Chapter 2932 - Chry 138

Burn, baby, burn! Disco inferno, now burn, baby, burn!

Such a catchy groove it's hard not to wiggle my capital investment portfolio as I launch a steady stream of Dragon's Breath from between my mandibles. The fire roars out with all the intensity of a jet engine, blasting everything in sight and filling the air with a crackling, searing heat. The air close to the platform, that is. The air beyond the safe zone is as wet as a snotty-sneeze from a monster formed of nothing but noses. And it has a cold.

Despite the incredible power contained in the stream of fire, into which I'm pouring mana, along with the energy of the Altar, it's hard to burn through the overwhelming wetness that we're confronted with.

Well, it'll have to do for the moment, since I'm running rather low on gravity mana and I'm currently stepping back a little from the front in order to let my carapace heal a bit. Getting exposed to goop at a fairly constant rate, along with collateral damage from repeated use of the Starcrusher, has put a bit of a dent in my shiny carapace, so I need a little break. Not just to keep myself fighting fit and ready to go, but to ensure that the healers don't knock me out, drag me into a hospital bed and tie me down until I'm fully healed.

Honestly, I feel like the healers are eyeing me aggressively these days. I wouldn't put an abduction past them. Not exactly sure how they'd do it, but I won't ever underestimate what the members of my family can do. I'm deliberately not looking into the Vestibule to see what they're thinking because, quite frankly, I'm scared to find out.

The healers are intense.

And they aren't the only ones.

"How are you feeling?" Bertran asks. "Not asking for any specific reason. Just checking in, you know? You always want to beat the pan back into shape before you fire it."

"Did the healers put you up to this?"

"Believe it or not, they didn't."

"Could you step back a little? I am blasting superheated fire out of my face-zone right now."

"Ah, right."

There's a slight poke at my back leg, and I turn a little, playing the flame over a different undulating wave of mucus to see three smaller humans staring at me seriously. They don't say anything, but they stare, menacingly.

"No, I'm not going to rest. I will soon, but not yet."

I'm putting all six of my feet down on this one. Taking a break from the platform would put an insane amount of pressure on the battalions. I'm certain the ants would hold, but at what cost? I intend to save up my energy to unleash a mighty blast of gravity-based magic right before I go for a nap, which will hopefully keep the nastiness back from the platform for at least ten minutes. I hope.

Allison, Trean and Emilia don't seem all that pleased with my decision, but there's nothing they can do about it. The torpor police haven't shown up lately, and the three of them certainly can't take me down on their own.

If it weren't childish and beneath the dignity of the Eldest, I'd stick my tongue out at them. Also, I don't really have a tongue.

Ever since the Nave was attacked, the Templars have been even more attentive than they were before. They're hovering around so much they might put Protectant and her siblings out of a job!

I haven't been mothered this much since I last saw Mother. If they had antennae, I'd start to feel genuinely threatened.

"Just relax a little, all of you," I tell them. "Yes, this is dangerous. Deadly, even. Yes, I was attacked by some mysterious force that knocked you guys out on the spot and forced you to do battle in a semi-spiritual plane of existence that is housed, somehow, within my body. But it's fine! Everything is going about as well as it can. I'll get healing and rest, I promise."

There's a heavy silence for a moment, well, as heavy a silence one can get in a battlefield, before Bertran speaks again.

"You aren't very good at reassuring us," he says, scratching his head.

"Gah! Since when was it my job to make you feel better about worrying about me? How does that even make sense?"

"If you don't like it, you shouldn't have become a god."

A new scent chips into the pheromone conversation as Jern steps up beside me, Alis by his side. The matter-of-fact way he made the statement, along with the completely bland expression on his face, makes it hard for me to summon the energy to refute his ridiculous claim. No matter what I say, he's going to keep on believing it.

"You're really annoying sometimes, Jern, anyone ever told you that?" I say, almost clacking my mandibles in irritation, only to realise at the last second I'm still blasting a mega-powered flamethrower out of my face.

"Alis tells me that every day," he shrugs, which earns him an elbow in the guts from her.

"That's mainly because she's had a crush on you for years and you've never realised," I reply.

Jern's eyes go wide and Alis blushes furiously. Bertran coughs, but the three kids just keep glaring at me.

Ha! Take that, Jern. Now you've got something else to think about other than annoying me. I win!

All I have to do now is make it to my next break, then I can collect the armour Smithant promised me. I'm looking forward to seeing what she cooked up.

-x-X-x-

Zluth awoke with a start, thrashing and struggling against the ties that bound him. Had he been caught by a sletherpod? Or was he being digested inside a volun turtle? That was dire, but he could still escape so long as he hadn't been here long. The gastric juices of the turtle were insidious, breaking down prey from the inside out. So long as it hadn't penetrated too deep, he could still call on his magic to…

Wait… this wasn't the stomach of a volun turtle, and he hadn't been eaten by a sletherpod. Where was he?

The Krath scout stopped thrashing and began to examine his surroundings more closely. He was immersed in fluid, to be sure, but it wasn't stomach acid, rather a nourishing form of mucus the tribes cultivated, called streth; he recognised the taste of it. He was tied down, to be sure, but when he stopped struggling wildly, it was easy to manipulate his body and slip loose from the bonds.

Breaking the surface of the fluid, Zluth sucked in a deep breath and found his wounds were much improved from what he recalled. That could only mean…

Twisting his eye-stalks, he saw another Krath looking down at him with a savage expression.

"What a delicious little morsel we have here," she cackled. "Now that we've fixed you up, you're ripe for the plate."

Zluth didn't take her words all that seriously, as this was a fairly typical welcome to a tribe that wasn't your own. There was every chance they did intend to eat him, but the fact they'd healed him meant they had other business first.

"I am Zluth, Krath'lath of the Slee and Krath'sizz serving under Chozth of the Thuuz. I have a message for Ulliz, leader of your tribe."

"Must be some message," the Krath replied, "to send you sliding through the Dungeon during a wave."

There was a grudging respect in her eyes, an acknowledgement of the incredible knowledge, skill and luck required to undertake such a journey.

"What did you do to land such a duty?" she asked, curious.

Zluth exposed his needle-pointed teeth.

"I volunteered," he said.

Her eyes widened and she reached down to help him out of the healing pod.

"That must be some message."

"I must speak to Ulliz. Urgently."

It would take time for him to properly heal, and the horrors of the journey would remain with him for a long time, along with the scars, but he had persevered and, somehow, survived. The Bulg must have found him somewhere in the tunnels, since he didn't remember reaching their Slimeground at all.

The last he could recall, he was racing to eat an ooze-worm before it ate him first. Clearly, he'd won the contest, only to pass out. Shameful.

As Zluth continued to pull himself together, things were happening around him. The healer had fetched someone more important, who had done the same, until someone was sent to bring him before the Krath'lath. Sliding through the Slimeground of the mighty Bulg tribe was eye-opening to Zluth. The size was overwhelming to him; the sheer number of Krath was boggling. How did they feed so many mouths? Their farms must be huge, and their Blubbeasts hyper-efficient if they were able to maintain such a large population.

Everywhere he looked, there were slugs staring back at him as they went about their work, or watching him from within their small homes dug into the walls. The Slee were a small and weak tribe, he'd always known that, and when he'd found the Suggoth to be twice the size, he'd imagined the larger tribes would be double that. Twice the size and strength of the Suggoth, a mighty tribe that could shake the fifth, seemed incomprehensible to Zluth.

The Bulg weren't twice as large, they were ten times the size, at least.

When he was finally led into the chamber of the Krath'lath, Zluth felt angered, and humbled, by the impressive display of power and wealth. Powerful monster pets lounged around the raised platform in the centre of the room, surrounded by a luscious and vibrant garden of moulds, mushrooms and flowers, the most beneficial and attractive plants to be found in this part of the fifth.

Arrays powered by large cores were used to light and moderate the temperature, creating a warm, steamy environment that caused moisture to form on his skin.

Compared to this, the Slee truly were nothing.…

In the centre of it all, flanked by enormous guards, sat the Krath'lath, Ulliz. Massive, with the mottled skin pattern favoured by his tribe and radiating authority, Ulliz was the picture of a commanding, vicious leader favoured by the tribes.

As Zluth was brought before him, the mighty leader sneered contemptuously, openly looking down on the scout, despite his heroic efforts to reach them.

"Zluth, Krath'lath of the Slee," he burbled, glaring forcefully. "Has Chozth given up? Sent you slithering through the Dungeon to beg for help?"

Zluth bared his teeth and the Krath'lath immediately exploded with rage, flesh sizzling with the force of his acid. Before he could order his Krath to tear Zluth apart, the scout spoke again.

"The Maker has awakened. Theorazzn has spoken to the tribes once again."

The rage was sucked out of the room in an instant, and Zluth took that moment to bow respectfully, his previous insolence now a distant memory.

"Will the Bulg hear the words of the Ancient? Maker of mucus and Master of the Krath?"

To his credit, Ulliz was able to gather himself quickly.

"When Theorazzn speaks, the Bulg will answer. What words has the Ancient for their people?"

"Theorazzn has demanded three things. There are two monsters who must die or be turned. One must be found, the other is part of the invasion. Third, the singing must stop."

Ulliz frowned.

"What singing?"

"That," Zluth replied, "is a question we need to answer."

-x-X-x-

Zluth's words to the Krath'lath of the Bulg detonated like explosive mould within the Slimeground. A vision from Theorazzn, instructions from the Maker, these weren't something even Ulliz, powerful leader that he was, could hope to dismiss, even if he wanted to.

Zluth watched with satisfaction at the mess of activity. Ulliz was deeply feared amongst the tribe, as a good Krath'lath should be, and when he said to move, every Krath slid like their lives depended upon it. Not that he needed to be feared and respected in this instance. Theorazzn had spoken, and every Krath not quivering with fear, that is to say, every real Krath, would rush to obey without having to be told.

After delivering his message, Ulliz had pushed him away, told him to rest and heal as an 'honoured guest'. As if the tribes had such a concept. There were deadly enemies and members of the tribe you wouldn't kill on sight. That was the way of the Krath.

The current situation had changed so many things that Zluth had considered immutable laws of his people. Tribes could ally and work together in the face of a common enemy. Theorazzn could speak in dreams and unite them further. Eventually, when the invaders were defeated and the Ancient satisfied, things would return to normal, he knew that. By that time, he would have risen to a great height. A feared and respected leader who would cause his foes to tremble at the mention of his name. Under his rule, the Slee would rise to dominate the local tribes, becoming a true power in the upper reaches of the fifth.

It would be delicious.

For now, he would wait, and watch. The eyes of the Ancient were on the tribes, and an opportunity would surely come for him to further his reputation. He would just have to seize it when it came.

While he waited, Zluth was surprisingly well fed, served a more than generous serve of mould and meat that he greedily devoured. No sooner was the first bowl licked clean than another was pushed into his many hands, which he was only too happy to accept.

Swollen with food, he stayed out of the way, watching the activity within the Slimeground through narrowed eyes as he concentrated on his digestion. Directing the acid in his body to break down the food, to thicken and condense, growing more powerful even as the nutrients infused his flesh. Along with the healing he'd received, this was enough to ensure that Zluth would make a rapid recovery.

Unusual generosity for the Krath, but again, he lived in unusual times.

As an experienced and talented scout, it didn't take Zluth long to realise that the Bulg were working hard to keep him in the dark. His senses were exceptionally sharp for a Krath, but he could hear nothing but murmurs and whispers; no slugs would talk anywhere he could see their mouths. Whatever Ulliz had planned for his tribe, he didn't want Zluth to know until they were good and ready to tell him.

Well, this simply wouldn't do.

Waiting for a moment, he found an opportunity and slipped into the shadows, creeping up the wall with the stealth and guile he had honed over his lifetime. It wouldn't be easy to move unseen in such a densely populated space, but everyone was busy, and he hadn't seen anyone specifically tasked with watching him. He could do it.

It took longer than he expected to slip deeper into the Slimeground unnoticed. Despite the urgent activity, those Krath responsible for security were on high alert, keen not to allow anything to slip past them and bring the attention of the Krath'lath down on their heads.

Zluth suppressed an evil chuckle as he slid through another archway and into the central chamber of the Bulg. No doubt several guards would feed the Blubbeasts as a result of his intrusion, but the fault lay on them.

As expected, Ulliz remained in his place of power, dispensing orders and listening to the members of his inner circle report on the progress of the tribe.

Listening in, Zluth was able to learn exactly what the Bulg were up to. As expected, they were mobilising. A portion of their warriors had already been sent to join the expedition, but many more remained. A large group would be sent to reinforce Chozth and the others to help ramp up the pressure and kill the ant Theorazzn had chosen for death. Scouts would also be sent out. The other monster had to be found, then killed.

Also, the singing. Whatever it was, wherever they hid, they would be found.

Last but not least, the word needed to be spread. All the tribes must know what Theorazzn had decreed, which meant messengers would need to traverse the Dungeon, most of them alone. For some messengers, this would be easy. The nearby minor tribes, who all paid tribute to the Bulg, were simple to reach. There would be hidden paths, waystations, secret cracks and faults known only to the tribes that could be trusted, even during a wave. For the more distant, medium-sized tribes, there were also well-worn paths. Extremely dangerous routes during a wave, but known, familiar, with experienced Krath who had travelled those tunnels dozens of times before.

For the larger, further, deeper tribes, there was real danger. For some, the responsibility could be pushed to other Krath whose Slimegrounds were closer. For others, they were too large, too powerful, for even the Bulg to ignore. They had to be contacted, as soon as possible. There was no time to work through an intermediary. If they were the last to find out, they would not forget the slight the Bulg had given them.

To Zluth, the idea of tribes so strong that even the Bulg would tremble in fear was absurd. He had never even heard of these Krath. The tribe names meant nothing to him, and the Krath'lath who were discussed were completely unknown.

More disconcerting was the rising fury of Ulliz. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to find scouts willing to brave the journeys to these deep tribes. Traversing hundreds of kilometres of deadly tunnels, heading deeper and deeper into the fifth, was close to a death sentence during a wave. The Krath'lath expected volunteers to leap forward to do the work of the Ancient, and was infuriated when none did. Several times, he was forced to lean heavily on his scouts. Until finally, he sought a messenger for the Zissth tribe.

"Their Slimeground is right next to the Tainted Heart, where the strongest monsters are born," Ulliz warned. "The Zissth are the mightiest of all the tribes we can reach, they must be contacted. Is there a scout willing to make the journey?"

There were still five scouts arrayed before the Krath'lath, and though several shifted in place, to their leader's rising fury, none were willing to put their hands up.

Before Ulliz could explode with rage and consume them, Zluth spoke up from his hiding place on the wall.

"I will go," he said, returning the colour of his skin to normal and revealing himself. "Tell me the way, warn me of the dangers, and I will leave in an hour."

-x-X-x-

As promised, I did end up taking a break. After my gravitational mana was restored, I dumped all of it, along with all the energy in the Altar, and absolutely flattened everything attacking the platform with Gravity Wells. It helped, for sure. The defending battalions were able to clean off the platform, organise the lines, get healed and enjoy a brief respite. Despite throwing out as much gravity magic as I'm personally capable of, it didn't hold back the tide for long. Small fights were already breaking out before I'd even gotten off the platform, faster monsters racing through the muck to throw themselves at the defenders ahead of the rest.

I'm not happy about it, but there isn't much I can do about it. Despite my incredible endurance, I still need to rest every now and again. I've been battling constantly for days on end, exposed to the toxicity of the fifth over and over again. I'm due for a juice cleanse, I suppose.

As usual, the healers pick over me, grumbling and irritated as they hunt down every stray speck of toxicity and corruption in my body before sending me on my way. There are massive barracks stacked on top of each other close to the platforms, helping to keep up the absurd turnover rates for the battalions fighting out there. If there are twenty thousand on the platform, then there are eighty thousand waiting to go out there at a moment's notice. There's enough space for me to pull into a more open rest area and plonk myself down against the wall.

Emotionally drained from the constant fighting, I'm asleep in moments, the world fading away as my thoughts grow still. Sweet, sweet torpor.

I'M UP! WHOO!

Refreshed, full of beans, empowered and enlivened. I'm ready to attack, ready to fight, ready to conquer! But first: breakfast.

Getting a decent feed down here isn't easy, given the horrific, toxic nature of the Biomass we find. Truly vast quantities of food are being shipped down from above, but interestingly, once I report to the mess hall, I find that some of the newly spawned creatures that have begun popping up in the fortress are on the plate.

"Are we sure this stuff is safe to eat?" I ask the ants who delivered the food.

"It's been tested and cleared," she says with a shrug of her antennae. "It's a good thing there's something spawning around here we can eat."

Well, that's no lie. I tuck in, getting several system messages from the bushy bearded one as I do.

[You have consumed a new source of Biomass: Musculus Vorator, you are awarded one Biomass]

[You have consumed a new source of Biomass: Fames Thrombocyti, you are awarded one Biomass]

[You have consumed a new source of Biomass: Venatio Leucocytos, you are awarded one Biomass]

Hey, I'll take three extra points of Biomass. That's what we call winning. As I continue to munch, I idly check the profiles. I'm interested to see if Gandalf has something informative to say about these beasties.

[Musculus Vorator: Devouring Muscle, these small monsters aren't that threatening on their own, but when they form into a pack, they are significantly more dangerous. Able to attach to each other and merge their flesh, these creatures can pack a punch.]

[Fames Thrombycyti: Hungering Platelet, these monsters are known for their ability to contain Biomass for extended periods. They seek to suck in and consume their prey, moving the stored Biomass to a safe place where they can digest it over time.]

[Venatio Leucocytos: Hunting Leukocytes, a specialised predator who seeks out parasitic monster types, consuming and dissolving them within its gelatinous form.]

Fair enough, why not? All of these monsters seem weird to me, but it's the fifth, is anything normal around here? If they want to start spawning all over the place, they can, why the heck not.

Putting it out of my mind, I head off to find Smithant, who is, predictably, working at her forge. I don't even get the chance to open my mouth before she springs at me.

"You're here, finally!" she declares, tapping on my carapace with her hammer.

"Hey, don't scuff the diamond!" I protest.

"Move it! Over there, on that seat. Can I get some help in here?!"

Moving the heavy armour pieces is too much for Smithant alone, but with help she's able to get it all on me and then starts inspecting the fit. Feeling like I'm rather unnecessary to proceedings, I sit silently while the smith pokes, prods, measures and mutters to herself. After removing a few pieces and angrily smacking the heck out of them at the forge, she cools them down and puts them back on.

"It's good enough," she declares. "How's the helmet feel?"

"Uh… heavy."

"Good."

I have to say, I'm not used to wearing… well… anything, anymore. Smithant has fitted me with rings and other small pieces every now and again, but this set is a bit more robust than that. With layered plates covering my leg joints, even fitted over the joints between my body segments, there's a heck of a lot going on. It's a heap of added weight, several tonnes' worth, and the helmet is the icing on the cake.

Obviously, it leaves space for my eyes and antennae, making sure not to inhibit the motion of my mandibles as well. Overall, it does a good job of covering the clear areas of carapace along the front and sides of my head, which will hopefully help keep me alive if I decide to empower another Starcrusher.

"It's all enchanted, some of my best work," Smithant boasts. "Highly resistant to corrosion and corruption, it should hold up fairly well even in the fifth. It should even help accelerate your mana absorption, just an added bonus I slipped in there."

Well, if it keeps me safer out there, that means I can do more, which will be a big help.

"Thanks, Smithant. I appreciate this," I tell her, and she clacks her mandibles with satisfaction.

"Well, I'd better get back to it."

Back to the platform. When the heck is this wave going to end?!

-x-X-x-

Things were so… so peaceful in the labs right now. Assistant was beavering away on her projects, helping to train the new mages, and was displaying a level of confidence that Experimant hadn't seen from her before. Even her stutter was getting better!

Looking out over the lab, with no scorch marks, with no jagged lines carved out of the walls by lightning, she felt… she felt like she was home. She felt that she was at peace. The world was healing.

Experimant herself had taken up a hobby, arranging small stone gardens using different coloured pebbles. She'd never felt so soothed as she had when moving the small rocks with her mandibles, smoothing and arranging to create intricate and pleasing patterns. Who knew that life could be so pleasurable, so fulfilling?

And what had brought on the change? It was hard to say. Experimant couldn't quite put her antenna on it, but something had shifted and brought everything into harmony. How wonderful. How wonderful to be alive!

"I'm back!"

Experimant jumped as a loud scent rang out through the lab. Who on Pangera was being so loud?

"State your name," she called irritably. "Just saying 'I'm back' doesn't identify you."

And why would she turn around while she was in the middle of arranging her precious stones? The current design was a highly detailed image of the nest constructed on the fourth stratum. She'd been working on it for weeks, and now it was so close to completion.

"Everyone knows my name," the voice declared loudly as someone rushed closer, "and do you know why?"

"No. I don't," Experimant huffed, carefully extending another stone with her mandibles.

"Because I'm BRILLIANT!"

"WHAT?!" Experimant staggered so hard she fell, face first, into her own stone garden, scattering the pebbles and destroying the image she had carefully cultivated.

"You've got to train your Grip Skill," Brilliant observed, shaking her head. "Now, get up and tell me how the research has been going while I was away! I'm sure you've achieved great things!"

"You… you… you!" Experimant ground out, gathering herself up and turning around.

Now she understood why things had been going so well! Now she realised why life had been so peaceful and enjoyable! It was all because this crazy ant hadn't been present! Brilliant stood, looking back at her, bouncing from side to side with excitement, eyes twinkling with joy as she remained completely oblivious to the suffering of her closest aide.

"Why did you come back?!" Experimant demanded.

Brilliant tilted her head to one side, curious.

"Because I finished my other task, of course. You think I wanted to be away from the labs? Rest your intelligent head, my dear Experimant! I would have much rather been here working on our projects, but what can I do when the Colony calls me? I must away! Now, come come, show me your progress! I can't wait any longer!"

The little ant dashed off, forcing Experimant to crawl out of the remnants of her peace of mind and follow after her.

"Start here. I want the full tour!" Brilliant declared eagerly.

Experimant, despite her crumbling mental state, was still drawn into the explanations. The lab had been functioning so smoothly while their leader was away, without any of the chaos or time-wasting that usually came from their work. Showing the mad-ant how much progress they could make while working properly was worth spoiling a garden or two.

The two of them moved from project to project, examining the latest readings, inspecting the models, diagrams and functions they had created. Brilliant listened closely as Experimant chatted to the various project leads, asking them about their work and giving advice on how to proceed. She even felt her mood returning as Brilliant seemed to leak enthusiasm the longer the tour went on. She grew quieter and quieter, and although it didn't reflect well on her, Experimant could acknowledge she felt a little better seeing the normally rambunctious ant brought down a peg.

When it was all done and they had gone to every project currently being worked on in the facility, she turned to Brilliant, fully satisfied, and asked: "Well? What do you think?"

Brilliant was quiet for a long moment, barely moving.

"The progress you've made…" she mumbled.

"Yes? The progress we made?" Experimant prodded her, waving her antennae happily.

"... doesn't exist!" Brilliant roared. "What the heck have you been doing while I was away?"

"What do you mean?" Experimant spluttered. "We've made significant strides forward in a number of areas–"

"Strides?! Strides?! Those are tiny little baby steps! Grubs take bigger strides than that, and they don't have legs! Why hasn't the acceleration array been tested at max capacity? What are the limits of our current methods?"

"W-well, if we pushed our current designs that hard, they would be destroyed?"

"So?!" Brilliant asked, exasperated.

"Why should we destroy our designs that we've worked so hard on? If we incrementally–"

"If you want incremental gains, then work incrementally. Do you really think the Colony has time for that? I want that thing dialed up to eleven, and if it doesn't explode, dial it up to a hundred and eleven! I want data! I want numbers!"

"Then we lose our work!"

"And gain knowledge! We aren't here to make demonstrations and prototypes, we are here to discover! If we can make a better one by breaking the one we have now, then why the heck wouldn't we?!"

Brilliant was so worked up she'd begun hopping again, but not with glee. She was furious.

"The mana tanks are full! We can find a use for that much energy, surely? Where are the explosions? Where's the danger?! This lab has become so safe and… and so… DULL! There needs to be lightning, Experimant! There needs to be deep, shuddering explosions! The Colony went to huge lengths to put blast shielding in all of the testing chambers, and it's going to waste!"

Experimant grew still.

"Do you… do you want progress, or do you just want explosions?" she asked slowly.

Brilliant threw her head back and laughed.

"You can have both when you're BRILLIANT!"

-x-X-x-

I have to say, the new armour is working out nicely. Not only is it resistant to the slime and slop of the fifth, but it also imparts a little of that resistance to my carapace. Which means I can endure getting splashed with the filth that comes my way a little better than I could before. Of course, being resistant is one thing, not getting damaged is quite another. As far as I know, there isn't anything on Pangera capable of surviving prolonged exposure to the mana of the fifth stratum, and this armour will be no different.

If I don't treat it well, it's going to need repairs sooner rather than later, and I'd rather not have Smithant mad at me so soon after she went ahead and made something so nice. I'll do my best to make sure that it doesn't get damaged too soon.

At least I can stand on the front with a little more confidence than I did before, which is good. Naturally, that's where I am now, unleashing as much punishment upon the enemy as I can using my Starcrusher, Gravity Bombs and Wells, Dragon's Breath and all the other tricks I have up my carapace.

The howl of Gravity Bombs has become a constant refrain lately. They're so energy-intensive, and they become exhausted quickly when they suck up mucus, but they're still the most efficient method for chewing up problematic monsters before they can get too close.

Speaking of problematic monsters, there are more and more of them lately. The wave is intensifying, and more monsters are crawling up from their hidey-holes lower down. Right now, we don't have the Krath herding them all towards us, which is nice, but the ones who do manage to spot the fortress always come gunning for it. Some of them have been big, beefy beasts, needing empowered Gravity Bombs to help bring them down.

This is a problem that's only going to get worse over time. There are still weeks left before the wave subsides, and until then, the pressure is only going to ramp up further and further. Well, I'm also gaining tons of XP from all of this constant fighting. I'll need to check my Skills and mutations soon to see what I can improve. If there are any big ticket items, it'll be a massive help, powering me up for the struggles to come. Although I'm not sure how much Biomass I've actually managed to get… not much, probably.

Just as I'm lamenting the poor food options in this place, I hear a strange sound come reverberating up the tunnel. It's not a roar, or scream. I've heard an awful lot of those since being reborn on Pangera, so I think I'm an expert at monster sounds at this point. No, it's something entirely different. It's like… like a rock complaining about its joints.

A grinding, rumbling sound, the sound of minerals cracking and scraping, but in a… living, moving sense.

I have a sinking feeling in my core.

"Everyone brace! Something is coming!" I warn the platform.

Pushing my brains to their limits, I spin together two Gravity Bombs, packing them tight with mana from a gravitational construct, then launching them. I dump the energy of the Altar into both as well, giving them the extra oomph they need. Immediately, the howling screech of the bombs sucks away the air and sound of the battle before they expand into voids of pure darkness, pulling in and devouring monsters and mucus alike.

Despite how powerful they are, not even Gravity Bombs are immune to the degradation of the fifth; filling up rapidly with literal tons of thick, toxic mucus, those two will fade away soon. Using the time they bought, I continue to pump out as much gravity mana as I can, my minds straining as the threads of power are seized and woven into a new shape, one I haven't used all that much. It might be a bit risky to go for a Singularity right now, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it's going to prove necessary.

Once again, a deep, reverberating mineral sound echoes up the tunnel. More desperate this time, more furious. It sounds like someone has seriously ticked off a block of quartz. What sort of monster makes a noise like that? I have no idea, but I get the feeling I'm going to find out.

The local monsters don't seem at all affected. The cleansed mana covering the platform is so offensive to them that they continue to attack, heedless of everything else that's happening. With most of my attention locked into crafting the Singularity, I don't have the capacity to help my fellow ants much right now; they're going to have to hold out on their own.

The noise is getting closer, and angrier, with every passing second. I'm still baffled, what sort of monster is this?!

Then it comes into view. At first, I thought I saw the tunnel moving in the distance, but no, it isn't. A block of sentient quartz? I wasn't far off! This monster is definitely from the sixth….

-x-X-x-

This bad boy isn't just large, he looks dense. I mean, it's like a moving wall of minerals, which is fine—obviously, minerals are more dense than something like flesh or a carapace. That would be it if I were back on Earth, but that isn't the case here. Rock can be more than just rock, it can be compressed, and with mana bending the rules of reality, even something like a diamond can be made harder and more pressurised.

This guy isn't just a rock type, he's a condensed rock type. This guy has mass. My antennae are going crazy already, detecting such an unusually dense gravitational field coming from a single monster. This guy must weigh in the realm of a thousand tons, if not more.

How's that spell going? Not there yet. Uh… faster? Please?

My mind constructs are working as hard as they can, and to be frank, my main mind is putting in quite the shift as well, but it's a difficult spell, what can I say? Also, I haven't cast it much, so the level of practice and expertise needed to just whip a Singularity together isn't there yet.

Thankfully, it doesn't seem like our visitor is all that fast. Groaning and grinding away, it slowly continues to approach the platform. Furious that we're here? Unlikely, but it's not like I can let a monster of this size just waltz into the fortress. Weighing as much as he does, he might collapse the darn platform just by stepping on it!

However, the closer the beast gets, the more I can see what's really happening.

This monster is grumbling and grinding because it's in serious pain. Nothing can survive the corruption of the fifth, apparently not even sentient rock formations.

It rolls, more than walks, towards us, sections of its body rotating like a Rubik's cube to propel it forward, its body formed of a gleaming white, semi-transparent mineral with streaks of golden flecks through it. Quite beautiful to look at. At least, it would be, if it weren't for the mucus, slime, and acid eating into the creature. The mana of the fifth has penetrated deep into its body, nearly to the core, dissolving it from the inside out and turning its colour from white to a sickly yellow-green.

It isn't hard to understand what's happened here. This poor monster has been forced up out of the sixth stratum and is trying, desperately, to get to the fourth before succumbing to corruption.

The creature isn't coming towards us to attack, but to survive. The cleansed mana zone is the only thing that has a chance of saving it now. Unfortunately, I can't afford to extend a face-hand to help them.

Sorry, monster. You have my sympathy.

"It's getting closer. Eldest, are you able to deal with it?" a nearby general calls.

"I hope so," I reply. "I'm throwing my best spell at it. If that isn't enough, we can try something else afterwards."

"Are… are we in danger?"

"What? No! Well… maybe. Just give me a little space, alright?"

"We can do that. Clear back from the Eldest! Boom protocol is in effect!"

All the fighters, ants and humans alike, pull away from me, giving a clear fifty metres of space. As if that wasn't enough, they start deploying sandbags, creating a temporary wall between me and them.

Excuse me? Boom protocol?! They act like I'm the one who's done the most damage to the platform! That isn't true at all!

Probably.

Regardless, I need to deal with this problem. I've reached the final stage of the spell, the central structure is complete, all I need to do now is pump both spheres full of a truly unreasonable amount of gravitation mana.

Moving such an absurd amount of energy is difficult. Moving it quickly is very hard. Moving it quickly and safely is even harder. Letting your mana slip out of control is always a bad idea, and with the equivalent of two Gravity Bombs floating over my head, things could get very ugly, very fast if my concentration slips.

In the distance, the decaying monster from the sixth continues to wobble towards me, desperately striving to reach the only place of safety in the entire fifth. The grinding and groaning of the monster is growing louder and louder, to the point my mandibles are vibrating from the strength of it.

Mana pours out of me, filling up the spell until the two spheres are crackling with condensed gravitational energy. When it's finally complete, the spell begins to activate. The two spheres of energy collapse in on each other, a decaying orbit that draws them closer and closer over time until at last they begin to fuse.

Right over my head!

In combining, an absurd amount of energy is released, focused into a beam that lances out into the tunnel, a solid bar of white light that tears through reality like a blade.

I'm completely blinded by the spell, the light is simply too strong, but I can sense what happens. My aim is good, thankfully, and the monster is struck dead on. An unfathomably deep groan echoes through the tunnel, as if a mountain had a bellyache.

When my vision clears, I can see that I struck the monster on its right side. Somehow, it's still alive, but only just. The Singularity bored a hole straight through it, but since I missed the core, the wound wasn't fatal.

Holy heck, that's some unbelievable endurance!

Sadly, the strike took the last of the monster's strength. It succumbs to the toxic environment a moment later, collapsing in on itself, overwhelmed by slime and toxin.

-x-X-x-

Zluth had never felt anything like this before. He knew about the hearts, every Krath knew about the hearts. They could feel the vibrations anywhere in the fifth, could determine the flow of mana through the arterial tunnels by the pulse of its movement, but he had never been this close to one before. Not remotely.

The pounding rhythm was all-consuming. The mana rushing past was so dense it was visible to the naked eye, with every pulse. The walls vibrated from the strength of it. His entire body was attuned to it.

A certain reverence had overtaken the Krath as he drew nearer to it, a deep respect ingrained into his slug-flesh rising up within him. This was one of the beating hearts of the fifth, one of the core components of the entire level of the Dungeon and the source of Theorazzn's greatest miracle.

Zluth hunkered down amongst some fungal blooms that he felt almost certain weren't going to eat him in the short term. He'd seen them tear apart a chubby toad monster he couldn't identify not long ago, and so he hoped that they weren't able to take in more food. It was a risk he had to take, since there wasn't anywhere else safe in this tunnel for him to rest.

Battered and torn from the journey, he was barely holding on. The journey had gone wrong almost as soon as he'd left, unfamiliar tunnels and incomplete instructions combining to put him in dangerous situations again and again. He was also confident that the Bulg had withheld the locations of many safe-holes and shortcuts, unwilling to part with their secrets even now. That was fine. Zluth wouldn't forget.

Despite all the setbacks, the numerous times he'd almost been eaten, having to survive on his wits and instincts alone, he had almost made it. The Slimeground of the Zissth tribe was located directly adjacent to the heart, and he was rapidly closing in on that location.

The issue was…

With the mana so dense and so vibrant, so exceptionally virulent and toxic this close to the heart, the monsters and plant life were equally deadly. Even Zluth, a Krath scout, had to retract his eyes every few seconds in order to protect them from the acidity in the air. A Krath.

In front of him, wild mould spores the size of Krath eggs drifted through the air in dense clouds. Most of the monsters were clever, avoiding them, or using their sticky spit or bile to catch them out of the air before moving through, but others weren't so careful. Even in the last few minutes, the scout had witnessed several newborn monsters come into contact with the spores. Once contact had been made, the spores would grow into their victim, seizing control and using them to spread the spores ever further.

He wasn't sure when this particular mould had bloomed here, but he didn't think it was long ago. With so many monsters spawning, the spores would claim more creatures before long, accelerating the spread. He couldn't afford to wait for long; delaying would result in certain death.

Trying to chart his path, Zluth concentrated, summoning the last of his energy. It had been foolhardy to volunteer for this mission. Actually succeeding would be something of a miracle. But if he did, his name would spread far and wide as a loyal servant of Theorazzn, a dedicated slug who was cunning and quick enough to travel where others refused to slide.

Another breath, another. The air of the fifth, rich with mana, burned and sizzled in his body, invigorating him and empowering the acid in his flesh. He was ready.

Zluth burst into motion, accelerating hard as he raced away, leaving tendrils of fungal growth, just starting to extend out of the tunnel wall, behind. Once he'd reached top speed, he flattened down, compressing his body down and banking left. Slipping onto the surface of the flowing mucus, he glided forwards like a flat stone sent skipping over the surface.

Just above him, drifting spores covered so much space, seemingly harmless. He knew they could be sent floating in any direction by a stray wind or the pounding of the heart. The Ancient smiled on him, and he slipped beneath the first spores without trouble, but that was only the beginning.

Monsters were everywhere, fighting each other, crouching in defensive positions, trying to hold their ground and avoid battling, while others had already succumbed to the spores and were actively moving them around. It was inevitable he was seen, several creatures turning towards him, snarling, catching his scent.

He ignored them. Getting through as quickly as possible was the goal, and getting caught up by a monster, even for a few seconds, could prove fatal.

Skipping off the mucus for the final time, his foot found solid rock once again, and he expanded his body out to push as hard as he could. Speed. More speed!

With his eyes starting to bubble, he retracted them for a fraction of a second, then expanded them again, only to find a monster had stepped into his path.

Thoughts racing, Zluth acted quickly.

Summoning a wad of acidic phlegm, he leapt off the rock wall and into the air. Aiming carefully, he spat the mucus, right on target, then landed again, racing to the left.

His spit struck a floating spore, sending it catapulting through the air to smack into the offending monster.

Shrieking with rage and terror, the beast started swiping desperately at itself, trying to remove the offending spore. The shock of movement and noise was like a detonation within the tunnel, causing a flurry of activity. Monsters charged at each other, the spore-infected creatures rushing to join in. Through the chaos, Zluth slid, darting left and right as he dodged trouble, the pounding of the heart growing louder and louder.

The tunnel branched ahead, and he would have to make a blind decision as to which one to follow. He didn't know exactly where the Zissth would be, no tribe advertised the location of their Slimeground, he would just have to survive long enough for them to find him.

Left!

He turned hard, but before he even got the chance to inspect the tunnel, the ground dropped away beneath him, and he was falling.

-x-X-x-

Desperate to catch onto something, anything, Zluth flailed wildly, trying to use his arms or foot to grab the walls, except that every time he managed to grab something, it was coated in extremely viscous slime and he couldn't hold on. He plummeted dozens of metres, mind spinning, before he found himself wrapped up in something soft and sticky.

A web?!

There weren't many creatures in the fifth who used webbing in their traps, and all of them were dreadful monsters to fall prey to. What could it be? A Trap-fall Matriarch Spider? A Mucus Widow? The dreaded Big Boy Funnel web?

Not wanting to hang around and find out, Zluth began summoning the acid within himself. He would have to burn the webs away using magic, then hope he could escape before the monster came to check. It was a risky strategy, and also the only one available. If he stayed in the webs for even a few minutes, they'd infect him with their paralytic toxin.

"No need for that," a burbling voice spoke from somewhere above him. "Don't get too excited, or we might have to feed you to our little pet here."

Zluth froze in place, not wanting to antagonise this Krath. Slowly, he extended an eye stalk and swivelled it to look behind himself. The drop tunnel was almost perfectly sheer, the walls carefully coated to prevent grabbing, all leading to a thick layer of webbing covering the gap. Above him, looking down with a vicious leer, was a large, sleek Krath male. More intimidating than that was the eight-legged monstrosity standing over the slug. Recognising the colour pattern on his carapace, Zluth shuddered.

"Oh? You know what monster this is?" the Krath grinned.

"Soul-Drinker Orb Weaver," Zluth replied. "I'm a scout, sent from the Bulg with a message for the Zissth tribe."

"I don't recognise you as a Bulg. You aren't using their skin pattern, and you've never run a message down here before. My spider has a particular fondness for liars."

The monsters leaned forward, iridescent venom dripping from its fangs and a hungry gleam in its eyes.

"No lies!" Zluth said, trying to stifle his panic. "I am Zluth, Krath'lath of the Slee, from far above. I delivered the message to the Bulg, then volunteered to come here when Ulliz couldn't find a scout willing to deliver during the wave."

"Volunteered?" the Krath muttered, as if tasting the unfamiliar word in his mouth. "What sort of slug would volunteer to throw their life away in the Dungeon?"

"One who has seen a vision of the Maker," Zluth replied softly.

"Maker of Mucus!" the slug exclaimed, slime and goop flying from his mouth. "That claim could land you in worse mouths than my spider here."

"I know," Zluth burbled, trying not to move and get himself further tangled. "Theorazzn has given us tasks. Are you going to prevent me from passing them to your Krath'lath?"

The Krath shook his head.

"I won't, but I warn you, even if you tell the truth you likely won't make it out alive. There's a reason the Bulg don't like coming here."

This wasn't something Zluth wanted to hear, especially now that there was nothing he could do about it.

"I have a habit of not dying," he replied.

"I can see that. Let's get you out of there."

Zluth expected the slug to cut him loose of the web, or dissolve the strands somehow, but apparently that wasn't how he operated. Despite protesting, cursing and spitting, Zluth found himself unceremoniously turned end over end, wrapping him in webs until he couldn't move, then picked up in the spider's jaws. Only after the trap had been remade did the Krath take him anywhere.

As it turned out, they were still a fair distance from the Slimeground of the Zissth. He tried to track their route through a series of winding tunnels, shadowed passages and mind-bending loops, but had to give up. Even his experience and Skills as a scout weren't enough to memorise the path. Which was entirely the point, of course. The Zissth didn't want anyone to know their home, even those they had caught in traps.

It was a level of paranoia and caution that Zluth wholeheartedly supported, even if it lowered his chances of survival.

When they finally emerged from the tunnel, Zluth found himself staring out into the largest open space he had ever seen in the fifth stratum. An absurdly large cavern, yawning wide before him, possibly a dozen kilometres across. He stared wildly into open space, unsure how or why such a cavern would exist. A moment later, he realised something else. The sound of the heart, an endlessly deep rhythm that rippled through the air and stone, so ubiquitous that he had started to not notice it, had changed.

The tone, the timbre of it, was different. At first, he couldn't understand what had changed, then he realised that the walls of this vast open space, were moving.

He was inside the heart! Then realisation hit him. The Zissth didn't live near the heart! Their Slimeground was here.

"I'll show you something nice," his Krath captor said, and Zluth felt himself be tilted downward by the spider still holding him in its jaws.

It took him a moment, but he soon realised what he was looking at. Down, at the very bottom reaches of the beating heart, he could see a vile slime pooling that was so lurid, so potent, even looking at it was enough to cause his eyes to sizzle with corruption. With a cry of pain, he retracted them into his body, scarcely believing what he had seen.

"Was… was that?" he started, still reeling from the sting.

"The touch of Theorazzn and source of his blessing," the slug nodded, then grinned a savage grin. "This is why visitors don't get to leave."

-x-X-x-

The Dungeon Hearts of the fifth have been known to the Legion for centuries. They are one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Krath and, it is theorised, the source of the corruption that plagues the stratum.

For the Hearts sit at the core of the fifth. All the tunnels, passages, shafts and spaces originate from them, and return to them. The mana flows through the entire stratum in an endless cycle, with these massive, beating organs providing the impetus. Every drop of mana in the fifth passes through these organs, and therefore would make the perfect place to taint the entire layer.

With this knowledge, the Legion has attempted on several occasions to seize a heart, to study and understand it, perhaps even heal whatever ails it, but to no avail. There is no place in the fifth that is more defended, more difficult to assault, or more dangerous to draw near.

The mana is thicker closer to the hearts, making survival that much harder, but more than that, the Krath tribes obsess over the hearts. Every passage is watched, every tiny sliver of tunnel guarded. Drawing close to a heart will pull an unprecedented horde of slugs, coldly furious and eager to harm.

Every attempt to seize one of these key locations has failed at a significant cost. The Legion has decided, for the time being, it is not worth the effort to try again.

- Excerpt from 'Records of the Legionem Abyssi Campaigns in the Deep'

Suspended from the roof of the heart lay the Slimeground of the Zissth tribe, and it was immense. A sprawling web of mucus nets that had been built upon using rock and silk, it was unlike anything the Krath'lath of the Slee had ever seen before. Not only in its unusual construction, but its sheer size. He had heard of the 'cities' of the weaker races living on the fourth, but had never seen one himself. This, he imagined, was what one must be like.

Layer after layer of structures, stretching from one side of the heart to the other. He didn't know how it could be possible, but somehow they had managed to dampen the movement of the walls so the entire city didn't shake apart with every beat of the heart. The whole thing was incredible to behold, and intimidating. For the first time, he felt as if he had seen the true extent of the power of his own race. The Krath tribes were far greater, far mightier than he had ever assumed.

It was exhilarating. His ambition soared, burning in his flesh just as hot as the acid he cultivated there. A tribe could be this strong? This mighty? This numerous? If so, then he would have to have it for himself.

These were bold thoughts to be thinking while being carried to the Krath'lath bound in spider web, unable to move, but Zluth felt no need to fool himself. He wanted to be great, and no matter the obstacles, he would overcome them.

Right in the heart of the city, a solid ball of hardened slime and mucus formed the dwelling of the tribe leader. Unceremoniously, Zluth was brought within, and before he truly got his bearings, dumped on the floor.

"What have you brought for me today, Zaluss?" a cold voice demanded.

"A messenger who's come a long way to see you, Krath'lath," Zluth's captor replied as his pet spider backed up.

Zluth rolled over with some difficulty, then saw the largest slug he had ever laid eyes on resting upon a dais. Clearly old, from the colour of him, the leader of the Zissth was enormous, with a thick cloud of acrid air hanging around him. His acid must be so strong it beggared belief! How was his flesh able to withstand it?

"A messenger? From which tribe?"

"From the Bulg, though, as you can see, this one is not a Bulg."

The enormous slug frowned, then hawked and spat a wad of such potent mucus it had eaten itself away before it had even hit the floor.

"Speak plainly, Zaluss," the Krath'lath demanded, "I can't be bothered with petty details."

"I could explain it myself," Zluth dared to speak up, though when the glare of the massive Krath fell on him, he felt he may have made a mistake.

"You have not been told to speak," the Krath'lath rumbled, flesh starting to boil and sizzle as his rage ignited.

"You may wish to let him speak for himself," Zaluss suggested. "He claims to have come bearing a message from the Ancient."

It was difficult not to wilt under the glare of such a powerful slug, but Zluth held his nerve, barely, until the Krath'lath slowly relaxed.

"The Ancient? Theorazzn has awoken, then? Good."

Gradually, the sizzling of his flesh subsided, and he turned his gaze back to Zluth.

"Speak."

Zluth took a breath. Briefly, he considered asking to be untied, but he felt that might be asking for too much.

"Theorazzn has spoken to a number of Krath in dreams and visions," he explained, "myself included. He has tasked us with killing two monsters and halting the singing. I left the upper reaches of the stratum where we have been fighting off an invasion to deliver this message to the Bulg. When they couldn't find a willing scout to come here, I volunteered."

He got the entire message out in a rush, worried he might be cut off, but once he had fallen silent, there was no reply. The Krath'lath simply watched him, eyes slowly bobbing from side to side as he thought to himself.

Eventually, he opened his mouth to reveal the blackened, deadly fangs within.

"The Ancient has tasks for us, and an invasion despoils our home. It seems much has been happening above without the Zissth being told. Zaluss."

"Krath'lath?"

"Remind me to speak with Ulliz. It seems I must remind him of his… level."

Zaluss grinned evilly.

"I will. And what of this one?"

Zluth held his breath as the giant slug contemplated.

"This one will live, for now," he said finally. "Show our guest somewhere and gather my inner circle, there is a lot to do. On your way out, find Tizzith and tell her to prepare to open the vents."

"You want to open them again?" Zaluss said, surprised. "So soon?"

"There are invaders in our lands," the Krath'lath replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "They must be repelled."

-x-X-x-

As it turned out, it was possible to work with a native, undamaged core from the fifth. It was just a massive pain in the backside for all involved. Led by the fearless Formo, Bella and Ellie worked hard with the battalions fighting on the platform to secure what they needed.

Namely, a monster core that had never touched the cleansed mana.

As it turned out, they were already feeding Biomass from defeated monsters into the intakes on the platforms, allowing the food to be sucked away along with the mana and fed to the wuffers. This practice had led to an unexpected consequence of certain channels getting clogged with food. That didn't stop the mana from flowing, but it did threaten to break the enchantments and necessitated a fix.

It stood to reason that the battalions could feed a core into the channels as well. They had mechanisms and specially crafted tools to reach out and grab things beyond the safe zone, so why not? It would be difficult, and dangerous, since they were doing it in the middle of an ongoing battle, but it was possible.

Then they needed to speak to Cobalt and Tungstant about creating some sort of catch mechanism to get ahold of the cores before they were whipped away to the wuffers. This was another pain in the carapace, but the two carvers were eventually able to figure out something they thought would work.

Once it was in place, all the core shapers needed then was a place they could work on the cores. After all, the cores could never touch cleansed mana, which meant they needed a work space with tightly contained native energy. Once that was done, they could work on the cores, and then somehow raise the monsters in a containment zone.

Then and only then, would their new pets be ready to fight outside the fortress!

"An awful lot of work, I SAY!" Formo exclaimed. "But perhaps it will prove worth it. We can't say either way just yet."

"It's just a shame that none of it is being done by us," Bella said regretfully, watching the carvers work at building the spaces that they needed.

"No need to worry. We will have a SMASHING amount of work to deal with soon enough! Have no fears about that!"

And he wasn't wrong. With the catchment facilities in place, it didn't take long until the first cores trickled into the waiting bay. Once the workshop was done, an intricately controlled space containing pockets of fifth stratum mana, the cores were dropped into the separate workstations, ready to be manipulated.

Since it was necessary to touch a core to obtain the best results, they required specially produced, heavily enchanted gear that would allow them to carefully extend an appendage into the foulness in order to work on the cores.

For the ants, that naturally meant antennae coverings, but for Formo, a special glove was made. With so many steps completed, all that remained was to get to work on the cores themselves and try to come up with a viable design.

Formo, as the most experienced by far, was the first to make an attempt. With confidence, the sophos used the sealed glove to extend a single claw into the contaminated space, tapping it on the core, and then growing still. Bella and Ellie watched with bated breath as he worked his powerful mind on the core, only to jump in the air when he burst out with a loud exclamation.

[ABSOLUTELY FILTHY, I SAY!] he roared across their mental link. [PHAW AND BALDERDASH!]

He withdrew his hand and shook it as if some vile substance clung to his skin, although his body had never come into direct contact with the contamination.

[What's wrong?] Bella asked, worried. [Was the containment breached?]

[No,] the sophos replied sourly, [it's the core itself. Tainted and corrupted right to the heart of it. I could feel it trying to reach into my mind while I was working on it. INSIDIOUS AND FOUL THING!]

[Does that… does that mean it's impossible to create a fifth stratum pet?] Bella asked, despondent.

If even the cores were so tainted as to try and corrupt the mind of someone working on it… what would happen if a core shaper actually reconstituted the monster? A permanent mental link would be created between them, possibly another avenue for the fifth to attack? Would a loyal fifth stratum pet infect its master without even trying to?

[I DON'T GIVE UP THAT EASY!] Formo declared. [The FIRST thing we need to do is find the elements of the core related to this BLIGHTED CORRUPTION and manipulate them in a way that makes them safer to handle. It'll be BLOODY DIFFICULT, but it's a necessary step. The two of you can work on the problem as well, just make sure you aren't in contact with it for too long. BAH!] he exclaimed, shaking his hands. [DISGUSTING thing to do to monsters.]

So the three of them got to work. One by one, they identified the hurdles and made progress towards solutions. The cores of the fifth stratum monsters were unlike anything Bella and Ellie had ever seen before. The cleansed cores they'd worked with had wiped out vast sections of information contained inside, and now those sections were filled with malevolent corruption.

Navigating that toxicity while making just the right tweaks was a mind-bending, dangerous task that they doubted they could trust to any but the finest core shapers in the Colony.

After days of effort, the first viable core was ready to be turned into a pet. Exhausted, Formo, Bella and Ellie passed it to the next stage of the process, the pet raising area, and collapsed in a heap. Silently and without fanfare, the shadows rose to swallow them.

-x-X-x-

Solant was deep in reflective meditation when she perceived a messenger was fast approaching. Not for the first time, she considered implementing a network of mind-mages for near instantaneous delivery of messages, but again had to shelve the idea. Even though the Colony could provide the number of mages to create such a network through the fortress, their expertise was far better spent on battlefields, where their spells were capable of inflicting tremendous damage from a relatively safe distance.

Being a leader meant mastering the art of the possible.

A good idiom. Solant nodded to herself with satisfaction, resolving to add it to her annals of wisdom. One day, she would be satisfied that the collective words would contain enough knowledge to be of worth to other generals; then and only then was she prepared to share them. For now, they remained a collection of her personal thoughts and idioms.

Drawing her antennae through the elbow joints of her front legs, cleaning them and simultaneously using the action as a mental trigger to cast away extraneous thoughts, she made herself ready to receive news. When the scout was finally admitted to her chamber, Solant felt as if her mind had been cleansed, all baggage and weight thrown out and leaving behind a placid lake.

"What news do you bring?" she asked the clearly tired messenger.

"The vents have opened again," the scout reported. "I was told to inform you as soon as possible."

Solant leaned back in her seat, pressing her forelegs to the sides of her head.

Yes, this had always been a possibility, and she had planned accordingly. Was this timing coincidental, or did it signify something greater? She pondered on the issue for several minutes before she lowered her legs again.

"Take me to Cobalt and Tungstant," she said.

"They… they were the ones who sent for you."

"I know."

Despite this occurrence, Solant was still at peace. Still calm. No ripples marred the surface of her lake. The fifth had proven to be a worthy challenge for her, but so far, everything had been within her expectations. She was confident. She didn't lose.

Cobalt and Tungstant were arguing, not an unusual occurrence lately. It seemed that, as the two ants developed their Skills and grew more experienced in design, engineering and construction, differences in opinion cropped up more and more. To Solant, this was a strength, as it provided the chance to test their ideas against another and defend them in rigorous debate, ensuring they were sound. But she sensed the two siblings were less comfortable with these arguments, too used to agreeing with each other to get any benefit from their dialogue.

"Sisters," Solant greeted them as she arrived, nodding respectfully to the scout who had acted as her guide. "I've been told the vents are open again. Why have you sent for me?"

"Because it's an emergency?" Cobalt said, irritated. "There are seventeen vent sites within the fortress, and each of them is spilling extremely concentrated doom at a high rate."

"We have completed our countermeasures, have we not?" Solant asked.

"Just because we built systems that haven't ever been tested before, doesn't mean we solved the problem!' Cobalt burst out. "Now that they're being used, we have to check every single inch of them to make sure there aren't any leaks or mistakes!"

"Of course," Solant said soothingly. "I would expect nothing less."

She turned to the vent site nearby, which the two sisters had likely been arguing over. The vents were… interesting. The ants had, obviously, investigated them extensively after the first incident. As it turned out, excavating them was possible, but difficult. Each vent was connected to a fleshy tube that ran through the rock and connected to something far, far below. If they wanted to, the Colony could have ripped them all out and been done with it, but Solant had other ideas.

So, an emergency plan had to be put in place. Right now, the vent was capped with an elaborate device created by the finest enchanters the Colony had produced. It acted much the way the walls of Zluth's prison did, or indeed the intakes of the platforms, drawing the mana in without letting it come into contact with a surface. Everything the mana of the fifth touched was corrupted, after all, and nothing it came into contact with could ever contain it.

This cap then fed the energy into a network of pipes that eventually connected to the mana channels that fed the wuffer collectives.

"And what seems to be the issue?" Solant asked. "You were arguing when I arrived. I assume there is a matter that needs to be resolved?"

"What? Oh… no, that's fine."

"Fine, is it?" Tungstant spoke up for the first time, fixing her sibling with a hard stare. "It didn't seem 'fine' a moment ago."

"We don't need to bother Solant with it," Cobalt insisted. "It's an issue for the two of us to sort out."

"Personally, I don't mind getting another person's opinion. It can give an outside perspective that may prove useful."

"There's no need."

Solant clacked her mandibles softly, drawing their attention back to her.

"I presume this matter has something to do with the construction of the caps? Or the distribution of extra wuffers?"

"What? No," Tungstant shook her head. "We've been arguing over the proper ratio of sugar in tea, and what measure we should use for it. Cobalt thinks we should continue to use the human 'spoons' measurement, but I argue we should move to a new metric, since we don't use spoons. What are your thoughts?"

Solant eyed the two of them.

"I am returning to my meditation," she said, then turned and left.

-x-X-x-

Of course, the knowledge that massive quantities of tainted mana are being pumped into the fortress is causing me a little stress. Why wouldn't it? Hopefully the Colony has it under control. I could help! Or could I? I mean, what would I even do if I were to go in there? Nothing, that's what.

I'm worried!

"You're worried," Jern said from beside me.

"Gah! When the heck did you get there?"

"I've been here for ten minutes."

Probably didn't notice him because I've been too worried. Wait a sec.

"How the heck did you know I was worried?" I demand.

The young man shrugs and scratches the back of his head. "Not sure. I keep getting a feeling about… what you're feeling."

"You can't read my thoughts, can you?"

Jern is a dummy, Jern is a dummy. Jern is a dummy. Jern is a dummy.

"No, nothing like that. I think it's more of an emotions thing."

"So you know I'm worried."

"I do," he nods his head.

"One sec."

HOOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLLLL.

Another bomb launched into the void. It'll chew up the monsters I aimed it at, but then it'll suck up a heap of mucus and run out of power. I have to wonder, just where is all this lousy mucus going?

Monsters aren't the only thing springing from the walls in the fifth during the wave, oh no. Every wall, every surface is also producing a viscous mucus at a steady rate. Not much per square metre, but it adds up quick! Since the fortress was disconnected from the tunnels around us, the stuff flowing towards the platforms is just dropping down into the void and piling up at the bottom of the cavity we built. Presumably, there are tunnels down there receiving absolutely catastrophic amounts of slime and filling up from top to bottom.

Then where the heck does it go? Presumably, it flows down into lower tunnels, then down further, and then it drops into the sixth, right? Like, the volume of mucus being produced, from the entire fifth, would have to add up to millions and millions of tons per day. If all of that eventually dropped into the sixth, it would have to corrupt it as well, surely.

Except we know that isn't the case, I've seen sixth stratum monsters with my own eyes. Which brings me back to my question, where the heck is all the mucus going?!

"Now you're annoyed about something," Jern nods.

Gah!

"If you're worried, or annoyed, you could just ask us to look into whatever it is you have on your mind. I can go right now if you want."

"Go… and do what?"

"Look into whatever is bothering you. I'm not doing much around here right now."

He is, in fact, on a break from fighting. Of all the Templars, he seems to be the one best suited to combat. When he whips that axe around, he does some serious work, and the light coming off that blade is getting more dense seemingly by the day.

I wonder…

"Now you're curious about something," he says.

DAMMIT.

"Fine! What rank are your axe Skills?"

His eyes blank out for a second.

"Rank five, nearly rank six."

That's fast! Holy moly!

"Where the heck does all the mucus go after it all falls down?"

"No idea, but I'll ask someone. Anything else?"

"How is the fortress coping with the influx of mana from the vents?"

"I'll find out. Be back soon."

And he trots off, axe resting on his shoulder.

Huh.

I guess… I'm not used to having someone be so helpful. I mean… I could use the Vestibule to spy on all the most relevant ants to find out what's going on inside the walls, but I get a pretty incomplete picture when I do that. Like… what's Tungstant up to right now?

Takes a while to find an individual… there!

She's really wishing the pipe in front of her was connected using the cross method.

What the heck does that mean?! Now she's thinking about flow rates. Unhelpful!

I could hassle a few ants who appear in the Nave, but then I'd feel bad for distracting them from their work. I mean, if there is a crisis inside the fortress, the last thing they need is me annoying them when there's nothing I could do to help anyway.

I never thought of just having someone… go and ask for me. It's a good idea, I guess. I'll have to thank Jern when he gets back.

Well, enough worrying about that, it isn't like I don't have work to do.

Briefly, I check in on the sub brains and see that they are indeed working very hard. Good work, team! Out of sheer boredom, I've been diversifying my spell selection away from just Dragon's Breath all the time and seeing what else works. Throwing gobs of lava around has been fun, I can't deny it, but it isn't super effective. The fifth is just so contagious that even lava starts to bubble and go yellow, degenerating into super hot slime in a matter of seconds.

My solution to that problem: more lava! Which worked better. At least the stuff was able to reach its target before going bad. Ice was pretty much useless, water was worse than useless, almost instantly turning into mucus. Earth and stone just don't work that well against the monsters here. They're coated in thick layers of slime or are so spongy that blunt impacts just aren't effective. Stone spears are decent but not as effective as lobbing blobs of lava. I have to say, all the experimentation and variation has certainly been pushing my levels in the Omni-Elemental magic further than mindless flame-throwing.

At the rate I'm going it won't be that long until I get another rank, and I expect some juicy new spells to come out of that.

To be honest, fighting here has been a huge boon to my Level gain in a lot of ways. The monsters of the fifth might be awful, but they appear to be fairly juicy sacks of XP. I guess that helps compensate for the complete lack of Biomass they provide. So unsatisfying. Not that I want to eat them!

Idly blasting away, my senses spike for an instant, sending my minds spinning as they hunt down the source.

Turns out it isn't that hard to find.

A giant glob of mucus has been launched towards the platform, so dense with energy that it's ringing like an alarm to my mana sense.

What the heck? Where did that come from? Someone had to have been masking it while they were casting to produce something like that! That's no fair, I do that!

Before it can reach us, I ditch all of my spells, even letting the omni-elemental construct go in order to use everything on one magic. I draw out my personal supply of gravitational magic and pour it into a single bomb. The sludge bomb is arcing through the air towards us, growing larger in my sight by the second. I am not a fan of this!

Desperate, I throw out the Gravity Bomb as soon as I judge it's ready and empower it with the Altar.

HOOOOOOWWWWWLLLLLLL!!!!

Not as large as I would have liked it to be, the bomb flies outward like a shrieking banshee, sucking in air like the eye of a hurricane. Luckily, my aim is on point and the two bombs collide. The gravity ball is immediately swallowed by the larger blob of hyper-dense mucus, only to expand inside it.

I can sense the two energies colliding more clearly than I can see it, two condensed balls trying to consume each other.

The mucus wins, but has been hollowed out and thrown off course. What remains falls into the void before the platform, dropping down into the abyss.

Phew.

Now… I'm fairly sure Jern can sense that I'm really worried. What the heck was that?!

-x-X-x-

The sublime joy of tea and biscuits was one thing. In fact, Goszi had only grown in his appreciation for the things that so many Krath ignored completely. The ants had continued to work on making his cell more comfortable, despite his contemptuous insistence it wasn't necessary.

As a result, he now had a leaf-shaped hammock, as he was told it was called, that snugly fit his form and wrapped over to enclose him while he slept. Goszi had never felt so warm and safe, trapped in his own little soft cocoon, as he had while resting in that bed.

Even the rug! The ants had taken his complaints about the surfaces within the cell being uncomfortable for his foot and gone on to make many, many iterations of carpet. It had been infuriating for him to wake up to another day just to find a new rug on the floor and a team of ants eagerly looking through the viewing window, hoping for feedback. At first, he'd lied to them, hoping they'd stop asking him, but found that lying to them only resulted in less comfortable rugs.

And they wouldn't go away until he tested them, so he was ultimately only punishing himself.

Now the ants had invented a strange surface covered in soft, springy prongs, each of them very small, and when he slid over it, he felt as if the large muscle on the underside of his body was receiving a soothing massage. Incredible!

He had to hand it to the ants, they really knew how to make a Krath comfortable in their retirement. He may be isolated in a cell, but to Goszi, this might as well have been paradise. He was fed better than he had ever been in his life, housed more comfortably than he could have imagined and even had surprisingly engaging things to occupy his mind, like playing mind-games with the invisible masterminds behind the invasion.

He still hadn't discovered their identity and had been unsuccessful at teasing out much about them. He'd learned that the ants had done a significant amount of trading with the brathians, but decided that the conglomerates wouldn't have anything to do with an invasion of the fifth, there was no profit in it. Not that he was especially knowledgeable about the brathians, but their greed was so legendary, even the Krath knew about it.

No, someone else was driving this invasion, and he was determined to find out who.

Except, he was out of time.

Under the observation of several mages, Goszi sipped his tea and gurbled with satisfaction as the hot liquid scalded his tongue in just the right way. If only there was a way to make it more acidic…

Although he appeared completely domesticated, Goszi was anything but. His eyes, though they appeared languid and relaxed, studied every corner of the room in relentless sweeps, looking for even the slightest hint of weakness. As always, his mana sense was finely tuned, waiting for a moment when he might escape.

And of course, he needed something to focus on at all times, something to occupy his thoughts in order to keep that harrowing noise at bay.

The singing.

The singing!

He couldn't hear it, he knew that, his cell was soundproof, but it didn't seem to matter. He could feel it, somehow, the singing seemed to penetrate directly into his mind. And it never stopped.

A saccharine sweet song that curdled his guts and set his acid to boiling. Every note engorged his eyes and caused him to grind his fangs. What was it? Who was responsible?! He hadn't been this filled with mindless rage since he was a young slug. There was something very, very wrong with this song, something that offended his Krath sensibilities at their very core.

No wonder Theorazzn wanted it to end.

Drawing in a deep breath, he tried to push it out of his mind and focus on the delicious scone in front of him. The cream and jam had been done just the right way, and the native mana of the fifth around him had corrupted them, perfectly. Not much, just enough to curdle and foul the flavour so it more suited his palate.

Delectable.

His eyes flew open.

To his mana sense, a huge mass of power had just descended from nowhere and slammed into the side of the fortress, not that far away. At least, he assumed it had struck the side of the fortress, it was stuck to something, after all.

As he widened his senses to scan more carefully, something else caught his attention, a buildup of mana inside the fortress. He could always sense it, the neatly organised channels the ants had created to move the captured energy around, yet this was different, there was too much mana.

Growing perfectly still, he closed his eyes again and sensed.

Yes… Yesssss. There were problems at the outer wall, the blob was melting through. Inside the fortress, the danger point he'd identified was building and building, something was wrong. A clog in the system, a broken channel, whatever it was, a bottleneck had been created.

If it wasn't fixed soon…

There was no tremor or shaking when the channel ruptured, yet Goszi still shivered. Raw, untamed energy of the fifth was pouring into the fortress nearby, filling up the tunnels and corridors. The ants watching him could sense it, he knew they could. They were nervous, cleaning their antennae and thwapping each other for comfort. Ah, they sealed the observation room. Yes, they would be safe there, since it was isolated from outside mana.

Goszi stretched, feeling the life returning to his old flesh. Carefully, he bent down and rolled up the carpet, tucking it under several of his arms, then nodded gratefully to the mages. They really did good work, these ants.

It was a shame he couldn't stay, but Theorazzn had spoken.

The singing must stop.

The back wall of his cell began to hiss and sizzle as the mucus continued to eat its way through the hole, corrupting everything it touched.

It was a shame he'd never be able to collect on his bet with Solant.