Well, that was enlightening.

It’s interesting to hear that the seedfolk have given themselves just two weeks to be done with this reprehensible affair. Even though it’ll only take them around four days to breach the center of my dungeon from their current location. It’s a good thing my core isn’t situated anywhere near there!

I’m glad they aren’t planning a siege, but it makes me wonder if they have good reason to be so confident.

I mean, I’m confident that I can win, so should I be more worried if they are too?

Obviously. Therefore, I should continue to spy on them all the way up until they invade.

Now, though, it’s time to try offering an olive branch.

I’ll cast a wide net; if I establish a mental link with every one of the seedfolk, hopefully, a few won’t block me.

There are roughly six hundred individuals, five hundred of which will definitely be participating in the battle. Among them, are twenty obvious mages. I would not be surprised at all if there were other mages mixed in with the soldiers.

With worrying ease, establishing a communication bridge with every last one takes no time or effort on my part. Offhandedly, I ponder over ways to weaponize that.

Almost instantly, they each cut off the link. Though, just as I hoped, six were inquisitive enough to keep it open!

Panning over to the curious ones, I see that they’re all together.

And they’re all in mage’s garb…

They can’t hurt me over the link, right? I probably should have researched this ability of mine.

As I’m considering backing out, one of the mages, presumably the leader, wordlessly waves down the other ones with open links. At once, they each block me.

Out of six hundred people, just one is willing to talk to me…the leader of the mages. Quite frankly, I’m impressed with the degree of coordination and discipline they’ve shown. Either that or they’ve been brainwashed into thinking the link is dangerous.

Actually, again, who am I to say it isn’t dangerous? I’d expect them to have more knowledge of this world them myself.

“Hello?”

“Greetings. I take it you’re the imposter’s handler?”

“Imposter?”

“Beast den, world-loral, living oasis, melkiphyte, dungeon, deep one, stone-shaper, species-forge, whatever name your people use to describe the entity you control.”

“Ah, yes, that’d be me. My name is Ike! May I know yours?”

“I am Cephuse. Why are we speaking?”

“Actually, I have a similar question. More specifically, why am I speaking with you in particular, and not someone else? Are you the leader of this group?”

“The best way to avoid falling for a trick is to avoid hearing its utterance. Everyone has been instructed to prevent all mental communication. And no, I am not the leader here.”

“Then why are you speaking with me if everyone else isn’t?”

Rudely ignoring my question, Cephuse coldly said, “I ask again, why are we speaking?”

“Right-o, I wish to resolve this conflict peacefully. What is your purpose here, and could I perhaps fulfill it willingly?”

Frowning in unconcealed anger, unjustified as it is, he replied, “Unless you have another imposter’s heart to give us, or are willing to give up your own, we will take yours. There are no other means of compromise.”

“Ok, I get that, truly I do, but what if I was to, say, present overwhelming odds against your success by either a show of force or fleeing far away with the ‘imposter’s heart’ in my possession? Would you negotiate then?”

“I see right through your bluff; any imposter would kill its handler if they ever decided to move it. Furthermore, we fight for the Seed, how could our army falter?”

“Who is this ‘Seed,’ anyway?”

“No.”

Sheesh, this is perhaps the first unreasonable person I’ve encountered in this life. I haven’t really stopped to appreciate how fortunate I’ve been up until now.

“Alright, so, what if I destroyed the heart?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?! Why would you risk your life to defend a core that you’d be willing to destroy to preserve your life? Do you not see the logical paradox? This is irrational!”

No, I suppose he isn’t stupid. Just arrogant. Though I think I’ve found his button, hehehe.

“I don’t know though; wouldn’t only a stupid person be unwilling to negotiate…? Am I wrong?”

“Bah! Look, we can’t negotiate. We simply can’t, nothing short of an imposter’s heart will halt our advance. I’m not a bad guy, yeah? I’m just doing what I must. It’d be best if we don’t talk at all.”

“Can you at least tell me who the leader of this army is?”

“No, I won’t. I’m not talking to you.”

“I’m of the belief that honest, frank discussion can solve all problems if both parties are willing to respectfully converse. Come on…”

“Well that’s too bad, both parties are not willing. Only recontact me if you are prepared to deliver what we’re here for; an imposter’s heart.”

And with that, I am alone again.

I cannot put into words how frustrating this is!

As much as I hate to say it, they’re giving me no choice but to fight.

And that’s all I needed to know before starting my attack. Luckily, I’ve prepared a few surprises.

They do have a lot of nice toys; it’d be a shame if someone was to…break them.

--------------------

Mellie was furious!

The past six days had been fraught with setback after setback. Ever since their first bore redirect, they’d been faced with dozens of annoyances.

As the path of their bore progressed, they’d inadvertently opened up numerous Resonance invisible tunnels which were much too narrow for one of the seedfolk to crawl through. Unfortunately, they often harbored assailants who weren’t nearly as hindered.

Beetles with archer pods strapped to their backs spilled out of the holes, assaulting any laborers in the vicinity. These pods were of a variety completely new to them; their stings weren’t painful or deadly like the ones they were familiar with. Instead, they paralyzed a large bodily region around the sting, somehow without causing respiratory or heart failure.

To make matters worse, their antivenoms were of no use. Mellie feared it was incurable; so far none of the victims had recovered. Thirty-three laborers had fallen ill.

To the confusion of everyone, including their mages and beastmasters, the beetle-riding archer pod variants were often already deployed in the tunnels as they were breached, almost as if they were lying in ambush.

After that, chaos had taken hold in their encampment. Through a clearly artificial process, large boulders had been carved from the ceiling and dropped whenever an area wasn’t adequately covered by a mage’s aura.

Unbelievably, no one had been hurt from that, but it’d still damaged a large portion of their war equipment, excavation supplies, and killed penned pack animals. Though strangely enough, no pestle worms had been targeted.

Thankfully, those attacks had stopped ever since Cephuse had designated adjusted stations and shifts for his mages.

They’d also had to struggle with hydrokinetic sabotage. Eight times now, they’d had to deal with their water supply getting blocked. Without a means to produce slurry, they had to divert laborers to reopening the waterways.

But that wasn’t the worst of the water tampering. No, they’d also had to deal with unexpected flash floods in their main encampment. Despite Melk’s quick recoveries, they’d still experienced several injuries and lost yet more valuable supplies; namely perishable foods.

Everyone was drained from the hardships, even those not directly involved with the labor.

But perhaps the worst to happen was the disappearance of several squads of scouts.

No one knew what’d happened to them as none had returned. The groups that did return observed nothing out of the ordinary.

To this, they’d lost twenty people. Sixteen Feeders, three Impellers, and one mage.

Mellie dearly hoped they’d arrive before the day’s end. They simply couldn’t absorb these losses any longer without reinforcements, and she knew there were none…

--------------------

Jangin was in a bad way. He’d been stationed by the lumbering pestle worm, which itself wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the trials they’d been put through in this blasted hole.

Nominally, it was a dirty job and nothing more. The wet slurry was constantly being flung about by the careless gesticulations of the rakers. Though he could hardly blame them for their negligence; theirs was probably the hardest job in the encampment right now.

Jangin’s job was to protect the technicians at work and the aura-casting mage on guard from the threats they’d been awakening on their journey of tedious excavation. At times, infested crawlspaces would get uncovered and he’d be forced to defend his charges.

The fact that his job was even necessary spoke volumes of how awful their circumstances were. A merely dirty job had transformed into one of great peril.

It was chaotic. Due to the uncertain nature of the threat, Jangin, along with his fellow defenders, had been unable to organize proper formations.

According to the Probers, they were almost there.

But they’d been saying that for the past two days.

Besides the unnatural pod-carrying beetles, they’d also had to deal with tarantula-sized ants lately. The ants were just a nuisance by themselves, but a real threat when working alongside the beetles.

Their degree of coordination was uncanny; the giant ants would swarm over a person and do their best to immobilize them. Only then, would the beetles clamor in to unleash their venomous payloads.

Moreover, the seedfolk back at the encampment had apparently been raided by a flock of griffinflies for the first time just two hours ago. The griffinflies’ behavior was so unlike what the seedfolk were used to that their intellectuals had concluded that they’d been artificially stimulated.

Whilst thinking, a lone giant ant scurried up Jangin’s mud-caked leg. The foul bugs weren’t immediately dangerous by themselves, but their size made them fast runners and they could easily lacerate a careless person’s flesh with their powerful cutting mandibles.

Infection was a very real threat.

His flailing effort to kick it off his leg was a failure; their grip was simply too strong. A quick punch was enough to dislodge and maim the bug, which allowed him to finish it off under the iron heel of his boot.

One had to be careful, many seedfolk had received nasty cuts on their fists due to making unlucky connections with sharp and solid outstretched mandibles.

As weapons were largely useless against such small enemies, they were generally dealt with by hand. His peers had quickly learned to only strike the giant ants from behind their broad heads in order to avoid cutting themselves, but against all expectations, they had adapted to counter the seedfolk’s methods.

Now, any giant ant caught alone on someone’s body would start waving its head back and forth aimlessly. The only sure way to deal with this was to either time your hit perfectly, or use a tool like a strip of leather, stick, or gauntlet.

Jangin didn’t think this was normal; most bugs, even large ones, were rarely smart enough to change their behaviors so drastically in response to external conditions. But it’d been reported, so he just carried on.

One of the Probers called out, “Stop the worm! There’s a huge chamber dead ahead, this could be it!”

Things would only get worse for Jangin, of that, he was sure.