The pitch-black sewer stretched deep, its stench searing Rick's nostrils. The putrid, inky sewage pooled like congealed blood, and at its center, semi-transparent aberrations with writhing tentacles dragged a fresh corpse toward their lair.
That "corpse" was Rick. The reek jolted him awake. His vision swam; a milky, viscous substance coated his face like a second skin. He tried to move, only to find himself bound in silk-like fibers, immobilized.
"W-where am I?"
Panic surged as Rick recalled the previous night. After sharing the moldy insect cake, he'd sneaked beyond the city walls into the forest glowing eerily under the red sky. He'd hoped to find a stray insect egg—their kind's only ticket out of destitution. Instead, he stumbled into a turf war between hunter clans.
The forest's hunting grounds belonged to whichever team conquered them. Rick watched, awestruck, as hunters clashed—until a wooden box rolled to his feet. Such boxes held rebirth for untouchables like him. He snatched it, but in his haste to flee, he was spotted. They chased him into the city, and his last memory was a scythe-like arm swinging down, followed by the splash of icy water.
"So I didn't die... But why give me hope just to leave me here to rot?!"
His silent roar echoed in his mind as the sticky coating threatened to suffocate him. Numbness crept up his limbs, his life force ebbing. Larvae swarmed over him, their tiny legs pricking his skin like needles, devouring his senses.
"I refuse to die like this!"
Gripping the wooden box, he was too desperate to notice the cracks forming under his palm. Blood trickled from splinters, seeping into the box. Suddenly, the gooey substance tore—larvae were feeding.
"Am I to be eaten alive?!"
Pain nearly blacked him out, but survival instinct kept him lucid. With his last strength, he clenched his fists.
CRACK. The box shattered. The moment his blood met the mysterious egg inside, a searing heat branded his palm. Scorching energy raced up his arm, igniting his chest. His blood felt like it was boiling, bubbling beneath the surface. The viscous wrap bulged like a cauldron, exploding with pops.
The mound of larvae trembled as if sitting on a volcanic eruption. Steam and molten heat burst free, incinerating the insects. The blast twisted metal railings and cracked stone walls. Chunks of charred larvae rained down, while scalding water droplets condensed on the walls, turning the sewer into an oven.
Rick tumbled from the filth, gasping for air. Before he could recover, a massive shadow tore through the steam.
"The queen!"
Blood drained from his face at the sight: the queen insect's antennae flared, its burgundy fur standing like steel spikes. Her maw split open like a lotus, revealing a black stinger dripping foul liquid.
Paralyzed by terror, Rick scrambled back until his spine hit the scorching wall. "Stay back! Get away!" He hurled a broken stone, but it bounced harmlessly off the queen's exoskeleton.
The stinger lunged—sharp enough to pierce insect-carapace armor. Rick flinched instinctively, and the stinger embedded itself in the wall behind him. The queen's gaping maw, lined with spiral teeth, hovered inches from his nose.
A putrid stench billowed from the queen's maw, jolting Rick from his daze. Her stinger was lodged in the stone wall, and she thrashed her mushroom-shaped head wildly, trying to yank it free. If she succeeded, Rick doubted he'd survive the next strike.
In a desperate surge, he forgot his terror. Planting his slender arms against her mandibles, he shoved with all his might, forcing the horrific maw inches from his face. The queen lurched back a foot, but her stinger was almost free.
In nature's cruel hierarchy, life and death hinge on split seconds. As Rick teetered on that knife edge, a primal will to survive sharpened his focus. The ferocious queen no longer seemed invincible; a thought flashed: slice her head open.
"Kill it!"
This urge was his only lifeline. Abandoning all caution, he acted on instinct. Using the tiny gap he'd created, he flipped over, grabbing her spiky fur and leaping onto her back.
BOOM!
The stinger wrenched free with a deafening crack. The queen slammed her head into the wall, trying to shake him off. Tons of force shattered the stone, but Rick clung like an ape. As she staggered from the impact, he drove his arm into the center of her skull.
Attacking a mature leech queen with bare hands seemed suicidal. Even without a beetle's carapace, her tough hide and thick fur were formidable. A hatchet might struggle to pierce her, let alone a human hand.
Rick knew this, yet an unquenchable urge to kill burned in him. He expected broken bones, but a voice whispered he was right.
SPLURT.
His arm vanished into her head, followed by a geyser of insect ichor. The queen staggered forward, then collapsed with a thunderous splash, her massive body hitting the floor.
Exhausted, Rick lay panting on her head. The reality felt surreal—an untouchable killing a queen? This wasn't possible.
"What... happened to me?"
He pulled his arm free, inspecting the limb that had slain the monster. It looked normal, just sore—no breaks, no bruises.
"Was that a miracle?"
He dismissed the thought. Gods didn't favor untouchables. Running his hand up his wrist, he felt a sting. His palm bore a clean, razor-sharp cut.
"My hand—how is it so sharp?" He moved to a sunbeam, staring in disbelief.
Beneath his forearm and along his palm's edge, serrated, translucent membranes jutted from his flesh, stained with queen brain matter. He rapped them gently—his bones vibrated. They were part of him.
Stunned, Rick slapped his face until it stung. "This isn't a dream! I'm... insect-bonded? But how?"
He ripped open his shirt. A blue-black mark emerged on his shoulder, sharpening into a fierce insect's outline.
"The egg! The one from the forest—we fused!"
Joy surged through him. The stinking sewer seemed like paradise. No more "untouchable"—he could walk the streets as a citizen.
He whooped, sprinting through the sewage like a child, releasing years of pent-up frustration. When his ecstasy ebbed, his gaze fell on the queen's swollen abdomen. An idea took root.
"Wonder how much wild leech insect eggs are worth..."
Licking his lips in excitement, Rick brandished his razor-sharp right arm and approached the queen's corpse...
Night fell again over Kester. Buoyed by triumph, Rick found the early spring chill oddly refreshing. Fifth Avenue glowed with insect-lamps: swarms of cleaning insects clung to stone crevices, meticulously removing grime. Along the street, billboards made from color-changing insects flashed with vibrant egg advertisements.
Ordinarily, Rick would have lingered over such enticing displays, but tonight he had pressing business. Glancing briefly at the familiar ads, he turned into a side alley.
Beyond the corner lay a bustling lane lined with insect shops. Compared to Fifth Avenue's sleek official stores, these were cramped and chaotic, yet their business thrived—perhaps even more so. This was the renowned Cheap Egg Street, where shops sold subpar stock scorned by official outlets or quirky eggs procured from wandering hunters in other cities. Patrons were either desperate souls on the brink of untouchable status or speculators hoping to unearth legendary eggs from the dregs.
Taking a deep breath, Rick approached a promising shop. The moment his filthy hand touched the door, a portly old man inside shot him a withering glare.
"Idiot, you've soiled my door," the man snapped, his fleshy chin jiggling as he puffed on a insect-herb cigar, blowing smoke in Rick's face. "Did you crawl out of a cesspit?"
"I... I want to sell something," Rick stammered, intimidated.
"Sell something?" The fat man eyed Rick's bulging pocket. "Come in, then."
Rick scrubbed his shoes on the pavement, removing layers of muck, before stepping inside. He gaped in awe: a dozen coin-operated machines lined the walls. Through crystal panels, he saw sleeping eggs, their prices flashing in digits too long to count.
"Lost your tongue?" The old man rapped the counter. "Show me what you've got. Gods, you reek!"
"Sorry." Rick blushed, pulling a damp leech egg from his pocket and placing it on the table, then quickly covering it. "It's an egg. Can you buy it... and tell me the price?"
"Ah, this rubbish." The man's frown lifted as he tossed Rick a glass container. "Leech insect egg. Where'd you dig this up? The queens are nasty."
Rick hastily placed the egg in the vessel. "So how much?"
"Sixty silver coins... I'll give you a break since you're a kid." The old man snatched the container when Rick wasn't looking. "Hmm, not properly preserved—looks dehydrated. Consider yourself lucky, whelp!"
"O-okay, sorry." Rick took the sixty silver coins. They were minted from silver beetle carapaces, engraved with Kester's iconic tiger stripe.
"Heh, even dehydrated, wild leeches make good medicine when processed," the man chuckled, storing the egg. He was about to cross the street for a celebratory bottle of medicated insect wine when he noticed Rick lingering, ogling the precious eggs in the counter.
The old man grew flustered, shoving Rick away from the display. "Why haven't you left? Your stench is driving away customers! Scram!"
"Just looking a second..." Rick pressed his face to the glass, staring at the rare combat eggs. "Are these the hunters' battle eggs?"
"Of course—my shop's pride and joy." The man preened. "These are elite soldier-rank combat eggs, brat. Each costs tens of thousands of gold—way out of your league."
"Soldier-rank?" Rick looked up curiously.
"You don't know the six ranks? Celestial, Mystic, Illusion, Demon, Royal, Soldier—basic knowledge!" The old man dragged Rick to the door. "Go wash yourself before you make me lose my appetite for wine!"
As the grumbling man entered the tavern across the street, Rick touched the insect mark on his shoulder. Comparing it to the egg labels in the shop, he gasped—his shoulder bore the exact pattern of a sickle insect.
"Sickle insect... soldier-rank?" Rick hid the mark under his rags, his heart pounding. "The egg I found was a combat egg! Worth tens of thousands of gold—over a million silver coins!"