Burp!
Huh, I just ate my own kind, and I want a second helping. Maybe a third if I have enough room for dessert. Well, that's just fantastic. Even the food I'd had at famous restaurants didn't taste so amazing. A shiver suddenly ran through me, or my host. Honestly, it's kind of hard to tell. Once upon a time I used to freak out when my phone's battery dropped below 10%. Now I'm getting envious of how nice the beetle's antennae in front of me are. Oh, that's not good. I'm starting to think of my host as myself…
Well, I guess it is, right? I mean, I'm the one in control.
However, yep, he's still conscious. I didn't notice before because I was so hungry and everything was so new. I didn't really have time to think. But now that I'm paying attention, his surface thoughts are being read by my tendrils. That's how I know who this guy is.
I look at the beetle marching down the tunnel next to me. He just so happens to be staring at me too. However, it's unnerving that I can 'taste' suspicion in his gaze.
Anyway, according to my host's thoughts, this guy is little seventeen. Yeah, it took a lot of focus to sort through these messy memories that kept popping into my head. As far as I can tell, every beetle has a number instead of a name. What number they get depends on who hatched when in the clutch. Obviously, the sooner you hatched the stronger you were.
Well, at least my host isn't the runt.
Still, that means there are still three beetles stronger than mine in this group.
But, I did get a nice piece of information that cleared up something about my stats. It seems that a Gnawling is the human equivalent of a peasant in the ranks of the monsters.
Great.
Not only am I a worm, but a literal damned monster. If that wasn't bad enough, I'm literally on the lowest rung of monster society while I'm at it. My antennae droop in a beetle's version of a frown.
Oops, better stop wearing my heart on my sleeve. I 'smile' at my brethren using my antennae and reel in my emotions. That is another drawback to this host. My pissed off attitude spilled over to the pheromones my host gave off. Which let the others instinctively know I was raging inside.
With my status as Old Four in our clutch, it made them afraid they were the reason for it. Which means they were scared I was going to kill them. Survival of the fittest and all that.
Yeah, so strength is everything in monster society. Strength is to be respected. No matter what. Well, I guess that means I should treat this host like a used car. Trade in the old model for a newer, better one.
The problem is, where will I find a better host?
I guess I can worry about that later. Right now our clutch is marching to the frontlines to receive our orders from Spawnwright Klitch. Oh, Spawnwright is basically the same as a Baron from old Earth nobility. Well, it's as similar as it can be.
Damn, it's so loud.
The march of all seven hundred of us echoes in the tunnel making it hard to focus. Well, since this journey should take a while, maybe I'll place my puppet on autopilot. I issue the command to follow the clutch through my tendrils and stop actively controlling my host.
After a few minutes I feel reassured that Old Four is following my order without my active intervention. I'm pleasantly surprised by that. I hadn't actually thought it would work, but it was like my instincts told me it would.
Right. Now that I don't have to waste brainpower on driving, maybe I can take a look at my stats. It feels like another instinctual thing is telling me something has changed. God only knows if I'll ever get used to this. Stats.
Well, there's the things I saw earlier, but I can 'feel' other tabs now. Hmm, let's see. So, there's a Host tab, and a… Are those skill trees?
I can't help but eagerly open the Transmission Skills tab.
Huh. Well, that's not what I expected at all. The skills don't progress in a linear manner. Damn. This isn't one of those simple level-up systems. It's a damn honeycomb-shaped web that branches out in every direction. Right in the middle of it is a passive skill that's lit up like a light bulb.
(Transmission) Invertebrates
Description: You are capable of infecting any type of minibeast.
Well, there goes my hopes to gain a human host anytime soon. Sigh. Attached to that skill's left side is my active Transmission skill: Burrow. Now this is where things get a bit complicated.
Attached to the central skill's bottom side is a greyed out skill called Cross-Species. I'm pretty sure I'll need to go that route if I want a human body. But, this system isn't willing to share the skill's description since I don't own it yet. Still, it seems like a safe bet.
There are other greyed out skills connected to the ones I own, but everything else is covered in a fog-of-war that you get while playing strategy games. That's so obnoxious! There's literally no way for me to plan out an end goal!
Not only that, but these skills require something called Evolution Points to unlock. Nice. But how about you tell me how to earn them, huh? Seriously, who turned off the tutorial mode for this crappy life?
Damn it! Little Seventeen is staring at me again. There's that strange taste of suspicion again. Please, don't realise there's something wrong with my host. I swear, if there are skills out there that make it harder to detect me, I'm definitely going to scoop them up.
No way am I going to let my chance of getting a comfortable human body back disappear. It's definitely up there in my priority list, right along with killing that shitty Goddess.
I push myself to suck it up for now. Hopefully I can get my host's pheromones to stop releasing whatever is making this nosey guy stare at me.
"Old Four," Seventeen clicks at me. "I don't know what's going on with you today, but get a grip. You're affecting the troops. You need to calm down. We'll be meeting the Spawnwright in a minute or two."
Huh? Now that I'm paying attention I notice we've already left the tunnels. When did that happen?
Ugh, the stench is overwhelming. There's swampland everywhere with towering dark tees. They sort of look like mangroves, but the leaves are a lot darker. The whole place is gloomier than hell. Barely any sunlight is managing to break through the canopy overhead.
As I take in the sights, I finally get a sense of my size. Judging by my surroundings, this host of mine is roughly the size of a puppy. Thank god there were no bugs this size back on Earth. I can't even imagine the amount of screaming there would have been on a daily basis.
Damn, it's hot and muggy. I swear I can feel my ass sweating. Maybe I'll evolve into a swamp?
Our clutch circles around a knot of twisted roots and I can't help but gasp. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of strange insects and bugs much larger and stranger than their Earth counterparts fill a clearing.
At the centre of it all is a monstrous ant the size of a car. All the clicking and other noises are saying one thing.
"For the Glory of Spawnwright Klitch!"
Damn!
That thing is a monster noble? If that's a Baron… What kind of monster is the King? Or the other nobles for that matter?
The monstrosity waves at the gathered crowd for silence as it seems to notice our arrival with its giant compound eyes.
"Thank you, my Gnawlings! I'm pleased to see so many of you answer my call!" Klitch clicks as loudly as a megaphone. "Now, to business. As many of you already know, the hated humans have invaded my territory!"
"They came with fire and axes. The invaders are destroying our homes and clearing the area to build their nests. Well, I won't stand for it! These ugly creatures must be purged!"
I swallow a chuckle when I hear that. Eh, who do you think you're calling ugly?
Oops. Seventeen must have caught a taste of my mockery cause he's staring at me again. Shit. Did the big guy himself just look in my direction? Nope, don't give yourself away. Take this seriously goddamn it!
"Old Four," Little Seventeen grimaces. "What do you find so funny? Why would you be so disrespectful toward one of our own who climbed to his rank on his own strength?"
One of our own? Oh. Wait, aren't I one of these ugly bugs now? Maybe I really shouldn't be so quick to laugh at them.
Klitch continues his speech but I've already zoned out. If I listen to any more of it I may just really give myself away. Instead, I take a few minutes to study the strange species around me. Yeah, this is definitely an impressive army.
Spawnwright Klitch is amazing to bring so many of us together. Maybe he'll notice me if I achieve something of note in the upcoming battle.
Stop!
What the fuck am I thinking? Where the hell did that come from?
It takes a few seconds, but I find the source. The pride, ambition, and servitude infecting me are coming through my tendrils!
Oh, hell no!
I put all my effort into resisting this mindless drone mentally leaking into me through my host. I grimace as I fight against the splitting headache the effort causes. Phew. That was too close! I won't be a slave to anyone! I said no to a Goddess, so you can bet your ass I won't kneel to whatever this is. Don't underestimate me!
That was exhausting. I pant and groan in the safety of my host's skull.
"Isn't this exciting, Old Four?" Little Seventeen clicks with joy. "This is the perfect chance to thin out those disgustingly weak members of our clutch! They should just lay down and die for our Lord like good little drones! They're not like us. They have no hope of climbing higher in this world!"
If I were still human, I would be swallowing the lump in my throat right now. What's wrong with this guy? He's seriously hoping his 'family' gets hurt? Just to prove he's strong enough to get a promotion?
"Seventeen! Hey, straighten up! Here comes Fangborn He'nex!"
Fangborn? Oh, one of Spawnwright Klitch's Knights.
"Maybe we'll catch our great-grandfather's attention!"
Huh? Wait! Great-grandfather? If this guy's my great-grandfather, then I don't want to meet granny. I hope I don't get my looks from this side of the family.