What are you afraid of? My inner voice asked. I had no answer. I was at the bottom of the elevator shaft leading to the fortieth floor, staring at my choices —restlessness devolved into a nervous shuddering of the legs.

The city is at war. The slaves need to prepare. I’ll visit another time. All were excuses; each one more concrete than the other, and strong enough to keep me from stepping forward.

It was the result of the cultivation, the mental hypnotism that ruled the social status of our society. Soldiers are better than workers; slaves are the lowest of the low; failure is unacceptable; these ideas had been planted so deep our minds, everyone believed them for the truth. Hence, workers didn’t go against the soldiers, and soldier’s favored death, over life as a slave.

I feared to be suspended from my current post of a royal guard and to be permanently turned into a slave. A result that I had died to escape.

But your Princess won’t stay in the city for long. The voice whispered again, causing my heart to skip a beat. Precipitation dripped from my head, nervous temper causing me distress. She’s going to leave soon. You know it, and you can’t stop her. You can only go with her, or stay behind. The choice is yours. All that matters is whether you want her or not?

The steps felt heavy. Expectations and considerations chained my feet. Last time I was here, I had tagged along with the Princess. It had been her decision, not my choice. This time the choice was mine, my decision. It gave me the jitters.

Forcing someone through a thorny bush won’t kill them, but the thorns will leave their marks on the body. And neither the person nor the bush will even be the same again.
It’s all but a matter of perspective.

 Sometimes you protect others by putting your life on the line. Other times you put the line behind you and make a new path.

I was in that kind of situation.

The fortieth-floor training ground was silent. It wasn’t empty, but the opposite of it. Soldiers lined the chambers back to back, waiting in patience for the morning light to shine, the news, and the committee's decision. There was however no fighting.

Training, the voice said. But where you are going there will be fighting.

Instead, there was a cold war in progress — a suppression of emotions so hard that the restless energy had taken a new form there.
There was no nervousness in the air, only dread determination. The soldiers were ready to earn their worth. They believed themselves ready.
 The termites had broken all common norms by bypassing everything and directly attacking the mother city. If they could show such courage, running away from the fight would be cowardly. The embers might not be as hot as fire, but they were not cold either. A spark burned in the chests of us all.

This time would be different. This won’t be a war for the expansion of territory or a hunt for food, but cold and raw revenge. There is a difference, but only those who live long get to understand it.

There were almost no scents in the air. Everyone was deep in thinking. No movement I could sense or vibrations to sess. The city had lost its hum to the growing unease.

My presence broke the soldier’s concentration, and their antennae moved erratically at my entrance.
A questioning scent asked the reason behind my sudden appearance and the chamber cackled with the clicking of angry mandibles and raging pheromones. I rushed away from them, down the path, on to the next chamber that was also occupied.
A new chamber had been carved into the wall and a pit dug in its center, opposite the site where marksman once practiced. There were soldiers standing at the rim of the pit, pushing something back inside that was screaming and scenting, hungry for murder, for escape.

It smelled of wood inside, of dead rotting wood. The same smell as the termites, the mad, crazy kind that couldn’t be killed with poison. Realization dawned over me. They hadn’t killed them all! Some had been kept! It was horrifying information. I sped up; away from them, from it, from everything, toward the 41^st floor.

There were soldiers at the exit, but I wasn’t stopped. I almost rolled down the slope leading to the dark pit, the infectious hell. Pain exploded around me as I slid to a stop. The scents down there contained an unreadable degree of madness. It was a compound of everything nauseating and bad. There was no laughter there, neither anticipation and nor excitement. Only hunger lived there.

The number of injured had increased, and increased was the number of those recovering. I could have been one of them or one of those thrown into the pit, outside. If a soldier hadn’t timely killed the termites I had stabbed in a fit of emotional relapse, it would have certainly injured me at least. 

The wounded had doubled since yesterday. It was sickening, this dark side of the war. Anyone who wasn’t strong enough was showed away down these sewers of the city and left to either die or recover.

The scents were searing all the way. After a point they grew so heavy and dense I had to tuck my antenna away. It was cold there, shivering.
Why leave the wounded there to die? What did it accomplish? Was this a warning to the soldiers so they don’t grow lazy; an emotional determent for the slaves so they won’t try anything oddly brave? It was a show of authority and it had me afraid, so it clearly worked —at least on someone like me.

My head buzzed; a notification covered my sight, and instantly I felt a cold relief wash over my mind. The relief was paltry but enough to get me going again.

---

You have already been through this once, so why does it overwhelm you? I don’t understand you sometimes.
You have acquired a new skill: Overwhelm resistance.

---

[Overwhelm][Tier-1][Lv-1/10][Resistance]
[Mind is a sensitive faculty. It works best under suitable condition but put a bit more pressure than the threshold and it easily breaks.]
[Effect: protects your mind from various kinds of harmful auras and energies.]
[Reward: Your intelligence increases by .1 points every skill level.]

---

The mercenary cavern was warm. It was a blessing in disguise that they had the cavern. The soldiers would have already taken over if it was any other place, but not from them. The odor of fungus was strong here. It was a source of food and not the parasitic kind. The slaves ate the green. That was their food, their way of keeping alive. Protein was sent down, but only sometimes. The city wouldn’t waste its resources on them. Only their numbers matter to her, not strength.

It was finally their time to be tested and a few of the survivors would be allowed back into society. Unlike the soldiers, they were hard at work. Twice as hard, I should say, because they were training, —Fighting, corrected the voice— with even more vigor. Their bodies glowed under the bright crystal light. The soldiers would have a future if they returned intact in one piece, but they would need to show their vigor or it was back to the slave pen with green fungus and death’s odor for company.  

These recovered slaves, both foreign and native, hadn’t set up rings like the soldiers above but were simulating a real war with real consequences.
No deaths, but real pain.
The marksmen —the scant few that had lost their identity as soldiers or raised as slaves from the beginning— were raining poison upon the warriors, the lot of them that was trying to pass the trenches dug in the ground and pebbles put as obstacles and reach the other side of the cavern.

The poisons odor wasn’t strong, meaning the marksmen weren’t using a concentrated mix but a diluted solution, one that would sting for sure, might even take them out, but not kill or injure them. The purpose of the activity was to gain experience, and nothing else. There was only one place they would be allowed to die, and it was not here.

Further past them were two opposite groups of soldiers rushing at each other and taking each other out with strength alone. There were a few cases where mandibles were used, tackling was the only option allowed. 

The captain or the leaders among them were hard at work, keeping the slaves motivated, giving them hope, and even cheering them up.

"You only lose when you admit defeat. You won’t think on the battlefield; you won’t feel on the battlefield. That is not a place for emotions. Cry now if you have to. Fear now if you have to. Think in the middle of a battlefield, and you die. Show compassion, and you die. Become emotional, and you die. You act, you kill, you check if your opponent is dead, and you move onto the next one. Don’t dally, don’t dwindle. Keep your heads up and keep pushing forward."

There is no other place for you lot to go. Is this where you want to come back to?’

NO!

Do you still want to be treated like vagrants with no future?

NO!

Then keep moving. Don’t stop. Forward is the way. Forward is the only option! You open a way into the enemy forces and a way to the city will open for you. Remember: Do not die!

I got Goosebumps all over my body. It was not a speech, but raw and bloody truth. Forward is the only option. The saying was delightfully rich in both sentiments and experience.

I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. I jumped. The aged warrior was standing behind me. When did she get there? She surprised me.
You surprised us both. It was a different, much younger scent. She wasn’t alone. The soldier I had fought and given a wound across whose chest —it had almost healed, but the grey scar that was left behind would keep his arrogance in check— was with her. And he seemed embarrassed to be there.

So what do you think? She said, tapping my head with her antenna. Believe you have what it takes to be one of them?

No. I answered, and kept it short. I had no word to justify the feeling I felt for them.

You chose the wrong day to come back down here. The solder said. He was behaving differently. Yeah, he was not being arrogant, and the change was off-putting. His seriousness was making me feel bad for the scar I had given him.  Come back when we do. We’ll have our rematch then, and I’ll have you taste the mucky taste of defeat.

Spoken like a true soldier. The aged warrior chided. Are you going somewhere with your broken antennae? Was being almost killed at the hands of a worker not embarrassing enough? Want to really die this time?

The soldier was taken back at first then almost retaliated in anger but shriveled away when the guards beside her moved and decided to let his scent do the talking. I won’t be dying you old hag. I can’t stay behind when everyone else is going. He put everything in his scents, but they weren’t strong enough to have the effect he tried to produce. His control was great, but a weak output. 6436 has only three legs and no one’s stopping her. He complained. I know you would be going too if you weren’t so old.

Stupid brat, shut up before I uproot you other antennae, too. The aged warrior harassed. You made the mess, now you clean it. Don’t forget your own words, smelly brat. You will be teaching this one to control his antennae.

But when will I have time to learn?

You lost to a cripple. She poked at his still green wound. Learning my blasted bottom —Teach him, and you might finally learn a thing or two, useless brat.

I don’t want to. The soldier said and shriveled to the ground in pain when she twisted his only antennae. He released a pheromone s sharp even I felt his pain. Want me to rip it off, huh? He conceded. Alright, alright, I give, I give. So when do I start?

Like I’ll let a useless fool like you take care of someone. She pushed him away. Go run away and do something productive. I wait the day you heal and go die on a foreign battlefield.

When the soldier ran he was confused and dazed as a willow brush with no idea where it was flowing. I shared his sentiment and prayed for my sanity. Could I run away, too? Maybe she heard me because she held me from the chest with antennae wrapped around it.

Compared to Princess Tinbuji, whom I considered an unstoppable gust of wind, the aged warrior was a storm with no end in sight.

Don’t call me aged warrior again. A shiver snaked down my back. Call me… heck; I’ve even forgotten my number. Aged warrior is fine, I guess. It makes me sound wizened. Well, it’s better than what that parasitic leech calls me. So are you ready? She said and before I could answer I was on the ground, pain shooting through my head and the ground swimming in front of me.

What was that? Had someone attacked? Were we under attack!
No such thing.

You are clearly not ready. She commented as if anyone could be ready for that. If premonition worked on things like this it would have colored my sight purple with its warnings by the time I had hit the floor.  

I got up, felt it happening again, and rolled backward, dodging whatever it was that was aiming for my head. I haphazardly looked around, half expecting to see the soldier being responsible, but he was nowhere to be found and the others were not free to harass me. There were a few dallying around and they were pretty amused at my situation — just not the kind of amused you’d find in a perpetrator.

Come. She said, seriously, menacingly. Did she want to fight? I hoped she wouldn’t drop dead from being overworked.

Stop wasting time! Come. I don’t have all night. I have to prepare others, too.

I half-assed my effort and kissed the ground for it. However, the pain showed me my place. She tried to harass me, but she didn’t have to. I got up serious. She meant business. The voice laughed in my head. I shut it out, too.

The world slipped away from me. My focus grew. I was a diligent worker, never lazed around unnecessarily. Concentration had never been a problem for me. I could dig for hours and hours at a time without resting. But that was when I was a worker-driven by a dream; this was a different me. Thoughts passed by my mind before I snubbed them. My pores opened and the cold air I sucked in cleared my mind.

With senses focused and mind active I charged at the warrior. Not the kind of charge that required physical effort, but the one that had garnered her attention in the first place. The skill had let me kill the termites and almost send the soldier to the other side of the yellow river; I was confident it would produce a result.

I was confident, not inconsiderate.  Killing her wasn’t the plan. The past few times had been done drunk on anger or emotions. The skill was a dangerous tool, but a tool nonetheless. It was nothing without my intention.

There was nothing to worry about. She even had to be carried everywhere, there was no need to be too intimidated by her. I planned to shrink the distance between us with the skill, and somehow harmlessly disable her. Nothing would go wrong.  

You have selected an opponent. Would you like to activate the skill: Charge?

The aged warrior scented annoyance and I agreed to the magical phenomenon. The magical thing lifted my body from the ground and pulled me toward the target, the aged warrior. The process both scared and awed me. I sensed her astonishment. It was an enthralling experience, an expression of untamed power. The closer I drew to her, the stronger grew my sentiments. But something struck my head and I was rolling on the ground this time, head pulsating with pain.

A bright red number floated out of my body and disappeared above my head as I shook away the daze —not a bright idea for someone with a head injury. The surroundings didn’t make sense to me for a whole minute.

All that drama for such a weak performance, She cursed. We are fighting, not dancing. Come again.

That was not just a strike, but a slap to my confidence. I was sure of touching her. I had even considered how to not hurt her, but what was this result? Why was I on the ground again? I raised my head and found the warrior still sitting at her position; she hadn’t moved one head away.

You better get up before I grow any older. You’ll be calling me dazed warrior soon otherwise.

She was so—so mean, and humiliating and frank. I hadn’t met her to be treated that way. I would have stayed a worker and let the others shun me, call me a freak, make me an outcast if I wanted to be treated like that. I had come to her for respect. I wanted respect. Yes, that’s what I wanted. This—this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

Oh, my shedding skin, he’s worse than her. At least she didn’t leak out her thoughts. Now, I can’t even test if he complains against humiliation or not. It’s a shame. Listen to me! She blasted my senses with a scent cloud. You either listen or I’m going to break your antennae.  

Her words were harsh enough to gain my attention, focus, and eagerness… all of them actually.

Now, look here: You are no guard. She continued irrespective of my reaction. Whatever the kid has told or made you, you are too weak to guard anyone. You are a disabled worker who should be leaving for the war with the others and die there. What the hell was she saying? Can you really not understand me? Am I saying anything wrong? Do you believe you can save her, your Tiny princess? Don’t rub your ego kid, grow up. You can’t even save yourself; saving her is out of your hands.

I retaliated. You are wrong. I scented.

Am I wrong? You think so? Don’t make me laugh. My body is too weak to laugh; I’ll get diarrhea!
I got up, positioned myself, and told her to get ready.

She had crossed the line. I took a step back and looked around, sensed, took inspiration from the soldier’s she called a brat, and vibrated my antennae at double the frequency than usual. I took it to 15000 hertz/sec and tolerated the sharp pain that arose with it. The scents rushed into me. I ignored them, and put my focus onto her. I’ll show you: the chant played in my head over and over again.

Anger flared, but I suppressed it. It was no time to get angry. I didn’t want to become a murdering whirlwind. I slowly approached her. I was wrong with hurrying when she wasn’t going anywhere.

Would you like to analyze your target? A voice asked. I agreed subconsciously.

And I sensed it, them. Her antennae glowed in a red-orange hue. She pulled them to the back of her head, leaving a glowing clone behind, before whipping them at me. The clubbed ends tore at the air as they carved a glowing path toward my head with pinpoint accuracy.

I—I don’t know how I did it, but I timely ducked my head and her antennae harmlessly passed over my head, leading a shiver down my back. I instantly exploded with joy and she released amusement, but I head the swish again and was smacked to the ground, right at her feet. She hunched over my head, closed her mandibles around my neck, and announced: you are dead.

But that was pretty good. She said. You controlled your anger and paid attention to me instead of giving away reason to anger. You are much better than someone. What do you think? I thought she had asked me. I was wrong.
I thought he would be going down a few more times before getting somewhere. It was the Princess. What was she doing there?

I should be asking you that. I thought you were done with them.
Well, everyone changes.
Yeah? If you say so. Don’t mind me. Continue your lesson. Don’t you have something to ask her?

Yes? I did? Oh yes, there was one thing I was surprised about. Antennae can be used as a weapon? I asked the aged warrior who had gone to sleep, standing in the middle of the ruckus.

I went to wake her but she didn't need my help. She was faking it; and I found out with another slap to the head. It hurt more because I wasn’t expecting it. I finally understood why the others stayed away from her. To put it nicely: she wasn’t very social.

These younglings are so easy to fool.
That was uncalled for!
All bark no bite; can’t even handle a cripple. You are not any better than that smelly brat. What? She continued taunting. Think otherwise? You really do? Don’t make me laugh.
Princess intervened. Teacher, She stressed the words, as if trying to get the attention of a mischievous child. Give him a break, will you? He’s not a soldier.

Really foolish, She finally gave in when princess pressed. Alright, alright, don’t start chocking me with your bullshit either. I know you in and out. Save your nonsense for someone who doesn’t know you. Want me to tell him what you really want? Huh?

I’ll leave, okay.

You better do! The passing slaves shuddered at her outburst and quickly scampered away. They pitied me, and showed it openly with their low antennae and shaking heads. They seemed to consider the war simulation a better place to be at than around her. I agreed with them. Wish I could also be there instead. In between the highs and lows, I wondered who the aged warrior was when she was still active.

Someone like her must have been very popular with the soldiers. The sarcasm filled thought was enough to lighten my mood.

Princess went and sat on the ledge by the wall from where she could keep a sight on me, but wouldn’t be able to disturb us.

Now, as for you, The aged warrior faced me. You did well — much better than I expected.

Did she just praise me? It felt odd, unnatural even; especially since it was coming from her.

You didn’t lose hope or gave reason to temper. I know anger fuels your strength, but it also takes away from you. Internal connection, just so you know. Was she teasing me? Was this another one of her sick tests? And that thing that you did to get close, it is shading invigorating. It gives me the jitters every time I see it. I want to know your secret, but you better hold tight to it. She scented and tapped my forehead as if to get the point through.  Secrets are your weapons. And that’s your second lesson: hide your secrets.

What was the first one? I asked and had to dodge an antenna stalking my head.
What did you learn?
To stay alert,
That’s right. She said. Stay alert. Out of curiosity, what else did you learn?

She was testing me. I had learned to keep my eyes on her because she was crazy. Of course, that was not for her to know. And I had learned that charging madly at a target was not the safest of options. I wondered how I was still alive. My opponents had been wizened soldiers not exactly like her, but they were soldiers and must have had a fight or two before. They had killed before, unlike me. Yet, I was the one who had survived and they hadn’t. It made me wonder if they were sane or not. There was one more thing I had learned from her:

That my mandibles are not the only weapons I have. I was not just talking about the antennae that I would learn to whip-like her even if it took all of my time, but also the skills, the mysterious phenomena that only I was privy to. She didn’t need to know that.

You are an intelligent little something, aren’t you? She might have praised me, but all I heard was sarcasm. She had given such a bad first impression that I didn’t know if it would ever wash off. War is hard enough on its own; you don’t want to limit yourself by only rushing or bitting. You either throw your whole body into the fire or don’t expect to retain it afterward. Expect to be surprised and stay focused.

Now come; let’s see what you have learned so far.

We tussled for an unknown number of times. She gave me the job of touching her and I wholeheartedly went into it. Her antennae sped up drastically every time I managed to dodge them. She struck me many times and I got up every time, only to be struck back down again.

Slowly, I manned to increase the number of whips I could dodge before falling. My inherent ability to stay focused for long intervals of time shined here. I know she was impressed, and she showed it by becoming incessant at keeping me away from her body. It was difficult to break through her offensive defense.

I learned to Dodge and tolerate the pain during our exercise. They were new skills, important skills that gave me a slight edge against her. One allowed me to evade danger to a thinner margin, and other increased my capacity to handle pain, nothing too fancy. Now, if I could only solve the mystery behind them that would be a burden lifted.

---

Keep moving. Don’t stop. Keep moving. Yes, right, now left, now roll, and stand, jump and rest. You have successfully evaded masculinity.
You have acquired a new skill: Dodge.
***
Does it hurt? How about this? No? Let me get a bigger needle.
You have acquired a new skill: Pain tolerance

---

[Dodge][Tier-1][Lv-1/10][Passive]
[The world will constantly throw shit at you. it’s entirely up to you whether to push through or evade it.]
[Effect: Increases the efficiency of your evading action.]
[Reward: Your Dexterity increases by .1 points every skill level.]

***

[Pain tolerance][Tier-1][Lv-1/10][Resistance]
[Mortal body is fragile and breaks easily. Pain is not a nuisance; it’s a warning of the absolute limit you can take before shutting down.]
[Effect: Increases your ability to handle pain.]
[Reward: Your Constitution increases by .1 points every skill level.]

---

The one time I managed to reach an arm’s length away from her, believing I was about to win, she got up, evaded my touch, and disappeared behind me. I was so surprised that I couldn’t react when her cold antenna touched the back of my head and announced me dead for the zenith time.

Secrets, she sprinkled the scent atop of my head and moved away, giving me space to react.

My head fell to the side from the surprise. She seemed pretty smug about her achievement. A crowd had gathered I noticed and they were pretty amused by my reaction. Some were even lost in nostalgia. They must have fallen to the same trick before. It was just sad. The training had ended as far as I could tell, and the slaves were resting. How long had we been at it?

You can walk? I asked. I assumed you were—

Don’t assume anything. The aged warrior interrupted me. Always keep your antennae open and sense wide. Everyone holds a trick or two down the fold of their plates, waiting for the right time to plunge their opponent in a world of hurt. That is your fourth and final lesson of today: be wary of your opponent’s secrets. She said, broke form and stood at ease. Alright, that’s enough for today.

That’s it? But we have only just started?

We have been at it since the last moon, kid. It’s already morning. And four lessons are enough for one day.

I counted but she had only told me three. What’s the fourth one?

Are you in a rush somewhere? Want to join the war?
I shook my head.
Then digest what you have learned. We’ll continue once you have figured out the fourth lesson. The crowd flinched when she looked at them. What? You lot still has the energy to move around? Let me help you all if you can’t help yourself. The slaves dispersed as if a disease had been let loose in their midst. They ran to the corners, the aged warrior right after them, her guards keeping even pace behind her.   

Princess approached.
When did you arrive? I asked her, and she tapped the side of my face in response.
When you were getting slapped left and right by the master, She let me know. I let out amusement. It was good to see her happy for a change. The termites had irritated her for so long I had almost forgotten that she could also joke.
You called the aged warrior master. What did she teach you? This time she let out amusement. I knew the answer. She was taking lessons in sarcasm.

We watched the slaves go about their work. The workers nervously went to cultivate the fungus, and the others started stretching and massaging each other. They had done everything to prepare. Now they would wait for the future to be decided for them; their only burden was to stay alive.

We said our farewells and left. Back in the ruling society, the fortieth floor, soldiers buzzed with anticipation. The decision would be made public any minute. It would matter for not just the soldiers, but us too. However, before that future could unroll, someone had left a message for us at the camp guards. And it got us both more nervous than the confirmation of war would have.

The explorers had called us to the mushroom farm. They had found the missing ant.