Chapter 7: Mother

I glance at Goldy, hoping for some clue, but she’s standing there, completely still, her gaze never leaving the giant moth. Whatever’s happening... it’s between me and her now. And I have no idea what this ‘mother’ wants with me.

Mother’s eyes lock onto mine, and then out of nowhere, a sharp, searing pain shoots through my head, like a needle pressing against my skull. It's enough to make me wince, clenching my teeth as I fight to stay standing. Then, through the pain, I hear a voice echoing in my mind: “Welcome, child.”

Before I can even process what just happened, the pain vanishes, as suddenly as it came. But something’s different. My senses feel... heightened.

"That’s... new," I mutter aloud, my voice sounding far too quiet compared to the sudden clarity in my head.

Mother’s gaze softens, and she responds, "It is indeed new. You have awakened your latent psychic capabilities, child."

Psychic... capabilities? I blink, trying to wrap my mind around the idea. There was pain in my head a second ago but there’s nothing there now—just the strange aftertaste of something... new. It’s like my mind is humming, a buzz that wasn't there before. This isn’t just telepathy, it’s something more.

“This... feels... strange,” I say, half to myself and half to her.

The realization seeps in slowly, like the tide creeping up the shore. It’s unsettling—like waking up to a world I’ve always seen but never truly noticed. Like suddenly being able to smell after a lifetime of nothing.

Mother watches me, her massive form looming over us, but there’s something almost gentle in her presence. "You are more than you were before, child," she says. "Embrace it."

I nod, still processing what just happened. This new sense... It’s as if everything is clearer now. And maybe, just maybe, I might be able to understand this new world a little better.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself as my mind still hums with this newfound ability. "So… is this normal?" I ask, tilting my head up to look at Mother. "Or am I some kind of special case?"

Mother’s antennae twitch slightly before she responds, "No, child. Normally, one awakens their psychic capabilities shortly after hatching."

I freeze. Shortly after hatching? That means… I should have had this ability from the start?

A weird, sinking feeling settles in my gut. "So, what? I was defective?" The words slip out before I can stop them, laced with a bitterness I wasn’t expecting.

Mother, however, doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, she responds calmly, "No. You are not defective. You are simply… different."

"Different, huh?" I mutter, crossing my arms, in my mind that is since I don't have any now. "Sounds like a fancy way of saying 'you were broken, but not too broken.'"

But before I can sink any deeper into that thought, Mother continues, "For you, child, this is a special case. This Royal Child—" she gestures towards Goldy, who is still standing nearby, "—noticed you had not yet awakened and brought you to me."

I blink, glancing at Goldy. She meets my gaze with those eerily intelligent eyes of hers.

"...Wait, so that’s why she dragged me here?" I say, piecing it together.

Goldy doesn’t say anything, but the way she tilts her head ever so slightly is enough of an answer.

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my—oh, right, no hair. Just silk and bristles. "Hah… I should’ve known something was up with her. Figures."

Still, I can’t shake the feeling of unease. This ability was supposed to be a given, something I should have had all along, but for some reason, I didn’t. And now, out of nowhere, I suddenly do.

Just what am I, exactly?

I feel Mother’s piercing gaze settle on me, a weight heavier than anything I’ve felt before. "You are my child, born of the same brood as this Royal Child," she begins, her voice echoing in my head. "And yet… you are different. Off."

My body stiffens. "Off?" I echo. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Your combat growth is unusually fast and they you carry yourself in battle is... unusal," Mother continues, as if I hadn’t spoken. "Your growth is faster than any caterpillar should develop. And more than that—your speech. It is… clear."

I blink. "I mean, yeah? Is that weird?"

Mother’s antennae twitch. "Most of your kind speak as infants, their thoughts simple, their words broken. You, however… you speak as though you are already fully grown."

I pause. I knew I was different from the others, but I never really thought about how different. Sure, my siblings communicated in broken, almost childish telepathic phrases, but I had chalked that up to them just being… well, not very talkative.

But if Mother is saying this is abnormal…

She studies me for a long moment, then asks, "What are you, child?"

The question sends a chill down my spine.

I open my mouth, then close it again. What am I supposed to say? I don't know? I used to be human? Yeah, let’s just blurt that out in front of a massive moth queen. Great idea.

Instead, I swallow thickly and force a nervous chuckle. "I mean… I’m your child, right?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "That’s what you said."

Mother does not respond right away.

Then, her next words send another jolt through me.

"Are you a threat to my colony?"

I feel my whole body freeze.

A threat? Me?

I suddenly feel very, very small under Mother’s looming form.

My mind races. Do I tell her the truth? Do I just blurt out, Hey, I used to be human, surprise! and hope I don’t get squashed like an ant underfoot?

No. That’s a terrible idea.

But lying outright? Also not great. I have no idea if Mother can sense deception, and if she thinks I’m hiding something dangerous, I might actually end up as a threat in her eyes.

I take a deep breath—or, well, the closest thing to it in this body—and settle on something in between.

"I… I have memories," I say carefully, watching for her reaction. "Memories of a past life. I don’t think I’m like the others because… I remember things I shouldn’t."

Mother tilts her head slightly. "A past life?"

"Yeah," I nod slowly. "Before I was born here, before I became… this." I gesture to myself. "I lived another life. Somewhere else."

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. The weight of her gaze feels like it’s peeling me apart, layer by layer, searching for something.

Finally, she speaks.

"Then… what are you now?"

I blink. "Huh?"

"You say you were something else before. But now, you are here. You are my child. So, tell me… what are you now?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

What am I now? A human reborn as a caterpillar? A freak of nature? A mistake?

Or… just Nur?

After a long pause, I exhale. "I don’t know," I admit. "But I’m here now. And I don’t want to be a threat to your colony."

Mother watches me for another long moment. Then, finally, she lets out a low hum.

"I see."

Well, that went better than expected. I’m still alive, and Mother isn’t trying to squish me, so that’s a win.

"Very well," she says, her voice ringing in my head. "As long as you are not a threat to my colony, then it is fine."

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

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"Now then, child. Do you have any questions?"

Questions? Oh, I have plenty.

Why are we fighting the ants? What exactly are we? And most importantly—how do I make sure I don’t die before I even get wings?

But I should probably start with something that won’t make me sound completely clueless.

"...Yeah, I have questions," I say, glancing at Goldy, who’s watching quietly. "First of all, what exactly is she? You keep calling her a ‘Royal Child.’ What does that mean?"

"A Royal Child is simply a caterpillar born with the potential to ascend as a ruler," Mother explains, her voice steady and absolute. "They bear golden skin, a mark of their lineage, setting them apart from the common brood."

I glance at Goldy, who shifts slightly under my gaze. So she was basically born special? Figures.

"Royal Children will eventually evolve into Royal Moths," Mother continues, "and depending on their gender, they will become either a Prince Mothkin or a Princess Moth and further evolution will result a King Mothkin or Queen Moth like myself. However, there is a condition."

Of course, there is. There’s always a catch.

"To claim their rightful evolution, they must conquer," she states. "Be it a dungeon, a forest, or any territory of significance, they must take it as their own. And once they have secured their domain, they must unite with another Royal Prince or Princess, depeding on the gender of the royalty from another colony."

Conquer and breed. Got it.

Then, Mother lifts her gaze, and instinctively, I follow.

Above us, standing with an air of absolute dominance, is an imposing figure—a golden bipedal moth, muscles lined with shimmering scales, his wings radiating a faint glow and not mentiom the cool halberd thing he's holding.

"That is my King Mothkin," Mother declares. "Your father."

Well. That explains the genetics. Also what are you? Guan Yu? Geez Father.

"There is another path to ruling," she adds, drawing my attention back. "A Prince Mothkin or Princess Moth may seize an already existing kingdom, subjugating both the ruling King or Queen with own gender counterpart. By doing so, they claim dominion and ascend to true sovereignty."

So it’s either conquer and expand, or conquer and overthrow. Brutal.

I glance at Goldy again. Sooner or later, she’s going to have to take one of those paths. I wonder if she even realizes it yet.

"For those who do not wish to conquer or fail to do so, there is still a place within the colony," Mother continues. "They serve as commanders, leaders, and protectors. Not every Royal is destined to rule, but all have a role to play."

That makes sense, I guess. Not everyone can be a king or queen—someone has to handle the day-to-day grunt work.

But then, it clicks.

This whole setup—the caste system, the warriors, the strict hierarchy—this isn’t how moths should behave. This is… ant, termites behavior. Queens, soldiers, workers, expansion through conquest? That’s straight out of an ant colony’s playbook.

I mutter under my breath, "Since when do moths act like ants? What’s next, termite diplomacy?"

Still, I can’t help but be fascinated. This is nothing like the moths from my world. Whatever this place is, the evolution—or whatever force is at play—has turned these creatures into something far more organized, structured… and honestly, a little terrifying.

"So what about non-royalty moths like me?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around all this royal business.

Mother’s voice echoed in my head, steady and firm. "Non-royalty children have no obligations. You are free to stay within the colony or leave and find your own path. Some choose to seek partners from other colonies, but most remain. Strength in numbers grants safety."

Huh. So basically, unless I’m born with a shiny golden carapace, I don’t have to worry about any weird ‘conquer and rule’ business. Good. The last thing I need is to get caught up in some moth kingdom drama.

So non-royalty moths have more freedom, huh? That’s actually kind of nice. No predetermined path, no grand destiny—just the ability to choose.

"Unlike royalty, your path is not set. Non-royalty children can evolve in different ways. You saw the bipedal moth earlier, the one that decimated the Prince Ants?"

Yeah, I did. That thing was terrifying.

"That is a Mothkin, the peak evolution for most non-royalty children. But there are other paths as well."

Before I could even process that, something shifted in my vision. No—not shifted, appeared.

A figure was suddenly there, standing right in front of me. Except... it wasn't really sudden, was it? It felt more like it had been there the entire time, but I just now noticed it. My entire body tensed. How the hell did I not see it before?

It looked similar to the Mothkin from before—bipedal, strong—but its form was darker, its presence heavier. Its wings wrapped around its body like a cloak, as if it was deliberately hiding itself. And that aura… thick, suffocating, almost unnatural.

"This is a Mothman," Mother’s voice returned, calm and absolute. "An evolution achieved through shadow attributes."

Mothman. So this was something different from a regular Mothkin.

"Mothmen serve as my personal guard," she continued. "That is why you did not notice them before. They remain unseen unless they choose to reveal themselves."

I swallowed hard. Unseen unless they choose to reveal themselves? What are they? Ninjas?

Yeah. That was definitely unsettling.

Huh. So there’s all these different evolution paths, huh? Mothkin, Mothman, Royal Moth… I wonder if there's more?

Like, what if I could turn into a fire-breathing moth? That’d be sick. Just torch everything in my way. Or a lightning moth, zapping enemies out of existence with a single flap of my wings.

…Wait. What if—what if—I could become a radioactive moth? Just casually dropping nuclear bomb scales on my enemies. Absolute devastation. Fear me, for I am Atomic.

…Okay, maybe that’s getting on my cringe radar too much. But hey, a girl can dream.

"So, what’s the deal with the ants? Are we conquering them, or are they just being rude?"

Mother flutters her massive wings slightly before answering, "This is my territory. I was on an egg-laying cycle, as I always do around the dungeon. When I returned, I found the ants had occupied it. Naturally, I had to reclaim what was mine."

Oh. That… actually makes a lot of sense. So that’s why I hatched so far away from Mother. I thought it was just some cruel twist of fate, but nope—turns out I was just an egg laid on the go. Great. Truly a touching mother-daughter reunion.

Mother continues, "I lay several clutches of eggs across different areas. And in some of those clutches, there is always at least one royal egg."

That also makes sense. I did see a few caterpillars like Goldy back on the battlefield, and here I thought she was some unique protagonist-tier existence. Guess she’s got counterpart of her own, too.

And these ants really had the audacity to move into Mother's territory while she was out? Imagine squatting in someone’s house just because they stepped out for groceries. To quote a certain spider—No wayy

"So, what will you do now, child?" Mother’s voice echoes in my mind. "Will you go your own way, or will you follow your royal brood?" Her gaze shifts slightly toward Goldy.

I hesitate. What do I want to do? I could go off on my own, try to figure things out… or I could stick with Goldy and see where that leads. But right now, I don’t have an answer.

"I… don’t know yet," I admit.

"Fret not," Mother replies, her voice calm. "You have time. For now, feast on the ants and rest."

Right. Food first, decisions later.

With that, I excuse myself from Mother. "I'll go feast now," I say, turning away.

As I make my way toward the heap of ant carcasses, I spot my siblings already feasting. Goldy and a few of our broodmates fall in beside me.

How was it? Goldy’s voice pops into my head. Her tone is clearer now, but there’s still that childish excitement—kind of like a grade schooler eager to hear about a new experience. Are you getting used to the psychic stuff yet?

"It went pretty well," I reply. "As for the psychic thing… I’m working it out. Feels like I suddenly grew a new sense."

Hehe, it’s fun, right? Goldy chirps through our link.

I just shrug and keep walking. It’s definitely something, that’s for sure.

Now that I think about it, this is the first time I’m actually having a conversation with Goldy. Before, it was just one-way communication—her sending vague, broken thoughts like a toddler struggling with words.

But now? She’s forming proper sentences, even if they’re simple. It’s weirdly surreal.

"See? Getting better!" Goldy chimes in proudly, probably sensing my thoughts. "Mother said I’m still young, but I learn fast!"

I smirk. "Yeah, I can tell. You’re making a lot more sense now."

Goldy wiggles happily as we reach the feast.

Goldy’s way of talking… it reminds me of something. No—someone.

For a brief moment, a memory surfaces. A voice, cheerful and determined. A little sister clumsily trying to keep up—

Sister...

No. It’s just a thought. Nothing more.

I shake it off before it lingers any longer. No point in digging up the past. Right now, there’s food in front of me, and I’m starving.

Without another word, I sink my mandibles into the ant carcass, Goldy right beside me, already tearing into her share.

Yeah, Goldy is technically my big sister anyway. No point in getting sentimental over past life nonsense — I have dream that involuntarily appears that does the job anyway.

I tear into the ant carcass with renewed focus, pushing away the lingering thoughts. Whatever I was before doesn’t matter—this is my reality now.

Goldy munches happily beside me, her golden skin glistening under the dim glow of the dungeon. For all her status as a Royal Child, she eats just as messily as the rest of us.

"So you just dragged everyone out of their way just so I could meet Mother and awaken this whole psychic thing?" I ask, antennae twitching as I gnaw through an ant’s exoskeleton.

Goldy pauses mid-bite, then shrugs—or at least does the caterpillar equivalent of one. "Not exactly. Decent monsters were along the way anyway, so might as well."

I stop chewing. "...You're telling me you planned this around getting some extra XP?"

"Of course!" Goldy chirps through telepathy, her tone carrying the smug satisfaction of someone who just pulled off a perfect multi-tasking maneuver. "You got stronger, I got stronger, everyone got stronger. Win-win!"

I just stare at her, then sigh, returning to my meal. Of course, she’d think like that. I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point.

"You know, you grew strong pretty fast for someone who just hatched not too long ago," Goldy says, her tone half-impressed, half-pouting. "You're acting like a big sister, even though I'm supposed to be the one!"

I pause mid-bite, glancing at her. "Pretty sure you are the big sister, Goldy. You’re literally a Royal."

"Yeah, but still! You fight like you've been doing it forever! And you talk all... properly!" She wiggles her body in frustration. "It’s weird!"

I snort, swallowing the piece of ant I was chewing. "Maybe I’m just built different."

Goldy narrows her eyes. "You are different."

That makes me pause. There’s something about the way she says it—less teasing, more thoughtful. But before I can ask, she just shrugs again and goes back to eating.

I shake my head and do the same. No point in overthinking.

As the last scraps of the ant carcasses were picked clean, leaving only shattered exoskeletons and other inedible remains, exhaustion finally settled in. My body ached, my limbs felt heavier, and my mind was already half-asleep.

I figured we'd all start making our own silk beds now—finally, finally, I’d get to use my silk-producing ability! I was kinda excited about it, to be honest. But just as I was about to try…

Three Mothkins appeared.

Without a word, they began chanting, their wings fluttering as a soft glow surrounded them. And then, right before my eyes, several massive sheets of silk materialized out of nowhere, stretching and clinging to the dungeon’s ceiling and corners like a perfectly laid-out hammock system.

…Huh.

So that’s it, huh? That’s magic?

I was expecting something more dramatic—fireballs, lightning bolts, something flashy. But no, they just conjured something that I could that comes silk out of my butt like nothing. And just like that, the caterpillars immediately began climbing onto the sheets, curling up, and dozing off.

I sighed. "Well, there goes my chance to finally use my silk," I muttered to myself, a bit disappointed.

Goldy, already halfway up the silk, glanced back at me. "Come on, Nur! Sleep time!" she called out through telepathy, sounding way too excited for something as basic as sleep.

I rolled my eyes but followed suit, crawling up the smooth, magically conjured silk. It was surprisingly soft and sturdy—better than any bed I had ever known, even in my past life. As I nestled in, my exhaustion fully took over, and my thoughts faded into a peaceful sleep.

End of Chapter 7