Rick spent the entire night in the library of Palais Saint-Rosel. When he dazedly emerged from the palace, the sky had already lightened with a dim white hue.
"Daybreak... I never expected to chat with the old man in there all night." Rick rapped his still-groggy head, staggering down the desolate, empty street toward Pai Mansion.
Initially, he'd only wanted to drink away his blues over Manny's departure, but the old man had forced him to listen to world secrets and join a "Defenders Alliance" that sounded like a terrorist organization.
Looking back, it all seemed ridiculous, but recalling those shocking revelations, Rick couldn't muster a smile.
Before this, no one would believe insects, so integral to human life, were humanity's greatest foe. No one would believe the Hundred Cities War, long thought a resource struggle, was actually a racial conflict—and that humanity had lost...
Perhaps as a pariah, Rick would've felt nothing but schadenfreude, pointing at those leaving insect shops and laughing, "Look, those fools are helping the Swarm breed!"
But now everything was different—he might be the one breeding for the Swarm.
The egg in his body, once his proudest possession and the key to his dream of becoming an Insect Master to escape pariah status, now threatened to destroy him and the world.
"Why... why? I just want to survive. Why does misfortune always find me? Why force me into danger? Is this... fate?"
Rick tore open his clothes, staring intently at the insect mark on his shoulder with mixed emotions.
"Damned God, why be so fair? Gave me a second chance, now demand all my sacrifice?"
Rick smiled ruefully, bitter tears welling at the corners of his eyes.
Joining the Defenders might be his only choice. He'd already been tied to their mysterious cause in Terry County; now he was just taking a seat instead of being bound.
"Fine, sitting is better than being tied. At least I'm no longer a disposable pawn..." Rick tilted his head, wiping away reluctant tears.
Decades of hunger and cold had taught Rick reality's cruelty. Since he couldn't change it, he'd adapt. He'd survived starvation as a pariah; now with strength beyond ordinary, he had no reason not to fight for hope.
"Twelve Alliances, will you be my next opponent?"
Rick gazed into the distance, recalling Arthur's introduction to the Defenders' rival organization.
Humans have never been a united race. Just as there are those who hate the Twelve Prime Insects, there are also those who worship them.
The Defenders is a secret organization led by the Insect Association and several legendary city lords, dedicated to restoring independent human civilization and eliminating the cosmic invaders—the Twelve Prime Insects.
Their opposite, the Twelve Alliances, are entirely different. Formed by those who were utterly terrified of the Twelve Primes' power during the Century War, this cult worships the insects. Composed of members from the Assassin's Guild and some city lords, these power-obsessed fanatics have forgotten their human stance. They believe the Twelve Primes bestow invincible power and that allying with them will bring even greater strength. Convinced humanity cannot resist the Swarm, they see embracing Swarm rule as the only "correct" path.
Due to their fundamental ideological conflict, the Defenders and Twelve Alliances have been fated enemies since their inception. Clashing in all realms of high society, they wage secret wars for world dominance—a struggle that may never end unless one side's beliefs collapse entirely.
No one wants to be dragged into such a deadly feud, but Rick can no longer escape—he is deeply embroiled. Only with guidance from Defenders' immortal old monsters like Arthur does he have hope of becoming a Demigod, the only way to truly control his fate instead of being a flesh-and-blood puppet at others' mercy.
"The old man wants to save humanity, and I want to save myself. But since I am human... I suppose I am a Defender." Clarifying his thoughts, Rick's gaze hardened, a cold smile crossing his face. "Now I need to know if assassinating Manny was part of the Twelve Alliances' plan."
Terry County.
The sky hung heavy with dark clouds, silver lightning tearing the air as thunder rumbled. The Insect Association's emblem paled under the storm, as thin streams of water silently climbed the gray-brown walls. The patter of rain finally erupted, drowning the walls in an instant.
Just beyond the wall, a white-bearded old man with countless wrinkles sat listlessly at the lab door, regret flickering across his aged face. The lab door stood like a barrier between life and death—though inches away, it felt light-years distant. He lacked the courage to push through, fearing what lay beyond.
His beloved granddaughter Lav had been inside for two days. The girl, who'd suddenly found courage, intended to test her unprecedented, crazy idea on herself. Nanzé could neither stop her nor claim the right to try.
Nanzé knew Lav was a true genius. Though never recognized by the wider Insect Association, as head of Terry County's branch, he understood her abilities: she wasn't just an insect expert, but a visionary beyond anyone. He was convinced that given time, Lav could solve the problem of genetically culled eggs being unable to evolve. Then the Defenders would no longer split into conservative Doves and radical Hawks—they would have a clear path, and humanity's future would brighten.
But a chance encounter had destroyed this. If he hadn't asked Lav to pour that damned cup of black tea, she might never have seen Rick's adventure plan, never crossed paths with him. She would have followed her planned life, making quiet breakthroughs in safety to become a legendary insect expert.
Now, this girl who'd fallen madly in love with Rick had abandoned her prearranged life, determined to join him on the frontlines.
Thinking of Rick, Nanzé's lips tasted bitter. He even wondered if this was God's punishment for his own cunning.
You know, not long ago, Rick, that unknown upstart who occasionally showed talent, was nothing but cannon fodder in his eyes. But now, with his precious granddaughter Lav standing by his side, this fellow who should have been sacrificed could no longer serve as mere fodder.
"Fine, she's grown up. She should have the right to decide her own fate. Besides, the world is fair. Since I was heartless enough to let others sacrifice, I... should also be prepared to make sacrifices myself."
Nanzé heaved a long sigh, and as if in response, the lab door suddenly opened.
Several people in white robes wheeled Lav out on a stretcher, sweat dripping from their brows. Implanting a completely unfamiliar insect egg into a fragile girl was clearly a mentally exhausting task.
Lav lay quietly on the bed, her pale face tinged with a faint flush. Nanzé touched her forehead—her temperature was notably higher than normal, but he breathed a sigh of relief. So far, the procedure had gone smoothly. Unlike eggs implanted in ordinary hunters, this one had been personally modified by Lav, leaving no one certain of the consequences.
A night passed.
The foul weather gradually improved, and long-awaited sunlight poured into the dark-encircled room, bringing light back to the world.
In the gentle sunlight, a maiden lying in bed slowly opened her tightly shut eyes, her beautiful large eyes filled with daze.
"I wonder if the experiment worked? My body feels a bit strange."
The room, with its identical furnishings, seemed unchanged, but Lav clearly noticed something different: no blind spots, no dead angles. Everything in the room appeared clearly before her eyes.
As an insect expert, Lav knew humans couldn't have such vision—this was the effect of compound eyes, like those of the Big-Eyed Miss from the Insect Association.
But Lav's case was different. In the mirror, her eyes showed no change. Using insect abilities without physical transformation? What did that mean?
The insect expert was utterly stunned. According to her knowledge, such a phenomenon only occurred in powerful Insect Masters, serving as a hallmark of reaching that realm.
Lav knew this was impossible. Even with her uniquely modified egg, no one had ever become an Insect Master the day after implantation.
"Maybe... maybe this egg is more amazing than I thought!" Lav smiled in delight, Rick's blank face emerging in her mind.
Tiptoeing out of the room, Lav saw Nanzé asleep at the door. A surge of guilt welled up—her willfulness had kept her grandfather awake all night.
"Grandpa, I'm sorry. Please forgive me..."
A quarter of an hour later, Lav reluctantly boarded the insect carriage to Ison City. Afraid of upsetting Nanzé, she didn't say goodbye or even wake him. But she didn't know that the moment she stepped onto the carriage, tears streamed down the old man's face at the Insect Association window...
Palais Saint-Rosel.
Lord Arthur sat in his study, reviewing documents. Today was the day little Manny departed. He hadn't gone to bid her farewell, only sending a gift as a gesture, while secretly monitoring Rick's decision today.
"Your Majesty, the Defenders' Knight Order has sent the latest secret report." A attendant appeared soundlessly beside Arthur, and the room's light seemed to dim at his arrival.
Arthur remained composed, calmly accepting the report. His wrinkled face furrowed slightly, and a sharp glint flashed in his weathered eyes. "I see..."
"Your Majesty—"
Arthur looked up, gazing out the window. "Seems it's time to stretch my old bones."
Noon.
A girl in a maid's uniform gently pushed open the door to Lord Arthur's chamber, ready to wake the napping monarch.
"Your Majesty, time to rise~"
Her clear, playful voice echoed in the spacious room. Though Arthur acted like a stern old stick-in-the-mud in public, he inwardly despised such formality. With age, his mindset had grown younger, often sparking romantic rumors with maids.
Normally, the old man would have greeted her with a flirtatious remark, but today there was no response. The maid's cheerful mood soured instantly, a pout forming on her pretty face.
"Ayla is very angry, and the consequences will be severe!"
She flung back Arthur's covers without hesitation, but instead of the expected masculine form, only a bizarre cloth doll lay in his place, inscribed with: "Dear Ayla, surprised? I've gone for a stroll. Try not to miss me too much!"
"Ah—!"
A shriek rang out in the chamber. Within a quarter-hour, the entire inner palace knew Lord Arthur had left. Where he'd gone and when he'd return—only God and the personal guards who'd vanished with him knew.
In accordance with Tanzan royal tradition, Court Etiquette Mistress Katrina immediately presented Princess Anna, informing her that from this day forward, she would assume responsibility for all administrative affairs of Palais Saint-Rosel and Ison City. Anna would replace Lord Arthur in handling daily documents until his return.
Administrative work was far from Anna's preference. She'd intended to dress up and attend Manny's victory celebration, but those plans were now dashed. After sending a message to Rick, Anna obediently followed Mistress Katrina's arrangements, remaining in Lord Arthur's study.
As the sun set, rolling thunder rumbled from the horizon. Howling winds swept in, churning black clouds, filling heaven and earth with oppressive tension. A storm was about to break, the air thick with murderous chill.
Thousands of miles away, in the secret chamber of the Merchant Guild headquarters, a burly middle-aged man sat on an ornately decorated chair, his massive frame dominating the seat.
Crack! A lightning bolt split the sky, illuminating the centuries-old building that stood alone in the wind. The flash briefly revealed the man's chiseled features, giving him the air of a warrior. None would guess this battle-ready figure was the Guild's second-in-command, Vice President Diago.
He rose, hands behind his back, a long shadow stretching across the floor, twisting eerily in the flickering light as tiny fragments seemed to detach from it.
"How goes the matter?" Diago's commanding voice echoed in the spacious chamber. This was Diago's inner sanctum, normally off-limits to others, but today proved an exception.
A shadow lurking in the room's dark corner twitched unnaturally, a husky voice sounding in Diago's ear: "All proceeds as the President foresaw. Callan, heir of the Thornton family, is slain. Miss Manny has lowered her guard."
"Lowered her guard? Is that possible?" Diago turned to face the shadow, his eyes flashing fierce light. "Tell that fool Fane I'm aware of his stupidity. I only tasked him with containing that old stick-in-the-mud Gria. Who gave him the right to issue such a foolish order to the Thorntons?"
The shadow's tone turned panicked: "This..."
"Revoke Fane's operational authority. If his actions expose the Shadow, I'll make sure he dies a miserable death." Diago glared sinisterly at the shadow, growling like a vow: "Sixteen years of planning with the Shadow—all for today. I will not allow failure!"
"Yes, President. But Fane meant well, and word is Gria suspects nothing. So—"
The shadow tried to interject, but Diago cut him off roughly, seizing his collar: "I alone decide here."
"I'm sorry, President... Oh, no, Commander-in-Chief, this subordinate overstepped..." Cold sweat instantly soaked the shadow's back.
"Commander-in-Chief..." At the title, Diago's furrowed brows finally relaxed, a smile spreading across his moody face as his shadowed eyes narrowed to slits. "What a thrilling title. I wonder when I'll claim that throne..."
Diago's ambition surged, familiar figures flickering through his mind like a movie, his expression darkening again. "This Merchant Guild is mine—no one will take it from me! With the Guild in hand, heh... I'll become the Twelve Alliances' Commander-in-Chief."
His burly body trembled, fists clenching tightly, infinite murderous intent flashing in his eyes. "How's the old man's condition? How long can he hold on?"
"Still comatose, but his vital signs have slightly improved," the shadow replied.
Diago shook his head noncommittally—he doubted the man had much time left.
"Old friend, don't blame me for being heartless. Why would you hand over everything we built to that ignorant girl? Better to give it to me before it all fades away..."
Seeing Diago lost in thought, the shadow hesitated before interrupting: "Intelligence reports Arthur left Palais Saint-Rosel today and is missing."
"Oh? That old lion has left his den?"
Diago's eyes lit up. After a moment's thought, he said gravely: "Hold off revoking Fane's authority. Order him to act tonight. Also, notify the Shadow—the final hour has come."
"Tonight? So soon?"
"Yes. Success or failure hinges on tonight..."
Diago waved his hand and turned away as the shadow vanished silently from the chamber.