Prologue

They were an army of the repulsive and the grotesque.

An aggregate of pure malice and bloodlust.

An inescapable nightmare given form.

A symbol of death most gruesome.

They served as an evil omen, heralding the coming of catastrophe.

These agents of memento mori were like the black plague itself; they

played out the danse macabre, reveling betwixt the living and the dead.

Their distorted flood would surge up from the cesspool of insanity to

wash away villages, cities, and nations altogether.

The name of those that rushed and trampled overall was...

♱

Once upon a time, there was a certain real-time strategy game. It had the

commonplace setting of a fantasy world where a multitude of races vied for

supremacy. There were a total of twenty-one factions, each split into one of

three alignments: good, neutral, and evil.

One good faction, Marianne, gained power through pious faith. A neutral

faction, Gregoria, was ruled by dragons since the days of old. An evil faction,

Flame, was a savage tribe hell-bent on spreading destruction across the

world.

I remembered there being all kinds of races and factions, each with their

own unique characteristics. They all had their own distinct units and

structures that allowed for unique, entertaining strategies. But among all the

factions in the game, there was one I liked most: an evil faction called the

Arachnea.

The Arachnea consisted of a race of insects—or rather, its units were

more similar to spiders—and its political system was totalitarianism. Its

ecological structure was that of a colony built around one queen.

As for its military, the Arachnea formed troops that devoured their

enemies, leaving only bones behind. They invaded the other factions

indiscriminately, never once engaging in diplomacy. If I felt like being a bit

cynical, I could even go so far as to label it fascist. But it was the one faction

I found easiest to play, and I gradually came to adore its many units. When it

came to online matches, I would always pick the Arachnea with fixed

devotion.

Early-game rushes were one viable tactic to achieve victory; lurking

behind the faction's defenses to build up an army big enough to sweep the

map was another. Teching into the most expensive units to crush the enemy

with punitive force was yet another win condition.

So long as you were able to look past their exterior designs, Arachnea

units were relatively balanced and well-rounded. I won countless matches

with them, even earning victories in some online tournaments. All my

consecutive victories with the Arachnea had earned me a moniker among the

other players: "BugSis." I found it to be a rather cute, charming little

nickname and liked it a great deal.

"BugSis is a real Arachnea master."

"r u cool w/ rl bugs too? i can't stand spiders :x"

"hey BugSis, I heard there's a new counter for that macrophage tactic

you hate."

I recalled talking about this and that with my online friends in the in-game

chat. Our conversations were always lively, whether we were celebrating a

successful new strategy or breaking some record.

But despite playing this game for years, I couldn't recall its name.

I couldn't remember.

Why am I...?

Where am I?

My memory is so foggy...

♱

Click... Clack...

An odd sound jolted my consciousness awake.

Click... Clack...

It was a peculiar sound unlike the ticking of a clock. It was more like... the

sound of a stapler multiplied several times over. Perhaps it was metal

clinking against metal. Whatever it was, the sound was wholly unpleasant. It

reverberated near my ears and caused my fight-or-flight response to kick in.

"What the...?"

I looked around, still feeling groggy. Immediately, my breath clogged in

my throat. Before my eyes was a gigantic spider much larger than a human

being. No... maybe it was an ant? Or a scorpion?

The sight of this indescribable creature made me scramble backward in

terror. But my back instantly bumped against the mercilessly cold and hard

wall behind it. There was no escape. I glanced around, only to see hundreds

more of these quasi-spiders swarming around in the dark space. For the first

time, I felt a chill of genuine fear scuttle down my spine.

They're going to eat me alive, I thought.

"Her Majesty has awakened."

"Wonderful. Splendid."

The moment these eldritch abominations spoke, a grand realization came

over me. Weren't these creatures the Arachnea's soldiers that I'd grown so

fond of over the years? Weren't they... the Swarm?

It was all coming back to me—these arachnids were part of the Swarm,

collective troops of the evil Arachnea. The brilliant luster of their black,

elegantly curved exoskeletons... Sharp, vicious fangs which struck the fear of

death into all who witnessed them... Scythe-like appendages that could slice

through anyone and anything... Lethal and effective venomous stingers

gracing their carapaces...

This was the very same Swarm I had spent countless hours nurturing with

only the computer monitor separating us. The ones standing in front of me

had long, sharp scythes that were disproportionate to their bodies and long,

narrow legs. These characteristics belonged to the Ripper Swarms, an easy-

to-mass-produce type of Swarm used for early-game rushes.

There was no mistaking it. I had used legions of this type of Swarm to

smother enemy factions dozens upon dozens of times. No unit could be more

nostalgic for me. They even helped secure my win in some tournaments.

If I looked beyond the Ripper Swarms, I could see some Worker Swarms,

too. They were the worker units that built new structures, repaired existing

ones, and produced siege weapons. I often found myself enchanted with the

insectile architecture and design of their constructions. They were grotesque

but had a beauty of their own, reminiscent of what you might see in a high-

Page 3 Goldenagato | mp4directs.com

quality horror film.

There were also some Digger Swarms next to them. Their production cost

was higher than that of the Ripper Swarms, but in exchange, they were

capable of a unique action—burrowing underground and digging their way

into the enemy's base. They were meant for surprise attacks and were fairly

difficult to use. Once mastered, however, Digger Swarms would prove to be

dependable units capable of felling entire strongholds without the aid of any

siege weapons.

How could I have forgotten about these units after having spent so many

years using them in the game? No... Why is my memory so hazy to begin

with? Where is this, anyway? Why am I here?

"Her Majesty has returned."

"Glory to the Arachnea."

I knew it. They really are the Swarm, and this is an Arachnea camp. But

what am I doing here? The Arachnea only exist in the game world, and

certainly not in reality. Is this some kind of dream? No, everything feels far

too vivid and real for it to be a dream.

I reached out to touch one of them. I could feel the smooth sensation of

the Swarm's body. The sound of their clicking fangs echoed in a way that

wouldn't be possible in a dream. This was real. The Swarm in front of me,

this cold cave—it was all real. Things I thought only existed in my favorite

game were right before my eyes in striking detail.

"Order us, Your Majesty."

"We desire a leader. A leader to guide us."

"A queen to lead us to victory."

"A queen to serve as our core and order us."

The Swarm spoke up, ignoring my uncertainty. Then they all raised their

hands and bowed their heads—the Arachnea's gesture of obedience. They

assumed this pose when a player produced them and when they won a battle.

It was the sole friendly emote the Arachnea's insects were capable of. They

wouldn't show this gesture to anyone else but the player. All others would be

greeted with scythe, fang, and stinger as the Swarm tore their enemies to bits

without a hint of mercy, only to devour their bodies afterward.

The problem was that I wasn't a queen at all. Even if they called me their

queen, I couldn't live up to that role. I steeled myself, speaking to the Swarm

that had insisted I was their queen, worshipping me in the process.

"I'm not your queen," I told the Swarm resolutely.

"No. Your Majesty is the queen."

"Your Majesty is, without a doubt, our queen."

"Have you forgotten the countless times you have guided us to victory?"

Countless times? I guided them to victory? Do they mean the online

matches? They remember me winning those, yet I can't even remember how I

got here?

"Lead our conquest today as well, Your Majesty."

"Our goddess of war and undefeated queen. O, glory to the Arachnea."

"Your Majesty, order us. Guide us to victory."

Each individual Swarm spoke in the same manner. That was because they

were moving as an aggregate consciousness that had the queen as its core. All

were one, and one was all. The countless Swarms in this place were all

moving under what was essentially a shared will, and they had no individual

differences.

Several hundred Swarms truly believed me to be the Arachnea queen.

What if I were to continue insisting that I wasn't their queen? Even now,

when my consciousness was already beginning to blend in with theirs?

Yes, I could tell my consciousness was linked to the hivemind. I knew

what they were thinking. These Swarms truly saw me as their queen and

craved victory, despite having no idea what kind of victory that was. They

revered me as queen, but I couldn't fathom any of it. If I did continue to deny

it, what would become of me?

"Ahaha... Ahahahaha!"

I couldn't do anything but laugh. Just what was I expected to do? My

psyche wasn't brittle enough to snap and go mad from this much, so I

gathered up my remaining sanity in an attempt to adapt to the situation at

hand. As my mind struggled to come to terms with this unbelievable reality,

my voice of reason was screaming for me to flee. However, my scant sense

of self-preservation warned me to stay put.

Frankly, going mad would have made this so much easier.

But I hadn't gone mad, and so I had to make a choice. Was I to continue

disavowing my position as queen, the Arachnea—which I was no match

against—would give up on me and tear me to pieces. But if I acknowledged

that I was their queen, I would have to lead these lovely, precious insects.

I didn't want to die. I wasn't farsighted or wise enough to come to terms

with my own mortality. Well, some part of me felt the desire to give in and

accept death, but its echoes were faint and hollow. A far louder voice

desperately urged me to live.

On top of all that, I didn't want to betray the expectations of the Swarm

that had battled on my behalf for so many years, albeit in a fictional world.

Even if it all took place in a video game, they had fought for me for so long.

They were my friends and my most trusted subordinates.

Once I realized this, there was no further need for deliberation. The

answer was obvious. There was no other option, no other road for me to

tread.

"Very well." I rose to my feet. With a flourish of my waist-length black

hair, I declared, "I will lead you to triumph as your queen. May we be

victorious!"

I spoke as grandly as possible as if to make the whole world aware that I

was queen. With this proclamation, I swore my loyalty to the Swarm and

promised them victory.

"May we be victorious. All hail Her Majesty!"

"May we be victorious. All hail Her Majesty!"

The Swarm cheered at my words by clicking their jaws in what probably

passed as a sort of applause.

What will become of me now that I've sworn myself to these grotesque

insects? Was my judgment really rational here, or did the influence of the

Swarm's collective unconscious overrun mine and drive me mad?

Maybe it did. Blindly promising the Swarm the conquest they craved

when I had no grasp on the situation was an undoubtedly foolish decision. If I

had seen another way, I probably would have taken it. And considering what

might come next, perhaps I should have desperately sought an alternative.

Nonetheless, I chose not to abandon my insects and instead began to walk

the path of the queen. I had no regrets, but I was not confident that my choice

wasn't made out of lunacy.

I asked again: did I go mad? Some aspects of the scene led me to believe I

might very well have. My memory was hazy and my grasp on the situation

was shaky at best. Evidence that seemed to prove I'd gone insane was

popping up one after another. But the way I was then, with my consciousness

on the verge of being washed over by the Swarm's, I couldn't discern that at

all.

I didn't know anything. Not what this world was, not how I came here,

and not how I became the Arachnea's queen. Still, I was sane. I wanted to

believe that. No... I'd merely convinced myself I was, and perhaps I truly was

half-mad already. Had I not been at least somewhat mad, I wouldn't have

made the active, unflinching decision to drive this world into calamity at the

hands of the monsters before me.

And so, I became the Queen of the Arachnea—a choice that would

transform me into the most abhorrent, terrifying butcher of all.