The Mantid Bazaar closest to Tavern Emparatoria stretched out before Dahlia in an endless, sun-baked sprawl. Every direction was a mess of shouting merchants, jangling wares, and the sharp tang of spices and insect blood in the air. Heat prickled at her skin as she dragged her Amalgamated Hammer across the ground like a hunk of scrap—it was quite the unwieldy weapon that forced people to walk around her with care, but surprisingly, it wasn’t strange-looking a weapon that many people stopped to stare at it.
They probably just assumed it was some flavour of Swarmsteel they’d never seen before, the same way Dahlia couldn’t recognise or even guess the functions of most Swarmsteel being sold in the bazaar.
Three days. It’d been three days since she’d resigned herself to waiting for those Mutant-Class beetle parts to arrive from the Sun, and what had she done in all that time? figuring out what her Amalgamated Hammer was, that was for sure. She’d spent the last few days feeding it random scrap in Tavern Emparatoria’s warehouse, poking at its edges, trying to coax Kari into giving her satisfying answers.
But nothing. No good response, no valuable insight—just the same silent mystery.
[Adaptable {Amalgamation} Hammer (Grade: E-Rank)(Str: +2/5)(Aura: +30/80)]
Kari teased, hopping on the back of the hammerhead as she glanced around it, giving it a scowl.
Kari shrugged.
Dahlia grumbled as Alice trotted alongside her in the bazaar, skipping just ahead. "Do you smell that?" Alice asked. “That’s roasted beetle thorax. Wanna try some?”
“I’m good,” Dahlia mumbled. Her stomach churned just thinking about it.
“What about this one?” Alice chirped, pointing to a jar of what looked like glowing moth larvae. Dahlia shuddered and ignored her. They continued weaving between crowded stalls selling gleaming beetle shells, spiny mantis claws, and all sorts of scrap insect parts. Some were polished to a shine; others still dripped pungent blood, awaiting cleanup.
The Mantid Bazaar was certainly overwhelming, and the sprawl of it all left Dahlia feeling like a fly caught in a web, but it wasn’t like she Alice to come out in the middle of the day to play tour guide for her. She knew how to navigate the bazaar. She’d been haggling and negotiating with merchants long before she even reached the surface, but Alice had simply been adamant about following her out. Most likely, she was just bored working in Tavern Emparatoria, but Dahlia didn’t feel like entertaining her while scanning the stalls for anything in particular that caught her eye.
In response, Alice’s lips turned downward in a way that made her look comically deflated. But she didn’t argue. She didn’t beg for Dahlia’s attention. Instead, she sulked and bounced a bit further ahead, darting toward a stall laden with glass jars of preserved mandibles and twitching antennae.
Dahlia let her go, focusing harder on the vendors around instead.
They were merchants adorned in insect-inspired attire—exoskeletal-patterned armor, carapace-lined capes, and headdresses bristling with antennae. But most of them weren’t Swarmsteel. Some wore Swarmsteel on their bodies: chitinous claws, glasses made of compound eyes that glimmered in the light, and even a few winged cloaks that reminded her of Emilia’s glassy cicada wings. Most stalls, at least, brimmed with strange wares: severed legs of mantids, venom sacs in fluid-filled vials, and powdered beetle shells. She bartered like a veteran, her words sharp and clipped as she sliced through inflated prices until the merchants begrudgingly handed over her scrap insect parts.
Her mind buzzed with possibilities as she stuffed her haul into the satchel over her back. Excluding the hammer, she already had her firefly bracers, dragonfly goggles, locust greaves, and her antlion cloak. Should she really be shopping for insect parts for more Swarmsteel instead of shopping for meat for more points?
The thought lingered. Maybe she craft Swarmsteel for the other participants. She knew most of their classes: Emilia was cicada, Muyang and Otto were beetles, Wisnu was ant, and Blaire… mosquito? She’d never told, and Dahlia had never asked. None of them had.
She shrugged. Then her gaze wandered to Alice in front, who was staring off into the distance, her crimson eyes fixed on the towering silhouette of one of the upside-down spider legs that encased the city like the ribs of a buried beast. Dahlia still couldn’t quite get used to the fact that the entire city was built atop the carcass of a giant Spider God, but Alice shouldn’t have any problems with that. She used to live here, after all.
“What’s wrong?” Dahlia asked, lugging her hammer forward with a heavy groan.
But Alice didn’t answer. The Arcana Hasharana muttered something under her breath—an apology, maybe—and then she took off, darting between the stalls and disappearing into the crowd with a puff of wind.
It wasn’t exactly the first time Alice had bailed on her without a word, so for her part, Dahlia wasn’t too concerned. What the Arcana Hasharana got up to in her own time was her own business.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“This isn’t worth much,” a man snapped to her side.
“Then don’t buy it,” another person snapped back, and the sharpness in the voice tickled Dahlia’s ears.
As the first man grumbled and handed over a small pouch of coins to the second person, she whirled and quickly scanned the stalls, trying to locate the two men—and her attention snagged on a nearby stall where a dragonfly-eyed merchant was haggling with a blond-haired boy.
She blinked when she recognised the rifle slung over his shoulders, and the boy must’ve noticed her staring, too, because he immediately glanced over with a silver monocle over his right eye.
They locked eyes across the sandy stretch of bazaar, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Then they pointed at each other, mouthing ‘ah’ at the same time.
The ‘Sada Anakhil’ Oasis Garden was a rather surreal place in this desert city in the middle of nowhere. Palm trees stretched skyward, fronds rattling softly in the dry breeze. A small oasis gleamed in the sunlight, and the water shimmered like molten glass, reflecting a decorative stone bridge arcing over its surface. Desert flowers were also scattered in lush clusters all around—orange, yellow, and deep violet blooms spilling over the sandy paths. No dahlias, though. Dahlia would’ve loved to see dahlias somewhere around here.
Nevertheless, Dahlia sat on a wooden bench near the water, her knees drawn close to her chest, while Otto sat awkwardly beside her. A small crowd had gathered nearby to their right, cheering and clapping around a band playing some jaunty tune with stringed instruments and light percussion. The music was pleasant enough, but Dahlia wasn’t really paying attention. Her focus was solely on the tiny metal components spread out on the bench between them, her fingers moving with precision as she helped Otto craft his ‘bullets’.
Otto’s expression was one of casual concentration. He leaned forward slightly, handing her each piece of the tiny insect parts as Kari guided her in her head.
Kari instructed.
Dahlia pursed her lips, her fingers steady as she adjusted the tiny pouch of explosive powder before carefully seating the ‘slug’. The work required a delicate touch, but there was something soothing about filling the empty bullet shells with metallic-scented powder.
she murmured in her head,
Kari replied flatly,
Kari said dryly.
Dahlia muttered under her breath, adjusting the pouch of powder carefully. Her hands may be steady, but she must be sweating bricks or something, because Otto leaned in slightly as he watched her work.
“You’re getting the hang of it real quick,” he said, his tone casual but earnest.
“Thanks.” Dahlia didn’t look up, pretending she wasn’t affected by the small compliment. Her focus narrowed on locking the bullet shut, her thumb pressing firmly against the metal plate until she felt it into position. It felt satisfying, like finishing a puzzle piece. “Is this… right? The powder won’t leak if I lock the bullet like this?”
Otto picked up the bullet she’d just finished and turned it over in his gloved fingers, inspecting it closely. “Yep,” he said after a beat. “Perfect. Better than my first attempts.”
Dahlia blinked at him. “Really?”
He smiled faintly, his fingers brushing against the cracked glass of his monocle. “Oh, yeah. I once blew up an entire workbench because I packed the powder wrong.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He glanced sideways at her, “It’s why I don’t have eyebrows in my general school graduation photo.”
That made her laugh—a small, quiet sound that she quickly stifled. “Well, at least you’ve improved since then,” she said, accepting his last pouch of explosive powder with both hands. “Now I just repeat what I did with the rest of these hollow bullets?”
He nodded, his movements methodical as he worked. For a moment, the two of them fell into a companionable silence, broken only by the distant strumming of the band playing nearby. The music drifted over the oasis garden, mingling with the sound of rustling leaves and soft conversations from the small crowd gathered around them.
She was content with the silence.
She was comfortable in it.
“... You’re better at this than I thought you’d be,” Otto said, breaking the quiet.
“Thanks,” Dahlia said dryly again, only half-paying attention to him.
“I meant it,” he said quickly. “Most people wouldn’t have the patience for this.”
Dahlia shrugged, and she had to pretend her cheeks weren’t warming again under the praise. “I’m just following instructions,” she said. Kari started grumbling inside her head, so she praised it as well—she wouldn’t have picked up how to fill bullets nearly as quickly without its incessant corrections.
“Still,” Otto hesitated for a moment before adding, “thanks for helping. This would’ve taken me hours alone. They don’t directly sell the calibre of bullets my rifle uses here, so I have to make everything from scratch.”
“I had fun,” Dahlia replied, brushing excess powder off her hands as she finished filling up all her bullets. Otto also finished his, so she leaned back against the bench and let out a heavy sigh as he started scooping all the bullets up into a pouch. “It was nice. It was oddly… therapeutic.”
“You wouldn’t be feeling the need for therapy if I hadn’t given all of you so much stress back then.”
She stared at him, momentarily caught off guard. The memories of the chaos at the end of the first stage of the exam flashed in her mind again—but they were just that. Memories. Weight from the past.
She was already carrying enough weight from the past.
“... It’s fine,” she said, her voice softer now. “It ended well. We all passed. That’s the only thing that matters, right?”
Otto didn’t reply immediately. His gaze drifted toward the oasis, his fingers idly tracing the rims of his monocle, and the silence between them felt heavier this time.
Her eyes caught on the cracks in his lenses, and a thought slipped out before she could stop herself. “Did you make that monocle?”
He blinked, startled by the question. “Yeah,” he said, touching the lenses lightly. “Made it back when I transferred to Amadeus Academy for three semesters with Professor Julius’ help. It’s the only Swarmsteel my parents haven’t made me alter since I built it around… four years ago? They probably think anything approved by the head of the academy’s Swarmsteel Department is good enough to never warrant a touch-up.”
“Your parents?” Dahlia asked, curiosity sparking.
“They’re way better Swarmsteel Makers than me,” he admitted, his voice dipping into something softer. “I’ve been tinkering with their designs for years, but this monocle that lets me zoom in and out and see things most people can’t see…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I haven’t touched it. It’s not perfect, but it’s important.”
Dahlia tilted her head, studying the monocle. The craftsmanship was good—better than good, actually—but not flawless. “They’re nice,” she said slowly. “But… I noticed something during the fight.”
Otto raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Your bullets,” she said plainly. “They were always a little off. Just a few degrees. Maybe the lenses aren’t tuned right for heat? Sunlight might’ve been refracting weirdly back in the colossal fungi forest, so maybe....”
“...”
Otto went still, his expression unreadable, and Dahlia’s stomach twisted.
She shouldn’t have said anything.
Dahlia swallowed hard and bit her lip. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Boo!”
But before she could finish, Dahlia and Otto yelped, twisting around to find Emilia grinning down at both of them. The mischievous gleam in the Cicada Musician’s eyes made Dahlia feel sick—but just for a moment.
for a moment.
Right now, Emilia wasn't a Hasharana-in-training with killing pressure rivalling that of the sun moth.
She was just another fourteen-year-old, like Dahlia.
“Found you,” Emilia said cheerfully. “That’s three out of five. Do any of you know where Muyang and Wisnu are?”
“Uh… no?” Dahlia mumbled shrugging off her hands. “What… do you want with us?”
Emilia stepped around the bench and planted herself in front of them with a dramatic flourish. “We promised, didn’t we? That after we all passed the exam, we’d go have a meal and Otto’s going to pay for everything? I’m here for free food.”
Dahlia narrowed her eyes, and Otto inhaled sharply through his nose. “I guess I say that,” he mumbled. “But… uh, I don’t have much money on me since I had to replenish most of my bullets, so—”
“There’s this cafe in the northern part of the city I want to visit,” Emilia said, ignoring him completely as her grin widened, pulling both of them onto their feet. “And it’s no fun going alone. Also, I can’t foot the bill. I know I just made a ton of money performing for the crowd just now, but I don’t think it’ll cut it.”
Dahlia blinked, looking at the dispersing crowd to her right.
“... But now you’re telling me you could’ve just performed for money from the start,” Dahlia grumbled, “instead of stealing radishes from me.”
Emilia laughed, completely unbothered as Otto looked between them, evidently perplexed. “I have, huh?” She grabbed Dahlia’s wrist and tugged, beckoning Otto forward as well. “Come on. Let’s go. I hear lunch hour’s a rush, so if we don’t get there early, we’re not getting our seats.”
Dahlia exchanged a look with Otto. His expression was resigned, but he eventually scratched the back of his head and sighed, accepting his fate—he’d said he was going to pay for their meal, so he was to pay for their meal.
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