The isle of Beehive Rock lay perilously close to our own, skimming the jagged peaks of Claw Summit with an arrogance that dwarfed even the towering ramparts of Skyhope Citadel by several thousand feet. It was this audacious proximity, coupled with our fertile lands, that rendered our island a tantalizing morsel for invaders - though the true reason remained shrouded in mystery.
Returning to the guildhall, we found the entire company assembled in the mess hall, joined by numerous other hunter contingents. Clearly, the entire city had been mobilized. What a splendid gathering of formidable and intriguing souls!
"Vita! Penelope!" Bentley's enthusiastic wave greeted me as I approached, eliciting an equally warm response.
The moment I reached him, Bentley sprang to his feet, enveloping me in a bear hug.
"Vita! Nora said Penelope's recovered! You've done it!" he exclaimed.
"Ah - yes! Indeed we have! Now let go of me!"
Releasing me, his grin remained undiminished.
"Vita, have you ever experienced a Beehive Rock night raid before? I've never encountered one - this excitement is intoxicating!"
"Only someone like you would find the prospect of being skewered by parachuting insectoids thrilling, Bentley," Orville remarked with characteristic deadpan.
"Wait, 'parachuting'?" Nora queried, her brow furrowing.
"They don't possess wings," Orville clarified with a shrug. "They simply hurl themselves at us, berserk in their assault. They won't cease their onslaught until they've traversed the entire island, regardless of how many we down. And then there are the boulders - only high-ranking Templars can counter those. Strangely, during their last incursion, scarcely any reached the ground, which might explain their subsequent retreat."
"You've fought them during Beehive Rock raids?" I asked, incredulous.
"Several times," Orville confirmed. "My mentor claimed it was valuable training - though the experience was far from pleasant. I must admit, the constant threat of death does wonders for one's spellcasting speed."
"Is that why you became a hunter?" I inquired.
"In part, yes. One cannot grow stronger without pushing oneself beyond mere training."
"Do you think they'll attack tonight, Orville?" Bentley wondered.
"How would I know, Bentley? I'm no four-armed insectoid suicidaire. We can't fathom their motives - those we've captured simply perish from starvation without uttering a word."
How peculiar, I mused. Perhaps I could capture an insectoid soul and interrogate it - now that would be fascinating!
A sudden jab to my ribs made me yelp in pain.
I - I mean, I certainly don't wish for an invasion! That would be catastrophic!
My eyes involuntarily rolled, betraying my own body's treachery. Damn that meddlesome Controlling Slime!
"Are you alright, Vita?" Orville asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Perfectly fine," I assured him. "Merely... trying to stay alert. I've managed only one full night's sleep in the past, hmm, six or seven days."
And I've exhausted my supply of Soul Snacks! Honestly, this borders on disaster. Perhaps if the incursion were merely minor...
"Oh dear, right. Vita, would you like a nap before nightfall?"
"Yes, perhaps. But I find these insectoids far more intriguing! Can they comprehend our speech?"
"How should I know?" Orville replied.
"Will they attack other islands?"
"I have no idea."
"What's the structure of their hives like?"
"How could I possibly know that?" he asked exasperatedly. "Vita, go rest. We'll wake you at dusk."
"Very well," I acquiesced. "I'm off."
Dragging my heavy limbs up the stairs, I neglected to remove any armor segments, intending to collapse fully clad into slumber.
"Could you watch over me while I sleep?" I whispered to Pinta.
"No," she replied through ventriloquism. "When you sleep, I lose consciousness too. I suspect our dreams are identical."
"How endearing!"
"Personally, I find it rather unsettling."
I collapsed onto the bed, clutching Roscoe tightly. Alas, I can no longer sleep prone - the pressure on my chest pains me, and I haven't even developed breasts yet!
"Are you comfortable, Pinta?" I asked.
"Better than being elsewhere."
"That's hardly an answer."
A silence ensued.
"...I desire a body of my own," she admitted. "I have no intention of possessing some random body, but I must confess, the idea tempts me."
I furrowed my brow. Indeed, she's transitioned from guardian to prisoner, hasn't she?
"There's more to it," she continued, as if reading my thoughts. "I could adapt to this situation, but I worry... Can we truly become friends if I remain tethered to you indefinitely?"
"Of course we can!" I insisted. "We'll devise a method for sharing this body. Knowing someone watches over me provides comfort."
"You say that," my mouth uncontrollably whispered, "but whenever I displease you, you imprison me. Each time, I feel your soul's grasp, Vita - that terror is unparalleled."
"I'm sorry! I'll strive to refrain from seizing your soul. And if you wish for your own body, we'll seek one together! We must merely find someone sufficiently despicable that housing you within wouldn't corrupt you further."
"Yes, that is indeed a conundrum," she murmured indifferently. "You could transform me into... well, you understand."
I blinked.
You mean an obedient, undead servant? I contemplated.
"Precisely," she muttered. "Regardless, I must obey you - we must acknowledge reality - so I'd prefer willing servitude. However..."
We cannot permit rogue spirits to roam freely. True, that's no solution. Let's devise another approach, shall we?
"Thank you, Vita. Apologies for the inconvenience. I know you're striving to save my life. I merely... wish I weren't a Navara."
Rest assured, we'll find a solution. Are you ready for sleep?
"As weary as you, goodnight, Vita."
Goodnight, Pinta.
"Rouse yourself, Vit," Nora commanded. "The Umbral Phase approaches."
I jolted awake, leaping to my feet, seizing my spear and checking my dagger - all was in readiness.
"Any developments?" I asked Nora, who resembled a walking fortress in her full plate armor.
"Not yet," she replied. "The sky remains partially lit, but that island moves swiftly."
How long do Beehive Rock's nocturnal transits typically endure? I recall over five hours - perhaps if uneventful, I could utilize the time to ponder how I recklessly agreed to this Templar-involved mission. Such folly!
But no, we must now concern ourselves with the insectoids. Nora and I stepped outside, where the remainder of our company awaited. A Templar, ever cloaked in his visored helmet, ordered us to man the barricades several blocks distant. Orville perched atop a rooftop, scanning the island's rear - the sky had already vanished from view, replaced by the towering Beehive Rock that consumed more and more of the horizon blocked by our walls. Its trajectory nearly mirrored ours, though it remained shrouded in greater mist and traveled at remarkable speed. Its penumbra - the deepening shadow cast by the higher altitudes before true nightfall - rapidly darkened the sky as it approached, compelling all to vigilance. Our island is expansive, but Beehive Rock is a monolithic spire of processed stone strata, drawing ever nearer. I strained to discern tiny moving specks along its exterior - tireless insectoids, still occupied with their tasks as they neared hostile territory. What precisely engaged their attention, I could only speculate - perhaps they awaited the opportune moment to leap upon us.
As darkness deepened, an unnatural brightness suddenly illuminated the scene. Gigantic searchlights encircling the city flared to life, casting daylight clarity upon Beehive Rock's base - a mere half-mile above our heads. Within moments, it loomed directly overhead, fear sharpening our focus while anticipation stretched each minute into an eternity. When would the assault commence? Would this be the attack? What inscrutable strategy did they harbor?
Just as I began to believe they would spare us again, figures began plummeting earthward - tumbling from near-invisible heights with no semblance of coordinated dive or skillful descent. The four-armed humanoid silhouettes somersaulted chaotically, flailing limbs indiscriminately as commanders' shouts echoed through the city. Ten seconds after the first figure fell, we counterattacked - mages unleashed fiery projectiles and enchanted arrows skyward, rendering archers' secondary fire unnecessary. The twenty or thirty figures descending from above perished before reaching the ground.
Thus ended the aerial assault - no further projectiles descended upon the city. The insectoids were deployed elsewhere in similarly small batches, easily annihilated near Skyhope Citadel. Some fell distant locales - either obliterated by other cities beyond my knowledge or landing in undefended regions we deemed unworthy of pursuit. Any enemy marooned in mountainous wilderness faced greater perils than we did. And so, scattered waves came and went, while we held our breath awaiting the anticipated lethal follow-up attack that never materialized.
"So, they hurled a few individuals at us, concluded 'Hmm, this city's defenses are formidable,' and abandoned their assault?" Nora grumbled. "That was terrifying, yet ultimately uneventful."
"Indeed, I cannot fathom their reasoning," Orville replied. "Perhaps they simply ejected their undesirables."
We chuckled nervously, eyes fixed skyward. Surely this had purpose - yet dawn approached with no further developments.
Around us, yet distant from the city, black orbs poured from apertures in Beehive Rock's base - at each location where our erstwhile comrades had fallen victim to their unopposed sacrifice, these dark entities were deposited. Soon, a spotlight illuminated one such object, revealing... nothing comprehensible. Pure black ovoids, utterly non-reflective. From our vantage, their size remained indeterminate, though each appeared at least waist-high.
"What in the blazes are those?" Nora gasped.
"I haven't a clue," Orville admitted.
I merely gaped in horror, equally mystified - though they stirred memories of souls.
"Eggs," I whispered, startling Penelope with my revelation.
"Eggs?" she echoed, eyes wide.
"Uncertain," I confessed honestly. "But I conjecture eggs - simply eggs."
"Whose eggs?" Bentley inquired.
None among us could answer his query.