The Unmaker

“... Dad. I think it’s gone. We don’t have–”

“Shh.”

Ousam clamps a hand over his son’s mouth and pushes him down, down, down under the bed. The night is dark out. The desert winds are roaring. His wife isn’t here. She is out nursing another child, thank the divine—he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to stop both her and his son from making a sound.

The firefly lantern on the desk rattles. The window flaps shuffle. Ousam grits his teeth and holds a sand-trudging stick in his hands. It is the only weapon he has against the roaming desert spirit, so it will have to do.

The shadow stops outside his door.

Something breathes.

Something tries for the doorknob.

It turns, the door swings open, he bellows and raises his stick–

And nearly kills his wife after a long, hard day of work.

“... Ayuu. What’s wrong with you?” she snaps, pulling him by the ear as his son crawls out from under the bed, sobbing tears of relief. She frowns when she sees both their faces; they must look like they’ve seen the devil. “And what in Sharaji’s good name have the two of you been doing? Trying to catch a sandshark with a sand-beating rod of all things?”

Ousam sighs and hugs his wife, not saying a single word.

His eyes linger on the open door behind her.

… The shadow does not move, but it is still there, standing just beyond the veil of perception.

- Scene from Sharaji Oasis Town past

The black mass looming over her shifted and expanded with a sharp hissing noise, like a pipe about to burst. It had no face. It wasn’t human at all. Its six legs were stabbed around her body tied to a flat slab of stone, its teardrop-shaped wings were vibrating at a low frequency, its sword-like stylet was pierced through her stomach and shredding her insides, sucking out her internal organs. In other words, it was just like any normal night in Alshifa; she strained and struggled and screamed against her bindings, but giant needles pinned her joints against the slab and even trying to jerk out of them would cost her too much. There was nothing she could do as she watched, eyes wide in horror, the giant assassin bug devour her alive–

[Injecting weak dose of adrenaline. Forced user awakening.]

The bug disappeared. Disintegrated into sand, taken by the winds blowing in through the window. Her eyes were already open as she gasped with a cold sweat, still lying flat on the soft satin bed; blood and tears rolling down down her cheeks in equal volumes as she realised she’d been scratching her face in her sleep.

Now that she had four hands and twenty claws sharp enough to rend stone in half, ‘scratching’ wasn’t just something she could ignore.

Groaning, clutching her stomach, she sat up and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands as gently as she could. Her original hands may not be fully chitin, but they were hardened and sharpened halfway up her forearms. If she were reckless, she’d cut the rest of her face open just from trying to wipe her tears.

Her head hurt. Her waist hurt. Her arms hurt. It felt like half her body didn’t belong to her anymore, like her flesh wasn’t hers, like her muscles wouldn’t always move on her command. Faintly she heard Eria saying something in her, but she was too busy wiping and scratching and groaning with her chin tucked into her chest to pay attention–

[You’re alright, Dahlia,] Ayla and Aylee said, as she felt two pairs of arms wrapping around her neck from behind. They squeezed, just ever so lightly; her head immediately shot up as the aches subsided. [Just a bit longer. Just a few more weeks, a month at most—we’re sure your body will get used to the mutations eventually.]

[So don’t go all wild and start cutting everything up again,] Amula said, and her eyes snapped over to the side of the door the senior was leaning against. Amula’s arms were crossed, she was leaning against the wall. She was staring at the ground with her eyes closed as she snorted, shrugging nonchalantly. [I’m sure the townsfolk thought you were a bother this morning, wrecking half the bedroom they gave you as a guest. If you destroy this new room again, maybe they’ll just decide to kick you out. I won’t save you if that happens.]

Dahlia giggled and winced in the same motion, her throat flaring with pain as she tried to make a sound. She hadn’t noticed it until just now, but she was sorely dehydrated, not to mention starving once more—judging by the position of the moon and the lightless Oasis Town outside the window, she’d woken up right in the middle of the night, so maybe it was only normal someone who hadn’t eaten for two weeks would have to eat four meals a day to replenish themselves. Or maybe five meals. Maybe six meals. Now that she was thinking about it, she couldn’t remember how many times she’d woken up looking for food and water after Alice had brought her back from their brief expedition outside. Could she be turning into a glutton now?

[Nonsense.] Issam laughed, sitting cross-legged next to her. He pointed at the water gourd resting right on the bed stand, just a good half metre away from normal reach. [If you’re thirsty, you drink. If you’re hungry, you eat. If you crave something sweet, then you’ll pop as many bloodberry candies into your mouth as you need until your craving is satisfied. That’s the ‘Make-Whatever’ I know, right?]

[Come on.]

[Try.]

To demonstrate, he pulled a lever on his back and unfurled his mantis scythes, staring at their serrated edges as he waved them around the air. She wasn’t worried about getting cut even though she was sitting right next to him. If she remember correctly, her dad was the one who made the Swarmsteel for him, and if anyone asked just a few weeks ago she’d say she still had no idea how Issam controlled his extra arms so precisely… but now that she had her own extra arms, organic in nature, she felt as though she understood a little something about the extra appendages most experienced Swarmsteel users possessed.

That was, there was nothing to ‘control’.

A normal bug wouldn’t really struggle to control the legs they were born with.

A normal human wouldn’t really struggle to walk and swing their arms while they were at it.

Now that she had her own extra arms, she understood how ‘Gut-feeling’ Issam had managed with his mantis scythes all this time—and there really wasn’t anything as complicated as an instruction manual she had to read through.

Issam clasped one hand over hers, smiling softly as he beckoned her to try reaching out for the water gourd with an imaginary, phantom limb. It looked stupid, it felt stupid; her brows were creased and her lips were pressed tight as she focused, with all her might, like she was trying to telekinetically pull the water gourd over.

Only, her extra left arm was just slightly longer than her normal left arm, and its claws curled around the gourd just fine before bringing it over to her lips.

[... Well done,] Eria said, clapping its forelegs while it stood on her shoulder, watching her rehydrate with all four hands on the gourd. [It will still take you some time before you have full control of your new appendages, not to mention controlling their abnormal strength output, but keep at it and you will find yourself more efficient with everything you do with your hands. Conquering your new appendages is the same as conquering the pain from your mutations.]

She stopped for a second to catch her breath, breathing softly before resuming her drink.

And… I’ll still be able to control it even if you’re not here for me?

[Yes. It is a mutation you obtained by consuming insect flesh. The only thing you would stand to lose from my departure is the ability to control your further mutations, as well as, of course, the controlled allocation of free points into your base attributes.]

… Don’t talk like that.

Do you… do you want me to get rid of you?

Eria tilted its head innocently. [I am merely stating the facts. Your decision, whatever it may be, must be made entirely of your own will.]

Then stop saying stuff like that.

Like… like everything will be okay even if you’re not… here.

[... Understood.]

[Would you like to allocate your remaining free attribute points now?]

She shook her head, continuing to drink until her throat was no longer dry, sandy, or sore; any one of the three. Eighteen attribute points seemed like a lot to handle, and she wanted to be sound in mind before settling the score. The midnight winds were still quiet, after all, and the Sharaji Oasis Town in a deep slumber. There was no rush. She was still tired. She leaned over to return the water gourd to the bed stand before scratching her neck, hoping she’d be able to sleep the rest of the night away in peace–

Someone screamed.

Outside the window, close to her.

She couldn’t ignore it even if she wanted to. It was a bloodcurdling scream that made every hair on her body stand on end. The calm of the Oasis Town washed away immediately as a dozen households shook their firefly lanterns alit, townsfolk breaking out their homes and shouting at each other in loose-fitting silk robes; evidently they’d all heard the scream, too, but none of them were as close to it as she was.

It was inexplicable, it was illogical—her extra arms moved first, gripping onto the windowsill and making her vault out the window.

[Dahlia, I do not think you should–]

Bug.

She didn’t like to admit it, but she was hungry. Aching for food. And the pungent, revolting, eye-watering scent of a giant bug was making her body move on its own.

There was no doubt about it. Someone was being attacked by a giant bug.

She ducked into an alley and sprinted. She ran and ran. It’d still only been a day since she woke up, but her putting extra levels into strain limit earlier this afternoon was clearly paying off; she could run, and run, and not feel out of breath for even a single second. She winced when she ran headfirst into a pole and then into stack of crates, hurting her elbows—without her Swarmsteel bracers her perceptivity level was low, after all—but she was sure, even without high perceptivity, that anyone would be able to pinpoint the source of the scream.

She was just the first to arrive on scene, turning round a corner into a small alley near the northernmost end of the town. Once she recovered from the bump on her head, she scanned the buildings around her and found the scent trails fading, waning; she couldn’t smell the source as clearly as before. There were no doors on either side of the alley, there were no ladders or stairs to climb out of it, there was only one sharp right turn at the end of it, and while she swore—for the briefest of seconds—that she saw what looked like the shadow of a giant man slinking past the corner at the end…

Her hunger died the moment she saw the dried, shrivelled corpse of a lady in front of her, its spine snapped in half and its upper torso bent at a complete right angle to its legs.

…

She took a step backwards. Tripped on something. Fell on her rear. Closer to eye level with the corpse, she saw the skin once taut and vibrant, now hung limp and pallid; the chest cavity hollowed out, the insides sucked out and leaving nothing but a gaping void; only tattered remnants of silk and sinew clung onto the poor lady’s bones, fluttering faintly in the desert wind like morbid weeds. Desperate claw marks marred the ground beneath the lady’s bloody nails—and Dahlia couldn’t hold it in any longer, realising she might’ve been able to help if she’d reacted just a little bit quicker.

By the time Alice and the rest of the townsfolk swarmed the alley on both ends, she was already puking her guts out, the mutilated corpse reminding of the massacre that’d taken place in Alshifa.

What… was that shadow?

That was a human, wasn’t it?

Or could it be… another…

She trailed off, not able to finish her thought.

Just thinking about the Mutant firefly brought back painful memories.

“... Well, I did mention I was sent here to carry out a third duty.”

Alice stepped up to her before kneeling, just inches away from the poor lady—and the young Harasharana wearing her face was boiling quietly with anger.

“The Oasis Town calls it ‘Madamaron, the Destroyer’, the wind god of the Sharaji Desert, but we of the Hasharana believe bugs are no gods at all,” she whispered. “I am to exterminate a Mutant rumoured to have made a nest in this region alone, but as long as you possess an Altered Swarmsteel System, you’ll be helping me rip its head from its torso.”

Arc 5, "The Sharaji Oasis Town", End