Chapter 2930 - Chry 136

Advant, loyal Soldier of the Colony and member of the Council, stood alongside her sibling, the general Sloan, and watched.

"It's doesn't quite hit home until you see it for yourself," she noted.

"I've been here for three days, and I still can't quite believe it," Sloan replied. "Getting the reports is overwhelming enough, but this… this is beyond my imagination."

The two stood, clinging to a wall as they looked down over the connection between the fourth stratum and the fifth. Deep below the mountain that the Colony had turned into their nest, the transformation that had taken place here was nothing short of baffling.

Where once there had been monster-infested tunnels turned into staging grounds for the invasion, now there lay a hub of industry without rival anywhere else in the Colony's lands. A new portal network had been established, the extravagant cost deemed justified in order to save the time it took to shift materials from the mountain above to below, and from those portals, an unending stream of all that the ants created poured out.

Reinforcements, healers, medicines, new trainees for the militia, metals, wood, precious stone, ores, cores, Biomass, everything.

It had proven to take too much time to carry objects through the portal, so the carvers had laid down tracks and devised carts that could bridge the gap caused by the width of the portal itself, just so they could move things through that little bit faster.

The two Council members watched as the fully laden carts streamed through the magic gateways, being sorted and shifted to different paths that would take them to specific warehouses to be unloaded. Already, the surrounding tunnels were stuffed with storage, the defensive line pushed further and further out to accommodate the necessary space. Peeling the Dungeon veins from this vast chamber alone had been a mighty work; not too long ago, it would have been beyond the Colony's skill entirely.

And all of this, everything that came through, everything that was processed, all the materials, all the ants, all the humans and golgari and various other races, all vanished down the shaft into the fifth stratum.

"Solant has somehow managed to leverage the production of almost the entire Colony," Sloan noted. "We are sending down ten thousand ants a day, and still she wants more."

"Are our casualties that high?" Advant fretted. "We shouldn't be throwing away the lives of our siblings."

"You've seen the reports, the casualties are far lower than what we might have expected going into this, but the injury rate is staggering, and the time to heal wounds sustained down there is much longer than the norm. Every healer we can spare across the entire Colony is down there already, and it isn't enough. Look over there."

The general used her antennae to direct Advant's attention, and she saw a new facility being constructed, an enormous, ten-floored building being built into the vast chamber wall.

"New hospital, the first of six."

"Six?"

"That's right. They're running out of space down in the fortress to accommodate the wounded. Attrition during the wave has proven to be absurdly high. Did you see what the average deployment time for a soldier on the platforms is?"

"Two hours," Advant said grimly.

"Two hours in the fight, then a week out of it recovering," Sloan confirmed. "Generals are better, but still awful. Scouts and mages last the longest, but the fighting is so hectic that even they can't avoid injury."

The two turned their attention back to the shaft. In their minds, it had transformed from just an elevator, or a tunnel, into something far more terrifying.

It was a mouth, and it was eating everything the Colony could put into it.

"The fortress is an insatiable beast," Sloan sighed. "We're putting in everything, everything that we can produce, and the appetite never gets any lower. All the profits from our trade with the brathian conglomerate are being eaten up by this monster."

"I thought we were using those cores to graduate more hatchlings?" Advant asked.

"And where are they going?" Sloan snapped, pointing back at the hole in the ground. "It's not like we can stop it now either. If we pull back, the fortress will be chewed up and toxified in a matter of days. Nothing will be recoverable, all of it lost."

"What are you worried about? Just come out and say it directly."

Sloan fell silent for a moment, rubbing at her temples with her antennae, a gesture many of them had picked up from the Eldest. Advant knew what was troubling her sister, they all shared the same concerns, but it was better for such things to be out in the open.

"Solant tricked us from the beginning," Sloan said. "She knew all along just what this project was going to take, the stepped expansion of this staging ground is proof enough by itself. If we'd known from the beginning what this was going to require, we would have never gone along with it. There are so many things we need to focus on. Our position in the fourth is still unstable. Shoring up our borders in the third. Training our siblings, raising their Skills and increasing the number of tier six ants across the Colony. The Eldest themself demanded we slow down to focus on such things."

"Yet it was the Eldest's idea to invade the fifth," Advant stated. "This isn't Solant's doing, she's just following orders."

"I know that," the general groused. "I'm not criticising her, she just did what she thought was necessary to complete the task put in front of her. What I'm worried about is the stakes. If this invasion fails, we will never get back the resources we've invested in getting this far. It will be a blow to the Colony like we haven't experienced before."

"It will be a blow to the Eldest," Advant said quietly. "Some might doubt their decision-making, call into question their judgement."

"The Eldest has never led us astray before," Sloan fretted. "We just have to trust that this time won't be any different."

As they discussed, the ceaseless flow of precious resources did not pause even for an instant. All of it vanishing down into the darkness, food for the beast.

-x-X-x-

Morrelia felt like she was going crazy, and it wasn't just because of her current company.

"Is everything alright?" Isaac asked, stroking his moustache with one hand as he tried to execute a graceful lean on the wall beside her.

She could only roll her eyes at the display. No matter how she tried to communicate that this sort of behavior made her uncomfortable, Isaac didn't seem to be capable of receiving the message. It wasn't as if he was being deliberately annoying, or trying to get on her nerves, she genuinely thought he was just stupid.

Which didn't make him any less irritating.

"I'm bored," she stated.

"Oh," Isaac blinked.

He stared, then blinked again, then panicked. He'd finally gotten Morrelia to go somewhere with him, and now she was bored? This was a disaster! All of his meticulous planning! Moustache preparation alone had taken five precious hours, time that could only be spared by cutting back on sleep.

Severely sleep deprived he may be, but he looked fine, if he did say so himself.

"Of course, this is just the mess, our next stop will be… much more entertaining!"

All he had to do now was think about another possible destination… quick! She'd agreed to have a meal with him, so of course they were in the mess hall allocated to the militia, because where else were they going to eat in the fortress?

Having said that, the food was quite good. Isaac hurriedly took his seat and began to divide up the cake he'd ordered for them. Someone had told the ants how to make cheesecake, and now they were experimenting. This particular offering was a triple-layered chocolate cheesecake with a particularly thick, crumbly/chewy base he just couldn't get enough of.

He passed Morrelia her slice, smiling with what he hoped was just the right amount of masculine bravado mixed with gentlemanly debonair. In the Legionary's eyes, he looked incontinent.

"Thank you," she said, and took a bite, eyes widening at the burst of flavour.

Why the heck were the ants so good at baking? It didn't make any sense! Well… they did have quite the sweet tooth… not that they had teeth… but this was excessive.

"I didn't mean bored about being here," she clarified, "I'm bored because we haven't been allowed to do any fighting. The Colony has kept us wrapped up in wool since the wave started. Every day is drills and gear maintenance from morning till night, all the while everyone else in the fortress has been fighting monsters. You've been out there too, haven't you, Isaac?"

He was relieved to hear she wasn't bored with his company, so relieved he felt weak at the knees, and yet…

"I've been out there," he said quietly, the flavour of the cake turning to ash in his mouth. He grimaced and put down his fork. "It's… rough."

"I've been in the fifth before," she told him, "I know what it's like."

This was the reason he felt so attracted to her. Objectively speaking, Morrelia's features may not have been the most appealing. There was a scar here, a blemish there. She was too square-jawed, her features set in a near perpetual scowl. And yet, her dark eyes burned with a courage that seemed truly bottomless. Was there anything in all of Pangera that could make her take a step back? Isaac didn't think so. He couldn't look into those eyes and not want to be near a fire that fierce, to try and enjoy a fraction of its heat.

He'd been deployed to the platforms twice so far, and he'd be going again soon, once Cavalant had her legs back. Even the third during the height of the wave, with the endless frenzy of demons, the sky thick with smoke and ash, the temperature so hot the sweat evaporated from his skin the moment it formed, didn't come close to the nightmare of the fifth.

Isaac had never believed there was an afterlife, but if hell truly did exist for those who strayed from the Path, then it would look like the fifth during a wave.

He nodded to himself.

"I'll tell you what," he said, "once we finish eating here, I'll see if I can pull a few strings and get you onto a platform, just for a bit. With a little luck, you might get to talk to Anthony, make your case."

A stupid idea. He was trying to court this woman, why was he offering her a glimpse of a toxic hellscape?

Morrelia's eyes brightened.

"That'd be fantastic! Thank you."

It was worth taking Isaac up on his offer. She felt bad for resorting to this, but Commander Chyron was being stubborn, refusing to say anything regarding their deployment. Desperate times had called for desperate measures.

It was almost insultingly easy for Isaac to bring her to Anthony's platform. There were many checks and barriers on the way, not to mention several large, imposing gates, each emblazoned with the likeness of the Eldest, but they were waved through most of them with barely a glance. Was Isaac that highly ranked? He could just swan around the fortress with a Legionary and nobody cared, even if they walked right up to Anthony himself?

Stepping through the final gate, Morrelia was confronted with the full scale of what the Colony was up against. The battle on the platform was nightmarish. Slime and mucus dripped from every surface tainted by the toxic mana, oozing together to form a slow-moving ocean of corruption that fell all around the platform itself.

The slime was bad enough, but that ocean was teeming with monsters. Screams, cries, roars and bellows filled the air as the ants and their sapient allies held the line against seemingly impossible odds.

In the centre of it all, a giant ant stood defiant.

The moment she stepped through the gate, Morrelia felt a giant mind latch onto hers.

[Where the heck have you been?] Anthony demanded. [Get down here!]

-x-X-x-

Brilliant was a busy ant, which was largely how she liked it. After her success with the portals, the Eldest had dumped a number of projects into her mandibles, including the investigation of the Church of the Path. All in all, it had kept her hopping around the Colony, solving mysteries and investigating unknowns.

That was the sort of thing she enjoyed. What she didn't like was fussing about with carvers on… engineering… ugh.

"Everything seems to be working as intended," Tungstant said.

Brilliant turned to the left, then to the right… then threw her front legs up in frustration.

"Then why am I here?!" she declared. "I was busy plumbing the mysteries of this world in my lab, and you dragged me down here to say everything is working perfectly!? Why? Tell me why. I have to know!"

To her, this was such a waste of time it qualified as a mystery all on its own. Surely, no ant could possibly justify such a waste of time and resources. What was the motivation behind it? What could it possibly be?!

"If you let me finish," Tungstant huffed, "I was going to say that everything is working perfectly, so far. However, as the concentration of mana builds up in the tanks, we are starting to detect resonance between them. You asked us to call you if that happened."

Brilliant lowered her front legs and clasped them together in front of her mandibles.

"Of course I did," she said quietly, "because I'm BRILLIANT! I knew this would happen."

She rushed deeper into the wide chamber right in the heart of the fortress and began poking at the tanks, using her antennae to prod at the highly sensitive, heavily enchanted equipment.

The chamber was circular and enormous, the outer ring filled with row after row of tanks, each containing just a trickle of a brightly glowing fluid: liquid mana.

"I thought we might have gathered more by this point," Brilliant noted, pressing her face against the glass tanks to examine the contents.

"There are a few reasons for that," Tungstant noted, trying to keep up with the mage. "We only recently amassed enough wuffers to operate all of the cleansing stations. The fortress is still only operating at seventy percent of its designed capacity. In addition, it's taking more cleansed mana than expected to maintain the fortress against the natural energy of the fifth. The mana outside is highly concentrated, and we have to hold the walls at all costs."

"Of course you do," Brilliant scoffed, then continued to poke and prod at each of the tanks. "If the fortress becomes contaminated, it's over for all of us."

Tunstant sighed. She wasn't wrong. Once the fortress became contaminated, that would be the chink in their carapace that the Krath would exploit. They might be laying low for the time being, but the Colony hadn't forgotten that the slugs were out there, scheming and working to bring down the fortress. They couldn't afford to show weakness.

"This is bad," Brilliant noted after apparently finishing her inspection.

"Bad how?" Tungstant demanded. "I need specifics if we're going to fix it."

"I don't know yet!" Brilliant declared happily. "These tanks aren't even five percent full, and yet, despite all the measures we took, they are still resonating with each other. I can't even begin to describe just how much mana will be contained in this chamber when they're all full, and the resonance effect is exponential, not linear. In short, things are going to get crazy in here if these fill up."

"Crazy how?" Tungstant demanded, exasperated.

"You want me to predict something that has never happened before?! An explosion! A tear in the fabric of reality! Delicious cake raining from the sky! The entire fortress being torn out of existence! I don't know!"

She didn't sound particularly upset by any of these prospects, either.

"Look, there's no need to worry," she said.

"How am I supposed to not worry?" Tungstant demanded. "You just told me this chamber could destroy the entire fortress. Why wouldn't I worry?"

"Because I'm BRILLIANT!" the mage declared, clacking her mandibles together for emphasis. "I'll figure out the problem and come up with a potential solution for you to implement. It's going to be fine."

It turned out to be an interesting puzzle here after all. They'd designed measures specifically for reducing the resonance between the tanks, going to great lengths to suppress energy vibrations, and yet, it was still happening. With a chamber this size, and all the mana it could contain… it would be the greatest concentration of energy the Colony had ever produced by a thousand times. The potential for explosive consequences was… tantalising.

And the stakes were high. Solant's entire strategy was built around the accumulation of power in this chamber. If it didn't work, they were going to be in trouble.

Brilliant clacked her mandibles happily.

"I might have to bring some members of my team down here," she told Tungstant. "This could prove to be quite difficult."

"I'll prepare a separate chamber for you to work in," the carver said. "I know your experiments can be… temperamental."

-x-X-x-

Commander Chyron was not enjoying her time. The Legion had tasked her with destroying a potential Ancient, a monster subject to the call, and she had pursued it to the best of her ability. Only now she found herself locked in a fortress surrounded by millions of monsters during a wave.

Not only could she not attack the target she had been given without ensuring the death of her entire Legion, the blasted creature was growing stronger by the day! Every inspection of the blasted monster's core showed it was gaining blasted Levels at a steady blasted pace, fighting against the boundless horrors of the fifth.

Meanwhile, her own people were sitting on their hands doing drills.

In truth, Chyron had long ago given up on achieving her mission. Without some catastrophic blunder on the part of the ants, the odds of successfully attacking the beast were abysmal. No, she would do her duty and shadow the monster all the way to the sixth, at which point it would become someone else's problem.

Still, it was frustrating. Chyron and her Legion were more than enough to destroy a tier seven mythic monster under normal circumstances, but this one happened to be surrounded by tens of thousands of other monsters at any given moment.

[The general is available to speak to you now,] a voice rang out in the Commander's head, and she pushed off the wall, scowling.

Solant was busy, of course she was, but Chyron couldn't help but feel irritated. It wasn't the ant's fault, but her general foul mood was making every minor hindrance stoke her temper.

Chyron caught herself as she was walking through the door, wondering what she was thinking. Since when did she care if anything was the blasted ant's fault or not? What these monsters thought of her was no concern of Chyron's.

Inside the chamber, she found the ant general seated on one of the strange ant chairs, munching away on something. The Commander expected it to be a cake slice or some other delicacy, washed down with a refreshing cup of tea. The ants did like their sweets and tea, after all.

To her displeasure, she realised Solant was chewing on Biomass, mincing the material with her mandibles before bringing her head over the food to get a mouthful.

Reminding me what you are. As if I would ever forget.

Nothing the general did was ever an accident or coincidence. She wanted Chyron to see her like this, behaving as a monster should.

In short order, their minds were connected, and the Commander wasted no time.

[I want my people in the fight. What are your conditions?]

[We don't need you in the fight,] Solant replied coldly. [Your information has proven to be useful, but we are quite capable of defending the fortress on our own.]

[I didn't say you weren't able to. I said I want my people in the fight.]

The general munched another mouthful, her large, many-faceted eyes focused on her guest. What was it like, to view the world that way, the Legionary wondered. Not just to see the world broken into a thousand shards, one for each lens, but as a monster, where almost everything on Pangera was just food to make you stronger.

One day, the Colony would turn on their allies, driven by hunger and a will so much greater than their own. Chyron was as certain of it as she was her own name.

[Are your people prepared to fight alongside monsters? Alongside those who are loyal to the Colony?] Solant asked. [I doubt your single Legion would be able to hold a platform on your own.]

Chyron bared her teeth.

[Want to bet?]

The men and women in her Legion were as tough as abyssal steel and twice as deadly. The fifth held no fear for her.

[Really? You are willing to hold a platform by yourselves? For how long?]

[Indefinitely,] Chyron stated without hesitation. [We don't need to be relieved.]

[With only five thousand combatants? How will you rotate out your fatigued soldiers? I'm sure you're aware that the onslaught never stops out there.]

Solant didn't sound doubtful, only coolly polite as she continued her meal. Chyron narrowed her eyes.

[We are the Deep Legion,] she stated simply.

Solant waited for more words from the woman, but when none came, she simply nodded. It was time to measure the worth of this Legion. They would be her opponent in the future, of that she was sure. She should learn what she could while she had the chance. Preparation was nine-tenths of victory, after all.

[We will provide medical support, along with a battalion of reserves. This is non-negotiable,] she said, cutting off the Commander before she could speak. [Should a single platform fall, the entire fortress will be compromised.]

[How many in a battalion?]

[Ten thousand. Ants and support militia. Will that be a problem?]

Chyron chewed on it for a moment.

[No,] she declared finally. [As long as they follow orders.]

[I can guarantee that.]

[Then we have a deal. Where do you want me to deploy and when?]

[Now,] Solant said.

She made no gesture, but another ant stepped into the room in that moment, a folder gripped neatly in its mandibles.

[Here are the details of your deployment. Your Legion will need to shift their billets to the chambers indicated in the documents. You have twelve hours to prepare yourselves before the troops on that platform rotate off. I look forward to seeing what you can do.]

As if Chyron didn't realise what the ant was doing.

[Enjoy the show,] was all she said before turning on her heel and striding from the room.

Mana burned in her veins. She needed a good fight.

-x-X-x-

The influence of Solant on the organisation of the Colony is difficult to overstate. Perhaps of all the champions who arose within the Colony, her impact was the greatest, even when compared to Brilliant, or Merchant.

By our very nature, the ants of the Colony formed an effective military. Cooperative, egoless, selfless, unafraid of death, we were able to organise readily, train relentlessly, and confront our enemies with confidence and overwhelming numbers.

Solant was not satisfied with that.

She turned the Colony into a proper military. Every caste was brought into a unified command structure that made the best use of their talents, in ways no other ant had ever dreamed of. It was no longer enough to simply train, gain experience and improve levels. Endless drills, complex formations, backup plans within backup plans, contingencies, redundancies. The exhaustive drive and intellect she possessed was laser focused on one single thing: preparation.

Yes, Solant was the greatest battlefield general the Colony ever produced, but her true power and influence was in reshaping the Colony's approach to not only battle, but war.

It is due to Solant that we came to be so feared.

- Excerpt from the private notes of Historiant

Some among her closest advisors, her broodmates who she'd grown up with, considered Solant to be something of a pessimist. They all saw the wisdom in planning for the worst, but she truly seemed to expect it, which appeared excessive to them at times.

To her mind, it was only prudent. If she expected the worst, then she wouldn't be in the slightest surprised when it almost inevitably happened. Also, she wouldn't be too shocked when something even worse occurred.

So far, everything to do with the invasion of the fifth stratum had been going according to plan. According to her expectations, that meant that something awful should happen right about…

"General Solant!"

… It was difficult at times, always being correct.

"Make way for the messenger," she demanded, cool and calm as always.

The forward command post was a hive of activity, not least because it was constantly moving. As the area covered by the purified mana pushed deeper into the fifth, so too did the frontline of the invasion. As the commander, she needed to stay close to respond to any disasters as they took place. Such as now.

The many bustling ants gave way and soon a clearly stressed scout stood before her.

"There has been some form of attack!" she burst out. "Toxic mana is spreading everywhere within the safe-zones!"

What? That shouldn't be possible…

"How?" she demanded. "Has anyone identified the source?"

"Yes, general," the scout nodded her antennae frantically. "It's the vents! Those strange openings along the tunnels. They suddenly opened up and started spewing toxic mana everywhere! Some parts of the invasion force have already been cut off!"

Of course. Even worse than the worst case scenario. If the local Krath hadn't overplayed their hand so severely, this would be the perfect moment for them to have attacked….

She'd gotten lucky.

Silence fell over the post as Solant sank deep into her thoughts, considering every possibility. Those vents… The Colony had identified them during the first scouting mission but wasn't able to determine their purpose or function. Why would they open now? What had triggered this event?

It didn't matter. What mattered now was limiting the damage, preserving the strength of her troops and ensuring the invasion didn't lose momentum.

"Come with me," she ordered quietly, and led the entire command group to the model of the fifth. Even now, carvers were hard at work on it, filling in the details, shaving away at sections of rock, or adding new ones as reports came in describing the terrain of the surrounding Dungeon.

"Spread the command that every squad is to engage Shell-Epsilon tactics," she instructed.

Stop advancing, act as independent, defensive units until further orders arrived. Yet another thing they had extensively drilled.

"This command must reach every battalion and squad, regardless of the state of the tunnels. Am I understood?"

The scout nodded.

"Gather any additional scouts you require outside the command post and coordinate with the staff here. Go swiftly."

As a result of this order, several of her siblings would die, infected by the toxicity of the fifth beyond any hope of recovery. She hardened her heart. If the messages didn't get through and the troops didn't go into the trusted defensive formation, a great many more lives would be at risk.

Until the tunnels were cleansed and every inch of the safe-zone reconnected, every squad was on their own.

"Carvers, mages, up front," she ordered, and waited as those she needed crawled forward. "We have to do two things as quickly as possible. First, locate every active vent and modify the pipe network to allow intake from them. If necessary, we may need to adjust the wuffer-node layout. It will be up to each team's discretion what course of action they need to take. Second, we need to find every inactive vent, if there are any, and prepare pipe lines to each of them. If they start expelling mana, we have to be ready to siphon it away immediately."

The situation was bad, but had the potential to become so much worse.

"We have to move quickly. Go now, and send back progress reports every ten minutes."

Dozens of ants rushed away, already issuing orders as Solant stared at the model, as if trying to discern the future from the hard, cold stone.

"Leonidant," she called to her trusted broodmate, who leapt to her side in seconds. "You will go to this area and be responsible for coordinating the response."

She used her front leg to indicate the zone she meant, specifying the exact sections of tunnel at which her sibling's area of responsibility would end.

"Washingtant, I want you in charge of this section."

"Juliant, you will take this section."

"Napoleant, you take this area. Go."

Those she knew best, and who understood her mind the most, rushed to obey her commands, and Solant sat back, still thinking hard. So long as her troops were able to do as they had trained, this disaster could be overcome. She wasn't worried about that. Her mind, of course, was busy calculating a new reality. Now that this had happened, what was the new worst thing that could possibly occur? And how could she be prepared?

"Bring the Eldest to me," she instructed, "I have a task that they are not going to like."

-x-X-x-

"Who are we?" Chyron bellowed.

"THE LEGIONEM ABYSSI!" the soldiers roared back.

"Who are we?" she demanded again, her voice effortlessly rising above the thunderous march of armoured feet on stone.

"THE SHIELD AGAINST THE DARKNESS!"

"Who are we?"

"THE SWORD OF CIVILISATION!"

"Who are we?"

"THE LEGIONEM ABYSSI!"

"What do you fear?"

"NOTHING!"

"To whom do you bow?"

"NO ONE!"

"FOR HOW LONG WILL YOU FIGHT!?" the Commander roared, her voice crashing like thunder.

"FOREVERMORE!"

"WHO ARE WE?"

"THE FIFTY SECOND LEGION!"

"THE FIFTY SECOND LEGION!"

"THE FIFTY SECOND LEGION!"

With every cry, the soldiers holding the banners lifted them proudly into the air, while the regular troops crashed their fists into their chest plates, causing the deep ring of abyssal steel to shake the walls.

The ants had opened the gate wide enough for the Legion to march through in a column ten wide, and even as she exhorted her soldiers and set their blood to pumping, she was running her experienced eye over the platform the moment she stepped through.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen the fifth during a wave, but even so… this was something different. The intensity of the mana was absurdly high, and they hadn't even reached the halfway mark of the wave. Above and below, the outer wall of the fortress formed a sheer barrier, rising into the darkness overhead and disappearing into the void below. The sheer emptiness of that gap between the fortress and the rest of the fifth was mind-bending to look at, but she didn't pay it much mind.

No, what caught her eye was the platform itself.

As the Legion marched through the gate and over the bridge, their feet slamming down in perfect unison, she studied every aspect of the platform. Running through the channels beneath, an awesome amount of mana hummed, racing like a raging torrent through the conduits and into the fortress itself. All around the platform, the ants were already engaged in heavy fighting, alongside their militia.

The fighting was brutal. On the front lines, ants were deluged with acid, slime and mucus as they fought with their mandibles, ripping and tearing into the endless tide of monsters that threatened to smash through their lines at any moment. It was easy to see what the main strategy was. They wanted to use their most powerful weapon, the cleansed mana, to its greatest effect, dragging the monsters into the blue-zone and allowing it to break the corrupted creatures of the fifth apart.

An obvious downside was that this allowed the enemy to get much too close. The monsters of the fifth were all too happy to be dragged forward, allowing them to discharge mucus, parasites and filth all over the platform. The support were doing their best, launching powerful barrages of acid and complex artillery spells into the oncoming horde, but it was never enough to hold back the tide.

Chyron rolled her shoulders and felt the old bones in her neck crack and pop. It had been too long since she'd had the chance to really attack the filth of the fifth. This would be a good day.

She turned her back on the chaos and watched as her soldiers marched into formation, pretty as a parade ground. Their armour and weapons gleamed; the banners of the fifty second were spotless, proudly displaying the Iron Mountain and crossed swords that had been the symbol of this Legion for over two thousand years.

Her officers formed up around her as the last of the troops came through the gate. Once they had taken their places and relieved the ants from their positions, those gates would slam shut, cutting them off from the rest of the fortress.

She couldn't wait. Sometimes it was better when things were less complicated.

"Remember the plan," she told her officers. "No need to make things fancy. Box formation, three deep. Mage batteries to call their own targets. Rotate on my command and keep the lines tight. Make sure the centurions are keeping a close eye on their people. It's easy to draw too deep when the fighting is intense. If we lose anyone to overload, I'm holding you responsible."

She glared at them, but they held her gaze and nodded, determined not to let their comrades down. She'd been worried when they'd foisted such young officers onto her, particularly Joshen and Morrelia as Tribunes, but so far they had proven to be promising steel, just as she'd been told.

Now it was time to put them in the fire and see their real qualities.

She turned her gaze back over the disciplined ranks of her Legion. It was impossible for her heart not to swell with pride at the sight. The greatest honour of her life was to command men and women like these.

She raised her voice once more.

"WHO ARE YOU?" she roared.

"THE LEGIONEM ABYSSI!"

"THE ENEMY IS BEFORE YOU!"

"KILL! KILL! KILL!"

"NO MERCY FOR MONSTERS!"

"KILL! KILL! KILL!"

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

"THE STRONGEST UNDER THE EARTH!"

"SHOW ME!"

Chyron drew her blade and held it high as she turned and marched at the head of the column. Every moment, the sound of fighting drew louder, the stench of mucus and sizzling flesh stronger and stronger. Behind her, troops organised themselves with each step, shifting into formation, organising their ranks. Centurions moved swiftly amongst the troops, hunting for any flaw in their movement, but none was found.

With her left arm, the Commander hefted her shield, while in her right she gripped her demon blade tight. The Incus pattern armour sat heavily on her shoulders, but with the mana burning through her body flowing into the metal, it was a part of her, and she accepted it.

As soon as she was in range, Chyron levelled out her blade, drew in a sharp breath, then lunged into a furious, flawless stabbing motion.

She was still a hundred metres short of the conflict, her blade didn't come anywhere near touching a monster, but it didn't have to.

From the tip of her weapon, a beam of light surged, spearing through the darkness like judgement. The light clashed into a crab-like beast and pierced straight through it, breaking apart the shell like it wasn't there.

"KILL!" she roared.

"KILL! KILL! KILL!" her soldiers replied.

-x-X-x-

For what reason does the Abyssal Legion have such a fearsome reputation? Why is it that anywhere on Pangera, on the surface or in the Dungeon, people know the name, Legionem Abyssi?

The Legion are not a national army. They do not owe allegiance to any king, court or parliament, but instead operate as an independent force that is somehow allowed to maintain recruitment, training, keeps and castles in over half the lands in this world.

The Legion does not trade. The secrets of their order are not for sale, no matter the price. The only way to claim a suit of Legion armour is to pry it from a dead Legionary, and if someone does, the Legion are sure to find them and ask for it back. Firmly.

Funded largely through donations or tithes from grateful kingdoms, they have held firm against the monsters during–and ever since–the Rending itself.

If one were to try and calculate the lives saved due to the Abyssal Legion over the last two thousand years, I am certain that number would be equal to that of all the living beings on Pangera today.

- Excerpt from 'Legionem Abyssi: an Examination' by Kint

"Shields up! Hold the line!" Chyron roared.

After pushing their way through the existing defenders for the past five minutes, the Legion had finally reached the front ranks, giving time and space for the ants and their allies to withdraw behind them.

Shoulder to shoulder, the Legionaries formed a wall, their shields wide and tall, locked together to present a unified front.

For the initial engagement, Chyron anchored the line herself. Front and centre of the formation, she sucked the mana deep into her body, letting it rage through her flesh and infuse her muscles and armour.

"Lance!" came the call, and as one, the soldiers slipped their shields to the side, opening a gap and launching a devastating thrust through the breach.

A storm of sword-light exploded forth, two ranks of Legionaries concentrating the force of their blades outwards in devastating thrusts. The light carved holes through the monsters and encroaching waves of mucus, but the Legionaries did not press their advantage. Instead, they locked their shields together once more, activating their defensive skills to produce a wall of force that held strong before them.

On three sides of the platform, the Legion formed an indomitable armoured wall three ranks deep. No matter how the monsters of the fifth threw themselves forward, regardless of their heedless charges or streams of slime and mucus, the wall did not break.

"Lance!" came the call once more.

Chyron gritted her teeth and summoned the force from deep within her aging body. Mana ignited within her flesh, empowering her muscles, strengthening her arm. The Abyssal Armour took that strength and enhanced it further, transmitting it to her blade as she moved with flawless technique, every joint rotating in sync as her blade Skill activated. Along with the soldiers on her left and right, the Commander shifted her shield to the side and thrust her sword through the narrow gap.

It was a small opening, but through it she saw the horrors of the fifth bearing down on her position. Only, a moment later, those monsters were obscured from her vision as light exploded once more from the tip of her blade.

The swordsmanship of the Legion was like everything else they did: simple, brutal and effective. Not for them was the elegant manipulation and control of the Folk Blademasters. Overwhelming force. Unstoppable penetration. Undeniable results. That was the style of the Legion, and Chyron was a master.

The air trembled around her, and Chyron knew instantly what had caused it: the mage batteries were ready. Dense balls of deep red fire arched overhead, so intensely hot the soldiers could feel the searing heat of them despite the distance. As they reached just beyond the peak of the arc and began to curve down, the fireballs split into a thousand smaller shards of flame and accelerated, stabbing down into the monsters like a rain of death.

Each one pierced and burned, driving deep into the filth and igniting many of the monsters they touched, but even that wasn't enough. The corruption of the fifth was so strong that even the greatest magic wasn't able to last long within its influence. Slime snuffed the flames, and even the most potent offensive magic eventually broke apart. No matter, the Legion would endure.

"Heave!" came the call, repeated by centurions up and down the line.

As one, the line dug in their heels, pushed their shoulder to the back of their shields, and pushed.

An explosive wall of force burst forth, strong enough to shatter stone. Everything within a dozen metres was forced back; nothing could resist or stand its ground in the face of that overwhelming strength.

"Attack!"

Once more, Chyron summoned the sum total of her strength. Her body hummed with power; all of it was drawn out and poured into the heavy Incus pattern armour before extending down her sword arm.

She executed a devastating slash, sending a wave of light slicing through the filth before her. Then another. And another.

Each strike flowed into the next, her movements perfectly controlled. The channels carved through her body by the baptism lit up like fire as mana thundered through her body. Chyron bared her teeth in a rictus grin behind her helmet. She knew this pain was being felt by every man and woman in the line, by every mage channeling more mana through themselves than any human mage had the capacity to do.

This pain was what it meant to be in the Legion. This was what it meant to sacrifice yourself to protect a world against monsters.

Sword light continued to flow out from the platform in a ceaseless sequence of slashes, until finally…

"Shields!"

With a sound like a colossal iron gate slamming shut, the soldiers locked shields again, reforming the wall. In moments, the monsters and slime crashed into the barrier, pressing, slamming, chewing and screaming as they tried to break through.

But they wouldn't. With abundant mana flowing through her, Chyron knew she could keep this up all day. For a week.

"WHO ARE WE?" she bellowed.

"THE STRONGEST UNDER THE EARTH!" her Legion roared back.

-x-X-x-

I know the strength of the Colony, I know everything we can do individually, or as a well-trained and disciplined army. If I am also aware of what the enemy is capable of, then what do I have to fear? A single battle, a dozen, a hundred or a thousand, the outcome of all can be calculated and predicted. Knowledge and preparation are what win wars. That has always been my belief, and every experience has only reinforced it.

- Excerpt from 'Words of Solant - Colony General' by Historiant

Peaceful and calm, Solant watched the unending rage of the fifth continue to boil and froth all around the platform. Reports from the front were one thing, but witnessing the neverending torrent of mucus and slime for herself was certainly an experience. Even more disturbing were the monsters who moved within and amongst the stuff, churning and oozing their way through the muck to attack the platform and hurl themselves into the cleansed mana.

She stood in the middle of the reserve militia, observing the battle unfold with her keen eyes, seeing the actions of the Legion through her thousand lenses, each one focused on a different aspect of the fighting.

"What do you think, general?" her sibling, Leonidant asked. "These Legion people seem to think a lot of themselves; I wonder if they deserve their reputation."

"We don't underestimate our enemies,' Solant stated evenly.

"We don't overestimate them either," Leonidant countered. "If they aren't dangerous, then I refuse to treat them as such. Appropriate force for appropriate demand, that's your philosophy."

"Our philosophy," Solant reprimanded, "and yes, I would say they are worthy of their reputation. Their infantry are holding much better than I was led to expect, given the accounts I read of the siege in the second stratum."

"The Legion defeated us in that siege, did they not?" Leonidant asked, confused.

"Of course they did. We were saved only by the wave breaking when it did. Yet, there were numerous direct clashes between the Colony and the Legion, and I have studied all of the accounts of those interactions. Despite an overwhelming advantage in numbers, we were pushed back almost every time. However, if the ants of those battles were to face the Legionaries in front of us, I believe they would be soundly defeated."

"They're that much stronger?" Leonidant asked doubtfully. "What's the difference between the soldiers then and now?"

The scout looked out towards the lines of the Legion, holding firm against the tide of monsters and sludge. It was impressive they could hold, but that wasn't the main challenge of fighting against the wave. No, being able to push back the tide once or twice wasn't the point, not at all. A hundred times? A thousand? Not for minutes, but for hours, days and weeks on end. That was the challenge of facing the wave in the fifth. She would reserve judgement until the real grind had set in, but it seemed Solant had already come to a decision.

"They are well-drilled, experienced, and with clear lines of leadership. They respond actively to changes in conditions on the battlefield with flexible tactics and disciplined movement. All the qualities I look for in a well-led army, they possess."

It was hard to push back against that statement; they were disciplined, that much was obvious. The shield wall was well-formed, the individual soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, braced and ready to act.

"Let's turn our attention to their equipment," Solant went on. "In particular, their shields and armour. While their shield Skills are proving to be effective at keeping the acid and slime at bay, they aren't perfect. I've seen four soldiers doused with a significant amount of mucus so far. Has anyone else seen how their armour fared?"

"I haven't seen it," Leonidant stated, focusing back on the lines. How did Solant manage to pick out four individuals amongst the thousands fighting out there? What sort of mutations did she have?

"There doesn't appear to have been any damage at all," Solant said calmly. "None of the four have removed themselves from the front line, and nobody seems to expect them to. I have no idea how they created such resistant armour. The very best that our smiths can produce isn't nearly as capable of holding up against the acid and corruption of the fifth. If our carapaces could hold as well as that armour, our attrition rates for soldiers would be cut to a third or less."

That had been the greatest challenge faced by the Colony so far during the wave. The corrupted mana needed to be close enough to the platforms to be collected and funneled into the fortress, which meant letting the monsters get close. Preventing them from disgorging slime, mucus and parasites onto the front lines of the Colony had been impossible, even with the numerous tactics the Colony had tried to employ, such as extensive use of barrier magic, more mundane shields and armour or hit and run formations that gave the soldiers more flexibility.

"Finally, they are strong. Their Skills are highly ranked, their stamina does not seem to be flagging and their offense is potent. What is making them so much stronger than the last time we fought against them? I don't know. However, the evidence of their strength is right in front of us. The Legion are a formidable foe, and I don't believe for one second they are showing all of their cards," Solant stated. "There is more they can do, but they don't want us to see, which is understandable. What we will be able to grasp here on the platform is the limits of their endurance. When the days turn to weeks, we will see just how long they can maintain this level of performance."

Having said her piece, Solant settled in to watch, her unblinking eyes seeing everything, missing nothing. All of the data funnelled into her analytical mind, and she began strategising and planning. After all, one never knew what the future might hold.

-x-X-x-

It's cool, I can do this. I can totally do this!

No I can't. It's a stupid idea, and all that's going to happen is breaking my own carapace into a million pieces, then incinerating them with the power of a burning star. Why would I do that to myself? Why would anyone do that to himself?

For glory!

No, no way. That is a dangerously Leeroy-ish thought, and I won't tolerate that sort of nonsense inside my head. Get out, neurons who cooked up that poor excuse for a thought, you aren't welcome.

Alright, a better reason, there has to be a better reason. Think, brains!

For the family!

Well… I mean… dammit… that's a lot harder to refute. I am willing to do very stupid things for my family; I have a proven track record for that, after all. In fact, I've done a heck of a lot of that since being reborn on Pangera. Maybe this is how I'll go out, ready to be reborn again as a… chicken… or something. Or some sort of monstrous lamprey. Or.. a more monstrous lamprey. Those things are terrifying by default.

"Eldest? Are you going to help or what?"

Propellant snaps at me from nearby, breaking my concentration.

"Hey! I'm trying to pump myself up over here!"

"You need air inside you or something?" she replies, confused. "We're ants! We don't even have lungs! Get in the fight!"

"Alright already, sheesh!"

It's not as if the fighting isn't hectic. The war around the platform is an absolute mess, which is what we've come to expect, I suppose, but it's especially bad on the front lines, which is where I can make the most impact.

Being more durable than any other ant in the Colony, with the possible exception of Leeroy, I can hold better and longer than most, anchoring the defensive line and keeping others safe. Which is exactly what I was going to do, once I'd sufficiently psyched myself up.

Grumbling to myself, I stand and start skittering back to the front line, still trying to summon the internal fortitude necessary for my upcoming stunt. I mean, there's no better time to try and push the limits than now, right? Things are hard, the Colony is struggling, and it's going to get a heck of a lot worse before it gets any better. Before we end up neck deep in sludge, I need to know if this stuff works.

Alright! It's decided, I'm going to go for it. Let's do this!

Striding back to the front is fairly easy at my size, I just step over everyone, and soon enough the goop of the enemy is right in my face. It's almost impossible to attack and miss when you're on the front. Even if you don't get a monster, which is unlikely, you're going to help push back the truly endless wall of mucus that threatens to gloop out onto the platform itself at any moment.

Which wouldn't be ideal.

So I get to chomping, blasting acid and shooting copious amounts of fire at everything I see. I can't put my mandibles on anything directly, but at least I can use the active ability to chomp away with extended range.

But that's not what I'm about. Not this time. I have a new focus, a new purpose during this particular battle.

I'm going to unleash the true might of the Starcrusher!

Now, is that likely to, quite literally, explode in my face? Yes. Yes it is. But I have a plan that will hopefully leave my face intact along with the rest of me. It's going to work! Maybe!

I've used the new chomp attack several times since my initial attempt, and I would say I've gotten… somewhat used to it. I've learned it's possible to direct the resulting explosion of power… a bit, which will help avoid damaging the platform, but even so, I'll have to stick my head off the edge, right up against the end of the safe zone to do this.

Because not only am I going to use the Starcrusher chomp, I'm going to empower it with the Altar.

Doing so will be roughly equivalent to pumping it up to a rank eight Skill as opposed to a seven in terms of raw power, and that isn't likely to play nice with my siblings to my left or right, nor me, in the middle.

However! Thanks to the mutation on the Altar itself I selected, allowing me to infuse my carapace with its blessed energy and making myself more durable, I should be able to survive.

Hopefully.

And if I do survive, then that's another weapon we can use during the wave, which is going to get bad before the end.

Nervous, I check to my left and then my right. The line of soldiers is holding strong for the moment, with the copious support pouring in from the lines behind. Now seems as good a moment as any.

Pulling my mandibles wide, I step forward and activate the chomp. As I do, I use the Altar to empower the ability, and then start sweating in my carapace as I feel almost all of the energy contained inside drain away.

This might have been a very bad idea…

-x-X-x-

Extending outwards from either side of my head, two massive mandibles of darkest light form. They stretch so far to my left and right they cover half the front of the platform.

As usual, my stamina drops precipitously, but then I start to panic about just how much energy remains in the Altar. There's millions of ants in the fortress at this time, not to mention all those at the very depths of the fourth, all within range of the Vestibule. With so many providing their will, the Altar is refilling quickly, but will it be enough? It's not like I have long!

The soldiers to my left and right shrink back from the chomp, expectedly so, and I realise I really should have told them what I was going to do. Wait, they're pulling back in such a neat and organised fashion… did… did Solant include plans in her formations for this sort of thing? I bet she did! Dammit, I'm not that predictable!

No matter how much I wish it wasn't the case, a spark of light flares between my mandibles, and I can't help but flinch back.

No.

Nonononono. Not yet!

Regardless of my wishes, the light takes shape, forming a sphere that begins to expand. Already, I can feel it crackling with suppressed power, and it's going to get a heck of a lot bigger than this.

Come on… it's going to be fine. I'm sure of it.

"Good luck, Eldest!" the ants tell me from their new positions, well back from the danger zone.

"You can do it!"

"Work hard!"

"If you injure yourself, I'll poke you in the eye, idiot."

That last one had to be a healer.

"Oi! Who do you think I'm doing this for?" I yell back.

The monsters of the fifth are surging forward now that the front line has pulled back, but in truth, I can't see them at all. The sphere of light continues to grow, rotating slowly, the glare it emits blinding me completely.

It grows, and grows, and when I start praying by the mighty beard of Gandalf himself that it stops, it doesn't. If the original Starcrusher produced a sphere the size of a beachball, this one is more like a room.

With my claws dug into the platform, I can barely resist the drag effect from the mini-star, even though it isn't aimed at me. I can only imagine the nightmarish scene in front of me as the torrent of monsters and mucus filling the tunnel is sucked towards my face.

Then, with ponderous, creeping finality, my mandibles begin to close, the enormous jaws of darkness closing alongside them.

Fearful, I check the Altar, and shudder at the pitiful-seeming amount of energy inside. Come on now, a normal Starcrusher is enough to cause me serious problems, this thing is going to leave me a smoking wreck! I need more energy than this! I need it full, preferably!

For the first time, I wish the torrent of Will flooding through me would flood just a little more rapidly.

I resolve to empower my carapace at the last possible moment, and then realise that moment is rapidly approaching. Too rapidly!

The jaws swing shut with inevitable force, everything they touch is caught and dragged with them, pulled towards the star which is already beginning to crack.

At this moment, I angle my head and concentrate, forcing the energy emerging from the sphere away from me, directing it outwards and away. It's not a foolproof method, but it works enough that it's certainly worth doing on the odd chance it saves my head from exploding.

The screaming of the monsters, the piercing din of battle, none of it means anything to me, the only sound I can hear is the shattering of the star.

With the finality of a guillotine, my mandibles slam shut.

Broken beyond repair, leaking shafts of searing light, the star collapses on itself. Then breaks.

I pour every drop of energy within the Altar into my carapace, which starts to hum with resonating energy.

The world is consumed by light, then by darkness.

Uh…

… Hello?

Did… did I die? Again!? Come on, man! I knew I was going to get myself killed at some point, but I really thought it was going to be a gravity bomb, not a freakin' chomp attack!

I was still secretly hoping there might be elf girls somewhere in this Dungeon! My secret desire kept locked away deep within my heart! Or maybe elf ants would be better?

How would an elf ant even look? Pointy antennae? How does that make sense… we already have pointy antennae.

"... can you… catch… scent?"

Huh?

"Yes? Is this ground control?"

"No… moron… foolish… waste… brainless… kick… head!"

Hmm….

Now that I think about it, I am in a great deal of pain.

Like… ouch!

I startle back to awareness, sensation from my body returning with agonising rapidity. Everything hurts, especially my head.

"I can't see!" I exclaim.

"You don't have any eyes!" someone grumps at me.

"Huh, I can understand you better now."

"That's because your antennae are growing back."

"Oh."

I trigger the regeneration gland and almost sigh with relief as the cold liquid sloshes through my system, repairing my internal injuries and helping piece me back together.

"How'd the chomp attack go? Was it effective?" I ask.

"You can see for yourself in a minute," the healer grumbles. "I'm working on your eyes."

Come to think of it, the light is returning gradually. For the next few minutes, my eyesight slowly returns, and over that time, I wonder why the heck I'm not hearing any fighting.

When my sight returns, I no longer need to wonder.

The tunnel.

The slow-moving tidal wave of mucus.

The endless horde of monsters.

They're all gone.

Well… not gone, just… not as close anymore.

In front of me lies a scene of utter devastation, a massive spherical chunk carved out of the rock. Even now, hunks of molten stone drip and sizzle around the edges of where the explosion was.

Holy moly.

-x-X-x-

Alright, so, lessons have been learned.

"You still haven't learned your lesson!"

I can tell the healer is attempting to give me a good thwacking, but they're so small compared to me that I can barely feel the strikes from their antennae. To really cut through the carapace, you need the force of a mother's love, after all, the thwacks of The Queen are not to be underestimated.

"I have, I swear! This time I've really learned my lesson," I try to assure them, but I don't think the healer is listening. She's worked up a full head of steam by this point and seems to be venting her stress.

"No you haven't! I refuse to believe it!"

I'm still being healed, but all the while she's whacking me on the back with her antennae. I think I'll just let her work through her anger and keep my pheromones to myself for a bit.

"Eldest, what happened here?"

Advant skitters up to me, waggling her antennae in a frustrated manner. I'm pretty sure she already knows, but I'll indulge her anyway.

"Just a little experiment!" I quip, clacking my mandibles. "Rather successful, wouldn't you say?"

"The enemy was damaged, you didn't destroy the platform and you managed to survive. This qualifies as a success where you're concerned, Eldest," she says.

"That's hurtful."

She shrugs her antennae, as if to say 'what do you want me to do about it?'

"Things could have been worse, so we can be thankful for that. Despite the power of the attack, you've really only bought the platform a few minutes of reprieve, so ultimately it's not really worth it," Advant points out.

And she's not wrong either. If I'd just stood about doing my normal thing, shooting gravity bombs, deploying gravity fields, using Dragon's Breath and shooting acid, I'd have been in the fight for hours and hours on end, helping to hold the line. As it is, it'll be an hour or two before I can start fighting again.

"I wasn't going to do it again," I defend myself. "I think we can safely seal this ability away until I can actually tolerate it. On the other hand, I think it's proven that I can use the carapace reinforcement to safely spam the normal Starcrusher chomp, so that's a thing."

"I wouldn't say it needs to get completely sealed," Advant says, prodding at my still-healing antennae. "Smithant has been wanting to talk to you for a while, and you aren't good for much else at the moment, so you may as well take some time to go and see her. While you're at it, why not ask if she can make a helmet that might protect you next time you try this?"

"A helmet? Me?"

I'm instantly opposed to the idea. I have the most magnificent, shiny and spectacular carapace in all of the Colony! Look at the deep lustre and subtle sparkle of my gravity compressed diamond! Is it as bright and glittery as normal diamond? No! It's not gaudy and forward, but dignified and reserved, a mature beauty that captivates all who see it.

I would never cover it up!

"You want your eyes to keep on melting?"

Well… no. I'm starting to worry that I'm getting too used to having my eyes melt, and that's not something someone should ever get used to. Even now, fighting on the platform, it still happens fairly often. Since I use my body to cover other ants from acid and slime, I can't help but get doused, which inevitably leads to more melting of the eyes.

"You… may have a point," I say begrudgingly. "I'll talk to Smithant."

"Not until you're fully healed, you won't!" the healer declares, trying to slap me around some more.

"Fine, fine. I'm not going anywhere."

I settle back down while the grumbling little ant finishes her work, only to be approached by the Templars, who gather around with somewhat ominous silence.

"What's wrong with you lot?" I ask. "You're being oddly quiet. We didn't fall into the Sanctum of Silence when I wasn't looking, did we?"

Jern scratches at his head, then jerks a thumb towards the devastation beyond the edge of the platform.

"Still not a god?" he asks me abruptly.

"Still not a god," I tell him, resigned.

As expected, he nods and holds his chin, surveying the damage and not listening to me at all.

"We felt something. W-when you were hurt," Alis stammers. "It… it wasn't nice."

This is interesting.

"You sensed something when my life was in danger?"

They all nod and I dive into the Nave, scoping out the situation, but nothing seems to have changed in there. The golden statues continue to watch over the rest of the space… doing something, probably.

"Look, it was a bit foolhardy of me. I was testing something out, and I won't do it again, alright? No need to worry. For the most part, I'm totally fine. Can you guys do me a favour and help defend this platform while I heal up and talk to some people? I'll be back in a few hours, I promise."

"Of course, Eldest," Bertran says, giving me a comforting pat on the leg. "We'll look after things here."

-x-X-x-

The Chal, a mythical race of unique creatures, the first to achieve stability and peace in the era following the Rending. Now, thousands of years after their fall, who can say what they were like, how they lived, their thoughts and philosophies?

What would they make of the world that was created in their absence?

- Excerpt from 'The Lost People' by Xinci

"We are grateful you were able to come, Theresant. I know it's not easy for you to leave the Broodchambers."

"It's alright. Florence is still there to care for the little ones. You were right to call me."

"We've been doing our best to care for the hatchlings, but we really wanted your insight and advice."

Theresant had only arrived in the fortress an hour ago, but she had no time to rest. She and her fellow Brood Tender were busy scuttling towards the chambers dedicated to caring for the baby snails. Perhaps it was their instinct to care for young things, but once she'd heard they needed her down here, the Council member hadn't eaten or rested in her quest to arrive as soon as possible.

"What will be your approach?" her sister asked her. "Do you want to observe the hatchlings from afar, or do you wish to interact with them?"

"I will take feedback from the care team and interact with them directly, to gain experience as quickly as I can. This early development phase is the most important, as well you know. We can't afford to make mistakes, and we have to learn fast. As soon as we arrive, I want you to gather as many of our sisters as you can so I can talk with them."

"I will do as you say."

When they arrived, Theresant was treated to a brief meal and cup of tea while the off-duty Brood Tenders were assembled for her to speak with. As she rested, she did her best to clear her thoughts of any preconceived notions.

Over the time since she had been born, the Brood Tenders had honed themselves into an elite hatchling-rearing force. Every aspect of care had been tested, investigated, measured and weighed a million times over. The diet, the temperature, the humidity, the cleanliness, the perfect blend of auras, the teaching methods, everything was pushed to the limits to create the best possible environment for the hatchlings. After all, the hatchlings were the future of the Colony! Not a single individual in the family would begrudge any effort to better rear the youth.

And now, all of that expertise needed to be thrown out. The chal were snails, not insects, nor were they monsters, but naturally born sapient creatures. There would be many differences between them and the ant hatchlings she had devoted her life to rearing.

Leave no stone unturned! Examine the problem from every angle! If these young creatures would be in the care of the Colony, then they would get the best upbringing the Colony could muster! Anything less would shame the Queens.

When the Brood Tenders were gathered, Theresant wasted no time launching her interrogation, trying to squeeze every drop of insight from them. For their part, the Tenders were forthcoming and understanding, presenting their thoughts in a detailed and easy-to-understand way.

"They seem excessively polite for such young hatchlings," one stated, to the others' agreement. "Whenever two of them come face to face, they bow to each other before moving past. When it was time for them to eat, they refused to eat from the same bowl. Instead, they would eat one at a time, waiting until the snail in front of them had finished before starting. We switched to individual servings and that works much better."

"What are we feeding them?" Theresant asked sharply. "Are we varying the food? Times of feeding?"

"Yes. We've been using a variety of fruits, leafy plants, ground seeds and nuts, all cooked and uncooked."

"Have we offered them meat?"

"Not yet."

"Hmmm."

From what she understood, normal molluscs were vegetarian, but who knew with the chal? Clearly, they weren't carnivores, but a balanced diet could be possible.

"We can offer a sliver of fish, perhaps, see if it takes their interest…" she mused.

"We must be careful of allergies," one of the Tenders warned her.

"Of course, of course. What else can you tell me of their behaviour?"

"They appear to enjoy spending time in each other's company. They gather together often, and sleep in groups, but also tend to take time alone frequently."

"That's interesting, what do they do on their own?" Theresant asked.

"They are usually still, sometimes swaying back and forth a little, sometimes withdrawing most of the way into their shells. We aren't sure exactly what they are doing, but they seem to enjoy it."

As the conversation rolled on, Theresant built a picture of how the snails were choosing to spend their time. Her sisters were constantly making small adjustments to their enclosure, trying to see what sort of environment or surfaces enticed them the most, and trying to encourage healthy mental and physical stimulation in the growing molluscs.

"I will see them now," Theresant declared. "Take me to their chamber."

Of course, she wasn't allowed into the room without a thorough cleansing to ensure no outside contamination was able to enter the controlled atmosphere within the chals' rooms. Once that was done, she entered the space as quietly and softly as she could, all of her senses on high alert.

The Brood Tenders had gone out of their way to try and create a comfortable environment for the young chal. Leafy, shady sections were vibrant with living plants, soft soil, and gently running water only a few centimetres deep, creating a warm and green space, but that wasn't the whole room. Other sections were dryer, with more sandy soils and sparse plants, while others contained more decaying vegetation and logs. All of these blended together, transitioning smoothly from one to the next, with small play areas, slides, coloured balls and toys scattered artfully throughout the room.

It was a peaceful, relaxing space, conducive to learning and growing, which was good. Her sisters had not been lax in their efforts.

And then, she saw her first chal.

The little snail emerged from beneath a wide, heavy leaf, eyes atop its little stalks waving curiously as it slid this way and that. When it seemed to realise something, or someone, was in front of it, the chal raised up its body and bowed, pausing for a moment before returning to the ground and slithering around her.

Curious behaviour, but something else stuck in her mind.

When was the last time they had cleaned their moustaches?!

-x-X-x-

The newborn chal each sported a moustache made of fine, long hairs that drooped down from either side of their faces, just above their mouths. They weren't particularly thick, just a few whiskers on either side, but Theresant was quick to notice that the specimen before her had several small fibres stuck to its moustache.

This was unacceptable.

She didn't know anything about grooming molluscs, or facial hair, but it was clearly unacceptable to have the hatchlings sliding about the place while unclean! Not wanting to jump to conclusions, she slowly and carefully hunted about the space, looking for more of the chal, and noted the state of their cleanliness.

Her sisters were, of course, mindful of the issue. The young snails had sparklingly clean shells, and their bodies appeared to be in wonderful condition, washed and sponged down at regular intervals. So why were the moustaches universally in need of cleaning?

"It's because they appear to be very sensitive about their moustaches," one of the Tenders on duty told her softly. "Any time we try to interfere with them, even extremely gently, they withdraw into their shells. It's been troubling us."

It didn't make any sense. They were born with these fine facial hairs, but refused to let them be cleaned? Theresant was troubled. It seemed they would need to consult with an expert.

And so the human, Isaac, was summoned, along with his partner, Cavalant.

"I don't know!" Isaac declared, wild-eyed. "Just because I have a moustache doesn't mean I know how a snail wants to clean theirs!"

"Any insight you give us will be valuable," Theresant insisted. "I refuse to believe it is optimal for the hatchlings to be moving about with filthy hairs on their faces."

Isaac reached up and stroked his own, admittedly magnificent moustache. Oiled and waxed to perfection, it was his pride and joy. He had developed a full thirty-minute routine aimed at caring for the skin of his upper lip and ensuring the fullness and lustre of his facial hair was never less than optimal.

"Well, the upper lip of a human can be quite sensitive, particularly near the nose. I imagine the… skin? Do snails have skin?"

"Yes, they have a fleshy outer layer which would qualify as 'skin'."

"R-right. So perhaps the area above their mouths is just very sensitive, like mine."

"Then how do we clean them?" Theresant muttered, exasperated.

"Well… if you can't pull a comb or something like it, through the hair, then perhaps soaking the hair? Or cleaning it while it floats?"

"We will have to try something… thank you for your time."

A bewildered Isaac was ushered back to his duty while a team of Brood Tenders gathered together, determined to brainstorm a solution to the dire problem they faced. For long hours, they toiled over a series of diagrams and thinking tools. Fishbone diagrams. Word clouds. Mind Maps.

After all of their efforts, one among them finally struck onto a potential solution.

"Sisters!" she declared. "Perhaps we are looking at this problem from the wrong angle. This may not be a problem at all, but an opportunity."

Positive thinking, this was the sort of thing the Brood Tenders thrived on.

"Elaborate," Theresant said.

"We know that in the past, the chal were capable of two things that nobody else has been able to replicate: their ability to manipulate things with their minds, and their strange singing powers. Correct?"

There was a general consensus on these words. This was indeed the case. Theresant hadn't even begun to consider how the curriculum would need to be designed to teach the young snails skills that nobody had seen for thousands of years.

"We can't devise a method to clean the whiskers of the hatchlings ourselves, so perhaps we should find a way to teach them to do it."

"You… want us to try and tap into their latent abilities to clean themselves? Hence teaching them… how to control their telekinesis whilst also grooming their faces?"

"That's right," the Brood Tender nodded, cleaning her own antennae nervously as all the others focused on her.

"It's genius," Theresant declared. "Get rid of all this rubbish. We start again!"

She swept away all of the precious thinking tools they had toiled over and the group set to work once more. They quickly ran into difficulties. The Colony did not possess the ability to manipulate objects with their minds, and worse than that, they had no experience with any sort of music.

In truth, they didn't have ears! Instead, they interpreted sound via the vibrations captured by the fine hairs of their antennae. As for singing… they didn't have vocal cords!

None of these obstacles mattered in the face of the determination of the Brood Tenders. They would have a solution, no matter what.

And so it was that Theresant, proud member of the Council and eldest of all the Brood Tenders (along with her dear sister), found herself amongst the young chal once more, with two long moustaches glued to her carapace.

Every effort had been made to find a convincing fake, and eventually they were sourced from a rare species of Air Mammoth found in the fourth stratum. With just the right hue and airiness, they drooped down just below her mandibles, but above her mouth.

The hatchlings, interestingly enough, noticed the difference immediately, turning their stalks towards her and watching as the hair fluttered gracefully along with her movements.

It was going well… now for the next step!

Theresant opened her mouth, and a single, pure note filled the room. In an instant, the chal retreated into their shells. Theresant panicked. Had something gone wrong? Were the hatchlings in pain?

Before she could call a halt to the test, the snails began to emerge again. Slowly, they poked their heads out, eyes waving on their stalks, then a little further. They were listening. It was working!

Now, of course, Theresant wasn't making any sound herself. They had found a capable human singer in the fortress and were projecting her voice into the chamber, but the Tenders had decided the charade was worth proceeding with to limit the number of species the hatchlings were introduced to in the short term.

And now, the final deception!

Theresant raised her head slightly, and the note changed. Then, slowly, as if held aloft by magical winds (which was exactly what was happening), her glorious moustaches began to float up into the air, dancing in an invisible breeze.

The little snails stared, transfixed.

Then one of them opened its little mouth, and began to sing.

-x-X-x-

"I can't make a helmet strong enough to resist a blast of those sorts of proportions. Impossible." Smithant declared.

Well, no arguing with that, I suppose.

"Thanks for taking the time to meet with me, I suppose," I say, turning away.

"There's no way," she continued. "Not even with the most advanced forging techniques and alloys we currently possess. With crushed living stone mixed into the furnace… or perhaps a folded lattice of… no, the temperature would cause it to crack. Which is why I told you it was impossible!"

"A-alright," I say, confused. "You don't need to tell me twice. If you can't do it, you can't do it."

"And it has to be transparent," she stressed. "The whole idea is to protect your eyes and stop them from imploding. If you can't see through it, there's no point. Rather than a clear material, we would be better creating a shield over your eyes using enchanting, but the materials required… and the work would be meticulous… not durable at all… and how would it even work? The core required to power it… for a shield of sufficient strength…. No, impossible."

I'm not sure if she's having an episode or what. I think I'll just leave.

"Get back here!" she roars, and I freeze on the spot.

"Make up your mind, dammit!" I declare, my antenna twitching, sensing a moment of thwacking had arrived.

"I'm thinking! Look, sit down over there and I'll take some measurements while I ponder."

"Are you going to keep telling me my request is impossible the whole time?"

"Uh, maybe?"

"Don't."

"... I'll try my best."

So I drop into an adjustable ant chair that doesn't quite extend enough for me to sit comfortably, damn my hugeness, and wait while the smith takes measurements, mutters to herself and is a general pest.

Her workshop in the fortress isn't as elaborate as some that I've seen her in, most of the industry in the Colony is happening further up in the Dungeon, after all, but it's still fancy. Smithant's workshop isn't about mass production, or even fine craftsmanship. She specialises in discovery and prototyping, and so her space is specially rigged to produce… just about anything an ant could possibly think of. Much like my current request, she's the one we turn to when we need solutions to new problems.

Still, the wealth on display here is something I'm just starting to get used to. Our trade with outsiders in the fourth stratum has borne fruit, and the proof is right here in the open. All sorts of crystals and metals that I'm fairly confident the Colony hasn't unearthed are neatly stacked here and there about the chamber. No doubt Smithant has been working day and night, tinkering and testing to see what she can do with them.

"It might be possible," she declares, jarring me out of my thoughts.

"What? Ah. It is? I'm pretty sure you said just the opposite about a hundred times."

"I was just thinking, don't be so fussy," she says, waving my concerns aside. With an interesting project placed in front of her, Smithant has come to life, clacking her mandibles eagerly, antennae waving through the air with vim and vigour. "It's not going to be easy, but there are a few alloys I'd like to try, which should be conductive enough to hold the necessary enchantments. You don't need the shields to be up permanently, do you?"

"Well… no. I suppose not."

I only need them to protect me from the explosion released at the end of the Starcrusher. Or in the event an attack finds its way to my eyes. Most of the time, I don't need any protection around the ocular region. Foresight and my reflexes are usually more than enough to keep my eyeballs safe.

"So the issue becomes one of burst potential. We need an enchantment and alloy robust enough to allow extreme amounts of mana to flow through in a very narrow timeframe. That's tough, very tough. Well, it's easy, actually, the tough part is making it so that it doesn't burn out after a single use."

"Couldn't you just make another one after each use?"

"That," she snaps, "would be wasteful and poor craftsantship."

"I suppose you're right on that front."

Being wasteful is tantamount to being selfish in the eyes of the carvers. There's no way they would stand for it.

"While I have you, Eldest," Smithant goes on, "I have some prototype armour pieces for you that I want you to try on."

I shift, a little uncomfortably.

"I really don't think you can make anything better than my carapace, no offence."

This is gravity compressed diamond! Also, no way in heck am I covering it up!

"Rude," the smith snaps, slapping me on the side with an antenna, "but you aren't wrong. These pieces are for covering the gaps in your joints and come with some beneficial enchantment work. They should help make you a little more mobile than before, while also improving your mana intake."

Well… that doesn't sound too bad. The weak point of any ant is the joints, specifically in the legs, after all.

"Alright then, let's see how they fit," I sigh.

Turns out, quite well. Say what I will about Smithant, she does good work. Each of my legs is fitted with two separate ring-plates. The first protects the point where the leg joins to my body, the second clamps over the joint at the midpoint of the leg, the knee equivalent, I suppose.

Made of a glittering, silver-golden alloy, they look rather fetching as well. A shiny accessory that only accentuates the deep lustre of my carapace.

"I'll have something ready for you in a few days," Smithant says, dismissing me and getting straight to work.

With nothing else to do, I scuttle out and head back to the platform. The fight is never-ending out there, after all.

-x-X-x-

As it turns out, reinforcing my carapace using the Altar is plenty enough to protect me during a regular Starcrusher. My antennae take a little bit of damage, which is unfortunate since they take quite a bit of time or effort to restore to full performance.

They're delicate, it can't be helped.

Still, even just using it normally, my new chomp attack takes a heck of a lot out of me. The drain on my body is immense, but the Will of the Colony pours into me, cleansing my fatigue and easing the stress on my musculature. Even so, I try not to use it too often. I feel like my mandibles are going to start developing cracks if I use it too much. The very thought of doing a Starcrusher combo fills me with terror. Not only would it do devastating damage to the enemy, it would likely result in my head exploding. Not a fan of that idea.

Considering I'm able to unleash such absurd power with my mandibles now, I'm going to have to seriously consider reinforcing my noggin' during my next evolution. Not in a small way either. Making my eyes less squishy is the first step, but there has to be something I can do beyond that to help the situation.

Or perhaps I just need to get better at weaving shields so I can make one when I need it.

The battle around the platform is as intense as ever, and I remain in my usual position, anchoring the centre of the line. With this endless war of attrition, the most important thing for me to do is manage my resources carefully. My fatigue is constantly being taken away, my healing gland being replenished and there is a steady inflow of mana here, so I can fight hard consistently, but not constantly.

Draining too much mana puts me in an awkward position, as does using too much juice from the Altar.

Finally, the only thing that really pushes me into needing a rest: mental fatigue. Well, mental fatigue, and the torpor police guilting me into it using literal children. I'm still mad about that.

Empowered Dragon's Breath is quite handy against the monsters of the fifth. They are strangely weak to fire, and also strong against it at the same time. They clearly don't like it, but are usually covered in so much slime and goop that you can't burn through it fast enough to damage them.

Empowered Dragon's Breath can burn through it well enough to do some real damage, but against the literal tidal wave of mucus coming my way, I have to pick my spots.

"Eldest! Watch out on the left!"

"No problem!"

Nothing a little Gravity Well won't fix!

Empowered by the Altar, the field slams into place, crushing everything within to the ground. A literal mountain of ooze and monsters is caught in the zone, but it isn't enough to kill them. The monsters of the fifth are impressively resistant to being squished, even more so when they have a river of ooze beneath them. How they breathe in that stuff, I have no idea. However, the field does an excellent job of containing them, slowing their assault enough for the ants to cover any gaps.

My gravity mana gland is constantly refilling, drawing on the residual energy from my own gravity spells to provide a steady trickle atop its own regeneration rate. Pouring out a full strength Gravity Well like this is enough to take half of it, so I'll need to hold off for a while to make sure I'm not caught low on energy when I need it.

"Eldest! They're charging the left side!"

Now the left side of the platform needs help. What the heck is going on over there? I dash as fast as I can to the action, leaving my previous post for a moment, and find dozens of ooze elementals rising up out of the sludge and pressing towards the platform. The ants are already tangling with them, but in seconds, that entire section is going to get covered in a wave of toxic slime belched out of the monsters. Too dangerous!

"Get back!" I yell, opening my mandibles wide.

Starcrusher!

With a cataclysmic boom, my mandibles slam shut and evaporate the encroaching beasts. Of course, I reinforce my carapace with precious energy from the Altar to preserve myself, which works well enough to prevent major damage.

"I'm heading back to my post!" I yell, and the ants don't respond, leaping back into their own positions and reforming their defensive line.

It's relentless out here, and I don't think I've ever fought against a wave from such an exposed position. Fighting in the fifth? It's just nightmarish.

As I continue to battle, I think of Tiny, Crinis, Invidia and Sarah out there, fighting on their own platforms, and I hope they're alright. I'd love to check in with my friends, but there just isn't time right now. The wave won't let up, and neither can we.

Even so, I feel a little sad. Thinking of my three closest companions in particular makes me miss them all the more.

I just… I really… I really really hope Tiny isn't doing anything stupid.