The Worm That Walks
The Striders headed into the guild’s secret vault with Hanna in tow. The cursed artifact known as the Sacrificial Necklace of the Long-Lived remained clutched in her hands. Though the Striders claimed custodianship over such relics, even they hesitated to touch anything labeled “cursed.”
Cursed Artifact
Bestows twisted immortality by converting the wearer into a Worm That Walks.
“This place…” The Striders stopped short before the vault door. Hanna watched them in silence.
“Strider Hanna. Answer honestly.”
“Ask whatever you wish.”
“You were the keeper of the Sacrificial Necklace of the Long-Lived, Hanna. Was the necklace stolen from you? Or… did you release it yourself?”
“If you’re asking how the walking swarm of bugs appeared… yes. I’m the one who gave the necklace to the porter.”
Hanna confessed her crime without hesitation. As the artifact’s assigned manager, she had removed it from the vault and handed it to an unwitting guild porter. The man, assuming it was merely a precious trinket, slipped it around his neck and promptly transformed into a writhing mass of insects.
“Why would you do something like that?”
Hanna tilted her head, genuinely puzzled by the question’s intent. “Didn’t you seniors entrust me with managing the relic? I was simply performing my duty with the utmost thoroughness.”
“Thoroughness?” The Strider’s eyes burned with disgust. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? You leaked an ancient artifact, plunged the village into chaos, and sacrificed innocent lives. The entire guild will bear the blame!”
“Yet thanks to my actions, we now comprehend the necklace’s function. As its designated guardian, I merely sought to grasp its power with precision.”
“What kind of lunatic verifies an artifact by murdering people!” The Strider’s voice rose to a shout. He could not comprehend Hanna’s radical methods.
The “cursed” relics unearthed from dungeons filled that secret vault in unknown quantities. Their functions stayed hidden until someone used them directly. Conversely, Hanna could not understand her superiors at all.
“It seems you seniors have forgotten why we explore the dungeons in the first place. These relics contain twisted power. We collect them to uncover the cause of the tragedy that destroyed the ancient Crafolt Kingdom and prevent it from repeating. We are the Striders who shield surface-dwellers from ancient evils. If you overreact to the death of a single person, how do you intend to face a true catastrophe when it finally arrives?”
“A single person? Let’s see if you can say that when it’s your turn.”
Shing. The Strider drew a dagger from inside his coat. Hanna shot her comrades an uneasy glance.
“Strider Hanna. You have violated the Strider’s oath and committed acts that threaten the surface world. And most damningly… you show not the slightest remorse.”
“Senior—”
“By the terms of our ancient covenant, I will strip the magic sealed in your left hand.”
At once the other Striders seized her arms. Hanna’s voice cracked with fear. “This… this is unjust! Senior!”
“Spare me your self-pity. The porter you experimented on died screaming as his entire body became bugs. Consider yourself lucky you’re only being punished instead of executed.”
Every Strider who swore the Wanderer’s Oath received a magic tattoo on their left hand—an elemental control sigil, one of the last legacies of the fallen Crafolt Kingdom. They wielded elemental magic through its power. The lead Strider forced Hanna’s left arm forward. Once inscribed, the tattoo could never be erased. To reclaim it, the Striders employed a simple, brutal method: they sliced open the forearm and flayed the skin away in one piece.
Humans are animals too. They possess skin, and it peels away more easily than one might expect. The act served both as confiscation of magic and as a nightmarish punishment.
“Please… just this once, show mercy!”
“Perhaps if the porter you murdered comes back to life, I’ll consider it.”
Hanna screamed in pure terror. The sound echoed uselessly inside the vault, never reaching the surface. This was precisely why the Striders had brought her to the underground chamber: so that no human screams would leak out.
They rolled up her sleeve. The intricate magical tattoo glowed against her skin. The dagger-wielding Strider stepped closer.
I don’t want this!
Hanna thrashed wildly.
I wasn’t wrong! So why must I suffer this fate?
She felt bitterly wronged. While the others cowered like cowards, she had dared to shine a light into the mysteries of antiquity. In the end she had unraveled the necklace’s secret. A few sacrifices had simply been the price.
If they would only give me one more chance… I could prove my methods are correct!
Her sole remaining regret was the need to prove she had never been mistaken.
Hanna’s memory fractured. She could not recall her exact reply to Jor’dan’s offer. All she felt was a dizzying vertigo as something thin and fibrous wriggled beneath the skin along her flank. At some point she realized the necklace she had carried in her pouch was gone.
“Every time you feel pain, remember the evil you have wrought.”
The Strider spoke in a voice like cold stone and drove the dagger into her forearm.
At that exact moment—
“Hm?”
A viscous, pus-like substance oozed from the wound. The Strider peered at it, then prodded her arm with the flat of the blade. A single fat larva wriggled out.
“Ugh. What the hell?”
A bug crawling from a human arm. The startled Strider skewered the larva and flung it to the floor, then crushed it beneath his boot heel.
“S-senior!”
Another Strider stammered. When their leader turned, he recoiled in horror. Larvae were pouring nonstop from the gash in Hanna’s forearm.
“Aah… ugh. Aaargh!”
Hanna retched. Maggots and leeches spilled from her mouth like vomit. More insects burst from her eyelids and ear canals in writhing clumps.
“U-uwAAAAAAAAH!”
The panicked Striders reached for their weapons, but the tide of bugs surging from Hanna engulfed them. One managed to cast a spell.
Ignition
The tattoo on his left arm flared, vomiting searing flame. Hanna’s own tattoo answered with a cold sparkle.
«Zephyr.»
A wall of wind swallowed the fire.
“Hanna, what have you—!”
Thousands of insects swarmed over her. Her body began to dissolve. A rope-like black necklace now hung at her chest. Every scrap of her original flesh had been consumed.
…She was no longer human.
She had become a walking swarm of bugs—a mage who had willingly discarded her humanity.
She had traded her body for power. The swarm pulsed with alien satisfaction.
«This is… power beyond the limits of humanity.»
“What the hell have you done!” The Strider stared at the thing that had once been Hanna, eyes wide with terror.
The writhing mass released a wave of pleased psychic energy.
«I formed a contract with Jor’dan. He lent me strength; I surrendered my body in return.»
“Have you no shame? A Strider abandoning her own humanity!”
«Not in the slightest. It is far preferable to being driven from the guild on false charges.»
The bug swarm twisted in grotesque delight. It was a living nightmare given form.
«I apologize to my senior, but I am rather hungry at the moment. I am also curious what Jor’dan meant by a feast.»
“Hanna!”
«I shall begin by devouring you, then continue my research on these artifacts. Ah, and since you made me your test subject today, please refrain from excessive anger.»
“You filthy bitch! I’ll kill you!”
«Such crude language.»
The Strider swung his sword. The bugs reared upright in unison and emitted a psychic pulse. His blade halted mid-swing as though striking an invisible wall, throwing off sparks.
The Strider’s face twisted in shock.
Force Shield
«Ah. That was instructive. So psychic force is used in this manner.»
Hanna tested her new form, directing clusters of bugs this way and that. She extended a mass toward the Strider; the insects arranged themselves into the exact shape of the magic tattoo.
«Ignition.»
BOOM!
A colossal explosion of flame engulfed the man. He screamed as he burned alive.
«My apologies. Jor’dan wished to sample the flavor of grilled meat.»
Every Strider who had entered the underground vault died by Hanna’s new hands. She directed the swarm to devour the corpses with neat efficiency.
«Savor slowly. The feast has only just begun.»
«Researching the artifacts takes precedence over dining. Since I have already become a walking swarm of bugs, I intend to conduct every experiment I have ever dreamed of.»
«Hehehe… by all means. We have all the time in the world now, mage. Let us do everything you have ever desired.»
Hanna drifted toward the secret vault. Inside lay the dangerous objects the Striders had hoarded. With an undying body, she could now perform any horror a human frame could never endure.
«How delightful.»
She radiated a psychic wave of pure joy. The hour of experimentation had arrived.
#
“You’ve had a rough time of it.”
“You’ve had it worse.”
Now that a reward was on the table, we had no reason to antagonize the Striders. The conversation with Mode flowed in a much gentler atmosphere.
“Managing artifacts is always critical.” Mode’s voice carried deep exhaustion. “Magical items are one thing when they’re trivial, but objects that grant overwhelming power to a single individual are genuinely perilous.”
In Dungeon Overseer, three guilds spoke of “protecting the world.” The Guardian Guild that peered into the future through the Twilight Tower. The Mystic Guild that upheld the Teachings of Balance. And the Strider Guild that swore the Wanderer’s Oath and kept watch over ancient threats.
Their methods differed, yet all three existed to shield humanity from the dungeons. The Striders in particular harbored a visceral dread of ancient relics and long-forgotten monsters.
“If they’re that dangerous, why not just leave them hidden in the dungeon?”
“Nonsense. The more dangerous the item, the more closely it must be guarded.”
I shrugged. Like every guild, the Striders were fanatical about their own doctrines. Telling them that dragging cursed objects to the surface was itself dangerous would be as pointless as telling me to stop using necromancy because it was “risky.”
“They should be returning soon.” Mode tapped the table restlessly.
The investigation had confirmed that Hanna was the prime suspect behind the necklace’s release. Mode had dispatched men to return the artifact to the vault while ordering her interrogation and punishment. He was waiting for the outcome.
“They’ll be here any minute.”
That was when the bells began to clang outside—frantic, urgent.
“What’s that sound?”
“The town watch. Looks like trouble.” Mode folded his arms, expression grave.
A Strider burst in. “Emergency! A massive swarm of giant grasshoppers is descending on the village!”
“Grasshoppers?” Mode echoed, bewildered.
Almost simultaneously another Strider came running. “Chief! The south gate is under attack! We need reinforcements now!”
“Damn it, what now?”
“Killer beetles! They’ll be inside the village any second!”
Disaster reports poured in one after another. Giant grasshoppers, killer beetles—either was more than a small frontier town like Wiseville could handle alone. Why were monsters attacking at a time like this…?
“Chief.” The last Strider to enter looked on the verge of tears. “A sighting just came in. A walking swarm of bugs was seen beyond the west gate.”
“That thing is bad enough, but right now we have far bigger—” Mode stopped mid-sentence. “Wait. A walking swarm of bugs?”
“According to the witness, it’s carrying a multicolored staff, floating a pitch-black box in the air, and eating people.”
All color drained from Mode’s face. He staggered, clutching his head as if struck by a mental blow.
“The Staff of Dominion… and the Cube of the Void…”
“Mode, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but the situation is catastrophic. One of the Striders transporting the Sacrificial Necklace of the Long-Lived must have transformed into that swarm.”
“How can you be sure—”
“The secret vault. That creature now possesses everything stored inside it.” Mode’s eyes glittered with cold fury. “It all fits. If the walking swarm used the artifacts to summon the monsters, the current crisis makes perfect sense.”
Screams were already rising outside. We snatched our weapons and rushed from the guild hall.
“Son of a bitch…”
Beneath a bloated moon, dozens of giant grasshoppers wheeled through the sky on buzzing wings. Terrified villagers fled in every direction beneath the frantic clanging of the alarm bells. Several houses were already blazing. The night had become a hellscape of screams and fire.
Wiseville was under siege.
“I knew things were going too smoothly…” I muttered. Just my luck, as always.