marisol’s breaths hitched. Apart from the wound to her jaw, she’d suffered more tiny cuts on her torso Marisol hadn’t even noticed during the battle, but now they were only raw, angry gashes that snaked across her sides. No longer bleeding. Stitches lined the edges of some of her injuries, but despite the obvious pain they must’ve caused, Maria didn’t really seem to mind them.

  That wasn’t too surprising, really.

  Her muscled body was a tapestry of scars, some pale and faint, others jagged and fresh. They criss-crossed her arms, her shoulders, her ribs, and everywhere else with a fresh patch of skin. For someone who lived in a manor fit for a queen, Maria’s body spoke of a life that was anything but pampered.

  Maria tapped her jaw, sending Marisol an amused look before scribbling in her notebook again. ‘

  Marisol’s eyes darted between the bandage, the wound, the scars, and Maria’s serene expression. There was no bravado, no hint of exaggeration—just a simple statement of fact.

  And a lump started forming in her throat as the weight of everything finally crashed over her.

  “I’m… I’m glad,” she said softly, voice trembling, “If someone died again… because I was inattentive… I don’t know…”

  Her hands balled into fists on her lap, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. She bit her lip, trying to hold them back, but Catrina’s face flashed into her mind. The pregnant lady who’d been host to a parasitic shrimp. If Marisol had trusted her own instincts—if she’d paid more attention and acted faster—somehow, some way, she to believe she could’ve prevented Catrina from suffering that gruesome fate. Instead, Catrina never got to reach the city. Never got to eat around the dinner table with Captain Enrique again.

  The thought that Maria would die because she’d been inattentive again—it was unbearable.

  For her part, Maria didn’t interrupt. She didn’t try to comfort Marisol with platitudes. Instead, she reached out, pulling a handkerchief from the bedside table, and handed it to Marisol.

  Marisol accepted it with shaking hands, dabbing at her eyes as she tried to pull herself together. The fabric was soft, embroidered with golden swirls that probably cost more than her entire outfit.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice steadier now but still thick with emotion. Maria just shook her head, her expression calm and steady.

  Then, from the other side of the bed, Reina stirred.

  “I’m glad…”

  The Fifth Lighthouse Imperator’s voice was barely more than a murmur, slurred with sleep, but Marisol snapped her head, noticing for the first time the puffiness around Reina’s eyes. The prim and proper woman’s usually sharp features were soft and her cheeks were slightly blotchy, as if she’d been crying for hours before Marisol even got here.

  So Maria’s hand moved to Reina’s head, gently patting the sleeping lady’s head like one might soothe a restless child. Reina muttered again in her sleep, her words broken but filled with regret.

  Eventually, Reina’s breathing evened out, her muttering fading into silence.

  Marisol’s eyes flicked between the two of them. She didn’t understand their relationship. Not fully. Maria was a constant enigma—strong and brash, graceful and composed—but Reina, always so stern and controlled, now looked so… impossibly fragile. Human.

  The Insect Gods had brought out different sides to all of them.

  “Just who’s the injured one here, though?” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Maria caught the comment and bobbed her head as though chuckling silently, her shoulders shaking.

  Then she reached for her notebook again, scribbling something quickly before holding it up.

  she wrote. ‘

  Marisol blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

  She glanced at Reina, still fast asleep, and back at Maria.

  “... Now?”

  Maria’s smile widened as she wrote again, her expression daring, almost mischievous.

  Water Bug Facts #77: Much like water striders, whirligig beetles are social insects that tend to live and swim in groups. However, while water striders tend to live in loose aggregations (meaning they're not typically as tightly packed and coordinated), whirligig beetles tend to gather in tighter packs. They like moving in synchronised patterns across water surfaces!

  Next chapter on Saturday! By the way, I should probably mention this soon, but Volume Two will be ending in five chapters, after which Volume Three will begin after a week's break!

  The link to the Discord server is 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!