Fifty. Fifty Weavers at the Weaver Gathering. Their forms took the shapes of many different creatures—floating, bulbous jellyfish with writhing tendrils; fish-people with gills; typical green aliens with elongated heads and oversized craniums. Some looked like they were pulled straight from video games or anime with tinted skin and exotic companions.
One looked human with dragon scales, though it had a small, human-like mouth. Another resembled a human-sized slug with eyestalks, and perhaps the most unique was a simple floating orb that collapsed inward on itself, crackling with lightning as energy twisted and shot around its core. Next to it hovered a pink crystal and a gelatinous, amorphous jelly.
"Look at these lesser of my kin," the humanoid dragon Weaver laughed, his eyes fixated on Celeste. He wore long golden robes with raised weaves. His red and golden scales gleamed, highlighting a magnificent, sturdy physique- scales sharp and pristine, complementing a bulky, well-toned build.
Behind him, a humanoid creature with an octopus head and sunken yellow eyes glared with quiet malice. Flanking him were a dragoness draped in golden silk that clung to her sapphire claws, and on the other side, a fire elemental- its flames twisted and curled into the shape of a 'V', dark embers marking its eyes and cauldron-like shoulders. Its heat was either muted or suppressed as it gave off none despite its glow.
"You know, if you ever want to join me, I'd be more than happy to accommodate you," the dragon Weaver smirked, stepping forward boldly. "I could teach you so much more."
"You forget your manners, Weaver," Celeste responded coldly.
"What could be learned from a suckling born with powers beyond his competence?" Ira snorted.
'Ouch,' Atlas's eye twitched. Right off the bat.
With eyes flashing dangerously, the Weaver turned his gaze to Ira. "I am Enderax. I have ended worlds alone, fledgling."
"This isn't the behavior of Weavers," Atlas cut in flatly. Enderax's slitted, golden eyes locked with his unamused expression. "I am Atlas."
"Please. We are Weavers. We behave as we please so long as we hold worlds."
"That will change quickly if you don't show my people some respect."
Snarling, Enderax stepped into Atlas's personal space. Their gazes locked. Enderax's claws twitched with the urge to tear him apart.
"Careful, Atlas. You already have one war."
"Word spreads quickly."
"Yes. This is your first Weaver Gathering, so I will spare you. But learn your place quickly, little Weaver."
"Is it my place to allow you to plunder my world and people? If so, then I'll pass."
Snorting in amusement, Enderax backed off. "When Xag begins his conquest of your world, I'll be watching."
"If your world begins to fall and you beg for help, I'll assist… if you gift me your beauty- and this insolent one for teaching."
He gestured broadly to his Atlas's dragon companions, both of whom glared at him with visible disdain. He clearly didn't care for their opinions.
"That won't happen," Atlas said wryly. "Where is my invader?"
Enderax paused, scanning Atlas with some disappointment before pointing through the crowd.
A wasp. That was the simplest way Atlas could describe it. Though it had six legs, each ended in ten finger-like tarsal appendages. Between its mandibles extended a rigid, proboscis-like structure, sharp and needle-tipped. Its compound eyes glinted wetly, and just above them, the three ocelli shone faintly.
Its wings shimmered like those of a dragonfly- iridescent and impossibly fast when they moved. Nothing about it was appealing if you disliked insects. Saliva dribbled from its mouth, its exoskeleton shimmered with short bristled hairs, and its segmented thorax and abdomen pulsated eerily.
Its companions were no better. To its left was a grub-like creature, though grotesquely oversized, with six spined forelegs located at the front of its thorax. The soft, glossy black cuticle of its body darkened to blood-red near the rear. In terms of mass, it was about the size of his dragons.
The third resembled a dragonfly. Broad forewings and hindwings attached to a long, slender abdomen. Like Xag, it bore a rigid proboscis protruding from its head, dripping a fluid that hinted at predatory hunger. It stared at them. Not with thought, but with the still, yearning focus of something that hunted by instinct alone.
'Insects,' Atlas thought, trying not to shudder. 'Fucking insects. Of course.'
"They resemble the kind we eat- only softer," Myra's voice drifted out behind him.
'No, no, no. Don't bring them over here! I don't want to be close to—FUCK!' Atlas panicked internally.
Atlas forced his breath steady. He couldn't show weakness-not here, not now.
"They are grotesque," Celeste muttered with uncharacteristic disgust, her sapphire eyes narrowing.
"Not appetizing," Ira agreed, though there was a twisted curiosity in his stare. "But I'd like to try one."
"Do not," Atlas replied stiffly, adjusting his robe and stepping forward with forced composure. "I need no incidents... yet."
Xag, the insectoid weaver, gave a series of rapid clicks- perhaps a greeting, perhaps a warning. Its companions didn't blink. They simply stared.
"That's your enemy?" Myra asked, voice low.
"Yeah," Atlas exhaled, jaw clenched. "That's my enemy."
The Gathering continued to hum with divine energy and quiet chatter, but for Atlas, a silent war had already begun. He straightened his posture and stepped further into the crowd.
"Let's see what kind of alliances we can form… before everything burns."
At least, that was the intention. It turned out no one wanted to talk to him, knowing that the creature, Xag, was about to devour him and his universe. A simple mindset: avoid the next prey to avoid becoming it yourself. Enderax, despite his arrogance, had been the only one to interact with him at all.
Atlas really wanted to speak with the crackling orb- the one with lightning and energy folding inward on itself- but when he tried, he received a curt response.
"Pointless interaction. No growth. Disintegrated soon."
"That weaver will be defeated easily-"
"Death soon. Pointless."
Sighing, Atlas gave up. His followers glanced around with skeptical expressions at the other Weavers and their followers.
"I don't understand," Ira fumed. "These creatures are weak and pitiful. And we fight mere insects in the war to come."
"Some insects are deadly... and unnerving," Myra answered in Atlas's place. "But I don't understand how they are so certain of our defeat."
"We are in our proving grounds. They will not respect us until we destroy our enemy," Celeste said knowingly. "Fledglings, as Enderax called us."
"Don't side with that pathetic one," Ira snarled.
"I don't side with him. But in this Weaver world, we are fledglings."
Atlas sighed, drawing their attention. "They view it as a numbers game. Higher numbers, more chance of victory. Xag has over ten times our measured combat power."
"But that number is likely what we experienced with the Smiling Tree of Wishes," Atlas said, turning, his tone growing more confident. "Weak insects. Ones that can still be burned en masse."
"Amusing juicy weaver," a crickety voice clicked and rattled behind him. Instantly, Atlas stiffened. Like a wasp landing on your arm in childhood- pure instinctive terror. He kept his face composed but his posture betrayed him.
When he turned, Xag's grotesque head was only inches away. Wet mandibles, glistening ocelli, saliva-drenched proboscis, and bristled hairs.
"I sense your fear," Xag clicked, its inner mouth appendages twitching rapidly as it shaped words around its rigid feeding tube. "Your defeat is certain. I will enjoy the taste of your corpses."
"You will nurture my larvae. A feast."
Atlas sucked in air sharply, forcing a steel resolve into his spine. "Your larvae and world will burn."
In a flash of sudden movement, Xag was directly in his face. It didn't speak- it just hovered, scanning his body as if it could see through skin and sinew.
"Weak. My swarm will devour your world. Numbers... not enough."
"And if you lose?"
"Not possible. Weaver Atlas is still larva. Harmless feed."
Atlas wasn't sure if his hands were shaking. Not from fear of losing but from the creature itself. Insects were his phobia. Just standing there, facing it, sent spikes of cold panic through every nerve. But he couldn't retreat- not with his followers watching.
"I will enjoy burning your world. I'll make it a suitable hell- one where souls scream and never rest."
A clicking chorus followed, Xag's mandibles twitching as its head twisted once more.
Then, without warning, Atlas turned and walked away, refusing to look back.
Behind him, his followers remained tense, expressions unreadable, measuring the moment. He couldn't focus on them. Not now.
All he could manage in that frozen mental state, voice low and rigid, were three simple words:
"We are leaving."