The mysterious spirit beast did not return.
This was unfortunate—not because I wanted another high-level creature entering our room while we slept.
I had standards, low though they were.
The problem was that once somebody breaks into your dorm, leaves a mocking note beside your bed, demonstrates knowledge of your secret evolutionary interests, and then disappears without explanation— you begin expecting a sequel.
Instead, Monday morning arrived with nothing more supernatural than Mayra’s alarm clock.
It rang at 6:30.
She ignored it.
6:35.
Ignored.
6:40.
Amelia threw a pillow.
It struck Mayra directly in the face.
Silence.
Then, from beneath the pillow: “Violence is not an acceptable communication strategy.” Amelia returned to reading.
“It communicated successfully.” I rested on the top of my enclosure and nodded.
Mayra emerged from beneath the pillow.
“You stay out of this.” Long high buzz.
Idiot.
She pointed at me.
“You especially.” Normal.
Almost comfortingly normal.
For perhaps forty minutes, nobody mentioned the basement.
Nobody mentioned ARB.
Nobody mentioned humanoid spirit beasts.
Mayra complained about an assignment.
Amelia informed her that procrastination was not a supernatural curse.
Mayra argued otherwise.
I drank strawberry juice.
For a brief period, Room 317 resembled the kind of ridiculous domestic situation I’d begun accepting as my new life.
Then the sensor beside the vent beeped.
Once.
A tiny electronic chirp.
Everyone stopped.
Mayra slowly turned.
The white ARB device blinked green.
Then yellow.
“Did it do that before?” No.
Amelia stood.
I lifted into the air.
The sensor chirped again.
Yellow.
Then green.
Mayra approached.
“Maybe air quality?” Amelia held out one hand.
“Don’t touch it.” Mayra stopped.
“Right.” A faint vibration moved through the ceiling.
Not heartbeat.
Smaller.
Faster.
Scrrrrch.
My body recognized the sound before my brain finished processing it.
Many legs.
Moving across metal.
I looked toward the vent.
Amelia did too.
Mayra whispered: “Please be the mouse.” It was not the mouse.
Something struck the inside of the new grille.
CLANG.
Mayra jumped backward.
The heavy ARB-installed vent cover held.
Good.
Another impact.
CLANG.
The screws trembled.
Less good.
I moved closer.
Amelia immediately said: “No.” I hadn’t even— Fine.
I remained several feet away.
The Codex activated.
— Mutated organism detected beyond physical obstruction.
Previous biological signature match found.
Source: Chilopod variant encountered in service chase.
— Centipede.
The large one.
Thirty centimeters of armored nightmare.
Still alive.
Apparently ARB had not killed everything beneath the dorm.
Another scrape.
Then silence.
The sensor returned to green.
Mayra stared.
“Where did it go?” I focused.
Nothing.
The Codex had lost detection.
Moving away through the utility chase.
Amelia’s face hardened.
“The containment drove it upward.” That made sense.
ARB had sealed the basement.
Suppressed the source.
Installed new barriers.
Any mutated organisms already living inside the walls would seek alternate routes.
Into occupied floors.
Excellent.
Mayra grabbed her phone.
“We call Jose.” Amelia hesitated.
Then nodded.
Good.
Not every problem required three reincarnated idiots secretly handling it themselves.
Well.
Two reincarnated idiots and Mayra.
She called facilities.
Explained the vent had been struck from inside.
There was a pause.
Mayra’s expression changed.
“What do you mean somebody already reported it?” We all became attentive.
“Where?” Another pause.
Her face lost color.
“Okay.” She ended the call.
“What?” Amelia asked.
Mayra looked toward the hallway.
“Second floor.” My wings spread.
“Someone heard something moving in the wall.” Not enough to panic.
Then she added: “And Jose is already checking it.” Amelia and I moved simultaneously.
“Wait.” Mayra grabbed her shoes.
“I’m coming.” Amelia looked at her.
“Stay—” “No.” Interesting.
Mayra pointed toward the floor.
“If Jose is about to stick his hand into a vent with that thing inside it, I’m not sitting here.” Fair.
Amelia didn’t waste time arguing.
We left.
— The second-floor hallway was mostly empty.
Students had classes.
Good.
Near Room 214, Jose stood beneath an open maintenance panel.
Toolbox on the floor.
Another facilities employee stood nearby holding a flashlight.
Neither looked particularly concerned.
That was a problem.
Jose noticed Mayra.
His expression immediately became tired.
“Why are you here?” “Our vent got hit.” “Again?” “Hard.” Jose’s eyes tightened.
Then he looked at Amelia.
“And you?” “Curiosity.” He stared.
Amelia’s face remained perfectly composed.
Jose sighed.
“Stay back.” I perched inside Amelia’s hair.
Hidden.
From the open panel came a faint scrape.
Jose heard it.
His posture changed.
“There.” The other worker lifted the flashlight.
“What, rat?” “Maybe.” No.
I buzzed very quietly beside Amelia’s ear.
Danger.
She understood.
Jose reached toward the panel.
Amelia spoke sharply.
“Don’t.” His hand stopped.
He turned.
The tone had surprised him.
Mayra rushed to help.
“Something hit ours from inside.” Jose frowned.
“I heard.” “It was strong.” “Could be raccoon.” From inside the service chase— SKRRRK.
Jose’s face changed.
That was not a raccoon sound.
At least not any raccoon I wanted to meet.
The other worker stepped back.
“That’s big.” Yes.
Very.
Jose picked up a long inspection mirror instead of reaching inside.
Smart.
He extended it into the opening.
Angled the flashlight.
For two seconds— nothing.
Then the mirror jerked.
Jose swore.
Something struck it from inside.
The tool vanished from his hand.
CLATTER-CLATTER-CLATTER.
It disappeared deep into the shaft.
Everyone froze.
Mayra whispered: “Raccoon?” Jose did not answer.
Antennae emerged from the opening.
Black-red.
Long.
Jose stepped backward.
Finally.
Good instincts.
Then the centipede’s head appeared.
The facilities worker screamed.
Understandable.
Its mandibles opened.
The creature was even larger than I remembered.
Thirty centimeters had been a conservative estimate.
Maybe thirty-five.
Its segmented body filled much of the utility opening.
Each armored plate was dark red-black.
Dozens of yellow-brown legs gripped metal.
The hallway light reflected off its mandibles.
Jose stared.
“What the hell?” The centipede launched.
Not toward us.
Toward him.
Jose reacted quickly.
He raised one arm.
Bad idea.
The centipede struck.
Its front legs caught his sleeve.
Mandibles closed through fabric.
Jose shouted.
He smashed his arm against the wall.
Once.
Twice.
The creature held.
The other worker grabbed a wrench and swung.
The centipede released Jose.
Dropped.
Hit the floor.
Immediately turned.
Students opened doors farther down the hall.
Terrible.
Mayra shouted: “Get inside!” People froze.
“NOW!” Something in her voice worked.
Doors slammed.
The centipede raced along the baseboard.
Toward an open stairwell.
If it escaped— crowded building.
No.
Amelia moved.
A thin line of frost shot across the floor.
Not enough to freeze the creature.
Enough to create a slick barrier in front of it.
The centipede hit the ice.
Its dozens of legs lost traction simultaneously.
The entire body slid sideways and struck the wall.
Jose stared at the frost.
Then Amelia.
Oops.
Amelia ignored him.
“Mayra.” Mayra understood.
“Jose, you’re bleeding.” His sleeve was torn.
Two punctures marked his forearm.
Small.
But already reddening.
Centipede venom.
Maybe.
The Codex scanned from my position.
— Human envenomation detected.
Donor toxin potency: Moderate.
Immediate fatality risk to healthy adult human: Low.
Medical treatment recommended.
— Good.
Not lethal.
Mayra grabbed Jose’s uninjured arm.
“Hospital.” “I’m fine.” “You were bitten by Satan’s shoelace.” I nearly laughed despite everything.
The centipede recovered.
Amelia stepped between it and the humans.
“Go.” Jose stared at her.
“What are you doing?” “Keeping it here.” “With what?” The creature rose.
Mandibles opened.
Amelia’s eyes became glacial.
Jose made the intelligent decision not to ask again.
“Come on,” Mayra said.
The other worker helped pull him away.
Before Jose left, he looked back once.
At Amelia.
At the frost.
Then— toward me.
I was mostly hidden in her hair.
Mostly.
His eyes narrowed.
Had he seen me?
No time.
The centipede lunged.
— Amelia moved aside.
Not back.
Sideways.
The creature struck empty air.
She could have killed it instantly.
I knew that.
A shard through the head.
Frozen solid.
Crushed.
Done.
But we were in a university hallway.
Cameras.
People behind doors.
Jose twenty feet away.
ARB sensor systems somewhere in the building.
A dramatic supernatural execution would create larger problems.
So Amelia used almost nothing.
Tiny frost patches.
Movement.
Positioning.
She redirected rather than attacked.
The centipede turned.
Fast.
Too fast for its size.
Its antennae tracked Amelia.
Then— one angled upward.
Toward me.
Of course.
It recognized my biological signature.
Or smelled me.
Either way, I was suddenly interesting.
Amelia felt me move.
“No.” Quiet.
I left her hair.
She glared.
I gave one buzz.
Trust me.
Probably not what the buzz officially meant.
But she understood enough.
The centipede shifted.
Its attention followed me.
Perfect.
I flew low.
Just outside its strike range.
It lunged.
I rose.
Mandibles snapped beneath me.
Good.
Again.
I moved left.
The creature followed.
Amelia understood immediately.
No verbal plan needed.
I could pull its head.
She controlled where the body could move.
Complementary.
Exactly what our partnership had been becoming.
I flew toward the closed maintenance panel at the opposite side of the hallway.
The centipede pursued.
Amelia created frost behind it.
Not beneath.
Blocking retreat.
The creature turned slightly.
Saw the cold.
Changed route.
I shifted again.
We were herding it.
Not overpowering.
Guiding.
The centipede raced toward me.
I moved through the narrow gap beneath a wall-mounted radiator.
It couldn’t fit.
Its body slammed into the metal.
BANG.
I emerged behind it.
The creature twisted violently.
Dozens of legs moved independently.
Disgusting.
Beautiful from an engineering standpoint.
Mostly disgusting.
I buzzed near its antennae.
It snapped.
Missed.
Amelia appeared on the other side.
One small ice shard struck the wall beside its head.
Not creature.
Wall.
The centipede recoiled away from the impact.
Toward the maintenance opening.
Good.
Back where it came from.
Then something changed.
The creature stopped.
Its body flattened.
Antennae lowered.
The Codex flashed.
— Threat behavior escalation detected.
— I backed away.
The centipede’s rear segments curled.
What— A thin mist sprayed from beneath its body.
Not venom spit.
Defensive secretion.
The droplets struck the floor.
A faint chemical smell spread.
Amelia stepped backward.
I climbed.
Codex: — Irritant/toxic defensive compound detected.
Current host toxin resistance: baseline only.
Avoid exposure.
— Baseline.
There.
The evolutionary weakness.
I had venom.
But no toxin resistance.
A poisonous environment could still kill me.
The centipede charged through its own secretion without concern.
Toward Amelia.
She had to move farther than before.
The toxin didn’t threaten her much.
But avoiding it made her positioning harder.
The creature realized.
Smart enough to exploit.
Not genius.
But adapted.
I circled higher.
Think.
Direct kill?
Amelia could do it.
But cameras.
Maybe a less obvious end.
Environmental accident.
We were in a dorm hallway.
Fire extinguisher.
Heavy furniture.
Maintenance panel.
Radiator.
I looked overhead.
Sprinkler pipe.
No.
Too much collateral.
Then I saw the open service hatch.
Inside— a vertical drop between floors.
The centipede could climb.
But falling might buy us control.
I flew near Amelia.
Pointed toward opening.
Then creature.
Then down.
Her eyes sharpened.
She understood.
We repositioned.
I moved to the far side of the hatch.
The centipede tracked me.
Amelia moved opposite.
The creature charged.
I retreated.
Closer.
Closer.
Its mandibles almost reached me.
I flew through the maintenance opening.
Into the shaft.
The centipede followed without hesitation.
Perfect.
I stopped six inches inside.
Hovering.
Dangerous.
Its head entered.
Body segments followed.
More.
More.
Amelia remained outside.
Waiting.
The creature saw me.
Lunged.
I dropped vertically.
Its front half surged beyond the supporting lip.
Amelia struck.
Not the creature.
The metal pipe beneath its rear legs.
Ice formed instantly.
Traction vanished.
Momentum did the rest.
The centipede slipped.
For one strange second, dozens of legs clawed frantically at smooth frozen metal.
Then— it fell.
Down the utility chase.
I accelerated upward.
CLANG!
One floor.
BANG!
Another.
Then a deep crash from the basement level.
Silence.
I emerged.
Amelia looked at me.
I looked at her.
Mayra returned around the stairwell corner alone.
“Jose is with campus medical—” She stopped.
“Where’s the centipede?” I pointed down.
Mayra slowly looked toward the floor.
“Oh.” A faint scratching sound rose from the shaft.
Still alive.
Of course.
Amelia sighed.
“So much for that.” No easy victories.
The creature began climbing again.
Slowly.
Injured?
Probably.
Mayra’s eyes widened.
“Can you just…?” She made a freezing gesture.
Amelia glanced toward the hallway camera.
“No.” Right.
Mayra followed her gaze.
“Can we break the camera?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because destroying security equipment immediately before an unexplained animal death is suspicious.” Mayra frowned.
“Annoyingly responsible.” Thank you.
The scratching climbed.
We needed finish.
Quietly.
Biologically.
I looked at my venom.
Neurotoxic Venom I.
Moderate impairment in small arthropods.
The centipede was large for an arthropod.
Maybe too large for full paralysis.
But injured.
Could disrupt legs.
Enough?
The Codex could estimate.
“Effect if injected?” — Estimated result based on target mass: localized neuromuscular disruption.
Full paralysis unlikely.
— Localized.
That could matter with dozens of legs.
Especially while climbing vertically.
I looked at Amelia.
Then toward my proboscis.
Then the shaft.
Her expression became immediately disapproving.
“No.” Mayra looked confused.
“What?” Amelia understood.
“He wants to inject it.” Mayra stared at me.
“Can you?” Maybe.
“If it bites you, I’m putting your recovery bed back.” Threatening.
I ignored her.
Amelia considered.
She looked down the shaft.
Then at me.
“One strike.” Yes.
“Soft joint only.” Obviously.
“Then retreat.” Yes.
“If you stay attached to feed, I freeze both of you.” Extremely motivating.
I flew into the shaft.
The centipede was climbing.
Several body plates cracked from the fall.
One leg hung uselessly.
Still coming.
Angry.
Good.
Angry targets followed predictable priorities.
I hovered above.
Its antennae found me.
Charge.
It accelerated up the wall.
I let it.
Closer.
Mandibles.
Wait.
One leg group lifted.
Soft membrane exposed between armored segments.
Now.
I dove.
Proboscis in.
Inject.
No feeding.
No curiosity.
Venom reservoir contracted.
The centipede spasmed.
I withdrew instantly.
Good mosquito.
Responsible mosquito.
Future dragon with emotional maturity.
The creature snapped at empty air.
Then continued climbing.
For two seconds, nothing happened.
Three.
Four.
Then one cluster of legs on its left side stopped coordinating.
Its body twisted.
Several feet lost grip.
The centipede tried compensating.
Too many moving parts.
One localized failure became imbalance.
It slipped.
Caught itself.
Amelia appeared above the opening.
A tiny patch of frost formed on the metal directly beneath its functioning right-side legs.
The centipede touched it.
Slipped again.
This time— no recovery.
It fell.
CLANG.
BANG.
A pause.
Then— CRACK.
Much louder.
Something heavy had broken below.
Silence.
The Codex waited.
Then: — Target vital activity rapidly declining.
— Done.
Amelia looked at me.
I emerged.
Landed on her shoulder.
She whispered: “Better.” Not good.
Better.
I liked that more.
Mayra exhaled.
“Is it dead?” I gave one buzz.
Yes.
“Thank God.” Then she looked toward the camera.
“How are we explaining this?” All three of us went still.
Good question.
— We didn’t have to.
Seven minutes later, ARB arrived.
That was almost more concerning.
Not campus security.
Not pest control.
ARB.
Two agents walked onto the floor wearing plain clothes.
The same woman from the evacuation was one.
She examined the damaged panel.
The toxic residue.
The scratch marks.
Then looked at Amelia.
Mayra.
And, briefly— me.
I had moved to the ceiling and assumed standard mosquito posture.
Harmless.
Stupid.
Definitely not involved in covert centipede assassination.
The agent’s gaze lingered.
Then shifted.
“Anyone injured?” Mayra answered.
“Facilities worker.
Jose Alvarez.” There.
Full name.
Jose Alvarez.
The agent nodded.
“We know.” Of course they did.
She crouched beside the toxic secretion.
Used a swab.
Sealed it.
Then asked: “What happened to the animal?” Mayra pointed downward.
“It fell.” True.
“Twice.” Also true.
The agent looked at Amelia.
“How?” Amelia’s expression was perfect.
“It chased an insect into the service opening and lost its footing.” Technically flawless.
The agent slowly looked upward.
At me.
I did not move.
She stared.
Did she know?
No.
Impossible.
Maybe.
Her mouth tightened slightly.
“Convenient.” Amelia said nothing.
The agent stood.
“Return to your room.” Mayra asked: “Is this related to the basement?” The woman’s expression became unreadable.
“No.” Lie.
Mayra opened her mouth.
Amelia touched her arm.
Stop.
The agent walked away.
Another ARB worker entered the shaft wearing gloves.
They were recovering the centipede.
My biological material.
I almost followed.
Amelia looked directly at me.
No.
Right.
Investigation first.
Evolution second.
Survival before both.
Still painful watching premium material walk away in a government evidence bag.
Then something unexpected happened.
Jose returned.
Arm bandaged.
Apparently the bite had been mild enough for campus medical rather than hospitalization.
Good.
He looked tired.
Angry.
And considerably less willing to accept official explanations.
The ARB agent intercepted him.
“You shouldn’t be here.” “This is my building.” “Not right now.” Jose looked toward the maintenance shaft.
Then toward us.
His gaze settled on Amelia.
“You froze the floor.” Silence.
Mayra stopped breathing.
Amelia’s expression did not move.
“It was cold.” Terrible explanation.
Even I knew that.
Jose stared.
Then looked at the ARB agent.
“Who are these people?” The agent said: “Contractors.” Jose laughed.
No humor.
“Right.” The woman stepped closer.
“Mr.
Alvarez.” Something in her tone changed.
Warning.
Jose heard it.
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then at us.
Finally: “Students should stay upstairs.” He walked away.
But before he turned the corner— his eyes flicked toward me.
Again.
He had noticed something.
Maybe not truth.
Enough.
— That evening, ARB removed the centipede.
But they missed something.
A broken leg segment.
It had snapped off during the second fall and remained lodged behind a pipe inside the service shaft.
I found it.
Obviously.
Amelia came with me as far as the bathroom vent.
Mayra acted as lookout.
No one objected this time.
Evidence collection.
Small sample.
No danger.
The broken segment contained fresh tissue.
Codex analysis began immediately.
— Mutated centipede biological material acquired.
Full analysis available.
— I returned to the room.
Mayra closed the vent.
Amelia waited beside the notebook.
Codex results appeared.
— MUTATED CENTIPEDE Primary adaptations detected: 1.
Toxin Resistance I Enhanced cellular mechanisms for neutralizing and compartmentalizing biological toxins.
Compatibility: High.
Integration cost: 8 Evolution Energy.
— 2.
Venom Potency Enhancement Potential upgrade pathway for Neurotoxic Venom I.
Compatibility: Moderate.
Integration cost: 12 Evolution Energy.
Warning: Current venom-synthesis tissue remains immature.
Additional potency may increase metabolic strain and self-toxicity risk.
— 3.
Multi-Limb Neural Coordination Highly specialized distributed motor-control architecture.
Compatibility: Low.
Not recommended.
— There.
Two useful choices.
Stronger venom.
Or resistance.
Old Plenteaful would have chosen stronger venom before the Codex finished displaying the cost.
Current Plenteaful still rubbed his legs—but then thought.
My venom system was young.
Tiny reservoir.
Already enough for escape against small creatures.
Upgrading it now came with self-toxicity risk.
And we’d just encountered defensive secretions that I couldn’t safely approach.
Resistance would make future venom development safer.
Foundation first.
Danger later.
The choice became obvious.
Toxin Resistance I.
Amelia watched my reaction.
“You chose.” I buzzed one.
Yes.
“What?” I pointed toward the centipede’s toxin sample ARB had left trace residue from.
Then myself.
Mayra understood.
“Resistance.” Yes.
Amelia smiled.
Not large.
But proud.
“Better.” Again.
Then the Codex ruined the moment.
— Insufficient Evolution Energy.
Current Evolution Energy: 0.51 — I stared.
Eight required.
Of course.
Mayra read my taps.
Then laughed.
“Still broke.” Long high buzz.
Idiot.
She grinned.
Amelia considered.
“The remaining centipede tissue?” I checked.
— Estimated available Evolution Energy from sample: 2.9 — Not enough.
But useful.
I consumed what I could.
It tasted horrifying.
Centipede tissue combined every negative culinary feature of cockroach and spider while introducing something medicinally bitter.
Evolution was not glamorous.
— Evolution Energy gained: +2.7 — Current: 3.21.
Short.
Amelia offered a small controlled blood drop.
I looked at it.
Then her.
She understood.
“Only some.” I drank.
— +2.4 — 5.61.
Still short.
She prepared another.
I shook my head.
Enough.
Her bloodline wasn’t my debit card.
Amelia looked surprised.
Then nodded.
Good.
We waited.
Two days of normal nutrition.
A mutated gnat sample.
Trace biological residue from a beetle.
A tiny controlled amount of Amelia’s blood the following night.
Eventually: — Evolution Energy: 8.04 — I activated the trait.
Pain followed.
Naturally.
This integration felt subtler than regeneration.
Heat moved through my abdomen.
Digestive tissues.
Hemolymph.
Cell membranes.
The Codex altered enzymes and storage structures.
Built mechanisms to isolate toxic compounds before they could damage critical tissues.
My venom gland tingled.
Then stabilized.
— TOXIN RESISTANCE I acquired.
Effects: – Increased resistance to common arthropod venoms – Improved tolerance of environmental biological toxins – Reduced risk of self-poisoning from current Neurotoxic Venom I – Improved detoxification of low-level harmful compounds Limitations: – Does not provide immunity – Novel supernatural toxins may bypass current resistance – High doses remain dangerous — Good.
Not invincible.
Safer.
I checked my status.
— Name: Plenteaful Species: Mosquito Evolutionary Stage: Ordinary Mosquito Evolution Energy: 0.04 Extracted Traits: – Frost Resistance I – Reinforced Exoskeleton I – Neurotoxic Venom I – Tissue Regeneration I – Toxin Resistance I Available Trait Templates: – Light-Absorbing Chitin I Lineage Anchor: MOSQUITO — Five traits.
Every one connected.
Defense.
Survival.
Venom.
Recovery.
Resistance.
Stealth next.
A build.
My build.
I felt good about that.
Then Amelia placed something on the desk.
A small black plastic fragment.
Not insect.
Manufactured.
“What is that?” Mayra asked.
Amelia had found it lodged inside the broken service pipe near the centipede nest.
She turned it over.
A label.
Partially melted.
Still readable.
BIOACTIVE RESEARCH MATERIAL Below that: WESTBRIDGE BIOMEDICAL — LOT 7C Silence.
Mayra stared.
“That’s from the university.” Yes.
Amelia placed a second object beside it.
Broken glass.
Brown pharmaceutical vial.
Same label.
The centipede had not simply mutated because spiritual energy existed beneath Westbridge.
Somebody had been dumping biologically active research material into the old utility system.
Maybe accidentally.
Maybe illegally.
Maybe deliberately.
And whatever lived beneath the building had been feeding on the consequences.
Mayra whispered: “So somebody caused this.” Amelia’s expression hardened.
“At least part of it.” I looked toward the floor.
The heartbeat.
The strange light.
The discarded containers.
ARB suppressing rather than removing the source.
This mystery had just acquired human fingerprints.
That changed everything.
Animals adapted.
Animals hunted.
Animals followed instinct.
Humans— humans planned.
And somewhere on Westbridge University’s campus— someone knew exactly what had been thrown beneath our dorm.