A different hunter arrived that the one I was expecting. This one was longer, brown, scaled, and tubular; like an earthworm that I had seen hiding in the mud. It slithered over the nest, hissing, tasting the raw scent of life that the chicks oozed, and blocking any escape path. The chicks couldn’t have escaped anyways. I had never seen their mother leave by climbing down the tree. She had always flown away and returned by flying —which they hadn’t learned yet.
How should I describe the feeling it rose inside me? I had all but given up on determining the size difference at this point. The world was vast and there were bound to be even bigger predators out there. Maybe the hisser was also someone’s prey. Maybe there was an even higher mountain than the one I had mounted. All could be possible at this point.
The system agreed.
You have learned another TRUTH of the world: There is always a higher mountain to climb.
You have acquired a new skill: Reckless Courage.
[Reckless Courage][Lv-1/10][Tier-1][Passive]
[The skill increases your stats when you are up against giants.]
[Effect: Your stats increase by 10% every skill level.]
[Reward: Your strength increases by .1 Points every skill level.]
The truth scared me. Did it want me to rush at the hisser and fight? Well, not a chance.
I was nothing to it. The hisser was for the chicks what the earthworm was for me, but it didn’t shy away like the worm. It was confident, even smug. It hissed, split tongue undulating in front of its slit mouth. What do we have here? The air vibrated. What fresh taste! Yum-Yum! I’ll be sure to enjoy you pretty little things.
It called the chick’s pretty little things! One would have to be courageous and reckless to fight that; maybe even downright suicidal. No wonder the skill was named as such. Not me, though. Not me.
The chicks cried for help. Help, Mother, help!
The twin brothers wailed, while their sister pulled back to the nest wall, heaving, scared and shaking. She squirmed down and rolled into a ball, the same way she acted when her brothers bullied her.
It’s not going to save you. I told her, but she didn’t listen, didn’t hear. It was hopeless. How was I to save her? Did I have to be reckless? Did I need to put my life on the line, again?
The bully was the first to act; of course, he was. Rotten to the core, the bully and the hisser were not much different from each other.
Surprisingly, he opened his wings and started fluttering them, and chirping loudly in quick successions, bellowing. It somehow worked. The hisser pulled back in confusion.
It’s working. He chirped and the twins joined him. They jumped up and down, wings fluttering, feathers ruffled, breaking away, and flying aggressively in front of the hisser.
The hisser was left dumbfounded but by the prey that should have been helpless in front of it. It was in an awkward situation.
Success made the twins grew confident. They pushed forward and clawing air the same way they clawed their sister, believing the hisser would mimic her for some reason. Things changed, however, when the bully saw a chance and ran toward the edge of the nest, wings fluttering faster and faster. He didn’t wait for his brother and jumped off. Only the sound of him crashing through the leaves and branches reached the nest. What became of him was highly doubtful.
However, his escape made the hisser hiss in fury. It didn’t like its prey getting away and pulled back out of the nest. It wasn’t leaving. I knew that maneuver. It was similar to me getting on my haunches to charge at them. It was coming! But the twins didn’t understand; they couldn’t believe their brother had thrown himself off the nest. That meant death! Their mother hadn’t taught them how to fly yet. However, But this worry and confusion made them cease activity, giving the hisser the opportunity it sought.
It sprung at the twins with its mouth stretched open, purple tongue hidden and large fangs visible. Hunger flared in its eyes. I smelled poison ooze out from the tip of its fangs, burning killing poison of the kind I had never sensed before. It made me cringe away, my heart race. Such was the momentum behind its rush that the air itself hissed in its honor. The hisser gave the twins no chance. One of them was already dead the moment it came into motion.
It struck. There was a scream and a screech of the dying kind —everyone makes it when they try to scream and breathe at the same time. The twin that survived fluttered his wings in horror, struck between the nest wall and the bark brown scaled back of the living terror. The other fluttered his wings in a dying struggle; much the same way our legs do the death jitters. The hisser caught it tightly inside its mouth, large fangs buried deep inside its chest pushing poison into its bloodstream.
Too horrifying!
It’s your chance! The voice said. Run!
I rushed down the feathery neck, into the nest wall, and out the other side. I was free. I had saved my life. There was still the other hunter waiting somewhere down the path.
We’ll deal with it when it comes.
Heart pounded like never before.
The hisser hadn’t come for me, but I couldn’t help feel dreadful. Maybe I would have been better off without my sight and hearing.
And better off lost and dead, too?
I wouldn’t have lost my way if I was normal. An ant should never see these giant monsters. We were better off fighting over our small patch of land, calling ourselves the owners when it never truly belonged to us. Is this what the explorers are used to seeing and fighting?
Could they have returned alive after fighting them, my dear friend? My inner voice asked.
It was no wonder they acted like they didn’t care about anything anymore.
It was easy to see how burdened my mind felt. I was talking to myself.
Well, it was about time you grew senile. My mind laughed and grew quiet. It was different today for some reason.
I thought I had escaped the hisser by leaving the nest, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. What I had seen inside was just its head! The rest of its body was outside, coiled around the main branch like a vine growing around a plant, like a parasite. A deadly screech rose from the nest. The hisser stirred. The length of it rolled around the tree branch and started moving toward the nest.
It has nothing to do with me. I decided and climbed over the hissers scaled back. I had to do that; it would have crushed me in its attempt to fill the nest, otherwise. It had patterns similar to the frog on its back. Dark black circles and long thin lines made the most of them.
Weren’t these patterns there to better hide their bearers? So even something like it has to hide?
Well, there was an undeniable difference in size between the hisser and the moving mountain.
Forward! I had to tell myself because I was not moving. For all my worry and horror, I was still letting it take me back. My heart didn’t want to go.
You are not a savior. I told myself. You are an ant, small, and powerless. You can’t save her. It is her life, her problem. Let her deal with it.
Break free, I heard Princess Tinbuji whisper.
Not today. No!
Break free!
The hisser suddenly quickened. The sudden acceleration threw my senses haywire. I couldn’t make out left from right, and the voices were no good either. I clenched the groves between its scales to keep me steady.
I had to decide my next steps. I couldn’t let it carry me back without a plan: I could either let go and fall down and maybe get lucky enough to catch a draft of air and get carried toward a leaf or a branch, or ride the hisser's tailback to the nest and do everything I can to help the fourth chick.
It would be my decision, not a scream from her, the taunting of my inner voice, or some another convoluted reason. I would do it for myself. I had nothing to prove by going back. I was to the hisser what dirt was to me. It would be only to save —laughable, my inner voice taunted. It was enjoying itself. But I had nothing to prove.
For all my considerations, in the end, it was her hurtful scream that made up my mind.
Reckless courage has activated.
All stats increased by 10%.
I rode the tail until it slowed again, and then rushed up the hissers back as fast as I could. I could have been faster if I was using all my legs, but retracting the two middle ones for balance had its adverse effects.
I knew I would be protected there because it couldn’t see on its back. I hope the scales numbed its sensitivity, because my exoskeleton did, and it was only for the hairs on my body that I could actually perceive the world. But it didn’t notice me. I would have had a difficult time escaping otherwise, for it was flexible enough to lick its own back —at least the lower portions where I was.
The frog wasn’t able to handle us once we were on its back; I hope the hisser would be the same. For all their size and mass and strength, these predators had such an obvious weakness. Well, most ants couldn’t even see, but that was a different thing. We were born to rule the underground.
Over the nest, the hisser was coiled around one of the two brothers and was engulfing him completely. His head was already deep inside its horrifyingly stretched jaw. The hisser wasn’t eating it rather taking hold with its tiny sharp teeth and trying to wrap its slippery throat around the corpse. It was an unreal sight; my first and hopefully last.
The other brother was fluttering his wings, crying for help, while the one I cared about, the malnourished fourth chick, was surprisingly pecking the hisser, and trying to make it leave her brother. There was a far chance of that happening.
I knew she could stand for herself as she had for me, but I didn’t know she would go even against something like the hisser. That was courageous of her. She would have been better of worrying about herself though, but some of us as just different.
I jumped toward her. I was too light to get her attention but appearing in front of her eyes did surprise her. She gave me a happy chirp then got back to pecking. I wanted to explain that it wouldn’t work; the hisser’s scales were too hard. Her beak wasn’t going to get through.
She got through and drew red, fragrant blood. Even the monster had a softer belly when compared to its back.
I had learned my lesson from the frog. I wasn’t going to climb inside there. The hisser had a thick layer of muscles behind the skin, and I knew from experience how hard it was to get through them. I would have been crushed had I tried entering its body from the wound.
However, it was pissed that a small prey that should have been cowering in fear was able to leave it a wound.
The tail whipped toward her. I heard the twang, but couldn’t stop it. I fell atop of the tail as it struck her belly. A sharp painful chirp rose from her throat and she was flung to the nest wall, which absorbed the shock, but the tail did leave a red and quickly bluing bruise behind.
Anger flared, but I nabbed it before it could take away my intelligence. The hisser wasn’t an opponent to go berserk against.
I’ll show you! I decided.
Dealt with the nuisance, the pecker, the tail moved out of the way and directly above its head. I had an easier time jumping than running, but I did miss my mark and fell a distance from its head —though still on its scaled back—and slipped, but held by gripping the grove between its scales. That could have been difficult.
Confidence rose as I closed the distance between its head and me, allowing me to see how easy my target was. At least the frog could swat its head to defend; the hisser had no limbs!
I admit doubting the need for my six legs when it was doing great without even one. Even the frogs required only two legs to move about; the other pair was for support and various other things, but movement.
By the time I reached its head, it had all but engulfed the second brother.
If I was late it would have definitely gone for the fourth chick next, for hurting it. I knew because I would have done the same.
I wasn’t going for its scales. They were impenetrable. Maybe there was another predator that could do it, but not I. This time I laughed at the notion. A few days ago, the TRUTH had horrified me, and now I had seen so many inconceivable things that I was starting to wonder if it even mattered. Since I had never seen these humongous monsters before leaving the city, it only meant that our lives were separate. We were not dependent upon each other and hence could safely co-exist; unlike the termites.
I climbed its head and its slit eyes appeared in my sight like two large globes rising from the horizon. I felt like I was trying to catch the sun from the sky. My plan was to hurt it so much it decides to run away. I was banking upon pain. And for that, I needed to hurt it deep and long.
I picked my target and got on my haunches. I charged I stabbed, it cried.
I struck and stabbed so deep, I tore through the outer membrane of its soft left eye and sunk deeper into the viscous fluids below. I only heard a confused chirp before the darkness swallowed me. A hiss resonated through its whole body and I felt it shift. But my work wasn’t done. Ants don’t have oxygen reserves; so I was basically drowning the moment I entered its eye.
I was swift and stabbed everywhere. It convulsed from pain, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to go deeper, act meaner, and stab harder, but my body was growing cold.
I couldn’t breathe. I was chocking on its eye fluids when the system saved me.
You stupid ant, go outside. You can’t swim!
You have acquired a new skill: Hydrophobic constitution.
[Hydrophobic constitution][Lv-1/10][Tier-1][Resistance]
[Water doesn’t stick to your body.]
[Reward: Your Constitution gains .1 points per level.]
It’s time. You better prepare yourself.
You have collected 50 skills and acquired title skill collector in the process.
[Skill Collector][Title]
[It is just a representation of your achievement. Or is it?]
[Reward: Evolving Greed from tier-0 to tier 1.]
[Calibrating]
I don’t know whether the skill helped or not, but I was somehow able to make my way toward the wound. I was desperate for air.
Eerie red numerical figures rose out of my head with every passing second. I believed I was going to die.
Then somehow the shaking lined me perfectly with the wound and the force pulled me from the eye and flung me out of the nest. I was losing consciousness.
There were confused chirps. The hisser was standing tall above the nest, and shaking its head in pain.
My eye, my eye! It was crying, over and over again.
I worried about what I might find at the bottom of the tree, but the top of the tree worried me too. What was going to happen to the chick? Surprisingly, I wasn’t the only one falling from the nest. She had jumped after me, chirping in worry, fluttering her wings and descending down like a real sky predator. Oh, she almost fell but handled herself. Well, almost like one. Her mother would have been proud, nonetheless.
I lost her behind the branches and the leaves. My blurring sight focused again since I could breathe, but I lost conscious still —not because of anything physical, but because of the surprise that the system held for me.
Calibrations complete.
Good luck completing Greed’s first trial.
