You chose the wrong day to come back down here. The solder said. He was behaving differently. Yeah, he was not being arrogant, and the change was off-putting. His seriousness was making me feel bad for the scar I had given him. Come back when we do. We’ll have our rematch then; and I’ll have you taste the mucky taste of defeat.

Spoken like a true soldier. The aged warrior chided. Are you going somewhere with your broken antennae? Was being almost killed at the hands of a worker not embarrassing enough? Want to really die this time?

The soldier was taken back at first then almost retaliated in anger but shriveled away when the guards beside her moved and decided to let his scent do the talking. I won’t be dying you old hag. I can’t stay behind when everyone else is going to the war! He put everything in his scents, but they weren’t strong enough to have the effect he tried to produce. His control was great, but a weak output. 6436 has only three legs and no one’s stopping her. He complained. I know you would be going too if you weren’t so old.

Stupid brat, shut up before I uproot you other antennae, too. The aged warrior harassed. You made the mess, now you clean it. Don’t forget your own words, smelly brat. You will be teaching this one to control his antennae.

But when will I have time to learn anything then?

You lost to a cripple. She poked at his still green wound. Learning my blasted bottom —Teach him, and you might finally learn a thing or two, useless brat.

I don’t want to. The soldier said and shriveled to the ground in pain when she twisted his only antenna. He released a pheromone so sharp even I felt his pain.

Want me to rip it off, huh?

He conceded. Alright, alright, I give, I give. So when do I start?

Like I’ll let a useless fool like you take care of someone. She pushed him away. Go run away and do something productive. I wait the day you heal and go die on a foreign battlefield.

When the soldier ran he was confused and dazed as a willow brush with no idea where it was flowing. I shared his sentiment and prayed for my sanity. Could I run away, too? Maybe she heard me because she wrapped an antenna around my chest.

Compared to Princess Tinbuji, whom I considered an unstoppable gust of wind, the aged warrior was a storm with no end in sight.

Don’t call me aged warrior again. A shiver snaked down my back. Call me… heck; I’ve even forgotten my number. Aged warrior is fine, I guess. It makes me sound wizened. Well, it’s better than what that parasitic leech calls me. So are you ready? She said and before I could answer I was on the ground, pain shooting through my head and the ground swimming in front of me.

What was that? Had someone attacked? Were we under attack!

No such thing.

You are clearly not ready. She commented as if anyone could be ready for that! If premonition worked on things like this it would have colored my sight purple with its warnings by the time I had hit the floor.

I got up, felt it happening again, and rolled backward; dodging whatever it was that was aiming for my head. I haphazardly looked around, half expecting to see the soldier being responsible, but he was nowhere to be found and the others were not free to harass me. There were a few dallying around and they were pretty amused at my situation — just not the kind of amused you’d find in a perpetrator.

Come. She said, seriously, menacingly. Did she want to fight? I hoped she wouldn’t drop dead from being overworked.

Stop wasting time! Come. I don’t have all night. I have to prepare others, too.

I half-assed my effort and kissed the ground for it. However, the pain showed me my place. She tried to harass me, but she didn’t have to. I got up serious as a weed shoot. She meant business. The voice laughed in my head. I shut it out, too.

The world slipped away from me. My focus grew. I was a diligent worker, never lazed around unnecessarily. Concentration had never been a problem for me. I could dig for hours and hours at a time without resting. But that was when I was a worker-driven by a dream; this was a different me. Thoughts passed by my mind before I snubbed them. My pores opened and the cold air I sucked in cleared my mind.

With senses focused and mind active I charged at the warrior. Not the kind of charge that required physical effort, but the one that had garnered her attention in the first place. The skill had let me kill the termites and almost send the soldier to the other side of the yellow river; I was confident it would produce a result.

I was confident, not inconsiderate. Killing her wasn’t the plan. The past few times I had been done drunk on anger or emotions. The skill was a dangerous tool, but a tool nonetheless. It was nothing without my intention.

There was nothing to worry about. She even had to be carried everywhere, there was no need to be too intimidated by her. I planned to shrink the distance between us with the skill, and somehow harmlessly disable her. Nothing would go wrong.

You have selected an opponent. Would you like to activate the skill: Charge?

The aged warrior scented annoyance and I agreed to the magical phenomenon. The magical thing lifted my body from the ground and pulled me toward the target, the aged warrior. The process both scared and awed me. I sensed her astonishment. It was an enthralling experience, an expression of untamed power. The closer I drew to her, the stronger grew my sentiments. But something struck my head and I was rolling on the ground this time, charge broken and head pulsating with pain.

A bright red number floated out of my body and disappeared above my head as I shook away the daze —not a bright idea for someone with a head injury. The surroundings didn’t make sense to me for a whole minute.

All that drama for such a weak performance, She cursed. We are fighting, not dancing. Come again.

That was not just a strike, but a slap to my confidence. I was sure of touching her. I had even considered how to not hurt her, but what was this result? Why was I on the ground again? I raised my head and found the warrior still sitting at her position; she hadn’t moved one head away.

You better get up before I grow any older. You’ll be calling me dazed warrior soon otherwise.

She was so—so mean, and humiliating and frank. I hadn’t met her to be treated that way. I would have stayed a worker and let the others shun me, call me a freak, make me an outcast if I wanted to be treated like that. I wanted to be respected. Yes, that’s what I wanted. This—this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

Oh, my shedding skin, he’s worse than her. At least she didn’t leak out her thoughts. Now, I can’t even test if he complains against humiliation or not. It’s a shame. Listen to me! She blasted my senses with a scent cloud. You either listen or I’m going to break your antennae.

Her words were harsh enough to gain my attention, focus, and eagerness… all of them actually.

Now, look here: You are no guard. She continued irrespective of my reaction. Whatever the kid has told or made you, you are too weak to guard anyone. You are a disabled worker who should be leaving for the war with the others and die there. What the hell was she saying? Can you really not understand me? Am I saying anything wrong? Do you believe you can save your Tiny princess from the world? Don’t rub your ego kid, grow up. You can’t even save yourself; saving her is out of your hands.

I retaliated. You are wrong. I scented.

Am I wrong? You think so? Don’t make me laugh. My body is too weak to laugh; I’ll get diarrhea!

I got up, positioned myself, and told her to get ready.

She had crossed the line. I took a step back and looked around, sensed, took inspiration from the soldier she called a brat and vibrated my antennae at double the frequency than usual. I took it to 15000 strokes per sec and tolerated the sharp pain that arose with it. The scents rushed into me. I ignored them, and put my focus onto her. I’ll show you. The chant played in my head over and over again.

Anger flared, but I suppressed it. It was no time to get angry. I didn’t want to become a murdering whirlwind. I slowly approached her. I was wrong with hurrying when she wasn’t going anywhere.

Would you like to examine your target? A voice asked. I agreed subconsciously.

I sensed it --them.

Her antennae glowed in a red-orange hue. She pulled them to the back of her head, leaving a glowing clone behind, before whipping them at me. The clubbed ends tore at the air as they carved a glowing path toward my head with pinpoint accuracy.

I—I don’t know how I did it, but I timely ducked my head and her antennae harmlessly passed over my boy, leading a shiver down my back. I instantly exploded with joy and she released amusement, but I heard the swish again and was smacked to the ground, right at her feet. She hunched over my head, closed her mandibles around my neck, and happily announced: you are dead.

*