Point of View: Rangar
It has been a day since the meeting with the Guardian.
I have calmed down somewhat.
But the anger remains.
That is why I left Ursaia.
I needed silence.
I needed to be alone.
The vast snowfields of Rasganorte stretched endlessly beneath the pale sky. I walked without direction, the frozen wind brushing against my fur and hurling white crystals against my face like tiny needles.
The cold did not bother me.
It reminded me of who I am.
I walked for hours before finding a cave carved into the mountainside. I decided to remain there for the night.
Solitude.
That was what I required.
I sat at the entrance, watching the snow fall slowly beneath the pale moonlight.
It reminded me of the day I ascended.
If not for that fruit inside a cave much like this one…
I would have died.
Rasganorte has never been kind to the weak.
I learned that lesson too well.
I closed my eyes.
"Back then, I only wanted to survive."
Images of my tribe surfaced in my mind—hunger, battles over frozen carcasses, disputes over territory, the constant fear of dying beneath the claws of something stronger.
"Ascension changed me…"
Power brought clarity.
Intelligence allowed me to dominate.
First my tribe.
Then neighboring tribes.
Eventually all of Rasganorte.
But a single truth pressed against my thoughts, and I accepted it without mercy.
"No… I was always like this. Power merely allowed me to prove it."
I rule because I am the strongest.
Nothing more.
Before meeting the Guardian, I felt pride.
I founded Ursaia.
I conquered Rasganorte.
I invaded another world.
But now…
"The Guardian pities me."
At first, I thought he was mocking me.
Now I understand.
He provoked me.
He wanted to see my reaction.
To measure my rage.
To evaluate me.
My teeth ground together until they creaked.
"To learn that I will die… that my achievements will be taken by someone of my own race…"
The wind whistled at the cave entrance.
If someone stronger than me appears…
They will kill me.
They will take my throne.
They will take my legacy.
And I understand.
I would do the same.
That is how the world functions.
But understanding something does not mean accepting it.
"I refuse to accept it!"
My voice echoed through the cavern.
I founded Ursaia.
I conquered Rasganorte.
I crossed between worlds.
And I will lose everything in two hundred years?
No.
What angers me most…
Is that being in the tower.
His contempt.
His gaze.
His indifference.
I still remember the moment he killed me.
Without effort.
Without emotion.
As if I were nothing more than dust.
I dream of it every night.
The instant my consciousness faded beneath his power.
I closed my eyes and drew a slow breath.
My anger ceased to be chaos.
It became direction.
"I will accept your proposal, Guardian…"
Ursaia no longer matters.
Rasganorte no longer interests me.
These achievements that once filled me with pride…
Are now steps.
Tools.
Nothing more.
My objective is clear.
I will kill that crystal being.
That will be my purpose.
If I must break my limits, I will.
If I must risk my life, I will.
As I watched the snow descend in silence, I murmured,
"I will prove you wrong."
And if I die trying…
Then you were right.
Then I am inferior.
The System says it does not exist.
"I don't care!"
The words left my mouth heavy with hatred and obsession.
"I will kill it!"
Eventually, exhaustion overcame me.
And I slept.
Point of View: Xyra
Before, every day was the same.
Hunger.
Escape.
Survival.
Larger predators.
Faster predators.
Always at the edge of extinction.
Now…
Through the eyes of my children, I observed my nest.
The vast underground chamber pulsed with constant activity. Hundreds of bodies moved in perfect synchronization. Resources were stored. Tunnels were reinforced and guarded.
"Now, I am the predator."
Food is abundant.
Soldiers are plentiful.
Territory is secured.
This is my achievement.
I shifted my awareness toward the innermost chamber.
The eggs.
Dozens rested upon a soft organic surface.
I remembered the Guardian's words.
"You will have to die."
Correct.
My species allows only one queen.
As long as I live, no other will be born.
If I am weak…
The swarm will be weak.
Exuvia taught me the fate of the weak.
Extinction.
"It is logical."
To die so that a superior queen may emerge.
Efficient.
Optimal.
Beneficial for the swarm.
To resist would be inefficient.
A more talented queen would ensure greater survival.
But…
"I do not like it."
I do not want to die.
Not after everything I have achieved.
I approached one of the eggs.
Carefully, I lifted it between my mandibles.
I felt the faint pulse within.
Life.
Potential.
"If I die, one of you will become my successor."
I examined its translucent surface.
"Why should I surrender the fruit of my labor?"
The swarm is mine.
My creation.
My dominion.
My mandibles closed.
The shell cracked.
The sound was sharp.
Warm fluid spilled onto the ground.
The pulse stopped.
Silence.
There was no remorse.
Only decision.
I expanded my consciousness once more throughout the nest.
This is what I built.
Wasteful?
Inefficient?
No.
"You will help me ascend, even if it does not benefit you."
I will accept the proposal.
Only one queen may exist.
Me.