Dawn had not yet touched the lake, but the night was already beginning to loosen its hold. A thin layer of mist spread slowly across the water, as if the world itself were caught between waking and sleep, clinging to silence in hesitation. There was no wind, no sound—only that strange sense of anticipation that comes just before the day arrives. The only thing that disturbed that fragile moment was Alexander's swarm.
At his command, they had all risen early. Some of the young ones were reluctant; their movements were slow, their reactions delayed, and the low murmurs they made carried a clear instinctive unease. They wanted more sleep—something their bodies made painfully obvious. But to Alexander, that desire held no value.
A saying he had often heard in his past life echoed faintly in his mind: the early one gets ahead. Back then, he had never truly thought about what it meant, but now he understood that it wasn't just a simple piece of advice—it was one of the fundamental rules of growth.
The swarm moved toward the lake and drank without wasting time. Then, under Alexander's direction, they entered and exited the water one by one. This wasn't just to quench their thirst or cool themselves; it was to cleanse the heavy, wild scent that had settled on them. During their games in mud and filth, every kind of foul smell clung to their bodies. And no matter how natural it might be for a creature of the wild, even Alexander found it unpleasant at times.
When they left the lake, they did not hesitate. Upon reaching the open grasslands, the swarm began feeding almost aggressively. This wasn't hunger—it was preparation. They filled their bodies, storing energy, readying themselves for the journey ahead. Meanwhile, the sky began to change. Pale violet waves appeared along the horizon, spreading outward as if pulsing to the rhythm of an unseen heart, announcing the sun's arrival not through light, but through color. The sight was mesmerizing, but it no longer held Alexander's attention—he had long since grown used to it. He did not look at beauty; he looked at data.
The system opened within his mind, and he checked the status of each Drone one by one. Their biomass reserves were full—every single one had reached its limit. That was enough. Without hesitation, he shifted direction and began moving toward the mountains. In his jaws, he carried the egg of the future Worker Drone—the next member of the swarm. Its unformed, vulnerable existence carried a weight far greater than its size. Leaving it alone in the savanna would be no different than sentencing it to death.
It took them hours to reach the base of the mountains. Throughout the journey, the swarm did not stop or slow down; they simply moved forward. And when they finally arrived, they began climbing without a second thought. The slopes were steep in places, the ground beneath them unstable and prone to slipping, but this was not their first attempt. They already knew which paths were safer. Even so, that knowledge did not make the climb shorter. For hours, muscles strained and breaths grew heavier.
The hill they finally reached felt like a reward for their effort. A wide area stretched before them, covered in sparse grass and scattered rocks. Nearly half of the hill was shaded by clusters of needle-leaved pine trees, standing like silent guardians. The air here was cooler, calmer.
The young ones collapsed onto the grass the moment they arrived, their bodies no longer able to resist exhaustion. The climb had drained them completely.
Alexander did not do the same.
Before allowing himself to rest, he moved carefully, scanning the surroundings. He studied the gaps between the trees, the direction of the wind, every shadow that might conceal a threat. He waited, listened, measured. Only after he was certain there was no danger did he finally lower himself to the ground.
He allowed his body to rest.
But his mind remained awake.
After an hour of rest, Alexander set himself in motion again. The pause had been enough for their bodies for now; once night fell, they would have time to recover properly. But the hill had not yet revealed itself—it was holding something back, and Alexander intended to uncover at least part of it before the night was over. With a brief, decisive command sent through his mind, he organized the swarm. The Drones split into pairs and trios; two groups moved into the denser cluster of pine trees, while the remaining group spread across the open ground, examining rocks, crevices, and the surrounding terrain. Alexander left the final Drone behind as a guard over the egg. He would not make the mistake of leaving it unprotected. Then he slipped into the forest himself.
At first glance, the forest seemed calm. Birdsong echoed through the branches, and a light breeze passed through the needle-like pine leaves, producing a soft, constant rustle. But to Alexander, that sense of peace meant nothing. Every shadow could conceal something, every branch could hold a nest, every gap was a potential discovery waiting to be claimed. He moved carefully among the trees, his gaze fixed upward as he scanned the canopy. He expected to find a nest.
Instead, he found squirrels.
They were fast, agile, and cautious. By the time Alexander noticed them, they were already gone, slipping through the branches and leaving nothing behind but empty space.
As time passed, the inefficiency of his search became impossible to ignore. More than an hour had gone by, and he still had nothing to show for it. He stopped. Searching alone was not enough—not in an area this large. His mind shifted immediately toward the swarm, reaching out to connect with the Drones. He saw through one's eyes, then moved to another, then another. Images and sounds layered over each other, different angles merging into a single stream of awareness.
The result did not change.
None of the groups had found anything.
He did not sever the connection. Instead, he continued cycling between them, monitoring their movements, analyzing every step. Another hour passed. Then another. The light of day began to fade, shadows stretching longer across the ground. The Drones kept searching. Alexander kept watching.
At some point, he realized there was a cost.
Fatigue.
Not in his body, but in his mind.
His thoughts were no longer as sharp as before. When he shifted from one Drone to another, there was a slight delay; sounds overlapped, images blurred at the edges, and maintaining focus required increasing effort. He had never pushed his limits like this before. Now, he could see it clearly—two hours of processing that much input was draining him. If he continued, he could already feel what it would turn into: a heavy, pounding headache.
Still, he did not disconnect.
Not yet.
Once night fully fell, he would call the Drones back and let the swarm rest.
He could endure a little longer.
The moment his mind shifted into another Drone, a distant roar echoed across the hill. It came from one of his Drones.
Alexander's focus snapped into sharp clarity. The fatigue was pushed aside instantly. He immediately recognized that the sound had come from the group in the open. He slipped into one of their minds, and its senses flooded into him.
He saw one of his Drones trying to pull away from a pile of stones. From beneath the rocks, the head of a snake slid out with it. Its teeth were sunk deep into the Drone's forelimb.