Despite the crushing defeat inflicted on the Krath, the pressure in the tunnels is still relentless. Either more of the slugs have arrived, or they have put in place something that is helping them ramp up the number of monsters heading our way. Then again, it could just be the rising mana levels in the fifth. Every day that passes brings the next wave closer, and it goes without saying that things are going to go absolutely crazy down here once it starts.
Regardless of the reason, the fighting continues to be intense on every side of the fortress (with the notable exception of the Legion-guarded tunnels), ants and Krath-supported waves of monsters clashing over and over again. As I move to the edge of the safe-zone, the intensity of the battle is evident in the sheer number of ants filling the field hospitals while being treated for nasty wounds, burns, acid or mana infection.
There are even humans in there, as the Colony has been forced to push them closer to the front in order to ensure the shared force buff from the priests is spread across the foremost lines of ants. Solant was right. The Krath were doing much better than I thought at pressing us, and without her ingenious trap, they may have done some real harm. As it is, we continue to hold the line, but the amount of effort, injury and desperation needed to do so shouldn't be underestimated.
With a humble heart, I wander up to the general in charge of this particular tunnel and give them a quick salute with my antennae.
"I've been cleared to fight and have some stuff to test," I announce. "How are things working out right now?"
The general turns to face me, cleaning her antennae as she snaps her mandibles in irritation.
"It's tough," she says. "The enemy has managed to lay down several huge puddles of mucus that are reducing the stability of our line, and they're taking forever for the blue mana to burn away. I'm starting to suspect the Krath are developing mucus that is resistant to our cleansed mana."
Well, if that's true, then the completion of the fortress can't come soon enough. The sooner we can wall out the fifth, the better.
"I'll take care of things here for a while, that should give you enough time to repair the lines and for the mucus to burn away."
"I appreciate it, Eldest."
"No problem. I'm happy to help."
I turn to head out into the tunnel, but turn back at the last second.
"And I'll be testing some things, but I'll make sure I leave enough space to avoid causing you any issue."
"We would appreciate it."
I wander on through the massed ranks of the ant battalion, and I try not to notice the robed priests and how weird they get whenever I'm around. Are they as bad as Beyn? No, absolutely not, but all the bowing, shouting and kneeling is awkward enough as it is. The hysterical weeping, however, is way too much. I want to go over and tell them off, but I'm worried that would just make things worse. A human with a flood of tears and rivers of snot running down their face is bad enough, what would actually happen if I walked over to them? I don't want to find out.
Ignoring the priests, I head straight out into the fifth, letting the toxic mana wash over me and immediately start burning into my body. As usual, the eyes are the worst part, and I immediately trigger my regeneration gland, knowing that it will soon refill thanks to the Vestibule.
There's plenty of monsters around, funnelling towards the ant lines in a constant stream, and I'm tempted to immediately rush forward and start crushing, but I restrain myself. Even unempowered, Void Chomp was able to cause quite a mess, and presumably this higher rank Skill will be worse, so I'm going to be cautious.
Whipping together some Dragon's Breath, I blast the slime and monsters with superheated flame as I walk forward, putting more distance between me and the ant lines. Only when I'm over a hundred metres distant do I judge it safe to attempt to use my new bite attack, and I quickly find a target.
I'm sorry, snail. I'm not mad at you or anything, not especially anyway, but you have been selected to experience my new chomp.
Quivering with anticipation, I pull my mandibles back and activate the new Skill as I lunge forward.
The first thing I notice is the precipitous drop in my stamina. Energy floods out of my body to an absurd degree, more than double what a Void Chomp would have cost, perhaps four times as much! Next I notice the mandibles of black light that form beside my own, and my eyes boggle at their sheer size.
When using Void Chomp, giant mandibles of black light would form, extending ten metres beyond the limits of my own jaws, and crash shut with tremendous force. These new mandibles are so dark as to be light-absorbing, and they are huge. Extending twenty metres beyond my head and perhaps five metres thick, they are colossal in scale, reaching far beyond the intended target of my bite and hitting the monster behind it!
The other distinguishing feature of Void Chomp was the vortex that forms between my actual, physical mandibles and drags my enemies in, utilising a pulling force not unlike a gravity bomb to vacuum them towards me. That void no longer forms. Instead, a sphere of intense, white light materialises between my jaws, rotating slowly and growing brighter as each moment passes.
The sphere still exerts that dreadful, vacuuming pressure, and despite its efforts to cling to the rock, the snail is pulled towards me.
Just what the heck is this sphere, I wonder to myself. Then it hits me. As my enormous jaws slam shut on it, the sphere cracks, radiant beams of light escaping from the gaps. In slow motion, I watch as the sphere collapses in on itself, growing smaller and smaller until there's an intense flash that completely blinds me. When my vision clears, I've been blasted ten metres back and my carapace is visibly smoking. The snail is nowhere to be seen.
It's like a mini star… Starcrusher.
Holy moly.
-x-X-x-
Just as monsters experience exponential growth as they evolve and reach higher tiers, so too do Skills become stronger and stronger as they reach higher ranks.
A tier seven Skill isn't necessarily twice as strong as a tier six; exactly how much a particular Skill will progress in a single rank-up can vary from Skill to Skill. Mana Affinity Skills are a perfect example, sometimes only improving efficiency and ability, which is certainly welcome, but other ranks will provide new spells, which can be extremely powerful.
Passive Skills scale greatly as they increase in rank, but active Skills certainly benefit the most from the increase. Naturally, the higher in rank the Skills go, the greater the improvement. Rank nine and ten Skills are considered almost legendary, so rarely are they seen, but should they be achieved, they would doubtlessly be strong enough to shake the world.
- Excerpt from 'On Monsters' by Granin
Well… that certainly was a thing. The scene of the bite is absolutely devastated, a smoking blast zone with no sign of the hapless snail monster left. I knew the bite would be powerful, but I certainly didn't expect this! Once I realised just how much stamina was drained out of me for the attack, I had a feeling it was going to be devastating, but the final result is surprising even for me.
Unempowered, the bite was still enough to quite literally blow me away. Knowing what I know now, I could better brace myself and hold my ground, but if I actually infused the ability with the Altar? Looking at the wisps of smoke rising from the crater, I'm not sure I'd even survive my own Skill.
Still, it's nice to have it in the back of the carapace in case of an emergency. If I really need to, I can use it to ensure mutual destruction. Although… with my Altar mutation that increases my defences, I might be able to live? If I use barrier magic as well… maybe?
It's probably not worth testing.
As fun as it is to test the Starcrusher, I still have a job to do while I'm out here, so I pick myself up and get to fighting. With so many ants around, my stamina refills at an absurd rate, so I run around chomping (without using my new Skill) and blasting monsters with fire while I ponder what to do next. It's way too early to try using my new spell in combat, that'll take a long time to decode, but in the meantime, I can get used to my new dash Skill. Minimising those embarrassing circumstances where I buried myself in solid rock would certainly be welcome.
Just to be safe, I push out a little farther from the safe-zone to make it a little more difficult to see what I'm doing. There's no need to make a spectacle of myself, after all.
Once I judge I'm too far away to see, I brace my legs, face a direction with plenty of spare room, and let it rip.
By 'it,' I mean Unseen Dash.
Once again a copious amount of stamina is drained away as the Skill is used, and the next moment, I'm in another place.
Holy moly! That was fast. However… that's not all there was to the Skill. There's something else….
Unsure as to what I just experienced, I flex my legs and try again. The use of the Skill is so fast, it really is just a blink of an eye, for a creature with eyelids. One moment I'm on the verge of dashing, and the next I've already dashed, as if the time between didn't occur… and yet… there's this strange feeling, a certainty that I'm not using the Skill right.
Antennae waving in agitation, I continue to experiment, dashing around the place, trying to get a sense for the range I can travel and how much strain it places on my legs (a lot). The leg issue is really becoming something that needs to be addressed. Vibrant has put a lot of evolutionary energy and Biomass into her legs, just so she can handle her absurd speed. I went in a different direction with mine, but I'm starting to realise that they are going to need more attention in my next evolution. Ant legs are thin, spindly things, and although I've bulked mine up considerably to handle my huge mass, when I start teleporting around with insane speeds, the strain is a little more than they can take.
The more I use Unseen Dash, the more I identify the source of the wrongness. Right before I dash, that precise instant, the feeling I'm doing the wrong thing flashes up in my mind, but I'm not sure exactly what I'm supposed to do to correct it. Has the knowledge not properly settled in my mind yet? This is annoying….
To try and solve the mystery, I begin to experiment. Dashing rapidly, one after another doesn't get me anywhere but into a wall.
Ahem!
I try to dash sideways, backwards, into the air, whatever I can think of, but none of it works.
Finally, I attempt the only thing I haven't tried, I try to dash during a dash.
And I can.
I brace my legs, choose a direction, and dash, and at the same time, in that split moment right as I push off with explosive force and my stamina drains, I do it again. The muscles in my legs scream in pain and rock flies as I crush the ground beneath me with the force, but the end result is that halfway through my extremely quick dash, I dash again.
It's like changing the direction of a teleport halfway through.
The Unseen Dash.
It's probably possible to chain these dashes together, one after another after another, without completing any of them. That would literally turn me into an 'unseen' monster, zipping around too fast to be seen, yet it would probably rip the legs straight out of my body if I tried it for any more than three dashes in a row.
Thinking about what will happen if I run into monsters who can do that sort of thing, I'm especially glad I have my precognitive abilities. Without them, how in the heck is anyone supposed to fight something like this?!
I suppose I could ask Vibrant, she would know her own weaknesses better than anyone. Although that conversation would be incredibly tiring….
For now, I'm going to hang around here, fight monsters and try to get the hang of this. First, I'll trigger my healing gland again. My legs have rather severe muscular damage.
-x-X-x-
One of the most important and fundamental features of the fortress is that the entire structure has been peeled of mana veins. Naturally, allowing of the native mana of the fifth to be released within the walls would defeat the entire purpose of the fortress and weaken the strength of the cleansed mana inside. Removing Dungeon Veins from such a large area was in and of itself, a monumental undertaking, and one that is often overlooked.
- Excerpt from 'The Impossible Fortress' by Antitect.
Tungstant sighed heavily, feeling exhausted. Despite taking her mandatory rest period, something Solant insisted upon, she still felt tired. There was just so much to do. The work itself was invigorating, naturally–Tungstant was a carver, after all–yet she felt as though her brain was on the verge of catching fire.
So many problems, all needing solutions. For weeks and weeks on end, she and Cobalt had been planning, designing, re-designing, fixing issues as they arose and, as often as she could, doing the construction work herself.
"You smell as tired as I feel," Cobalt noted from nearby.
"You too?" Tungstant asked.
"Of course. Everything you've been doing, I've been doing."
"At least there's only one job left."
"I'm not sure if only is quite the right word," Cobalt said wryly. "It may be one job, but it's rather large."
Rather large was quite the understatement. After months of planning, pre-building components and weeks of relentless work, the interior of the fortress was finally done. The inner vaults, the mana channels, the wuffer platforms, the barracks, hospitals, workshops, resting chambers, storage, Biomass containers, elevators, rail network, all of it was finally done. Solant's precious logistics hubs were completed, the tunnels and thoroughfares were complete, everything was finished, except for the outer shell of the fortress.
"All we have to do is build a wall," Tungstant joked, "how hard can it be?"
Cobalt clacked her mandibles together derisively.
"If it were just a wall, then I wouldn't be worried," she said.
The two Council members were moving through the tunnels, heading towards the first stockpile in the upper third of the fortress. Construction on the outer shell would begin from the top and work its way down, since the upper levels were the least contested.
When they arrived, they found hundreds of build teams assembled, ready and waiting, along with a literal mountain of materials. Steel frames, struts of living stone, enchanted slabs of metal, enormous joints, each a dozen metres tall and just as wide, all stacked neatly and ready to be used.
The two carvers shook off their fatigue and scuttled up to the gathered crowd. Surrounded by their brethren, they began to lay out the work to come.
"This is going to be a difficult job, everyone," Tungstant started, "so we want to make sure everybody remembers the process."
"I know we've gone over these techniques in the practice builds, but this has been such a long project, I know we're not at our best," Cobalt continued. "The family is counting on us to do this job and do it right."
"Remember to pay particular attention to the bonding process. The struts and living stone need to be fused using the five-point mandible joint method. Make sure every joint is securely affixed before you move on to the next. Even the slightest bit of separation will prevent the stone from growing through the prepared grooves," Tungstant said.
"Pay particular attention to the enchanting arrays," Cobalt said sternly. "We've had to reset a few sections of the mana channels, which was doable, but fixing sections of the shell will be incredibly difficult. Not to mention time-consuming. If you want to explain to Solant why ten build teams needed to spend a full day taking the shell apart rather than building it, by all means, rush your work."
Every team stirred at that. Errors were inevitable in any build, but the ants prided themselves on their patience and quality worksantship. Warning them all to avoid mistakes was a little insulting, but at the same time, nobody wanted to have to have such a discussion with Solant.
"Those enchantment plates are extremely sensitive," Tungstant warned. "They're double-sided, which means they need to be handled with extreme care. These are responsible for preventing the cleansed and toxic mana from colliding and are the most important element of the entire shell. If a single one is out of place by a millimetre, the entire array will be thrown off."
Luckily, with their enhanced construction skills, such precise measuring was entirely within the realms of the possible, but they still had to be careful.
"Triple checks before the stone is shaped," Cobalt stated firmly. "No misses, no mistakes. Let's get started."
Every team turned on the spot and headed to the stockpile, preparing to haul the needed materials to their designated build sites.
Tungstant and Cobalt looked at each other, nodded, then separated, each heading to opposite sides of the fortress to help troubleshoot, build and oversee their teams in action.
When it was all done, the entire fortress would be suspended, separated from the fifth almost entirely, cleansed and toxic mana prevented from touching each other. A mana deadzone would be formed all around the outer shell at all points except for eight enormous bridges. These would serve as the intake channels, feeding the wuffers and providing the cleansed energy for the entire fortress.
Both carvers knew they were on the clock, there was only so much time until the wave struck, but Solant still, even now, refused to rush them. This deep into the project, they understood why. A fatigue they had never truly experienced before was setting in, but they would push through. They were ants; work was what they loved.
-x-X-x-
Holy moly, the fifth is no longer mucking around. Mana levels continue to rise, and I have to say, if I thought the fifth was unpleasant before, it's completely awful now. As the toxic mana grows more dense, everything that makes it world-renowned garbage gets upgraded in the worst possible way. It invades my body more effectively, seeping into me faster than before and doing more damage when it does. Not to mention it replicates itself faster and is harder to break down.
Fun-fun in the sun-sun.
Then, to top it all off, the acidic effect is much, much stronger, which means my carapace is constantly steaming and my eyeballs are melting with upsetting rapidity. I mean… really! I spent so much time working on my eyes, getting them to the point where they would be useful, and now I spend my time wandering around with eyeball sludge dripping down my face since the lousy things can't hold together for more than a few seconds.
Naturally, this makes me effectively blind while I'm out fighting in the tunnels, which is less than ideal. Oddly enough, I can still be fairly effective thanks to the combination of mutations that I have.
I sense danger from my right, my future-sight antennae tingling in warning, so I leap back and unleash the Starcrusher.
BOOM!
I can't see what happens, but I don't sense danger anymore, so I'm assuming it was dealt with. Several of my mind-constructs are conducting constant sweeps, maintaining my external mana sense to identify monsters before they can reach me. They confirm there's nothing nearby, so I keep moving.
I don't want to move too far from the safety of the Colony, though not because I'm unable to see properly. After all, with my upgraded Tunnel Mapping Skill, I have a precise bead on my location at all times. I can see how far I am from the cleansed mana zone down to the centimetre.
Surprisingly, there's one other mutation that has proven to be useful. Even if my eyes are in a constant state of disrepair, I can still 'see' intent coming towards me. Just like my foresight antennae, it allows me to know something is coming just before it happens, helping me get out of the way or snuff out the threat before it becomes too large of a problem, even if it's not quite as clear as it would normally be.
It's been days since I upgraded my Skills, and since then, I've been back on rotation out in the tunnels pretty much constantly. If I'm not fighting, then I'm being treated after coming in, getting some rest and then heading back out again.
The attacks on the fortress have intensified beyond the point I thought was possible. If someone told me the wave had already started, I would have believed them. More Krath have arrived, pushing their numbers higher than they were before we caught so many, and they have been busy. Our Dungeon Seers are reporting the Krath have been manipulating the tunnels to create spawn points all around the fortress, about a kilometre or two away. It's hard for us to reach them, but the monsters that spawn are almost guaranteed to get close enough to sense the Colony and charge in, enraged.
In addition, the increased monster numbers means more Biomass, experience and cores have been added to the local ecosystem. That means more evolved monsters coming our way with better mutations and higher levels.
I'm not a fan.
[Come back, Eldest. We're ready to seal up the tunnel.]
[Ok.]
Just for fun, and not because I hate this place, I fire off a gravity bomb, gaining no small measure of satisfaction from the shrieking howl of wind as it flies off and detonates a safe distance away. Take that!
Having extracted my petty vengeance, I retreat back to the safe-zone, sagging with relief as I finally stop melting. I trigger my healing gland again as a team of healers grumpily climb onto my carapace, smacking me with their antennae until I give in and flop down onto the ground.
"Fine! Fine! You win."
"We're healing you," one grumbles.
"The patient should sit still and be quiet."
"You don't even have eyeballs; you lack more than one common sense."
"Oi, that was unnecessary," I complain, but they pay me no mind.
"How is it out there, Eldest?" Tungstant asks me.
If there's anyone who looks more rough than I do, then it's Tungstant and Cobalt. They've been getting rest, but it doesn't seem to help them much. The two are so run down they look like ant-shaped puddles, oozing from one place to the next.
"It's bad," I tell her, not bothering to try and conceal it. "The wave is close. Spawn rates are getting out of control. The Krath are being sneakier, but they don't have to do as much as before. As long as they point all these monsters towards us, the work is done."
"The upper third of the fortress is finished, at least," she tells me. "With your help, we've been able to close off the last few tunnels much more rapidly. I'm hoping our pace will accelerate over the next week rather than slow down."
"You and me both."
With me inside, the build teams set to work on the final touches. The wall of the fortress is being formed a hundred metres within the edge of the safe-zone, which keeps the builders relatively safe. Having said that, already there are monsters pressing against the blue mana, disgorging rivers of sludge and trying to eat away at it.
Like the polished professionals they are, the build teams work as a harmonious whole. The giant frames have already been established and connected to those above and below. Enchanted plates of steel have been carefully set in place, and the ants have worn away the stone. The tunnel now features a twenty metre-wide-chasm, the final links of which they now break away. With the tunnel and fortress now severed, the earth mages move into place and begin to complete the final stonework. Gradually, all the rock they've prepared flows over the frames, moving like mud, then hardening. In only ten minutes, the kilometre-wide tunnel has been completely sealed.
"Another one done," I note to Tungstant.
It's not completely done, though. The earth mages will spend another two days working on the outer shell, adding more layers of rock, hardening and compressing them. Eventually the shell will be an incredibly dense, self-regenerating wall of impenetrable stone, cut off from the wider Dungeon. Hopefully, it's enough.
-x-X-x-
Home can also, as it turns out, be a giant platform outside a family mega-fortress.
"Eldest, are you smelling me?"
"Yes! I can smell you perfectly well. Finish what you're saying, sheesh!"
"Fine," Tungstant says, watching me suspiciously. She turns and gestures to the platform still under construction. "This will be one of the intake points of the nest. When we're done with it, anyway. We need you to stand guard here as much as possible. Other than building the site itself, we don't have time to complete the defensive installations, so we're relying on you and regular battalions to cover these points. Without them, we won't be able to feed the wuffers, and then everything falls apart."
"I know that! I've been out in the tunnels fighting for weeks now. You think I don't know how this fortress is supposed to operate just because I wasn't building it? I just have to hang around and defend the platform, right? Easy. You get back to doing what you do and leave this to me."
I feel like we need to start brewing higher caffeine content in our tea. Tungstant and the other builders look like they're in desperate need of it, a little extra oomph before they start a shift could be just the thing they need. I wave her off and turn to look at my new deployment zone.
It feels a little disingenuous to just call it a 'platform'. This thing is enormous. It's roughly a square kilometre in size and is built in several layers. The bottom layer is the same as the outer shell, with all the enchanted steel, living stone, and layer after layer of compressed stone. Above that lies the mana channels. This is an entire layer of highly-engineered connectors that effectively act like giant mana pipes. And I do mean giant.
There are only eight of these platforms in the final design of the fortress, and they are intended to funnel a truly absurd amount of mana inside. These pipes be CHUNKY. The intake sections are enormous vacuums, sucking in mana on an industrial scale. All of that energy gets pumped inside the fortress and fed to the delightfully wobbly wuffers who are much more safely housed in their own dedicated chambers closer to the centre of the fortress.
The final layer is something new, for the Colony anyway. It seems my fellow ants have finally embraced what is truly beautiful in life: diamonds. Sweet, shiny diamonds.
That's right. The surface of the platform is an entire layer of hardened diamond. How did they get so much of it? I feel like I don't want to know, but they did, and it's all here. The diamond is laid down in one metre by one metre by one foot squares, which the carvers can conveniently lift up to work on the channels beneath if something goes wrong.
And yes, that is an entire foot of depth. They wanted these things to be sturdy. As a result, I think these platforms are the single most complex and expensive thing the Colony has ever built anywhere.
There are EIGHT of them.
Tiny, Crinis, Invidia, myself and Sarah (with Odin) have been assigned our own platforms to guard, while Vibrant and her followers are going to take care of the other three. Naturally, it isn't just us. Each one will also hold no fewer than four battalions of ants, which is forty thousand, with the Immortals held in reserve and at the ready if there's a need.
Once the entire fortress is sealed up like an egg, these are going to be the only places where the Colony will be interacting with the fifth stratum in any way during the wave, but the fighting here is going to be… well… I think it's going to be pretty messy. Which is an understatement.
Right now, this area is still well within the coverage of the cleaned mana, but that won't be the case for long. Once the build teams are done, the Colony will redirect the energy, and our territory here will shrink back until the platform is surrounded by a thick cloud of toxic goop. Once that happens, the monsters will be able to get right up to the platform as well, which is when the fisticuffs come into it.
I know the final design includes all sorts of stuff to help protect the platform and in particular the intake valves. Walls, more walls, shooting towers, enchanted zappers and apparently Brilliant has worked out how to shoot cleansed mana, so they'll be building those as well.
For now… there's none of that. It's just me, my siblings and the militia who are here to fight alongside us. This time, that also includes a few familiar faces.
"Hey there Jern, Alis!"
"H-hello there… Great One."
"Who are you and what have you done with Alis?"
"Shut up!"
The young woman claps her hands over her mouth as she realises she might have offended 'the Great One.' Good lord. Has Beyn been getting into her ear? Whispering pointless nonsense?
"Beyn told us we should be referring to you with more respect," Jern tells me, looking as bland-faced as ever. He still has that enormous axe over his shoulder, but he looks a lot more comfortable with it than he did before.
"He also told us we shouldn't say that," Alis says through gritted teeth, glaring at the big, oblivious fellow standing next to her.
"Hey, you guys are all part of the… templar… or whatever. You get a special spot in my Nave, so you should probably listen to me ahead of whatever nonsense the priest tells you. Right?"
Alis looks reluctant to agree, but my logic is flawless!
"I suppose," she grudgingly admits.
"That's right! So you call me Anthony. That's my name, after all! Now, I see the rest of the templars have turned up for this. We should get together and have a chat."
-x-X-x-
The Colony has always been fascinated by the way the Class system interacts with their existence. The first new Class to come about as a direct result of the Colony was the Antmancer Class tree first unlocked by Beyn Naligic. Since that first breakthrough, there were numerous others, including the Antsistant Worker Tree, the Colony Militia Tree, and Ant Cavalry Tree.
However, by far the most mysterious was the Templar, somehow linked to the Eldest via a mechanism not fully understood. Only a select few were ever offered this Class, and it's believed that it only came about as a result of the Eldest's particular Evolutionary path, as opposed to the normal mechanisms of the System.
The Templars were in direct service to the Eldest, able to sense them wherever they were in the Dungeon. Although no ant was ever able to become a Templar, since it was a Class, which monsters cannot access, the Colony trusted them implicitly.
That was possibly an error.
- Excerpt from 'Evolutions Vs Classes. A study of the Colony' by Xinci
There are six Templars right now, one more statue having popped up in my Nave, and all of them are in attendance. They look like the training they received from the Torpor Police hasn't done them any harm. They're all looking cool, confident and in control.
I wonder what that's like?
I gesture to the three younger kids, and they step toward me, looking cool as iced cucumbers.
Welcome. Are you ready to contribute? I gesture to them.
Of course, they gesture back.
The three of them look so serious I almost want to clack my mandibles in laughter, but that would be rude. As if I'm going to throw these kids into the fight! That would be absurd. I don't care how much training they've done with the Nameless Ones, they can't be strong enough to battle down here in the fifth.
No, they're here to throw metaphorical rocks from a safe distance and get some levels so they can unlock new abilities. They have to be around me for that to happen, and hopefully the training they received is enough to keep them safe while they do it. If I think it's getting too dangerous, I'll be turfing them straight back to the fourth.
I tell them as much, and the three seem downright offended!
We are here to fight alongside you, Eldest, and make our brethren in the Sanctum of Sleep proud, one of the girls gestures to me.
"I probably should have learned that arm wiggly talk," Jern muses.
Well, sadly he can't learn it via osmosis, like I did. Sometimes it's useful having the collective Will of the Colony flowing into me. I know what they know.
And so you will, I promise them, but safely. Even the Nameless are worried for you.
I use an antenna to point toward a rather innocuous shadow not far away. It wibbles a little bit, guiltily.
The three children stare at it without changing their expression, but I can tell they're a little upset.
The Nameless believe in you, I assure them, as do I. But we also refuse to waste you. Such promising Nameless must not be lost uselessly. Forgive them.
My explanation seems to placate them a little. I have to say, though, it'll be nice when they learn pheromonal language. The sign language of the Sanctum is neat and all, but at my size, it's a lot of work to move all six legs, my antennae and mandibles at the same time. Some of the poses are just straight up difficult! It's not my fault I'm huge!
"Ah, while you're here, I should introduce you to some ants. Some useless, annoying ants. Get out here, Protectant."
…
Nothing.
"Get out here, dammit! You've been useless the whole time I've been down here, don't you dare refuse to come out when I ask you to!"
Begrudgingly, an ant appears on top of my head, looking annoyed.
"Eldest. I would rather not expose myself where the Krath could see. We are supposed to protect you in secret."
"How are you supposed to defend me at all down here?" I scoff. "You can't tolerate the toxic mana, so what are you going to do? Wave me goodbye if I get captured?"
"We have the same temporary mana bubbles that Sarah and the Immortals are equipped with," she snaps.
Oh… oh!
"So you actually could have come out to help me if I was in trouble. I didn't think of that."
"You aren't supposed to know about it. You aren't supposed to think about us at all," she points out snippily. "And who's to say we haven't been out there?"
Well… I suppose it's possible they were and I just wasn't paying attention….
[Anyway,] I announce to the gathered Templar using the Nave to speak to all of them at once. [I have twenty bodyguards that the Colony forced on me. They're hidden pretty much all the time, but it's important you know they're around, since I'm going to ask them to help look after you too.]
"Eldest…" Protectant protests, "we are supposed to be protecting you. We can't do that and look after six humans at the same time!"
"These are my templars, and they're supposed to help defend me from… something. So I need them. You don't have to protect them all the time. Just help them out if they're in trouble. What's wrong with that?"
She thinks it over for a little while.
"Fine," she says, then vanishes on the spot.
I wish she'd get off my head, though. I could check to see if she's still there, but… I can't be bothered.
[Alright. Now I just need to be introduced to the newcomer.]
-x-X-x-
Standing nearby is an odd-looking fellow. He's a lot older than the others. Allison, Trean and Emilia are the youngest, and from what I gather, they're about as young as a person can be and get a Class. I haven't asked anyone exactly what age that is, and nobody has told me… so if I were to guess, they're… fourteen? Twelve?
I don't know! It's been ages since I was a human, I barely remember what I looked like back then!
They're young. Done.
Alis and Jern are definitely older, fully grown, probably. Twenty… ish.
But this guy, this guy is like… old. Proper old. Knee-pain old. If I were to guess….
I don't have to guess, dammit!
[Hey. How old are you?] I ask him through the Nave.
The old guy jumps and looks around, perplexed, then looks up at me and points a finger hesitantly.
[Yes, it's me talking,] I confirm. [Hi, I'm Anthony.]
[Oh! Uh. You can hear this? My thoughts?]
[Sort of. If you think an answer at me, I'll get it.]
[Oh. Well. It's nice to meet you,] he executes a rustic sort of bow. Clearly unused to performing such an act. [My name is Bertran. Bertran Gerond. My friends call me Bert.]
[Nice to meet you Bert! How old are you?]
[Ah! Right. I'm fifty-two. Is… is that a problem?]
He looks nervous and starts fiddling with his coat as he stares up at me. That coat looks like it's just about as old as he is; I feel like it's more patch than coat at this point.
[Why would it be a problem? It's totally fine, I was just curious. It's getting hard for me to work out how old people are, and I was genuinely unsure with you. Thanks for filling me in.]
[Ah… well, it's not a problem. I mean, you're welcome.]
He gives me that weird bow again, and I poke him with an antenna, straightening him back up.
[No need for that. Who even told you that was necessary? Was it Beyn?]
[Who? Is that the priest? No, he didn't tell me to do it. I just thought some sort of respectful… gesture, would be the done thing when meeting… you know.]
[An ant? We don't need anyone to bow at us.]
[Well, no. I suppose you wouldn't. But you in particular… aren't just an ant, I suppose?]
He seems to be hinting at something but is clearly unwilling to spell it out directly. I have to think for a minute before I realise what he's getting at, then I slump over.
[I'm not a god,] I declare flatly. [Did Jern get you onto that? Or Alis?]
[Oh, well, they might have mentioned… a few things. I suppose.]
He looks decidedly uncomfortable, so I don't bother correcting him any further. I can't control what people think… although… no. No, I don't think any more thought down that particular line will be a positive experience for anyone. I cannot control what people think, so I'll just have to leave these silly beliefs well enough alone.
I mean, how do I even prove I'm not a god? Clearly, just saying that I'm not isn't enough, and now I'm out of ideas! I push the topic to the side and focus on Bert.
[Did you go through the training with the Nameless?] I ask him. [How did you find that?]
He nods and starts signing at me.
Quite difficult. Sorry… haven't been… learning this for long.
Not to mention it looks like your joints are causing you a bit of pain. Although, I'm super impressed he picked it up so quickly.
[No need to use that. Just think at me, but feel free to keep learning it if you want. You can practice with the three young ones, they're super fluent.]
[I will, then, I suppose. It's interesting learning new things.]
Looking at him closely, which isn't something I do with people much anymore, the details are all kind of fuzzy. To me, all humans pretty much look the same, with a few notable exceptions. Bert has a weathered face and scratchy-looking grey stubble over his cheeks and chin. He doesn't really look like someone who's had an easy go of life.
[What did you do before you found yourself a Templar, Bert?]
He scratches at his cheek, looking a little bashful.
[Well, not much. I was a sort of… tinker, I suppose. Fixing pots and pans, cleaning drains, repairing this and that, whatever needed doing, really. I wandered from town to town picking up whatever work I could. Found Renewal after the… thing… and started helping out around the Temple.
[I was cleaning up one of the statues when I got the Class notification. Didn't know what it was, so I asked one of the priests, and the poor fellow passed out on the ground in front of me. I went to find another priest to help them, and when I explained what happened…]
[They passed out as well?]
[Was quite upsetting at the time. I knocked out half a dozen members of the clergy before I found a lad shining shoes who ran off to find some healer ants. It took a while, but eventually they brought me down and the Nameless took me to the Sanctum.]
With difficulty, he performed the eightfold genuflection.
[When they were done with me, they sent me here.]
Not exactly the path I would have expected, but then again, I have no idea what causes a person to become a Templar. Nor do I understand why they're all human. Perhaps there isn't a reason and it was just random chance? At least the others made a little more sense.
The three kids were basically raised by the Nameless to be fanatically devoted and trained to an extraordinary level. They can do things most people simply can't.
Jern and Alis had a more normal upbringing, right up until they joined a crusade and fought their way through two strata and a dozen cities before being made Templars.
Bert seems like a nice guy who was just minding his own business when the system picked him up and threw him into the Dungeon. I almost feel bad, but then it's not like I did anything. This is all Gandalf's fault!
[Well, it's nice to meet you, Bert,] I say, extending an antenna for him to shake. [How good are you at killing giant sludge monsters?]
-x-X-x-
Retirement wasn't exactly what Goszi had in mind. In some ways, he was living a life of luxury beyond the wildest dreams of any Krath. He didn't have to work, he was fed without having to move his foot, his safety was guaranteed, and most of all, he was protected from the greatest danger to any member of the slug tribes: other Krath.
There were downsides, of course. He was confined to a single room and lacked stimulus. The ants had tried to provide things to entertain him, puzzles, games, had offered to bring him items so he could indulge in a hobby, a loom for weaving, wood for whittling, that sort of thing.
He'd solved the puzzles quickly and grown bored. the games were more interesting, but he lacked opponents. Most of the ants were too easy to beat (Solant was too hard), while those with more skill were too busy.
As for hobbies, he was a slug of the tribes, he didn't even know what that was? He could wrangle a blubbeast, could extract edible meat from the pits without being crushed or eaten, could navigate the deepest, slimiest pits of the fifth, could do any of the thousand and one things a tribe needed to do in order to survive. He didn't do any of those things for fun or entertainment! He did them to avoid getting eaten!
Now that he had what he had yearned for over the last few years, Goszi found himself growing increasingly irritated, and he didn't want to admit why, which only made him more irritated.
With a roar, Goszi launched himself from his bed and splatted into the opposite wall, trying to gnaw on the smooth wall as his eyes bulged atop their stalks.
He wanted tea! By the fifth, he wanted some damned tea! And biscuits! He would rend a thousand monsters to bits for a sweet, crunchy treat, would annihilate a dozen Krath young for the ones with little chocolatey bits in them!
"I can't take it anymore!" he frothed, his flesh sizzling with anger.
Never in his life had he tasted something so delicious. In fact, never in his life had he tasted something that could be described as anything like delicious. In the tribes, they ate Biomass which had been digested by the blubbeasts and mosses from the gardens. Goszi had never complained about it, had never heard of a single slug who had, but that was only because none of them had ever eaten something that actually tasted good!
DAMN IT! How had they known? He'd been so careful. The first time he'd eaten a biscuit, his mouth had exploded with flavour. The delightful, crumbly texture, the sweet flavour. He thought he'd covered his reaction well, acting as if he were starving and in need of food. The ants were fooled. At least, he'd thought they were.
Then he drank the tea.
The aroma, the flavour, the welcome heat and smooth sensation on his tongue. It had washed away the crumbs and poured straight into his shrivelled heart.
[You appear to be having a hard time of it, Goszi. Is there something we can do to help?]
Maddened red eyes atop their stalks turned toward the window to see the adjoining room was lit, Solant watching him from within. She was reclined on one of the 'ant chairs' that he'd seen before, relaxed, cleaning her antennae, looking as casual as could be. He wasn't fooled. Even with those unreadable eyes, he could read that gaze. Solant was as cold a killer as any he had seen in the tribes, colder even. She lacked the rage and fire that bubbled within every single slug. No, Solant was just cold all the way through.
He grit his teeth and tried to cool his thoughts.
[I'm just a little bored,] he grumbled. [All of these entertainments are too stale for one of my kind. Perhaps you could…] he grinned savagely, [give me some of your young. I could hunt and chase them through this room for days. I'm sure they would be delicious.]
Unruffled as always, Solant didn't react.
[I don't think so,] she replied. [Although, speaking of delicious.]
She clacked her mandibles, and a few more ants entered the room from beyond Goszi's view. He watched as they set out some furniture within easy reach of the general. A small table, then a little dainty cloth to go over it, along with some decorative squares of wood.
[What are you…] Goszi started, then trailed off.
The ants returned, with tea, AND BISCUITS.
A cup was placed atop one of the squares, then filled with tea from a larger vessel with a long spout before that too was placed on a square. Then a plate, heaped with biscuits. He could see the warmth rolling off them. It was impossible, the two rooms were far more separate than they appeared, but he swore he could smell them.
[Do you really think that will move me?] he sneered, while internally he screamed with rage.
Solant appeared to thank the ants who had served her before she turned back to him.
[These are my refreshments. Why would I care how you feel about them?] she stated logically.
She used one foreleg to grab a biscuit, then nibbled at it. Goszi's flesh started to sizzle.
[I wonder how long until your masters become frustrated with your lack of progress?] Goszi mused, trying desperately to master himself. [I'm sure they are already angered by your incompetence.]
[Perhaps,] Solant replied placidly. [Perhaps not.]
She sipped her tea, and Goszi couldn't help but gulp, desperate for a whiff of that complex scent.
She saw. He knew she saw.
[Did you know there is something of a secret technique when consuming tea and biscuits?] she said conversationally.
[I couldn't care less,] Goszi gasped, eyes fixated on the small table filled with delectable treats.
[A hidden method, first revealed by the Eldest and known only to a few.]
She reached with a foreleg once more to grasp a biscuit and lifted it slowly. Goszi's eyes followed every move. She brought it over to the cup, held it there for a moment, then lowered it. Maddeningly slow, the biscuit went lower, and lower, before it touched the heavenly tea within, the rich biscuit soaking up the liquid like a sponge absorbing the gods' nectar.
Solant withdrew the biscuit just as slowly, holding it over the cup as a few drops tantalisingly fell back in. Only then did she bring it to her mouth and take a nibble.
[Would you care to try it?] she offered.
Goszi found himself pressed against the glass, teeth gnashing wildly, his eye-stalks repeatedly smashing into the hard surface.
[... Yes.]
-x-X-x-
As the hours tick by, the field of blue mana begins to shrink back, retreating slowly towards the fortress as the energy is better contained and directed. Along with closer proximity to the fifth's natural environment comes the inevitable tide of monsters. I stand at the front, alongside the thousands of ants, militia and my few templars, watching as they throw themselves into the field of blue, using their bodies and all the goop they can stuff inside themselves to chew through the cleansed energy as fast as they can.
It doesn't take long for bubbling and hissing piles of slime to start running over the ground, evaporating into a nasty smog that hangs like a cloud until it's finally burned away. With all of this action and no active pushback from the Colony, it doesn't take long until the monsters are pushing right up against the edges of the platform, which is when we can finally get to action.
The ants move into position well before the monsters are in range, the militia and priests moving alongside them like a well-oiled machine. Which they should be! After the hundreds of hours of drills and even more live combat, none of this is new to anyone. The only thing that's different here is the scale.
The platform is enormous by necessity, giving a large enough surface area for more intakes to the mana channels, but by design that means we will be all but surrounded when fighting out here. Monsters can come from our left, right or in front; only our business district is defended by the massive fortress wall behind us.
Things are going to get hairy.
As soon as monsters step into range, the battalions get busy. Firing projectiles at targets outside the safe-zone, using Skills that extend their range to slash at unsafe targets, using hooks and crooks and ropes and cannons to latch onto monsters and drag them closer, anything they can do to limit the damage to the structure and maximise it to their enemies.
I watch as the fighting starts. I'm not really needed, not yet at least, which means I get to see as an important milestone takes place. All around us, the toxic mana of the fifth presses in until, finally, the first of the massive intakes shudders to life.
Lacking any mechanical components, it isn't as if great wheels or fans start to turn, or machinery begins to spin. The intakes are fancy bits of enchanting that draw in mana, specifically the toxic mana, and feed it into the channels. I think of them like energy vacuum cleaners.
When the toxic energy finally gets close enough, the first of the intakes powers up for the first time, the enchantments activating and emitting bright light as the panels come to life. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, the mana is sucked in and fed to the channels beneath us. I watch happily as the massive conduits receive energy for the first time, drawing it away and feeding it into the fortress, where it will be distributed to the various wuffer stations about the place.
As time passes, the channels fill with more and more mana, a trickle turning into a stream, which will soon become a flood.
But of course, by the time that happens, we will be completely surrounded by monsters and fighting a never-ending battle. Good times.
[Alright, Templars. Obviously I don't want anyone to get hurt, but if you get a chance, I want to see what you can do. I don't really know what you guys are supposed to do, or are supposed to protect me from, but hopefully we can work it out here together. Alis and Jern, you're first.]
Alis doesn't appear at all happy about this announcement, looking out into the surrounding Dungeon with apprehension. Jern, on the other hand, is as unruffled as a hospital bed sheet. He just hoists his axe onto his shoulder and walks forward like he's on a Sunday stroll, Alis running to catch up with his longer strides.
I watch with interest, though I make sure I'm in position to intervene should things go wrong. I don't know what the deal is with these guys, but I certainly don't want any of them to croak trying to help me out! With my new Dash Skill, I can cover absurd distances when empowering it, so I can make it over to them in a jiffy should the need arise.
The organised ranks of the battalions part to allow them through with surprisingly little resistance. Perhaps people are already aware of who and what they are? It wouldn't surprise me; I'm sure Beyn and his followers have been ranting and raving about them for a long time, and the Colony takes an interest in this sort of stuff.
Alis is more of a magic-type person, but she also moves into this battle with a bared blade, some sort of short sword by the looks of it. I wonder how well they can use them? It's not like the Torpor Police are expert fighters or anything, but I'm sure they were able to work something out so they can at least defend themselves.
If they're useful, that would be–HOLY MOLY!
Before my thousand-lensed-eyes, the two of them flicker and disappear, then reappear on either side of a monster the ants had managed to drag into the safe-zone. Another flicker, and I can't even tell… oh snap! They changed places, as if they dashed straight through the… they did! The head just fell off?! What the heck am I even looking at?!
For the next ten minutes I watch as the two hop about the battlefield, dispensing sweet, inevitable justice to the monsters of the fifth. Jern is like a dervish, his axe always in motion, chopping, slicing, deflecting everything that comes his way. Alis deploys a more mixed style. Sometimes she unleashes powerful flames, other times she lashes out with her blade. The two of them slip from shadow to shadow, becoming almost impossible to track. Or they charge straight in, using the straightest line to move from enemy to enemy.
As I watch it all unfold, I start to realise the full implications of what I might have done. If the Nameless can train someone to be a super-battle-ninja… then can't they do the same for themselves?
My heart goes out to the Colony. I'm sorry, my siblings. I didn't realise what I was doing.
-x-X-x-
Alright, Jern and Alice have apparently been transformed into killing machines. Good, I guess? They'll rack up levels and experience quickly, which is a benefit, and I don't have to worry about them getting hurt. That's fine. All positive.
But what about the kids?
Emelia, Trean and Allison are watching the growing chaos with neutral expressions, seemingly unmoved by what they're seeing. I'm getting a bad feeling about this. What have the Nameless done with these kids? Surely, they aren't as… killy… as the other two? Right?
[Alright, you three. Do you feel like you can head in there and contribute without putting yourselves at too much risk?] I ask them.
The three of them look about, carefully assessing their surroundings, then share a long, silent exchange of glances.
[We'll be fine,] Emelia says shortly.
Ooookay. I guess I just… have to trust they know what they're doing. I mean, the Nameless wouldn't have let them out if they would be in danger… right?
Let's see.
The three young people move together in eerie silence until they approach the back ranks of the battalions. Then they just… vanish.
What the….
For the next ten minutes, I'm treated to a horrifying, terrifying display that shakes me down to my claws. The three of them are everywhere and nowhere. They pop out of the shadows with perfect timing, slashing out with quick and deadly strikes before vanishing once more.
It's impossible to track them with my eyes. If I didn't have the Vestibule and Nave, I would have no idea they were even out there. The monsters they defeat have no idea what happened, struck from blindspots, beneath them, behind them, to the side. Heck, I saw one of the three jump out from behind an ant's leg. The leg. Even if it was a soldier, their legs aren't that thick…. How do you hide behind that?!
As the three of them return to me, I find myself in a sombre mood, reflecting on the tragedy of lost youth and staring wistfully into the distance.
Did we do well, Eldest? Emelia asks me.
[You did very well. Too well. I feel nothing but admiration and deep, profound sadness. Have a rest.]
They look confused, but do as I asked and head off to join Jern and Alis, who give them high-fives and start chatting with them.
Holy moly. The Nameless really taught kids how to do that? Well, I can't put the blame entirely on them. I'll have to have a word with Crinis when we catch up next. I'm fully aware she was involved in pushing them to this point.
I wrestle with my own emotions for a moment. I mean, is it a bad thing that they can defend themselves? Of course not! But having such young death machines leaves an itchy feeling in my mandibles. Then again, I wasn't that much older than them when I first arrived in the Dungeon.
I was much wiser, though. Definitely.
Bah! I'll worry about it later. You can't put spilled babies back in the bath. Which explains human hygiene standards.
[Alright, Bert. You're up. Show me what you can do; don't become dead in the process.]
I'm not going to be fooled this time. Bert might look like a harmless old man who mends pots and cleans things for a living, but he went through the same deadly training of death that the others did. There's no way he hasn't been turned into a killer-ninja-assassin. I'm ready this time!
To my shock, he nods at my request, and draws his weapon solemnly.
[Bert.]
[Yes, Eldest?]
[Is that a frying pan?]
[It is,] he replies, flipping it once and catching the handle deftly.
[Are you… going to cook something?]
He scratches the back of his head and chuckles, embarrassed.
[Ah, no. I wasn't really comfortable using the weapons, so in the end I just trained to fight with this.]
[With a frying pan.]
[Yes.]
Nope, I still won't fall for it. I'm not going to stand here and say 'there's no way he can be deadly with a pan', I refuse to allow myself to be suckered in like that.
[Go forth, Bert.]
And so, off he goes. At least he looks a little nervous as he walks towards the battle, which reassures me a bit. I mean, this guy is a self-described 'tinker'; he's never seen deadly monsters in his entire life! It'd be disturbing if he wasn't at least a little put off.
He walks up the ranks of ants and militia, excusing himself politely as he pushes through, offering bows and apologies to humans, ants and everyone else who needs to give way for him.
Eventually, he gets close enough to the front and stops. He concentrates, reaches down into his own shadow, and pulls out a handful of some… white substance. He throws it all into the pan before taking a firm two-handed grip on the handle, setting his feet, and whipping it around his body.
As if fired from a scattershot cannon, the white stuff… salt, I think, rockets out and smashes into the gathered monsters. Those with soft, slug-like flesh immediately collapse, hissing and frothing as their bodies begin to foam and bubble. Even some of the shelled creatures are struggling, salt wedged into the gaps in their armour, or even having penetrated it in a few instances.
I watch the whole thing, bug-eyed.
Clearly, none of the Templars are normal. It's official.
Bert smiles, nods in satisfaction, then reaches down into his shadow to grab more salt.
-x-X-x-
I sit and watch the battle develop over the next few hours. The Templars continue to rotate, ten minutes on, twenty minutes off, and they prove to be effective and deadly each and every time. They don't have the ability to affect the battle on a large scale, not yet at least. If I was out there, I could be dropping gravity bombs or fields, using Dragon's Breath to torch huge swathes of the field, or employing my Starcrusher chomp attack to annihilate chunks of monsters at a time.
None of them have Skills at a high enough rank to do anything like that. There just hasn't been the time. What they do have, however, is truly impeccable training.
It's making me appreciate all over again the lectures that Granin always gives me. Ranting about how Skill ranks and skill aren't necessarily the same thing. Sure, earning a new rank in… axe… or whatever, will give you shiny new abilities, make you swing harder and faster, but to truly master a weapon, you need timing, grace, experience and knowledge. You need relentless practice to make the movements second nature, ingrained in your muscle memory. You need to learn the limits of your body and push beyond them. Only then can you truly be called a master.
Going even beyond that, the Folk train to push themselves even further. Having the ability to send a wave of sword-light is nice and all, but if you can't control it, bend it to your will and turn it into some sort of ten point lotus falcon stars of the dragon moon lily attack, then they think you're a chump.
Because you are.
So while they aren't able to win the battle by themselves, they are super efficient and effective at what they do. Jern moves like the axe is part of himself, he doesn't even need to look at his target, doesn't need to see a strike in order to block it. His footwork is impeccable, the full weight of his body is behind every swing and the axe just doesn't stop moving. Left to right, up then down, it traces glittering arcs in the air as Jern wields it perfectly within himself.
All of them are like that. They never take on a challenge they can't handle, they never forget to leave themselves a way out and they don't bother to strike if they can't contribute. Every time they engage, it's in a decisive manner, ending the fight, or tipping it heavily in the favour of the defenders, then they vanish.
They may not be winning battles by themselves, but I'm pretty sure the levels are going to come quickly. They amass plenty of last hits, which is a good thing. Sure, the ants and militia need them too, but these Templars need to level up so we can get a better idea of what they do!
Still, the defenders are holding on well, and with the Templars helping out, there doesn't seem to be much for me to do. Which is nice! And here was me expecting to be out in the toxic area having to fight until my carapace started to melt.
Just when I'm busy patting myself on the back and settling in for some intense, heavy-duty relaxation, a deep roar resounds from further down the tunnel. It's faint, still a fair distance away, but I know better than to hope the creature is heading somewhere else.
With a weary sigh, I pick myself up and start wandering forward, closer to the edge of the blue mana. The monsters are coming thick and fast now, but the Colony and its allies are holding strong. With all the kinks worked out of the system, they're experts at fighting on the border between safety and toxic nightmare.
Despite their calm competence, I can tell they were at least a little rattled by the roar they heard. It was no ordinary monster that let that roar loose. It was big, and coming up from below.
Which is a bad sign. If powerful monsters are already being dislodged from their hidey holes deeper in the Dungeon, when the wave hasn't even started yet, then we might be in for a bad time.
As I step over the ranks, placing my legs carefully to make sure I don't step on anything I shouldn't, several of the humans and golgari mixed amongst the ranks reach out with their hands, trying to touch me as I move past. I mean… sure… why not, I suppose. Seems a little rude, but they're here fighting alongside the Colony, so I can't get too mad.
Once I reach the front, I settle in and get ready to see what comes, sending a blast of Dragon's Breath out every now and again.
The roar resounds again, closer this time, of course.
The slime along the walls ripples and sways, and I can feel the pressure blowing against the sensitive fibres of my antennae. Whatever this is, it's a big boy. Thankfully, I may have just the thing to deal with a monster like this.
It's been a few days since I improved my Skills, and all that time, my sub-brains have been churning away, decoding and practicing the new spell form I was granted from my Gravity Magic Affinity. It's still a bit rough, which is putting it mildly, but I think I can knock together a cast. Whatever this big monster is, I think it seems like just the sort of thing to test my new spell on.
"You might want to give me a little space," I warn the ants around me. "I've got a new trick, and I get the feeling it'll be a bit… disruptive."
Ten seconds later and the nearest ants are over a hundred metres away, giving me my own wide section of the platform to defend.
Well, it's fine. I can hold this while I try to stitch together the lousy spell.
-x-X-x-
I've said it before, and I'll say it again, even the most basic spell forms in this world are hard work, masterpieces that require thousands of individual strokes of the brush to get right. In some ways, the gravity bomb is the simplest of all my spells, since all I have to do is shove a bunch of mana into a small space and squish it, but what it lacks in complexity, it makes up for with the sheer effort required.
This new spell is like doing both at the same time. I have to paint an incomparable masterpiece, while simultaneously straining my brains to the point of bursting.
Which is a nice twist. Thanks, Gandalf.
The spell form is an ungodly thing, requiring such absurd precision, control and focus that it even puts the Omni-Elemental Construct to shame. My sub-brains have spent every spare moment puzzling, testing and working on mastering this spell, and to be honest, I'm only fully confident with about half of it.
At least I've been able to work out in a vague sort of way what the spell should do. I didn't know what to expect from a new gravity spell, given that I have a limited understanding of how it works. It pulls stuff in, right? The Gravity Well already lets me do that in pretty much every way that matters. I can pull stuff into the well, I can even reverse it and push stuff away from the well. What else is there to do?
Something, apparently. All I've been able to figure out is that the spell should send some sort of force blasting in a forwards direction, like I'm shooting something from an elaborate magic cannon.
So… great!
The roar reverberates again, stunningly loud. The monster isn't in sight, but I can sense it now; the powerful mana it contains is lighting up the edges of my senses like a beacon. This bad boy is definitely tier seven. A strong tier seven too. Can't have been hiding too far from the fortress either, if it's here already.
Well, better start putting this damn thing together. My brains start to spin into high gear as I let the Omni-Elemental construct fade to nothing. I can't afford to have anything else taking up my mental resources while I work on this thing.
With a flourish that would make Michaelangelant proud, I start funnelling a mighty river of Gravity mana, pulling it out of me and shaping it expertly. Dozens of minds manipulate the mana, condensing it, folding it, twisting and curving and looping, forming the thousands upon thousands of intricate shapes that need to fit together just so for the lousy thing to work.
The framework gradually takes shape as I squeeze out more and more mana. It's a thirsty beast, this spell. I'll have to spend pretty much every drop of gravity mana I have in me to cast it a single time.
In terms of shape, it's kind of like a vertical loop, with two horizontal loops linked together meeting in the middle of the first one. However, inside each of those three loops in an absurd amount of dense detail. Spiraling coils that twist in and around themselves like those infinite shapes are everywhere, making the internal structure of the spell like an Escher painting after a dozen cups of strong coffee.
Working on it is quite literally brain-melting, and I quickly burn through the parts I'm comfortable with and into far less familiar territory. At this point, the strain doubles, since I have to hold the entire thing together while I stop, start, add sections, find they don't fit right, unpick them and do it over again.
Meanwhile, our approaching friend makes their presence known. As suspected, it certainly is a big chap. It's a snail, which is fairly standard, given what we've seen so far in this stratum, but it quickly differentiates itself.
For one, it's massive. Easily larger than me, the snail towers over the other monsters nearby, a testament to its large spend in Might. Unusual for a snail, it has an enormous maw, with hideous, spongy-looking teeth that undulate inside its perpetually open mouth. Even worse is its tongue. Every now and again, the beast shoots the thing out and latches onto a nearby monster, giving me a good look at it. It looks like it's ninety percent sawblade as opposed to tongue, with thousands of ugly, razor-sharp-looking teeth covering the surface. Yikes.
The shell is a towering thing, and from the centre on either side extends a gelatinous arm that smokes from its sheer toxicity.
I do not want to get up close and personal with this thing. And, thankfully, I shouldn't have to, if this all works out.
My main mind is deeply involved in the process now, since it's better at handling Gravity Mana than the constructs are, thanks to its mutations. More and more mana is dredged up to feed this beast as every one of my minds is put to the task of piecing it together.
The moment the big snail sees us, and the cleansed mana, a predictable thing happens. It opens its mouth absurdly wide, gets a mad look in its eyes and starts charging straight at us. Surprisingly quickly for a snail, I might add.
Hurrying up my work, I realise that the spell is nearly complete. Above each of the two horizontal loops now sits a hollow sphere, and if I'm understanding my own thoughts right, I'm supposed to fill them with an absurd amount of condensed gravity mana
But… if I do that… they'll become gravity bombs…. Right?
Suddenly, I have a bad feeling about all this.
While some of my brains continue to pick over the rest of the spell, I dedicate the bulk of my focus to emptying out the remaining power I contain within myself, splitting it in half and directing each of the flows into a separate sphere. Once there, more minds take hold of the mana and begin to crush it down, compressing it into that deep, dark purple energy I know so well.
It doesn't take long for the spell to become visible, not just to me but to everyone. Two dark spheres begin to form above me, one on my left, and the other to my right. With each passing moment, the two spheres grow larger and darker.
The ants and militia move further away.
Ah, nards.
-x-X-x-
I contain a huge amount of gravity mana these days, but as the spheres start to fill up, I worry that I might not have enough. Trying to whip together a gravity mana construct at this point would be an exercise in futility; all of my minds are dedicated to holding this lousy thing in place as I sprint to the finish line.
Unsurprisingly, the snail is heading right for me, both eyes stretched forward atop their stalks, staring hatefully at my gleaming diamond perfection. I suppose it's a good thing, makes aiming easier. I am a little worried about how quickly it's approaching, though. Can I fill this damn thing up any faster?!
I mean, this thing is taking forever to cast!
There isn't much I can do to speed it up, though. I'm moving as much mana as I safely can and condensing it as fast as possible. So many of my minds are dedicated just to holding the rest of the spell in place, preventing the mana from shifting even an iota as I prepare to complete the cast.
I watch, nervously, as the spheres on my right and left continue to swell. I've been close to gravity bombs several times, but not this close! I can't help but have a bit of anxiety about the two orbs just hovering there… ominously.
I keep expecting to hear the characteristic shriek of the wind, feel the air whipping my antennae about, but it doesn't happen. The two bombs sit there, inert, just… growing.
Finally, when the snail is only a few hundred metres away, the spell is ready. I feed in the last possible drop of power I hold within me, crush it down one final time, then let it rip.
I don't have the time to give it a final check, so here's hoping it works!
I expect something to happen immediately, and I duck down, covering my head with my legs, but… there's nothing? Wait! Something is happening! It's slow at first, but the two bombs are moving. As the seconds tick past, they move faster, and it takes a bit, but I work out what's happening. They're orbiting each other.
The two spheres of absolute darkness rotate, tracing a circle in front of me, one rising above, the other dipping beneath. Faster and faster they spin, increasing in speed well beyond the point where I thought they couldn't get any faster. Then I realise something else: the orbit is decaying! The two bombs are getting closer together!
Holy moly… I have a really bad feeling about this!
The snail is close enough now to make its presence felt. It rears back, drawing its head almost all the way into its shell before it lunges forward, unleashing a torrent of violently orange sludge that fills the air with noxious fumes the moment it appears.
Come on, spell!
The two bombs draw closer and closer, and when I extend my senses for a moment, I can feel the truly absurd amount of power being generated between the two spheres.
Man, I wish I had a shell I could hide inside, the suspense is killing me!
The two spheres finally touch, and purple lightning explodes from the contact. Crackling purple light jags through the air and rips deep grooves into the rock, even digging lines into the diamond platform!
Whoops!
Still rotating, the two bombs continue to fall into each other, combining, merging, and forming… something else.
A hideous void takes shape at the heart of the merger, pulsing with dreadful power. More lightning cracks around the orb, forming a halo of destruction from which forks leap out to tear across whatever they touch, including my own carapace! Ouch!
Finally, the two bombs fuse completely, and only the void is left in their place. I cringe in fear from my own creation. There is so. Much. Power! That orb to me looks like a herald of death more than an angel of salvation!
So much energy, an absurd amount, all held in place by the spell form I created. But even that shape, so intricate and layered, can't hold this beast back for long!
No, something has to give, and at last, it does.
A tiny hole appears, an infinitesimal opening, and the void, unable to hold itself together any longer, unleashes its energy through that gap.
The world around me goes black. Time slows.
A lance of pure darkness blasts forth, and the world seems to scream in pain.
Ah, I think I figured out what this spell is called.
Singularity.
I don't want to look, but I can't close my eyes. Everything the beam touches is annihilated. Everything near the beam is annihilated. Like the finger of the reaper, everything it points at just ceases to exist, broken apart at the atomic level.
The noxious fumes are gone.
The orange sludge is gone.
The snail? You guessed it. GONE.
More accurately, a good chunk of it is gone. The beam itself is probably a metre wide, and it bores a hole straight through the offending gastropod.
The void collapses in on itself, shrinking with each passing second as all of its energy is given to the beam. When the orb finally winks out of existence, the beam goes with it.
Light returns. Time returns.
The gathered ants and militia watch in stunned silence. Even the monsters of the fifth seem momentarily cowed, unable to understand what they just saw.
Even I don't understand it, dammit! And that was unempowered!
Just what am I becoming?
-x-X-x-
"This is our chance," Leeroy hissed. "We can't mess it up again."
"Shhh!" her second in command, Hamadant shushed, waving her antennae to dispense the scent faster. "We don't know who might be paying attention."
The two looked around surreptitiously, then paused, then inspected the shadows beneath their feet. Leeroy went as far as to prod her own shadow with an antenna.
"I think we're in the clear," she said, dubious.
"We don't have much time," Hamadant said. "Artaxant said the armour will be repaired in less than a day."
"The evolution might take longer than that," Leeroy fretted. "What if it's not finished in time?"
"We have to take this chance," Hamadant stated, emphatic. "It was your idea, and we all agreed."
"Mufasant was particularly keen," Leeroy muttered. "She trampled over all our doubts."
"If any of us evolve with supervision, they're going to demand we explain our options and choose them for us," Hamadant said. "Our only chance is for one of us to evolve in secret and find the right option for the rest of us to pick, and you're the only one who's reached max level. We're counting on you, Leeroy."
Member of the Council, among the oldest of all the ants in the Colony, leader of the Immortals and constant disappointment to the Eldest, Leeroy felt her heart swell with powerful emotions as her second in command placed a leg on her carapace and spoke so earnestly.
All they wanted to do was sacrifice themselves for the Colony. Was that so wrong? Was it such a bad thing to be so dedicated, to listen to what their instincts told them?
No. Of course it wasn't! Thanks to the mistake they'd made when evolving to tier six, they'd become trapped, too durable to be defeated, and even if they were, they would simply revive. The Phoenix Flame had been so detrimental to their goals it had almost pushed them entirely out of reach. Whenever the Immortals found themselves in a position that was dire enough for them to be defeated the first time, the Colony would rally to their side, ensuring they wouldn't get the chance to be defeated twice.
Even so. EVEN SO, Leeroy and her followers had not given up hope. Not at all. The search went on until they found what they were looking for.
"Take this. It was the best we could find."
Hamadant handed her a rare core, nodding firmly as Leeroy took it in her mandibles.
"Good luck. Show us the way," she said, then turned and scuttled out of the remote chamber they had stowed themselves in.
Again, Leeroy was deeply moved, then firmed her resolve. This was a chance; she was going to undo her mistake and find the evolution that would counteract their current evolution and its cursed Phoenix Flame Organ, giving them a chance to achieve their true goal.
Concentrating, Leeroy began to absorb the core, feeling its energy being added to her own, the gem within her body swelling and pressing against her insides. The pain was good; she welcomed and embraced it. This pain was nothing compared to her burning will, her defining ambition. When weighed against her need for glorious sacrifice, what was pain?
Nothing.
When the core was fully absorbed, she took a moment to centre herself. This would be a big evolution, the first of the Immortals to rise to tier seven. This time, she couldn't afford to make any mistakes. She would read the full description of everything.
She could already imagine the Eldest laughing at her, forcing the rest of the Immortals to follow in her footsteps if she made another error. This time, it would be flawless.
She initiated the evolution process and focused her mind, quieting her spirit which cried out for selfless sacrifice, achieving a sort of mandible-clenched focus. As she engaged the evolution menu, she flicked through the notifications until the list of possible species appeared. She honed in on each item, reading each word as if her life depended on it.
Salvation lay in these words, and she would digest each and every one fully and completely.
For herself. For her followers. For the search.
Your Evolution Options are as follows:
Enduring SoldierUnending WarriorUndying Commander
Leeroy winced. Things weren't off to a good start. Even looking at the names, things didn't seem promising on the surface. Hopefully there was something better in the special or rare options. She would check the details of each evolution, of course, the previous mistake couldn't be repeated. Yet she was hoping there would at least be something that seemed promising on the surface.
Phoenix Soldier of Endless Rebirth (Special)Unquenchable Flame of the Colony (Special)
This wasn't getting better. Just look at those names! Leeroy wasn't exactly sure what unquenchable would entail, but she knew it wasn't good. She wanted to be quenched! Fully quenched! Every day she spent in a less than satisfactorily quenched state was a fresh agony!
She folded her legs and clapped her front legs together like she saw the human priests do with their strange hand-things.
Please, she begged, there HAS to be something in the rare options.
Burning with a hope that refused to fade, she read on.
Armoured Ant-Phoenix of Limitless Vitality and Eternal Life (Rare)
Noooooooo!
That was SPECIFICALLY what she didn't want to see!
Leeroy slammed her head into the stone floor of the cavern, breathing deep, slow breaths. There was hope. There was still hope. One option remained, and it would surely be just what she was hoping to see. It had to be. It had to be.
Fallen Zombie Soldier (Rare)
Expecting the worst, Leeroy tilted her head to the side as she read the evolution. Wasn't this… sort of promising? Fallen? That was a good start! She would love to have fallen! And zombies? Zombies were dead, weren't they? She distinctly remembered that zombies were heavily involved with death mana and had something to do with dead things.
Wasn't this… wasn't this perfect?
NO! She wouldn't be tricked again! The description had to be checked. Thoroughly checked!
[Rare Evolution: Fallen Zombie Soldier (Rare). +20 Bonus to Cunning, +100 Bonus to Will, +250 Bonus to Toughness, +150 Bonus to Might. Embrace Death, and it will never leave you. The Phoenix Flame Organ will be consumed—
"It's perfect!" Leeroy roared, eyes bulging from her carapace, and slammed accept. A few modifications to turn her into the perfect sacrificial soldier, and her evolution would be complete!
She couldn't wait until the Eldest saw her again. They wouldn't be laughing this time!