Chrysalis Chapter 1741 - Return and Reflect

Previously on Chrysalis...

The battle against the Church and Green Mountain forces concluded swiftly after Colony battalions, led by Tiny, Crinis, and Invidia, charged in, overwhelming the exhausted enemy troops. While some Church soldiers fought desperately despite their drained and desiccated state, the Green Mountain defenders surrendered quickly, allowing for a half-hour of cleanup, medical aid, and organization. The Eldest, battered from enduring blows without retaliation, began regenerating his severely cracked carapace amid reflections on the unintended casualties caused by the Priest's reckless charge and his own use of Starcrushers. Victor reported on the captives, noting the decision to release the Green Mountain soldiers to encourage future ransoms and deter escalation, while identifying Grand Priest Alir Vinting among the prisoners—a figure stirring uneasy memories.

Organizing things isn't exactly my specialty, but the Colony appears to be improving at it steadily. Tiny, Crinis, Invidia, and I head back to the nest at the column's end, ensuring no issues arise, though everything proceeds without a single hitch. It's nearly underwhelming how flawlessly it all operates.

Even after their fierce performance in combat, the Church soldiers seem utterly depleted, lacking both vitality and determination. For caution's sake, their leaders were isolated and rigorous precautions implemented, yet it turns out none were required at all.

Thanks to my aura, the tunnel creatures steer clear of us, even with so much potential prey nearby, and upon reaching the nest, the prisoners are herded into containment areas and secured with hardly any fuss. According to reports, the medical ants are somewhat worried about their health, suspecting a kind of wasting ailment. Still, while they're under our watch, they'll receive proper food and treatment, so fingers crossed no mishaps occur. The final thing we want is the Church of the Path gaining ammunition to accuse us.

Ideally, we'll trade them back to the Church for a substantial sum and get on with our affairs. The idea of wringing some riches from that loathsome group brings a modest thrill, though it's far from sufficient payback. Inflicting minor financial hits is enjoyable enough, but to recover the true extent of their theft from us, we'll require something truly extraordinary.

Nevertheless, we've returned safely to the nest, the fight unfolded as successfully as anticipated, and the retrieval mission I assigned the Nameless turned out perfectly. Soon enough, Merchant should reach out and gauge the eagerness of Green Mountain's folk to reclaim their explorers.

Gweheheheh.

While waiting, a couple of matters demand my attention. Chief among them are the outstanding outcomes from my upgraded internals. The regeneration setup is thrilled, earning double thumbs up from Tiny, perhaps even a bicep curl of endorsement.

Recent mutations have elevated it from outrageous to downright ludicrous. This degree of recovery rivals what I've witnessed only in beings like Grokus, minus all his drawbacks. It was staggeringly effective, to say the least. Even with the prolonged skirmish and massive amounts of restorative essence produced, I avoided the exhaustion Granin once mentioned, indicating the Vestibule has fully offset the endurance costs.

Regarding the production hub in the rear territory... it's downright intimidating. My trial blast revealed the alarming strength of the output from that area, and the initial shipment during the clash was, honestly, alarming. Instead of mere corrosives, it acts like unleashing a ravenous slime-virus with endless hunger. The risk of unintended destruction is simply unchecked. I'll need to handle its deployment with great care moving forward.

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When it comes to evolving it further... goodness, I barely dare consider the implications.

Finally, I'm subtly delighted by the Everflowing Well's performance. It didn't dazzle like the others externally, but I relied on it heavily. That pool of mana to tap into proved invaluable. I joined the fray after activating it once, carrying a substantial reserve within. As I depleted that source, I reactivated the organ to refill my reserves.

Although gathering much surrounding mana proved tough amid the crowd of minds battling for dominance, I never came near depletion. To me, the Everflowing Well emerged as the subtle, unassuming highlight.

With endless supplies of restoration, vitality, and even mana, I'm engineered for endurance.

Truly, the Everlasting Paragon.

This minor territorial clash served as an excellent trial run for my fresh evolution. I've grown accustomed to this form, experimented with the novel organs, and begun some preliminary alterations. Provided Merchant's dealings succeed, I'll shortly descend deeper to unleash devastating retribution on those vile slugs. I'm eagerly awaiting it.

However, right now, one person requires a stern correction.

The culprit kneels there, face shoved deeply into the soil—quite forcefully, to be truthful. Beyn, the one-armed Priest, stands before me, prepared for the well-deserved flick from my antennae. I can almost sense his terror; he's shaking like a larva in his prostrated state.

I notice an antenna stretching toward him instinctively.

Hold on! Stop! He's a larva, a very mischievous one who doesn't merit any petting or tumbling!

Instead of linking mentally and enduring a tirade that would ache my head, I opt for pheromone-only exchange.

“Well,” I say, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

The trembling, crouched form on the ground freezes, and briefly, I wonder if he's aware I'm addressing him. Then...

“GREAT ONE I AM NOT WORTHY OF YOUR BLESSED AND HOLY SCENT! PLEASE ALLOW ME TO—"

“Loud! Why are you so loud?! My antennae are itching. How is it even possible to produce that sort of quantity of pheromones? Sheesh!”

“I AM SHAME—"

“You’re loud, is what you are.”

I see the huddled figure struggle to master himself.

“I apologise, Great One.”

Every time with this guy. Dealing with him is exhausting. Frankly, if I didn’t feel so bad for sort of accidentally biting his arm off that one time, I wouldn’t try so hard to put up with him.

“I HAVE—*ahem*—I have no excuse for my behaviour. Seized with enthusiasm and holy zeal, I disrupted your strategy and led my people into danger. As your Prophet, I cannot be allowed to make such mistakes and lose control of myself.”

That’s… very reasonable. Surprisingly so.

Hang on.

“As my WHAT?!”