“Left.”
Imperia spoke softly as she comfortably sat on top of her father’s head. Xix’rah was resting on Kael’s shoulders, unmoving; she looked like an obsidian jewel clinging to his shirt.
“Yes.”
Kael obeyed.
The path wasn’t clear, but he trusted Imperia with everything and followed her instructions.
And after a few steps, he found firm, clear ground. Roots that looked tangled from afar were opened just enough for his foot to pass without tripping.
“Stop, do not move at all,” Imperia said.
He stopped instantly.
Hiss
A second later, a snake slithered out from a low bush ahead, moving right past his boot before disappearing.
Kael gulped, recognizing the long, thin beast and those smooth black and gray, smoke-like scales.
It was a Duskscale Viper.
A type of Magic Snake that has no eyes, only two glowing red slits on its head that pulsed when something moved nearby. Its body moved without sound, sliding over rocks, grass, even water, like a shadow drifting across the world.
Its fangs were known for their sharpness and lethality. They constantly released a strange, glowing poison. It is said that one bite from the Duskscale makes you go quiet forever—no screams, no words, just silence until death came.
Even Legendary Level Tamers weren’t an exception to that; if they aren’t treated in time, they will fall to the poison in a few days.
Yes, these beasts were that scary.
They were blind, yes, but they could sense even the tiniest movements. The only way to actually avoid them was to stand completely still.
“Start moving.”
Once Imperia confirmed the snake was gone, she passed another instruction, and only then did Kael sigh in relief.
“This way, to the right.”
Imperia pointed at a direction, and Kael started moving again.
This continued for a long time. Imperia passed the instructions, Kael followed her blindly; he had become so reliant on her that he had pretty much stopped using his brain at all.
All of Veylara’s week-long training on studying terrains, following trails, hunting, avoiding certain territories—it all became useless.
He never needed it because the forest was no longer an unknown, danger-ridden domain to him.
He was told where to step, where to pause, what to avoid before he even saw what he was being told about.
His little daughter knew it all—the winding paths, the sleeping beasts in the shadows, the thorns hidden beneath soft leaves.
She guided him with such quiet certainty that moving through the dense wilderness felt effortless. He no longer needed to slash through branches or watch every step. She told him when to duck, when to take a wider turn, when to hold still.
Because Imperia was the Mother of All Ants, she was easily connected to the Whisperveil Ants’ Hive Mind-link—no, she wasn’t just connected to it, Xix’rah had passed her complete control over it, and she herself had taken the role of the second in command.
Xix’rah gathered all the information all ten thousand ants passed her, then she streamlined that information, chose the information relevant for the moment, and passed it to Imperia, who later passed it to Kael.
Yes, since Xix’rah wasn’t his Bond, Kael couldn’t get the information himself. He needed Imperia—but that didn’t matter.
While the process of passing information might sound complicated and long, the Hive Mind-link was an extremely advanced and efficient system; the entire thing was done in an instant, down to a millisecond.
Kael was getting the information he needed in real-time.
Information regarding a bark, soil, under leaves, in shadows—he had access to every possible piece of information that could be gathered in this place.
“There’s a fallen log ahead. Step over it, not on it. It’s hollow,”
Imperia instructed, and Kael jumped.
“There’s a nest of stingbeetles near that stone. Don’t touch it.”
Kael veered around. The feared stingbeetles didn’t even know he was there.
Hours passed like minutes. The forest, once dangerous and slow to navigate, had become smooth—like a puzzle someone had already solved for him.
“There’s a beast ahead. Ten paces to the right. Sleeping.”
“There’s a root under your next step. Step a little higher.”
“That fruit is safe. You can eat it if you’re hungry.”
Kael’s journey, which should have taken days, passed by in smooth, silent hours. The forest had become like an open road. No beasts attacked him. No obstacles delayed him.
By the time the Sun fell, Kael had already covered half the distance.
Just as Imperia had said—two days.
That was all he needed to complete this week-long journey if he followed her instructions. Heck, he wouldn’t even need a week—if he continued running the entire night, he would get there by tomorrow afternoon.
Kael’s smile widened. He was tired, but he was prepared to push himself. After all, as he had continued running, his agility rose by 2. He wanted to push his body and see how much more he could grow.
But then—
“Stop,”
Imperia instructed.
He stopped, waiting for something to happen.
But then—
“Now you rest.”
“Wha—”
“You have been tired for the past six hours. Your steps have become uneven, your breathing is ragged, and your feet will start to hurt soon.
So rest.
This is a forest, not a training ground. Do not be careless.”
Imperia spoke with a solemn tone, like a mother stopping her child from doing something wrong.
‘She really doesn’t act like a five-day-old…’
Kael sighed inwardly.
Yes, even his other children do not act like their age, but Imperia was an oddball even amongst them.
“Now move into the Sanctuary. Even if the forest isn’t dangerous, Sanctuary is still the safest.”
The little mother instructed. Kael chuckled and then opened the portal.
“Xix’rah, you are to return here after the Sun rises. If something happens, report it to me.”
“Kreek.”
Xix’rah nodded as she jumped from Kael’s shoulder. Kael and Imperia walked into the portal, and the Portal disappeared—something that surprised Xix’rah, since she had never seen anything like this before despite observing humans for a long, long time.
Soon, however, she shook her head and stopped thinking.
The Human was her Mother’s Father, and her Mother seemed to respect him. Obviously, he would be different compared to the rest; there was no point thinking about it.
It all made sense.
Even if it didn’t, it did.