Level up the Colony

"Blend in to stand tall."

"Persist, endure, evolve."

"Seize the moment, life is fleeting."

"Patience is power."

"Strength in numbers, foundation in unity."

"Adapt to survive, thrive in chaos."

"Jump high, feed fast."

"A quiet feast is a lasting one."

"Leap boldly, live freely."

"Defend fiercely, strike swiftly."

"Embrace change, spread beauty."

Before he could process their meanings, another flame extinguished the fourth one.

The hall trembled.

The ground in the center caved slightly before three platforms emerged, each rising higher than the last.

Silence.

Then, glowing runes ignited around the platforms, forming twelve glowing towers.

Seven were still lit with flames, while five remained dark.

Timothy exhaled.

"Now we're doing a ritual?"

Before he could voice his thoughts, everyone stepped back, eyes wide with fear.

A shadow loomed over him.

He barely had time to react before...

THUNK!

A sharp pain pierced his stomach.

Instinct took over.

He swung his knife at the object impaling him, but the blade snapped on impact.

Timothy staggered forward, legs giving out beneath him.

He hit the ground, hyperventilating, hands desperately pressing against the wound to stop the bleeding.

It was useless.

"Healer! Healer!" Matthew's panicked voice rang out.

Noah grabbed his shoulder, holding him back with a warning glare.

Matthew clenched his fists but didn't move.

Miriam, however, ignored them.

She bolted forward, sliding to Timothy's side.

"Don't move," she ordered, hands already glowing with water magic.

Timothy gritted his teeth as cool liquid seeped into his wound.

He could feel her straining, pouring in mana faster than she should.

"Stop wasting your energy," Noah said coldly.

"He's going to end up like the other one."

Timothy shot him a furious glare, but his body was too weak to move.

Miriam didn't listen.

She pressed harder, sweat forming on her brow as she fought to heal him.

Noah stepped in, grabbing her wrist.

"Enough."

She slapped his hand away without hesitation.

Turning back to Timothy, she placed both palms over his wound and continued working.

Miriam kept pushing herself, her face pale as she funneled the last of her mana into Timothy.

The bleeding had slowed, but he had already lost too much blood.

"It's too late for him," Noah said bluntly.

"This place is shrinking, forcing us into a tighter position. We need to regroup."

This time, he pulled Miriam back gently, but firm enough to make it clear.

She barely had the strength to resist, her body drained from mana exhaustion.

As Noah carried her away, her gaze lingered on Timothy.

Meanwhile, Timothy could feel his mind clearing.

He wasn't fading anymore, just exhausted.

He just needed time and rest, his head was spinning though slightly.

Turning his head, he spotted the statue that had stabbed him.

It looked similar to the others, but its limbs were jagged, unlike the mosquito.

The inscription beneath it read:

"Adapt to survive, thrive in chaos."

Yet its flame had already extinguished, even though it wasn't its turn.

So, I wasn't a fit? Timothy thought bitterly.

Forcing himself up, his stomach screamed in pain, fresh blood seeping through his torn jacket.

Gritting his teeth, he bit down on a strip of fabric and used it to reinforce the pressure against his wound.

Being awakened meant his body healed slightly faster than normal humans, but not fast enough.

He couldn't feel mana like higher ranks, but Miriam's healing had left behind a lingering coolness in his veins.

He clung to that, hoping it would be enough.

Once his wound was secured, he sighed and steadied his breathing.

He had almost died.

And he owed Miriam for saving him.

If they got out of this, he wouldn't forget.

Drawing his remaining knife, he studied it in disappointment. Then, forcing himself upright, he stepped away from the statues, wary of another shift.

"Wonderful," a voice called out.

Timothy froze.

Edward said

"You were rejected?" Edward's smirk widened as his eyes locked onto Timothy.

The others turned, their expressions shifting as they realized Timothy was still alive.

Timothy's grip tightened around his knife.

Ignoring them, he staggered forward until he stood a short distance from Edward.

"Tell me what's going on here," he said evenly.

Edward remained silent, then raised a hand.

Cyril's lifeless body and the two dead healers suddenly slid across the ground toward him.

No one had dared retrieve them, fearing it might trigger a trap.

Now, before their eyes, the corpses began to drain.

Blood seeped from their orifices, slowly drawn toward Edward.

The sight sent a wave of nausea through the group.

Timothy's eyes widened, but he forced himself to stay calm.

Edward inhaled deeply, his wounds sealing as the stolen blood replenished him.

Even the shallow cut Cyril had managed to land on his chest faded.

He lowered his head, whispering something inaudible before raising his eyes again.

"I already told them, I want his head," Edward said, pointing at Mr. Dede.

"Then why haven't you taken it?" Timothy challenged.

Edward gestured toward the statue behind him.

"This."

Timothy remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Their eyes locked.

"It's pointless," Edward finally said.

"You've already lost."

"There's still hope," Timothy countered.

"Not anymore."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"You don't have a fate!" Edward suddenly snapped, his voice filled with rage.

Timothy stared at him blankly, caught off guard by the sudden outburst.

Edward exhaled, regaining his composure.

The others had been too far away to hear their conversation, but now they were watching closely, trying to read their lips.

"I'll enlighten you before you die," Edward said with eerie calm.

"This place is a grave, a seal for those whose time was over. Call it luck or misfortune, but the only treasures here…" He ran a hand over the statue behind him.

"Are these."

"They don't seem movable," Timothy noted.

Edward chuckled.

"It's not them that hold value, it's what's inside."

"A cocoon," Timothy realized.

"So… you've already gotten your share?"

"Power beyond human understanding," Edward murmured, his tone reverent.

"You think I'd just get it?"

"So what's the catch?"

Edward's smirk vanished.

Timothy noticed the subtle change and pressed further.

Did I hit a nerve?

"I need to know how to survive this," Timothy said.

"You can't. A selection must be made before the timer runs out. The ritual must be completed."

"And if no one is chosen?"

Edward's gaze darkened.

"Then a candidate will be taken."

"What's the difference?"

"There is none. Either way, people die."

Timothy narrowed his eyes.

"And yet, you seem very much alive."

Edward's smirk returned, but there was something off about it this time.

"There are fates worse than death."

Timothy scoffed.

"I doubt that."

Edward didn't respond.

Silence stretched between them.

Timothy's mind raced.

He's being selective with what he says.

He knows more than he's telling.

Finally, he asked,

"How do you know all this?"

Edward didn't reply.

Instead, his gaze lifted.

And when his eyes met Timothy's again...

They were bloodshot.

"I don't know... I just know... I... I..."

Timothy took a cautious step back as Edward's expression twisted in confusion.

"He's losing it again," Timothy muttered.

Edward's face contorted further before he erupted into laughter.

"You're all dead men! Hahaha! Dead!"

Timothy exhaled, nodding slightly before carefully turning away.

Whatever was happening to Edward wasn't his concern.

He could feel the others' eyes on him as he walked, but he had no energy to explain.

He didn't know why Edward even agreed to humor him but he guessed it was inevitable.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit him, and he looked down, his stomach and clothes were stained red again.

He was still bleeding out.

Ignoring the stares, he made his way toward the massive door at the end of the hall and simply sat down, head lowered, breath shaky.

The statues lined the rest of the space, but this was the only structure untouched by them.

No one followed him.

No one approached Edward either.

Curiosity nagged at them, but fear kept them rooted in place.

Then...

Fwoosh.

Another flame went out.

Then another.

Two flames in the blink of an eye.

The countdown was accelerating.

Timothy let out a weak chuckle.

"I forgot to ask what he meant by I was rejected…"

He wasn't at his best, but he refused to pass out.

He needed to see how this ended.

His head dipped lower, exhaustion tugging at him.

Then...

A sharp sting on the back of his hand.

He blinked, lifting it slightly.

"...An ant?"

A tiny insect had bitten him.

Probably a soldier ant… those are the ones that hurt.

It looked different, though, more rounded than the hourglass shape he vaguely remembered from school.

Another bite.

Then another.

His palm burned with sharp pinpricks.

His body was so numb he must have been bitten countless times before he even noticed.

He watched, fascinated, as the ant's antenna twitched side to side.

His vision blurred.

His head dipped lower.

"Sele… Victory… Divine…" He smiled faintly.

"At least Mom won't be alone with them around."

A commotion stirred in the background, but Timothy barely registered it.

The ant continued its slow crawl over his skin.

Then...

A piercing bite.

Timothy flinched, his grip on his knife loosening.

His body reacted before his mind caught up, slapping at the pain.

His knife tumbled to the floor as he scratched his palm.

His sluggishness lifted slightly.

The ant landed a short distance away, twitching its antenna again.

Timothy narrowed his eyes.

Did it just?

He moved to squash it.

The ant dodged by moving away

His palm slammed against the ground, missing by a fraction.