***
The next year's tournament fell more favorably for the runt. He successfully secured twenty brood-mothers in an impressive display of his increased prowess. His fury in battle was matched in his virility, and he easily sired as many broods as were available to him. Upon finishing his third year, his number of brood-mothers had swelled to almost half of their rank.
As spectators entered the arena on that fifth year, there had been a stark change in its composition. Three fourths of the new combatants were jet black with other bright colorful markings. Spectators themselves were now similarly colored. In his first four years the runt had achieved something that no insectoid before him had been able. Having sired so many of the broods the collective began to resemble him more and more with each passing year.
Worker-class insectoids had become increasingly aggressive in their interactions with nearby colonies. While a certain amount of conflict was expected, an in some ways even desirable, the runt's workers had become a force to be reckoned with. In addition, the tournament had become increasingly violent and gory, a reflection of the intense fury that burned in the runt's heart.
Pheromone profiles, once as diverse as the color and forms of the combatant insectoids, were now much more uniform as well, owing to such highly shared parental lineage. As though his determination was also heritable, each successive year saw more and more first time combatants survive training and make it to the tournament. Likewise, the average lifespan of workers also became extended. The population of what was effectively now the runt's colony began to grow where it had been in delicate balance for thousands of years. Unavoidably, the overflow began to encroach on neighboring colonies.
Insectoids built their homes on a series of archipelagos that dotted the surface of a mostly water-covered planet. As a colony aged and matured, its borders expanded by the efforts it's inhabitants. One class of worker was dedicated to breaking and moving rock to build the foundation ever higher. As the runt's workers began inflicting greater damage and more frequent casualties on the neighboring colonies, a threshold was finally breached.
Groups of combatant insectoids formed with one objective in mind, to launch an assault on the burgeoning colony nearby in an attempt to reduce their numbers. Significant loss of workers jeopardized a colony's viability, and to the insectoids this was an act of war.
In the dark of night, the warriors descended upon the runt's colony. Unfortunately for them, they had failed to consider how much more aggressive and capable of fighters the runt's workers had become. Indeed, while they were able to inflict some loses, overall the attack was easily repelled by the runt's worker-class insectoids alone.
In response to the attacks, as was customary, a handful of highly ranked warriors from the runt's colony left their home to compete in the offending colonies tournament that year. The outcome was as predictable as it was inevitable, and soon the colony responsible for the assault had been subjugated. Within two years of tournaments, their appearance had become nearly equal in it's uniformity to the runt's colony.
This pattern was repeated over and over, and within the next century the runt and his offspring had laid claim nearly a third of the insectoid colonies on the planet. No insectoid had ever been as accomplished as the runt in the history of their species. From such an inauspicious beginning, he had come to exert near total dominion over his colony and most of it's neighbors. Tournaments came and went where none would meet his challenge, and he was allowed to sire every brood.
Over time, the runt became dissatisfied with this life. Eventually, formerly unseen programs began churning in his primitive yet complex mind. It was time to leave the colony and seek new lands.
Several of his most accomplished warriors accompanied him on this trek. As they traveled from one colony to the next along the string of islands it quickly became apparent how widespread his influence had become. Each new colony they came upon were clearly descended from his line. The markings were too unique to deny.
It took nearly six years of searching before they found the boundary of his impact. The great distance and time these colonies had spent apart had created significant differences in the insectoid behavior. One constant, however, was the appeal and utility of the annual tournament. For the first time in as long as he could recall, in whatever sense an insectoid memory works, the runt felt alive at the possibility of the unknown. The thrill of combat, having been bled dry from the predictability of his own colony, was fresh once more.
The group of warriors had come upon this new colony within two weeks of the impending solstice. As much as insectoids are able to be welcoming, the band of warriors was tended to as if they had been one of the foreign colony's own.
Soon, the solstice had arrived, and the combatants gathered at the foreign arena. All of the first-year combatants fought bravely, however the runt's warriors knew they would be able to easily best even the most seasoned combatants of this foreign colony.
Aware of the looming challenge, as the young combatants finished the most accomplished combatant entered the arena. The runt knew the challenge was directed towards him, and he entered the arena floor to a silent crowd.
The two insectoids circled one another, each trying to size up his opponent. Dull reddish-orange armor with no extraneous markings covered the opponent's body. His form looked like a slasher-type with some small variations, a morphology that had not been seen for quite some time in the runt's home colony.
Dark green liquid covered the slasher's pincer tips, although the runt paid little attention to this as poison was the mark of a coward. To best an opponent with such a cowardly tactic would result in death, so there was little incentive to fall back on something so underhanded.
Unfortunately, in this colony poison was a common and acceptable tactic. As the slasher made a faux attack, the runt dashed forward to gash his armor. In a deft move, the slasher stabbed the runt's side as he evaded the attack.
A strange unfamiliar metallic taste flooded the runt's mouth, and almost instantly his vision began to blur. His troupe of warriors raised to their feet, aware that something was amiss as their leader staggered on the arena floor.
Astonished at his foes ability to resist such a powerful and fast-acting toxin, the orange slasher backed away. In a clumsy thrusting attack, the runt lunged for the slashers throat. The slasher easily caught his pincer with one of his own, and using his other claw-like appendage he severed the runt's arm at the elbow.
Hemolymph gushed out of the fresh wound, and the runt fell to the floor. Believing himself victorious, the orange slasher dropped the runt's pincer and raised his blade-like pincers in victory. However, as he basked in the roar of the spectators, the runt raised himself from the floor nearby. Picking up his now detached pincer, he swung it violently at the orange slasher, loosing it just the slasher turned to face him.
The pincer pierced the slasher's chest, stunning him for a moment. As he withdrew the impaled pincer, hemolymph and tissue fell from the jagged wound. His eyes glazed over, and he collapsed alongside the runt. Having snatched victory from imminent defeat, the runt called out to his warriors. There was no denying his fate as they approached, the foam forming around his mouth was a clear indicator that the fight had violated their sacred code.
Blind rage overtook the runt's warriors. They descended upon the remaining combatants in a furious display, killing them all before any of the insectoids were even aware of the danger. Once the combatants were killed, they fell upon the spectators as they attempted to escape the arena. The exits were few, and there were more than enough warrior's to block them all. By the end of the day, a group of little more than a dozen of the runt's more seasoned warriors had decimated the entire colony.
***
The bloodshed continued well beyond that lone colony. In their distress, the warrior's emitted a powerful pheromone that carried almost indefinitely on the wind. The message traveled far faster than
they were able to, and as it reached each of the runt's satellite colonies, the order was clear. Kill all who do not bear this scent, the scent of the runt. The archipelagos erupted in war, and even the most voracious and numerous maggot pits were unable to keep pace with how quickly the bodies accumulated.
Having spread to nearly half of all the colonies on the planet, the deadly offspring of the runt killed all of their enemies. However, this victory was short lived, as the blood-lust the pheromone had inspired was not yet slated. Civil war erupted as the societal structures they had relied upon for untold millennia disintegrated. Colonies tore themselves apart, and within a few short years there was but one lone survivor.
Standing on the shores of a jagged rocky beach, he watched as the sun fell low on the horizon. Slowly, yet with unavoidable certainty, the sky fell from a luminous blue-green through shades of deep blue and purple. Finally, all that remained was the darkness of night and the shimmering stars above.
Waves lapped at the survivor's feet, and he sat and listened to the soothing sound as his mind tried to decide what to do next. All of his objectives had been met, and without others he was at a loss as to his purpose or utility.
He felt neither sorrow, nor joy, nor any sensation whatsoever. The vast amounts of bloodshed he had witnessed was beyond his ability to comprehend. His lot in life had been a worker, tender of tube-worm harvests and Sheppard of the maggot pit. In what appeared to be a deep sigh, as far as insectoids were able to, he looked despondently at the water before him. Without others he was without purpose.
In a moment of clarity the insectoid began walking out to sea, towards the coral reefs he had tended to his entire life. He sought a particular spot on the reef where the eel-fish were particularly numerous, and without fail one of the deadly predators detected his presence. A small stinging sensation ran up his rear leg, and he felt his body go rigid. Audible crunching sounds passed through his exoskeleton into the air above, and several moments later he felt the eel-fish enter his body.
The sensation of pain was odd, a burning wetness at first that gradually faded into nothing. Several more eel-fish, alerted by the scent of fresh hemolymph in the water, approached the lone survivor. In a similar fashion, they bore into his other leg and began feasting for themselves. With so many eel-fish eating him from inside out, his suffering was short lived.
And so, after hundreds of thousands of years of struggling against this inhospitable yet beautiful world, the insectoids were lost to the relentless flow of time.
END
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