"So how is the fortress handling the mana from the vents?"
"BADLY, JERN! BADLY!" Tungstant roared as she continued to turn a valve with her mandibles.
"Oh, I'll help," the human male said, stepping forward to grab it with his hands and twist.
Although designed for ants, he did a good job of it. Clearly, he was getting quite strong doing whatever it was humans did to get stronger.
"I need five more of these turned," Tungstant snapped, making a quick decision. "Go down that way and shut off the first two you find, I'll go this way."
Trusting him to get it done, she raced off down the access shaft and latched onto the first valve. She turned it desperately, wondering if they should have been oiled more often as she did so.
The muscles in her head responsible for closing her mandibles strained hard as she gripped and turned as hard as she could. When it was done, she sprinted to the next, clamping her jaws around it and turning, desperately.
The moment it slid shut, she could feel the change come over the channels above. Now that the damaged section was cut off, it would stop spewing corruption into the corridors. They'd been lucky so few ants had been in the area when it blew, otherwise it could have been disastrous.
She raced back to the access hatch, only to find Jern climbing up ahead of her.
"Sorry," he replied, his pheromone speech soft and polite. "I'll be out of the way in a second."
Despite not being an ant, he managed to scramble up the vertical wall quite well. Just what was the Eldest teaching these humans? Were they part ant now or something?
By the time she reached the top, there was already a small crowd of carvers gathered, waiting for instructions and offering solutions.
"No," Tungstant declared, shaking her head at one suggestion, "we can't go in there. We can just wait for the cleansed mana to eat up the corruption and then repair the damage. I need two teams to go activate the channels into the reserve tanks. Go, go, go! Fast!"
Ten ants raced off to do the work while the rest peered into the sealed-off section of the tunnel nervously.
"It's fine," Tungstant snapped. "Without more energy leaking from the channels, the leak won't be able to overcome the surrounding cleansed mana. I need a team to go and find the core shapers. I don't care what they're doing, we need them to come and increase the capacity of the wuffer stations, now."
"Isn't the excess being diverted into storage?" one carver asked.
"And that storage has a capacity. What do you think is going to happen to this fortress if it actually fills up?"
Another team ran off while Tungstant tried to collect her racing thoughts. Cobalt had rushed off to shut down the channels on the other side of the leak, hopefully that was done, but there could be further problems elsewhere in the channel network. If another bottleneck were to occur, they'd need to shut that off too, which would shunt more power to other, already strained channels. Did they need to turn off the intake from the platforms?
Solant had said they could, but only as a last resort. That energy was needed, desperately.
"The Eldest was just worried about the vents and I said I'd come and ask how they were going," Jern said. "I suppose… bursting isn't all that good. I'll let them know."
Tungstant was jerked out of her thoughts and turned to look at the human.
"What? No, no. Stick around, I might have a use for you."
The human tilted his head to the side for a second, as if listening to something, then shook his head.
"Sorry, the Eldest is really worrying about something right now. I should go and check."
"The Eldest is worried? About what?"
Was the Eldest able to sense the burst channels?
"I suppose… I suppose I can ask. Give me a second."
Jern closed his eyes for a moment.
"Apparently, someone launched a huge mucus bomb at the platform. The Eldest deflected it, but thinks it might have hit the fortress wall."
"Oh HECK!" Tungstant exclaimed, thoughts immediately racing. She did not need this right now.
A huge wad of condensed fifth mana? It could be enough to break through the exterior, and if that happened…
"You can communicate with the Eldest?" she demanded.
Jern nodded, then shrugged.
"I can get him to talk to me."
"Do it now, tell the Eldest to contact Solant and get the build teams moving. All of them. We need to monitor every channel in the fortress and we need to repair the exterior wall and we need it done an hour ago!"
"That's… that's in the past," Jern blinked.
"Just do it!"
The Templar closed his eyes again, and after a few seconds, winced.
"The Eldest is yelling at me wondering what is going on," he reported.
"Just explain that there's too much energy in the channels and it's causing problems."
"What sort of problems?"
"You want a technical explanation?"
Jern shook his head.
"I don't."
After passing on that message, Tungstant met up with Cobalt and told her of the possible problem on the wall. By then, the build teams were already starting to assemble. Quickly, they crunched out a plan of attack and got everyone moving as quickly as they could, using Jern to communicate with Solant via the Eldest.
This was going to be a long day.
-x-X-x-
News of the damaged channels reached Solant as she settled into the command post, though she didn't expect to hear it from the Eldest.
[How are you communicating with them? Are you really able to extend a mind-bridge that far into the fortress?]
[Ahhh,] the Eldest says, evasively. [Sure. Let's go with that. No, you cannot use me as a message relay.]
[I wouldn't dream of it,] Solant lied. [Thanks for letting me know about the issue. I will dispatch the build teams as quickly as possible.]
A quick word to the messengers was enough to send several scouts running, and allowed Solant to turn her attention back to the Eldest.
[You aren't using a mind bridge to talk to me…] she said evenly.
[It's a new secret technique I invented.]
[Can you explain it?]
[It's too complicated.]
[I could ask Brilliant to investigate.]
[I will not. I repeat. Will not! Be your relay station.]
[My thoughts never went in such a direction,] Solant continued to lie.
The Eldest could communicate with them without having to use a mind bridge? This was crucial information! What were the limitations? Range? Knowing the Eldest, it would be absurdly powerful, more so than she expected.
[Just focus on the main issue,] the Eldest snapped. [Things seem to be falling apart in there! Has anyone checked on the wall?]
[It's happening as we speak.]
[Gah. Monsters keep coming. Try and sort things out, I'll be here on the platform if you need me.]
[And if I need you to relay a message?]
Silence.
Clacking her mandibles thoughtfully, Solant moved to inspect the model of the fortress hanging in the centre of the command post. What had once been an expanding map of the myriad tunnels investigated by the Colony had now grown to include a detailed model of the fortress itself, bisected in several places to allow access to the interior. Right now, generals were crawling over it placing markers to indicate the sections of channel that were damaged.
She'd hoped that the influx of mana from the vents would be manageable with what they'd put in place, the modeling had suggested as much, but reality often failed to live up to expectations. Victory was determined in planning and practice, this was an idiom that she lived by, and in this case she had been no less diligent.
There were backup containers, release valves, and if all else failed, they could cease taking in mana from the platforms for a period of time, though that would hurt their accumulation of energy. Calm and collected as always, she directed traffic inside the command post, issuing orders and taking in information, calculating all angles in her logistical mind.
It didn't take long for the overall picture to emerge. Carvers were spread all over the fortress, inspecting the channels and looking for signs of stress and they found them. This was always a concern, the channels were built to handle huge amounts of mana, but even the slightest flaw in their construction could lead to severe problems.
It seemed that the vents were outputting far more energy, at higher levels of concentration, than they had calculated, putting immense stress on the channel networks. Flaws were being exposed at a rapid pace, and the carvers were in a race against time, trying to fix them before they overloaded and blew up in their faces.
After an hour, two more channels had burst and additional wuffer platforms had been brought online to try and deal with the excess energy. The reserve tanks were filling quickly, and Solant could feel the tension rising in the command post and amongst every ant she encountered.
Projecting calm and control, she dealt with issues one at a time, making sure appropriate resources were appointed to deal with each of them, drawing on the extensive logistics network to provide what was needed in a timely manner.
Then she found out about the wall.
"The prisoner has escaped!" reported an exhausted scout who burst into the command post. "We couldn't report since the tunnels were filled with noxious mana. Goszi the Krath has escaped through the hole in the outer wall!"
Solant clacked her mandibles thoughtfully. Goszi had escaped? This was something she hadn't anticipated. After all, what awaited him outside the fortress? A quick death, if he was lucky, or a slow, debilitating one if he was caught by his own people. It didn't make sense for Goszi to escape. Of all the fates that awaited him, the kindest was living out the rest of his life inside his cell, and he was very, very aware of that.
Something had changed, something unexpected had occurred. Solant did not like the unexpected.
The world grew still around her as she pondered more deeply, trying to fit this new puzzle piece in with the rest and finding there was simply nowhere for it to go. When she imagined the campaign, it was always in this form, thousands of individual pieces, each representing an idea, an individual or collective, with their own strengths, weaknesses and unique shapes. When placed together just right, they fit harmoniously, creating spaces for other ideas to work alongside them, an expanding network of accomplishment.
She had laboured long and hard to create the pieces necessary to make the puzzle work, and all that she had done since was adjust the plan, making small changes here and there to keep the pieces harmoniously aligned.
Now, suddenly, there was something that didn't fit. What could it be? What had changed?
She homed in on the puzzle of Goszi, a selfish, elderly Krath. Cunning and ruthless, an extreme level of self-interest, even for a Krath. What could compel him to risk his life in this way? The more she considered the problem, the more worried she became. Slight changes weren't enough to make the pieces fit. She began to imagine more and more outlandish scenarios, bending the pieces this way and that, warping them far out of shape as she considered various calamitous scenarios.
The picture in her mind grew more and more disorganised, huge rents opening in what had been a harmonious whole. It grew worse and worse until….
Click.
Solant returned to herself and found the headquarters had grown still, all eyes on her as they waited for a response to this latest crisis. She clacked her mandibles again, a little vexed.
"Get teams on the wall, we have to stop contamination at all costs. This is a priority even greater than the channels."
"What about the prisoner?"
"The prisoner doesn't matter. We don't have the ability to go and get him anyway. Focus on what we can control, ignore everything we can't. Get to it. Update the model, quickly."
She ordered, pushed and annoyed until the rest of the ants got moving, working hard to stay on top of the unfolding catastrophe. This was a dangerous moment for the Colony, more dangerous than anyone else realised. Indeed, it was possible that Solant would order a full and total retreat from the fifth in the next few hours.
Yet… she didn't think so.
Solant didn't lose. She didn't care who she had to go up against, even an Ancient. She refused to lose.
-x-X-x-
"Lock it down!" Smithant roared, her pheromones blasting away the doubt and confusion that hung heavy in the air. "Get your mandibles in there and work!"
If there was an invitation that no ant was likely to turn down, this was it. Rushing forward as a unit, the carvers applied themselves in the most direct and ant-like way they knew how. Mandibles to the rock, they dug and shaped, clearing space, demolishing rooms and opening a path to the outer wall.
"Keep pushing! The cleansed mana will protect you, so don't hesitate. Dig!"
Smithant was no foremant, telling others what to do, she was a craftsant, and she put her jaws to work on the line just like the others. For the situation to be so dire that she was pulled out of the forge, she knew they didn't have time to be hesitating. This may not be the most efficient solution, but it was sure to work, and that was all she cared about.
More and more ants joined in over time and they worked tirelessly, ripping away everything in their way as they opened up the damaged section of the fortress. Only when they'd isolated the problem could they hope to create a solution. As they used magic and mandibles to break down what they had already built, the scale of the issue became more and more apparent.
The fortress was filled with purified mana, which kept them safe from the contamination of the fifth, yet that wasn't the only protection. The outer wall was one of the most expensive construction projects in the history of the Colony, completely enchanted to repel magical energy, which prevented the mana of the fifth from even coming into contact with it. Clashes between cleansed and corrupted only took place on the platforms, which preserved an enormous quantity of cleansed energy since they didn't need it to hold back the energy over the vast majority of the walls' surface.
Now, though? With a giant rent in the outer wall, the enchantments were broken and highly concentrated toxic energy was flooding into the breach, warring with the cleansed energy and burning through it at an accelerated rate. Already, Smithant could see sections of rock that showed the telltale signs of having been exposed to the fifth. Hints of slime, a yellow-greenish tint, strands of mucus here and there. It would be dangerous to keep going, they all knew that.
"Dig faster!" she urged her sisters. "We need stone shapers in here to peel this section back! Hurry!"
Soon, her mandibles began to sting, small sections sizzling and burning as malevolent mana infected them. She kept digging.
At some point, core shapers appeared and threw their teams of blobby, cheerful wuffers ahead of the carvers to try and cleanse any corruption, but it wasn't enough.
After two hours, they had managed to find the source of the issue. Eight floors of the fortress had been destroyed to reveal the full extent of the hole, a gaping wound in the Colony's defences. It was enormous, dozens of metres across and twice as tall. Whatever had caused it had long ago fallen into the darkness or fizzled out, cleansed by the blue mana.
Two opposing energies clashed violently at the entrance, an endless stream of native mana seeking its way inside, trying to erode the wall further while the blue rushed forward to annihilate its opposite.
Mandibles burning, Smithant consulted with the other carvers.
"Are the replacement parts ready?" she asked.
"They were delivered ten minutes ago," came the reply. "The problem is, we need to break the wall down until we find the joints, then we can replace the damage from there."
"How far apart are the joints?" Smithant asked, trying to remember. She'd worked on the design for the metal struts herself, but putting together the framework had never been her area.
"Depends on the segment. Can be as much as a hundred metres."
Smithant cleaned her antennae absentmindedly as she eyed the wall. They could peel back the wall further, expose the joints and then start replacing the components, sealing it all up behind them, but that would be difficult work. Doing it while exposed to the outside mana would be… tricky.
"We stay as far back as possible," she said, "get the mages to dissolve the rock. I know it's hard," she said, cutting off any protest, "it was designed to be resistant, I know that much. When that's done, any other smiths and specialists like me will get our mandibles in there and cut away the metal. Just make sure you have healers around."
Surely, there would be a better way to do this, but the most experienced and skilled builders were busy inside the fortress dealing with the channels. She was the first to turn up, so she would get the job done.
With the emergency wuffers happily wuffing away as close to the hole as the core shapers were willing to put them, the ant mages, specialists in construction and stone, got to work, breaking down the highly condensed stone they'd put immense amounts of effort into making.
Gradually, the internal structure of the wall was revealed: living stone, enchanted steel beams, intricate panels of arcane arrays. Once there was enough room, Smithant and the others rushed forward, their mandibles glowing with power as they got to work.
Shaping metal was their talent, their way of life, and they had moulded their evolutions and mutations to suit. Their jaws scythed through the beams as teams pulled the cut sections clear.
Before her eyes, Smithant could see the edge of the wall, and several times, she drew perilously close to the enormous drop into the void beneath. She could see the clashing energies, the war of mana, that occurred right in front of her face as she cut.
She could barely feel her mandibles anymore.
With one section cleared, the ants rushed back to safety where healers were waiting to tend to their injuries.
"This is stupid. You're stupid. If it contaminates your brain, who knows what'll happen to you," the healer snapped as she brought her antennae down to Smithant's face.
"You want us to leave a hole in the side of the fortress?" she replied.
There was no answer to that question. The healers worked swiftly, but weren't halfway done when the next section was exposed. Smithant pushed herself up, ran out across the stone beams the mages had produced, and got back to cutting.
Back and forth, back and forth. Her mandibles had become pitted, some parts were smoking. Without the protection of the enchantments, the beams were soaking in flecks of corrupted mana, and it was infecting the ants. It didn't matter, they had to keep going.
SNAP.
With a final, desperate push, she sheared through the last beam, a nice clean cut, if she did say so herself. Ants holding the beam in their grip hauled it away, and now the work was done.
Smithant limped back to safety. One of her eyes… didn't seem to be working. Didn't matter, she could see well enough with the other. The entire segment of the wall was clear, as were the joints. Replacement parts could be slotted in, and the entire hole swiftly built over. Good. She was satisfied.
Before she even made it to the healer, she collapsed.
-x-X-x-
The monsters of the fifth are unique, as far as this scholar is aware, in both their unusual resilience, and also their irresistible offence. Other monsters might fight with claws, or magic, or fangs, and the monsters of the fifth do this also, but they don't have to. Their very presence is a deadly weapon. Every touch has the power to kill.
The mana of the fifth is an almost flawless creation. Capable of consuming even other types of arcane energy, corrupting and shaping them to make more of itself. It is an infectious, unstoppable poison. Were it not for the density of energy that marks the boundaries between the strata, the entire world would have fallen prey to it by now.
If indeed this energy is the creation of the Ancient Theorazzn, as some theorise, then I would dearly love to speak to the monster. A mastery of energy this profound... what they have made may be foul, but it is also perfect.
- From the writings of the Unnamed Heretic.
I'm tired. I'm so tired.
These monsters never stop! The mana never stops! The mucus never stops! Honestly. I've seen so much mucus during this wave that I'm starting to forget what the world looks like when reality doesn't have a serious cold.
Starcrusher!
BOOM!
My jaws slam shut and detonate the sphere that forms between my jaws, sending shockwaves of fire before me, burning away the slime and monsters that tried to draw near. Thanks to my new armour, I don't suffer major burns anymore, the explosion no longer searing my precious carapace. Unfortunately, my eyes are still exposed, so I'm blinded, but hey, this is still a massive improvement.
Seriously, I cannot wait to evolve, just so I can reforge my eyes into an unfathomably hard substance. At the very least, I want to coat them in some clear layer that'll protect them. If I have that, then I won't have to suffer so much from my own abilities, and even the mana of the fifth won't be so intolerable since it won't have this soft and squishy point to attack.
I pull back a little to let my eyes heal. Not being able to see is a bit of a pain in the neck, but it doesn't stop me from engaging with what's going on around me. My mana sense is alive and well, and I use it to sweep the tunnel ahead, along with the space to my sides, above and below. I'm on high alert after what happened before. A bomb formed of hyper-dense fifth stratum mana? That was terrifying! Caught unawares, I was barely able to stop it from destroying the entire platform, but I didn't prevent it from doing significant damage to the fortress.
Whoever cast it… they're asking for a singularity right to the face. Only problem is, they displayed pretty darn high level magic Skills with that cast. I couldn't sense them forming the bomb at all, only detecting it after it was released. Without the Altar, I never would have been able to summon a bomb of my own strong enough to compete in the short amount of time I had to respond.
It's obviously easier to hide a bomb formed of fifth mana while out there in the fifth during a wave, but holy moly, that was a seriously dense ball of goop. Had it landed on the platform, it might have just eaten through and destroyed the entire thing, me and everyone else here along with it.
With the ability to conceal spells like that, I'm unlikely to sense this individual before they decide to reveal themselves, which has me jumpy, to say the least. I've passed word to all the other platforms so they can take countermeasures, of course, but none of them have reported anything similar happening. It's a relief in a sense, but raises questions at the same time. Why only target this platform? Just because I'm here?
There's no reason for the monsters of the fifth to like me, certainly, but I don't think they have a reason to be particularly angry at me either. I'm just chilling here on the platform, not hurting anyone! Well, I'm hurting thousands upon thousands of monsters, but most of them are days old at best.
Gradually, my sight returns, and I push my way back to the front, taking my place in the centre of the line. The wave continues to intensify, as these things do, and I'm getting worried about what it's going to look like at its peak. If the mucus flows more thickly, it might actually bridge the gap between the tunnel and the platform, flowing out onto the surface. If that happens, it's game over for us, no question. Even having to build a wall to keep it out would be a massive problem, since the wall would start to disintegrate the moment it was actually needed.
Dangit, I can see more of those dang eels slithering towards us. Nasty things, their bodies are formed of, believe it or not, more eels. So if you try to cut them, they just break up, then reform, and come at you again. A few managed to get onto some of the militia, and it was… not pretty. Luckily, the healers were there, but I have taken a very firm 'no parasites' policy ever since.
They get the Starcrusher. No exceptions.
My jaws open wide, and I draw on my reserves of stamina to activate the Skill. Without so many ants around, there's no way I could use it again so soon, but thankfully the Will of the Colony keeps me going.
Again, my jaws slam shut, there is a blinding light and cacophonous explosion as the area before me is briefly transformed into a sea of flames. Mucus and eels alike are evaporated by the force of the detonation, just like my eyeballs.
In that exact moment, I sense it.
Not one, but two sludge bombs, from deep in the tunnel, are launched towards the platform, rising into the air as they accelerate into their arc.
HA! You thought you caught me by surprise? Waiting for me to blind myself in order to throw another sneak attack my way? You done gone lost your mind!
I'm the one who's trapping you!
Get a taste of this!
HOOOOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLLLL!!!!!
HOOOOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLLLL!!!!!
Muahahahahaha!!! You thought throwing two bombs was going to be enough to catch me off guard? You thought I wouldn't exhaust myself by foolishly holding two bombs in readiness to throw at a moment's notice? Who's the real fool now?!
If I'm honest, I was hoping they'd throw one sludge bomb, so I could counter it with one of my own bombs, then send the other at the location they cast the spell from. Ah well.
Empowered by the Altar, the two Gravity Bombs shoot up, sucking in air, mana, sludge and slime, everything that comes near them as they scream through the air directly towards their targets.
The bombs smash into each other, sludge against gravity, and this time I'm not losing out. None of the slime is able to escape, consumed by the void that remains, rotating in place as if to declare their superiority before flickering out of existence a moment later.
Gweheheheh. Didn't get a drop on the fortress. You'll have to try harder, mystery spell… thing. And you better hope I don't catch a whiff of you, because if I do… not even the mana of the fifth will keep you safe from me.
-x-X-x-
Moving through the Dungeon during a wave wasn't something Goszi ever expected he'd have to do again. It certainly wasn't something he'd had to do since he was a much younger slug.
His first problem had been getting off the fortress at all. Being able to access the outside wasn't the same thing as being home free, oh no. The gap between the fortress wall and the rest of the fifth was substantial, much too far for a neat jump. He'd been forced to do something he really hadn't wanted to, which was climb high up the wall, then throw himself off. With enough forward momentum, he was able to reach the other side… eventually.
It wasn't a journey that he liked to remember. If it weren't for the thick layer of mucus coating the wall, he never would have survived. As it was, he nearly died. Not enough to keep a good Krath down. After climbing back up, he'd managed to find a likely crack in the wall and sneak away, making it deeper into the tunnels and further from the cursed ants and their delicious snacks.
As much as he would like to credit his incredible wiles and experience, Goszi was just lucky. Incredibly lucky. After the third time a monster had simply stepped over him, not bothering to lean down and inspect his compressed and camouflaged form, he was beginning to think something strange was going on.
After all, what were the odds that he'd been able to escape from the ants at all? Not good. Not good in the slightest. It felt as though someone or something was tipping the scales in Goszi's favour, and he had some suspicions as to who.
Was Theorazzn really able to influence events on the fifth stratum from all the way down, wherever it was that Ancients lived? If someone had asked him a few days ago, the old Krath would have said of course not. Now? He wasn't so sure.
Regardless, he was no longer quite so shocked when he managed to find the Krath outpost without being eaten a dozen times over.
And, of course, Chozth was extremely pleased to see him.
After being thrown down to the floor, much as he'd expected, it took a few moments to realise that the powerful Krath'lath, sliding towards him, mouth open and flesh sizzling, intended to eat him without a word being exchanged. If he was going to live, he was going to have to speak up for himself.
"The singing," he burbled, face still pressed into the ground. "I found the singing."
For a terrifying second, he thought that Chozth wasn't going to stop. The red rage in her eyes was all-consuming, and he could feel the acrid sting of her breath on his skin before she finally paused.
"The what?" she rasped, still too consumed by anger and hatred to process his words properly.
"The Ancient commanded and Goszi has listened. I found the singing."
Her arms lashed out, painfully squishing him down to the rocky floor of the chamber as her loyal followers watched on.
"And you're a loyal servant of the Ancient, are you, Goszi? You're barely a Krath."
"I am as I was born," he forced out.
"No," she hissed, "you're not. You weren't born a traitor."
The acid in her burned so fiercely that her saliva, dripping down onto his skin, ate into him.
To be a traitor amongst the Krath, who didn't have much of a sense of loyalty, was almost an accomplishment in Goszi's eyes. He'd betrayed the tribe of his birth, his siblings, betrayed many of his fellow Krath, time and time again, cheated, lied, stole and schemed to keep himself alive, as all of them did. He was unique in one regard only: he had betrayed the Krath as a whole. Betrayed what it meant to be Krath.
There was only one thing the Krath hated more than each other: everything else.
The old slug was starting to believe even the benediction of the Ancient may not be enough to save him anymore. Well, he'd lived a long life for a slug of the tribes. At least if he saw Theorazzn in the Decaying World, he would be able to say he did as he was asked.
"The singing is coming from somewhere inside the fortress of the invaders," he said. "I was locked in a cell and I could hear it day and night. Maddening, haunting, enraging. I would have done anything to get away from it."
"Inside the fortress? Inside the fortress?! You're sure?"
"Would an old slug like me have been able to make it back here if there wasn't something important for me to say? I saw a vision of Theorazzn, of the Maker, and I knew the second I heard that song that it was… wrong."
"Who or what is doing the singing, traitor?" Chozth burbled so deep in her throat it sounded as if she were speaking from her stomach.
"I don't know," he replied, then allowed himself to go limp on the stone floor. Immediately he was squashed down painfully flat. After a few moments, Chozth relented, withdrawing her limbs.
"Go ahead then," Goszi muttered. "Eat me and be done with it. I did what I set out to do."
"Sell us out to the enemy? Give away the secrets of the Krath to invaders? Was that what you set out to do?!"
She spat on him.
"You will be consumed, Goszi, but not by me. Your flesh and your acid belong to your tribe. When your Krath'lath returns, he will administer your final fate. Until then, we will throw you in a hole."
Goszi was roughly seized on both sides by large, overbearing slugs.
"What time will you be serving tea?" he grinned.
-x-X-x-
Another burst channel. Another one. How many would fail? Cobalt ground her mandibles in frustration, staring at the energy flowing in front of her. There wasn't the slightest variation or tremor, the enhancements were functioning perfectly. Or did she only think that was the case? There had been sections approved by carvers that had failed. Two, to be exact. Even the tiniest flaw was enough to send the energy awry, to degrade the system and make it vulnerable to failure under high loads.
Not for the first time, she was grateful for the pace at which Solant had allowed them to work on the fortress. If they'd forged ahead as rapidly as she'd thought they should have… doubtless the entire fortress would be lost now.
"Show me the map," she demanded, and one of her team was quick to oblige, placing a thin, hardened stone tablet down on the ground in front of her.
On the stone, the channel network for this area of the fortress was marked, with all failures, stress points and checked sections clearly indicated. The new burst channel was a fresh mark on the page and a fresh thorn in her carapace. Luckily, the carvers had sensed it coming and shut off almost all the flow before it finally ruptured, otherwise the damage would have been catastrophic. No sections of the fortress had been cut off from the rest at this stage, but it was getting close. Already, moving from one place to the next was becoming difficult. Further breaks would only complicate the map further, and cut off more tunnels. They would be cleaned up eventually, of course, but that took time, and the fortress was still under siege. Any internal failures made defending the platforms that much harder.
"Here," she said, drawing the attention of her team. "These four sections have been checked. We'll throttle the channels here, here and here, and allow the bulk to move through those four channels. The lighter load should keep the others operational while we get this segment repaired."
"That's a lot of energy to focus on so few channels, senior," one of her team members spoke up. "How long will they be able to tolerate that much mana?"
"Not long," she affirmed. "Which means we need to get the repair done quickly. If all goes well, then we can clear every issue on this map in a few hours."
The ants nodded, determined to get the work done, before they dispersed. After having constructed this fortress, the work teams on duty were the best of the best, they knew what they were about. As long as they were all on the same page, there wasn't any issue they couldn't tackle effectively.
"Looks like things are as challenging down here as I'd heard," Solant said.
Cobalt turned to see her younger sibling crawling down the tunnel, a fraction of her usual entourage with her.
"What are you doing here? Isn't this an emergency?" she snapped.
Solant only nodded.
"It is. However, there are limitations to speaking through messengers. That goes for you sending word to me, and for me sending it back to you. It's important that we meet directly every now and again."
"You think I have time to talk? We're busy here!"
"Which is why I came to you," Solant said reasonably. "Go about your tasks as we converse, I won't take much of your time."
Trying to argue Solant out of getting what she wanted was a futile exercise, Cobalt knew it well, so she simply cleaned her antennae, turned and marched down the corridor, the smaller ant trailing in her wake.
"The rate of failures is higher than you expected. Is that fair to say?" Solant asked.
"It is," Cobalt snapped, grinding her mandibles. These mistakes were on the carvers, on her and Tungstant, they were responsible for getting this done right the first time.
"Personally, I expected more. You and your teams are to be commended," Solant said, perfectly seriously.
If she were speaking to a human, Cobalt might have thought the remark was sarcastic, but from an ant, it was completely sincere.
"If things keep failing at this rate, the fortress is going to fall. But you already know that, don't you?"
"I believe you are wrong," Solant replied. "If the failure rate was increased by a third, it would be close. As it is, we can still get ahead of the damage before it's too late."
"Too late for what?"
"The cascade. One failure leading to another leading to another leading to another."
"If there's even the slightest chance of that happening," Cobalt said, working her mandibles and forelegs as she began to sort through components, organising them for the repairs ahead, "then shouldn't we shut off the intake?"
"We can't," Solant shook her head. "No matter what happens, we can never shut off the intakes. Not if we want to succeed."
"That isn't what you told me before," Cobalt said, confused. "You said we could, as a last resort."
"The situation has changed."
"Changed how?"
"For the worse," Solant said simply. "If we don't convert every drop of energy we can get, then it isn't going to be enough. We will fail and be forced back up to the fourth stratum, if we survive."
"The system is barely holding together, Solant. If the pressure continues to rise…"
Solant nodded, able to fill in the blanks herself.
"Make sure you and your teams get some rest when you can, Cobalt," the little general told her. "You'll be busy from now on, I believe."
The carver didn't need to think hard to work out what she meant. They couldn't shut off the intakes, the amount of mana flowing into the system was only going to grow over time. If the vents didn't shut off, and who could say when and if they would, then they would be chasing down errors in the channel network from now until the wave was over. As long as they were able to stay ahead of the curve, then they could avoid a catastrophic cascade. If not, then they were all dead.
"I'll get to work," she said.
-x-X-x-
"I never thought I'd see you again, Goszi," Zluth grinned, showing all of his fangs. "You found your happy retirement, why would you ever leave?"
The old slug extended an eye socket up through the grille that covered the hole he'd been locked into. A Krath could compress their body to extremely small sizes, and they had to, to fit inside a hole like this. The grating over the top was sharp as a razor on the inside, but blunt on the outside, meaning if Goszi were to relax his contracted body for even a second, he'd be cut to ribbons by the grate.
An extremely common way the Krath used to lock up their own. Even a Krath could be contained if you limited how many tricks they could use, and they couldn't use many when they were squished down to the size of a human head.
"I was very comfortable," Goszi rasped, barely able to speak. "Have you ever heard of a scone? The ants are big fans. Delicious."
Zluth frowned. Food was food, who cared what it tasted like? To him, the word 'delicious' was barely a part of his vocabulary. It certainly wasn't something he'd ever experienced.
"Do you think making the ants sound good is going to make me spare you, Goszi? Have you lost what was left of your mind?"
The old Krath chuckled, only to yelp with pain when his body expanded a fraction and he was cut.
"I'm as sharp as these blades," the old Krath burbled. "Sharp as I've ever been."
"You could have fooled me. Weren't you the one who twisted and betrayed everything in order to keep himself alive? You're just a few minutes away from being eaten, that doesn't seem sharp."
"I didn't have much of a choice," Goszi chuckled. "I might have betrayed the Krath, but even I'm not willing to betray the Maker."
Zluth was silent for a moment, chewing over a wad of acid bile. Chozth had told him of Goszi's claim, that he'd been visited by Theorazzn and returned to reveal the location of the singing. The ants… again.
Despite Goszi being a cunning slug who lied as easily as he breathed, Zluth believed his story. There was no other reason for a Krath so obsessed with staying alive to throw himself into the acid pit.
"Theorazzn spoke to you too, Goszi," Zluth burbled. "You decided to break out and share what you knew with the tribes? To fulfil the will of the Ancient? It's almost… noble."
The word tasted foul in Zluth's mouth and he spat to rid himself of it. The wad of acid sizzled and burned on the stone floor, filling the air with an acrid tang.
"The Maker of Mucus is a … persuasive creature," Goszi said. "Did I really have much choice?"
"I suppose not."
Did the Krath respect, or fear Theorazzn? If he were pushed for an answer, Zluth couldn't say on which side he'd land. The Maker of Mucus created the fifth stratum, their home. Legends said the Ancient had blessed the Krath personally, though none knew how. The fifth was a cruel and unforgiving place, and the Krath were the most cruel and unforgiving creatures within it.
It was only natural that they would revere the Ancient who had made them that way, who continued to guide them from the depths of the Dungeon. Goszi, for all his selfishness, had no choice but to fulfil the Ancient's command.
Even so…
"It's not enough to save you, Goszi. You knew that from the beginning."
The old Krath chuckled, resigned to his fate.
"Make it quick. I deserve that much."
"Mercy?" Zluth laughed. "Fine. Why not try something new."
When it was done, Zluth went to find Chozth, who was furiously busy. With so many powerful tribes converging on the area, she wouldn't remain in charge for long, but as she'd been responsible for the assault so far, it was her job to ensure the slugs would have somewhere safe to be when they arrived.
It wouldn't be long before hundreds and hundreds of Krath joined the effort. Even during a wave, they were moving through the Dungeon, using the safest paths and bringing as much war material as they could carry.
It would be incredibly difficult to make war during the wave, but they would find a way. They were Krath.
"What do you need me to do?" he asked.
"Everything," she snapped, bubbling with rage.
"Can't do that much."
"Then go back out into the tunnels and put eyes on those filthy ants. We need to know what they're doing at least."
"The same as before, I would guess," he replied, then held up his hands when she glared at him. "I'll go. Not to worry. I'll be gone in an hour."
His reputation was rising amongst the Krath, especially as a crafty scout who could get things done, do the dirty work. When the others arrived, it would be his report they listened to. Then… when it came time to plan the assault, he would be in prime position. He would be ascendant.
-x-X-x-
The production capacity of the Colony, along with its non-existent labour costs, could have annihilated all commerce within the Dungeon if not for the quick thinking of the Brathian Island Conglomerate.
Fixed prices, controlled volumes, and putting a hard floor on what the ants could charge for their wares allowed the rest of the commercial interests to compete. Many attempted to have the Colony produce goods on their behalf, ship in raw goods to the vast workshops and foundries of the ants, make use of their labour, then extract maximum value by selling at market, but this sort of arrangement was never accepted. The Colony was happy to buy materials, and did, frequently and in vast quantities, but they would not work for others, only for the family.
What many of the merchants and market-watchers in the fourth stratum didn't fully appreciate was just how much material the Colony consumed for itself. They were not merely producers, with endless legions of crafts-ants, mines and harvesting operations, but a furious engine of consumption. Always building, always smithing, weaving, enchanting, carving, sculpting and everything else. There is never a time the ants are not involved in a grand, empire-scale project of some sort, and they pour their vast resources into these activities without a second thought for the cost.
- Excerpt from 'Swarm Economics' by Xinci.
"We're running out of components," Tungstant announced.
Solant nodded, well aware of the problem.
"Yes, the stockpiles have almost entirely been drawn down. We never expected to need this many replacements for the channels. If we hadn't overproduced by ten percent, we would have run out already."
"How much longer are they going to last?" the carver asked. "My teams are working around the clock, and they need those parts."
"I've had my logistics team working on the problem for the last few hours. The report is… thank you," she said to the ant who slipped her a scent-marked tablet. Tracing her antenna through the lines of pheromones, she clacked her mandibles in satisfaction. "Five hours."
Tungstants' antennae stood straight up in shock.
"Five hours? That's it?!"
"For our current stockpile, yes. There are more in production."
"More of what? There's a dozen different components needed for the mana channels."
"Everything."
The channels were indeed some of the finest work the Colony had ever produced, a handy bit of enchanting that kept the mana passing through entirely contained. Repelled from all sides, the toxicity never had a chance to come into contact with anything, removing the chance of contamination. This only failed, as it turned out, when the volume of mana running through was so vast that the enchantments were no longer strong enough to contain it. Any mistakes made when installing the extremely delicate panels created vulnerabilities that the massive throughput quickly exposed. Eating through even a sliver of the enchantments and sigils was enough to disconnect one panel from the next and create a bottleneck that quickly exploded.
Ordering a large quantity of such highly engineered components wasn't as simple as merely asking for them. It took time, precious materials, cores, delicate craftswork.
"How long until the first shipment arrives?" Tungstant asked, resigned.
She had no idea how, but it appeared she and Cobalt would have to hold the entire network together with their mandibles and willpower. Until the materials arrived, what choice did they have?
"An hour ago," Solant replied calmly.
"Wh… How is that possible?" Tungstant asked, flabbergasted.
Solant cleaned her antennae, unhurried.
"Because the supply chains were put in place months ago, and every material required to construct this fortress has been stockpiling in the fourth's staging grounds ever since we finished work."
"The deliveries didn't stop?" Tungstant asked.
"There is no reason for them to stop," Solant replied, her demeanor hardening. "Is there a desperate need anywhere in the Colony for these resources? If we were to fail here, you understand just how great a loss that would be for our family, do you not? We must succeed. There is no other option. The forges and workshops are working around the clock to produce the materials you need. I promise, you won't run out, no matter how much you need."
Tunstang remained stunned. Just thinking of the vast workforce required, the huge number of artisans dedicated to this one repair effort. Going beyond that, the forges and foundries smelting the metal, the mining ants harvesting and processing the raw materials. The immense effort of moving thousands of tons of ore through the Dungeon. Suddenly, she felt as if the entire family were behind her, as if all of her siblings had a leg to her back, pushing her forward.
"I'll get back to work. Are the panels being distributed?"
"As we speak."
"Good. That's good."
Solant watched as the carver turned and skittered away, a renewed sense of purpose and determination in her frame. For her part, she let her thoughts shift back to the problem at hand. The model in front of her filled her eyes, but Solant's mind was, as always, filled with the puzzle.
Pieces continued to slot into place as she leveraged the might of the Colony and the power of her mind. With millions of ants fighting single-mindedly for victory, there was almost no opponent she feared.
And yet.
Some of the pieces remained stubborn, refusing to slot in with the rest.
The Krath. The Ancient. The toxin.
They were more closely related than she thought, but she didn't know how. If only she'd thought to ask Goszi about Theorazzn when she'd had the chance, but there had been other secrets she had needed to extract from him. Unless these issues were solved, it was difficult to guarantee victory; there were too many unpredictable elements in play.
The situation was being pushed closer and closer to the line, but so far, Solant and the fortress remained on the right side of it. Regardless of what she had to do to keep them there, she would do it.
She needed to talk to the Legion again. A bargain needed to be struck.
-x-X-x-
Commander Chyron felt better than she had in months. Dense mana pulsed through her body, reforged in baptism, infusing her muscles, electrifying her nerves, invigorating every cell.
She moved better than she had in years, bonded to her armour, power flowing down her arm, into her sword and outwards, stabbing, slicing, cutting down the hated beasts of the fifth in swathes. All around her, the brave men and women of her Legion fought by her side. The shield wall was unbreakable. Their strength of will was indomitable.
If only the Krath would attack and she could put some of those miserable slugs to the blade, then everything would be perfect.
"Commander!" a voice roared above the savage din of battle. "You are required at the command tent!"
Executing a vicious push followed by a mighty thrust, she, along with the rest of the line, obliterated the closest wave of monsters, giving them a moment of breathing room.
"Withdrawing from the line!" she announced.
The Legionaries to her left and right nodded, and she stepped back, allowing another to take her place. Step by step, she moved back through the disciplined lines of soldiers until she passed the final rank. Then and only then did she allow her shield to drop to her side.
"What is it?" she demanded, trying not to sound too irritated. It wasn't this poor Legionary's fault that someone had called for her, yet she couldn't help but feel annoyed.
She was enjoying herself out there, damn it!
The Legionary looked as if he were aware of her mood.
"I apologise, Commander. The ant general has requested to speak with you. The Tribunes await you in the command tent."
Solant? Chyron turned her gaze to the battalion of reserves standing at the rear of the platform. So far, they'd only stepped forward to fight when the Legion had asked them to, covering changes in shifts, or allowing them to rest more soldiers. For a long time, Solant had been there, watching, studying, trying to learn all she could of the Legion's capabilities and tactics, no doubt. The Commander had deliberately kept her methods simple and direct for the duration of their stay on the platform.
Yet it appeared there had been other things that demanded the ant general's attention, since she hadn't been present for the last few days. Now she was coming back wanting to speak? Chyron smelled a hint of weakness in the air.
Stepping into the command tent, she found Morrelia and Aurelis already waiting for her. The Berserker wore an openly disgruntled expression on her face, and judging by the ichor spattered over her armour, Chyron knew why.
"Wipe that expression off your face, Tribune," she snapped. "My officers are not to be throwing tantrums because they were dragged away from the fight. You're here to lead, not indulge your most violent habits."
"Yes, Commander," Morrelia said, snapping out a salute as her disgruntled look promptly vanished.
"Good," Chyron grunted, then turned her gaze on her second Tribune. "Are you so pleased to see your fellow officer rebuked? Why are you so happy, Joshen?"
"I… am… I'm simply…"
She let him flounder for a moment, her glare intensifying with each passing second.
"The Legion isn't interested in officers who lead because they want to, or because they think they deserve it," she snapped, "we want officers who are the best damn people for the job. The best person for the job is not one who celebrates the mistakes of another officer. Am I clear?"
"Crystal, Commander."
Having vented her temper on the officers, Chyron felt a moment of reflection. She was too old to be training such young tribunes, wasn't she? Fighting was so much simpler, so much more direct. She would much rather be killing monsters than having meetings with them, that was for certain. Somehow, it had fallen to her to rear these pups, and that was what she was going to do.
"I'm told the ants want to speak to me. Does anyone know what it's about?"
Unsurprisingly, Morrelia spoke up first.
"I'm told they are here regarding information they want to acquire. Potentially sensitive information."
"Any specifics?"
"I don't have any, I'm afraid."
"What about you, Joshen?" she asked. "Managed to ferret anything out?"
"Unfortunately not. Getting information out of insects is outside of my abilities, I'm afraid."
He was certainly less willing to engage with them than his fellow tribune, who was too willing to do so.
"Alright. Let's go meet them and see what they have to say."
Departing from the officers' tent, the three walked to the rear of the platform, along with an honour guard, while the battle continued to rage around them. At the fore of the ten-thousand-strong reserve battalion, Solant waited with a cadre of her own favoured associates. Chyron recognised several, having seen them before, but couldn't recall their names.
These meetings were always standoffish. Neither side really trusted the other, which was exactly how Chyron liked it. She didn't want to trust these ants, and she didn't want them to trust her. That wasn't how the Legion operated with monsters. If they weren't openly hostile, then they would be one step removed. These ants would be eradicated eventually, either before or after they turned rabid, it didn't matter.
As future adversaries, she would treat them accordingly.
After some back and forth, a mind bridge was eventually constructed between the general and herself, with monitors from both sides listening in.
[You've been busy recently,] Chyron remarked without inflection.
[The vents have opened, pouring mana into the fortress. We are dealing with it, but our infrastructure is being stretched,] Solant replied openly.
[That sounds like quite the challenge,] Chyron replied, one brow raising. [I take it you have questions about the vents?]
[No. We already have all the relevant details.]
From that cursed slug, no doubt.
[Then why are you here?] Chyron asked. [There isn't much we can tell you that your pet Krath can't.]
[I disagree,] Solant replied, placid as ever. [There is one specific area in which your Legion may be able to enlighten us more than any Krath would. I wish to ask you about Theorazzn and the connection between the Ancient and the Krath.]
Chyron stood still as she tapped a finger against her crossed forearm, thinking. They wanted to know about the Ancient? Why? What could they stand to gain?
[Would you be willing to share why you seek this information?] she probed.
[In exchange for a discount on the price,] Solant rebuffed.
The Commander considered.
[Agreed.]
[We believe Theorazzn has been in contact with the Krath and is actively working against us,] Solant replied.
The ants showed no reaction, but the mages standing behind Chyron shifted on their feet, shooting each other incredulous glances. She raised a hand and snapped her fingers, quashing their breach of discipline instantly.
So, that bloated starfish was awake? Meddling as always.
[There is a lot I can say on this matter,] Chyron revealed. [Due to our unique position in the fifth, we've had more interactions with Theorazzn than other Ancients throughout recent history.]
[And?] Solant prompted.
Chyon couldn't keep the slight smile from her lips.
[It's going to cost you. Let's talk about your Eldest. Just how attached are you to that particular ant?]
-x-X-x-
It took time to agree to terms. As it turned out, the ants were very attached to their 'Eldest'. Even the slightest concession was weighed like gold, and yet Chyron felt that she was getting the best possible deal, since no ant other than Solant would even think to agree to a trade like this.
[Now,] the little general said, still as calm and unruffled as ever, [what do you have to share with us?]
[Are you willing to share this information with your mages?] Chyron asked, gesturing to the ants who were maintaining and monitoring the mind bridge.
[Of course.]
Did these ants hide anything from each other at all? Probably not. Some of what Chyron knew was classified, but it would be unacceptable to speak directly to the monsters without mage protection. The Legionaries would have to be sworn to secrecy later.
[Theorazzn. The Maker of Mucus, as the Krath refer to it. The slugs believe that the Ancient was the one who corrupted the fifth stratum, the one who essentially created them, by turning whatever the fifth was before into… whatever this is.]
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder to the rampaging war of mucus and slime going on behind her.
[Was Theorazzn responsible for this transformation?]
[As far as the Legion is concerned, yes. We know the filthy beast likes to interfere here, much as Arconidem does in the third. Although we can't prove it, we believe that, yes, Theorazzn is responsible.]
Solant clacked her mandibles thoughtfully, pondering this new information.
[And how do the Krath feel about their… creator?]
Chyron crossed her arms, shifting her weight to the other foot.
[It's difficult to say. Until very recently, there weren't many who managed to actually have a conversation with a Krath. As far as we can tell, they are devoted to the creature. Zealously.]
[If Theorazzn asks them to do something, then they will?]
[To the best of their ability. They do not defy the Maker of Mucus.]
Even when they were told to assault Legion strongholds…. Perhaps especially then.
[Let us be a little more open with each other, Commander,] Solant said, a gleam in her multi-faceted eye. [We know about the hearts. We know about the cycle. We know about the vents. We know about the arterial, capillary and venula tunnels. We know about the bleed and we know about the Krath Virals.]
Chyron's expression didn't shift, but she was still surprised. Some of that she'd told them herself, but the rest must have come from Goszi. How had they gotten him to talk? It was unthinkable!
[So what do you want to know?] Chyron asked.
[I want to know what Theorazzn did to the fifth. How was this place transformed into what it is now?]
The Commander nodded, still tapping away with her finger as she considered. This wasn't widely known, even within the Legion, who had spent more time in the fifth than anyone else. Even so, she deemed it worth sharing.
[There have been several wars between the Legion and the Krath,] she began, [drawn out, bloody affairs. Gruelling warfare, down here, as you know. In the year 1733, we managed to assault a heart for the first time. As far as we know, those were the first non-Krath to set foot inside one in the history of Pangera.]
[An impressive feat,] Solant said.
It might have sounded trite coming from someone else, but the general did not give compliments that were not sincere. Chyron tipped her head to acknowledge her words.
[Records from that battle are all we have regarding the inside of a heart. You know how they function?]
[Sucking in mana from the upper tunnels, then pumping it back out again. Creating the cycle, a grand flow of mana through vast swathes of the fifth.]
[The Legionaries who fought in that battle reported seeing pools of a substance so foul and toxic, even the vapours coming from it were enough to eat through their armour. Even using mana sense on it was enough for it to begin infecting someone's mind. The Legion fighting that day were taken by surprise at the sheer virulence of the stuff, causing them to have to fall back, ultimately abandoning the assault.]
[You believe Theorazzn created these pools?]
[We do,] the Commander confirmed. [In order to corrupt the fifth, that filthy monster went to each heart in the entire stratum and puked up a toxin so potent, so pungent, that it still exists, just as potent now, thousands of years later. Over a period of decades, it would have corrupted the mana inside the hearts, which spread it out across the entire stratum. It's this… substance, that the Krath use to corrupt and turn individuals into debased and warped versions of themselves, turning them against their own allies. Most tribes have a sliver of it within a slime pool inside their home caverns. Some suspect that's what happened to the Krath themselves.]
[We know how the Krath came to be,] Solant said, almost absent-mindedly, considering what she'd been told.
Chyron raised a brow. They did? If true, that was an interesting titbit. She'd love to know their theory, and how they came by it.
[Is that enough?] Chyron asked. [Any more questions? Keep in mind, the Legion are the only ones on Pangera who could confirm that for you, other than the Krath themselves.]
[Goszi has been reluctant to share such details,] Solant replied smoothly. [No, I believe I have everything that I need. Thank you, Commander. I hope your battle here continues to be fruitful for you and your soldiers.]
[Let us know if the fortress is on the brink of collapse,] Chyron said dryly. [We'd like to know before the corruption takes us.]
[Of course.]
And with that, they were done. Solant and her entourage turned and left, leaving Chyron watching, and thinking.
"How did it go?" Morrelia asked, barely concealing her impatience. "What did you get in exchange?"
"More than you might expect," Chyron replied. "Come on, back to the lines. Gold is only good when it's in your pocket."
-x-X-x-
Every now and again, another bomb is launched at the platform, forcing me to intervene by firing my own bomb to counter it. I can't tell if they really expect to actually do some damage, or if they're just trying to wear me down.
It is tiring, having to constantly be ready. I need to keep mana in reserve at all times. Not even in reserve, I need to keep a bomb partially formed basically permanently. It occupies a chunk of my sub-brains, causes mental fatigue, and I can't ever allow my gravitational construct to drop, which occupies even more of my mental resources.
Knowing the creatures of the fifth like I do, I suspect they feel very smug, confident that I'm getting tired, that my nerves are fraying, never knowing when the next bomb is going to come. I can almost picture them chuckling evilly to themselves, imagining my suffering.
Of course, I'm not tired, not even a little bit.
Goodness knows how many ants there are in the fortress, well over a million, and that Will flows in a neverending torrent, washing away my fatigue and keeping me as fresh as a daisy. The emotional burden… isn't that bad, really. I mean, I'm already out here, constantly under attack. Having one more thing to keep an eye out for isn't that much of an imposition.
I suppose it does mean I don't get to take any more breaks, since I have to be on the platform without ever getting a rest. It's not ideal, but I can manage.
However, there's been another change out here. It's subtle, there isn't much to go on, but I'm getting a sniff of something a little different happening. The pressure, steadily rising as the wave has grown in intensity, has been ramping up a bit faster than I would have expected. The monsters are coming thicker and the mucus is more dense, more virulent than before. Roving packs of nasty parasites are sneaking about, diving at the defending ants from sneaky angles, acting far more cunning than before.
It stinks of slug. Reeks of Krath!
Those tricky slugs are back, pulling the strings and playing their little games. I'd hoped they wouldn't show up during the wave, hoped we'd be free of their meddling. Looks like it isn't going to be that easy. I shouldn't be surprised, nothing is coming easy down here.
They may have been behind the sludge bomb launching, but it appears they aren't satisfied with that alone any more.
Chomping and blasting away, I do my best to take as much heat onto myself as I can, making life easier for the rest of the defenders, but despite my best efforts, it's a constant struggle. Ants go down, acid chewing through their mandibles, or they get globbed with mucus and need to be dragged away before the poison consumes them.
The attrition rate is still terrible.
Lousy slugs. I'm keeping my senses open for any sign of the sneaky, slithery scum. Krath are masters of disguise, able to conceal their presence and mask their mana expertly, they wouldn't have survived down here without polishing those Skills until they gleamed. However… I think I'm starting to get better at spotting them.
For instance… that rock over there.
It's part of the sheer wall that faces me, above and to the left of the tunnel exit in front of the platform. I've been looking at that rock, courtesy of my compound eyes, for weeks. I know that rock. I am one, with that rock.
And it isn't usually that wide.
If I were to guess, I'd say it's… maybe twenty to thirty centimetres thicker than it was before.
HA! You fools! You thought I wouldn't notice? They don't call me Anthony, the eagle-eyed for nothing!
I mean… I can't remember anyone actually calling me that, but they were thinking it!
As nonchalantly as one can play a screaming jet of super-enhanced fire around, I shift my target closer and closer to the suspicious rock. Then I drift it away again. Then closer again. Then away again.
Gweheheheh. Getting warm, suspicious rock? Feeling a little toasty?
Something about the Krath just brings out the worst in me.
Unwilling to wait any longer, I snap my focus and blast the rock directly, roasting the mucus around it in an instant. Ha! Did I get him? It's not easy to see through the bubbling, steaming mucus, but I'm pretty sure the rock has gone back to its regular size. The interloper has clearly fled, or been broiled.
That's what you get! Trying to be all sneaky.
Now… I wonder if there are any other suspicious lumps of sediment around here. Taking some time to train my eyes over the wall and really focus on the details, I try to spy more Krath, but I'm not seeing any other oddly-sized rocks.
Maybe… maybe that one?
To be honest, the colours are off more than the shapes, now that I really check. I can spot a dozen different outcroppings that aren't looking quite right, the shades have changed a bit. I mean, that could just be the mucus oozing over the top of them, or perhaps they've started growing some mould or moss or something?
Just to be certain, I focus my external-mana sense, really drilling down on one of the oddly-coloured sections of the wall, no larger than a curled up cat. Which was a mistake.
I barely have time to realise that I am, in fact, looking at a Krath, before dozens of nets are being launched from the wall, slicing into the blue mana and latching onto unsuspecting ants and even humans positioned close to the front lines.
"KRATH!" I roar with my pheromones. "Cut the lines! Don't let them take anyone!"
If they actually manage to get someone out into the tunnels, we'll never be able to get them back. Even I can't survive out there, not anymore.
-x-X-x-
When my brother came back to us, I knew better than to be happy. If anything, it plunged me into a deeper grief. My brother was no longer with us, the thing that shambled back to the camp wasn't him. He would never have said those things, never have done those things.
The creature that came back to us was a twisted portrait of the man I'd known all my life. Honour turned to treachery, integrity turned to deceit, purity turned into something foul and depraved.
I killed the creature with my own two hands while it cursed, spewing forth the most vile, painful words I could imagine. It failed to spread its taint. For that at least, I am grateful.
I will make the Krath pay for what they have done. There will be justice.
- Final message from Altharion, leader of the twenty-second expeditionary force, to his commanding officer.
I leap forward with my mandibles snapping shut, but on their own, they aren't sharp enough to cut through the sticky, pliable line connected to these living nets. I can't exactly use Starcrusher either, it'd destroy half the platform!
I spin up more Dragon's Breath, concentrating the flame as dense as I can before I turn it onto the threads. Despite being resistant to flame, like all the mucus-covered nonsense out here, from this short range, they aren't able to prevent my burning through them, but it takes too much time!
Desperate ants and humans are trying to pull the victims as far into the safe-zone as they can, letting the cleansed mana eat through the nets, but they have to let go before the slimes can touch them. The paralytic effect on those things is no joke, and it wouldn't be helpful to have hundreds of extra defenders lying around knocked out. Everyone is throwing themselves at the problem, trying to sever the lines, to pin down the captured targets who are already starting to vanish beneath the spreading slime netting as it encloses them.
I can see the Krath now, no longer trying to hide themselves, hauling on their ropes, sneering down at us. There are so many that I can't believe I didn't notice them earlier, dozens, maybe a hundred, and not all of them have nets.
"SHIELDS!" I roar.
Not a moment too soon. Streams of potent acid are launched from the mouths of dozens of Krath using their weird variety of magic. Sizzling with potency, the acid streaks through the air as if fired from a firehose, preparing to rain down on the platform. Shields snap into place, only to be eaten through in moments, then the next set of shields forms beneath them.
The Colony is almost never taken by surprise, not under Solant's leadership, and they knew this could happen. Steel netting is produced from goodness knows where and thrown over the captured, initiating a tug of war between the Krath and my siblings as they try to pull in opposite directions.
I know who's going to win that war.
Stronger, and with literally thousands of times the numbers, the ants are successful in dragging their people back, deeper into the platform. It won't last forever, the slimes will chew through the steel mesh eventually, but for now, we can take it as a win.
I run around the platform as fast as I can, using my Dragon's Breath like a blowtorch, slicing through the lines as fast as I can.
When I notice the Krath are going to launch another wave of acid, I curse and start pushing my sub-brains harder. The last barrage is still threatening to rain down on our heads, another blast will be too much for the shields to handle.
With no time to waste, I turn my fire on the Krath themselves, and the slugs scatter.
Right on time, a huge mucus bomb is launched at the platform.
Dammit!
Really? Now? You really know how to grind my mandibles, you dang slugs! I pour more power into the Gravity Bomb I've been slow-cooking, pumping it up as fast as I can before I launch it, packed full of the Altar's blessing. Screaming out into the void, the mini-black hole smashes into its target and the two spells consume each other in an immense clash. The distraction was enough to let the Krath escape my fury, slithering into cracks in the stone and vanishing, letting their slime nets fall.
I rush up and down the line, making sure that nobody was taken. Only when I'm completely confident that every individual is accounted for do I let myself relax. I'll have to check soon and see if the other platforms have been hit. If anyone gets taken… I have no idea what I'll do, but I'll do something. What happened at the Silver City is never going to be allowed to repeat itself. My siblings will not be sacrificed.
"You're upset," someone notes from beside me.
Of course, it's Jern. There are always one or two of the Templars hanging around me these days, and he's the only one who feels the need to wander over and talk to me about how I'm feeling.
"Yes, I'm upset," I say, wishing I could roll my eyes. "I don't want any of my siblings to be captured by the Krath. Is that strange?"
There's a bit of sarcasm injected into that question, I can admit.
"No, it's not strange," Jern answers honestly, not noticing. He reaches up and pats me on the leg. "Don't worry. If anyone gets taken, we'll get them back."
There's something strangely comforting in his straightforward manner. I have no idea what he thinks we could do to save anyone who was taken, but I'm supremely confident that Jern thinks he could work something out.
-x-X-x-
Every platform was under siege by the Krath. Solant stood in the centre of the command post as messages came thick and fast, a flurry of information that she needed to process rapidly so she could slot every puzzle-piece into its appointed place before making a decision.
It wasn't easy. There was so much going on around the fortress that even her message-relay network was struggling to keep up with the demand. Construction crews were still hard at work at all levels of the fortress as mana continued to spew out of the vents, stressing the mana channels to their breaking point. There were still failures occurring as the carvers fought a constant battle of managing the extreme pressures while shutting off sections for emergency repairs.
Tons and tons of highly engineered channel components were being brought into the fortress in a steady flow, but it was still hard to keep up with demand. Even traversing the fortress was a problem, since no one could know which sections would be cut off next.
To make matters worse, the Krath were active again, working against all of the platforms, except one.
Solant would dearly love to know what the Legion had done to make the Krath both hate and fear them to such a degree. Goszi had loathed the Abyssal Legion on a deep, almost fundamental level. The Krath hated everyone, but they really hated the Legion. Such a level of animosity should cause them to seek out the small army that was here in the fifth, but, for whatever reason, they avoided it, refusing to engage even now.
At least that was one platform that she knew wasn't going to go down. The reserves within the heart of the fortress were steadily filling, the torrent of mana pouring in being converted at incredible speeds. If things continued at this pace, they would have enough at the point when the wave ended. They just had to last that long.
"Order the reserves to move forward," she told the gathered generals. "We have to commit more troops to the platforms."
"Doesn't that just increase the risk of capture?" one asked, clacking her mandibles nervously.
"We have measures in place to combat their attempted abductions. There are worse things they could do to us than take a few of our siblings."
"Like what?"
"What could possibly be worse?"
"You would abandon your siblings?"
Solant looked at the gathered generals, a little surprised by their collective outburst. She slowly cleaned her antennae, the gesture soothing her and bringing a sense of calm to the room. The generals were clearly on edge.
"They could destroy the fortress and kill all of us," she pointed out mildly. "That would be worse."
There wasn't much arguing with that.
"Of course we have measures in place to try and prevent abductions, but they aren't foolproof. The best method to stop any of our siblings being taken by the Krath is to never come to the fifth in the first place. Since we have thrown that option away, we will need to do the best we can."
Solant watched each of the generals, trying to impress on them the importance of the situation.
"If we hold, we will win. Keep that in mind at all times. No matter the cost, we must hold."
The generals snapped out a salute and moved to ensure her orders were implemented.
It wouldn't be easy, the platforms weren't designed to hold so many troops, but with the tight manoeuvring drills the battalions had been practising for months, they would be able to manage.
"How are those hospital expansions progressing?" she asked.
A nearby carver stepped forward, reading from a report.
"Work should be completed in a few hours, general," she replied. "The lack of crews is making it difficult, but we're getting there."
Attrition rates on the platforms were about to shoot up to the top of the ant-hill. Every platform needed their medical facilities expanded.
"And the healers?"
"We're struggling to get them in."
"I don't care what they have to do up there, we must have more healers," Solant said coldly. "Reiterate my request in an urgent message to the fourth. I need ten thousand healers. I don't care if they're tier three. We need them now."
"I will send it, general."
The wave was happening everywhere, the entire territory of the Colony would be on high alert and under pressure, she knew that, but it still didn't matter. Success here was simply too important.
With newly trained battalions flowing into the fortress, the number of ants inside had risen to four million. The strongest fighting force in the entire Colony was concentrated within the walls, all dedicated to holding the line until the end. It would have to be enough.
"Are the forward wuffer stations completed yet?"
A carver stepped forward from her nearby station.
"Nearly, general. The queens are still producing the last ten percent of wuffers needed. We should be up to full production within a day."
"Good. That'll do."
The intensity of the wave was reaching a critical point, and the amount of cleansed energy required to keep the platforms clear was growing every minute. The wuffer stations had been dispersed throughout the fortress to keep them safe, but now they needed the cleansed energy delivered to the platforms faster than ever before. With the new stations, the chances of the platforms getting overwhelmed by the native mana went down significantly.
Of course, there were other things prepared for the return of the Krath. If those slugs thought the Colony was simply going to sit back and let them pile on the pressure, they were kidding themselves.
-x-X-x-
The number of troops on the platform just keeps going up. Even the front lines, which usually have a reasonable bit of space, are getting a bit squeezy. The number of mages and support troops back there is absurd. I don't know how many battalions are on here, but it's probably double what we had before. More ants, more humans and various other species, including more of the priests, we have ant cavalry, even some of the Immortals are here!
Solant is really pushing all the pieces out onto the board, isn't she? Sheesh.
I knew things were getting rough, but this just goes to show how rough. With the Krath pressing, we don't have just the wave to contend with now, but so much more.
Well, I for one welcome the help, even if I can't keep track of everyone on my own platform at once. Case in point, I don't even notice the little creature next to me until it puts a hand on my leg.
I look down and almost jump out of my carapace. I know that hunched over, bulbous forehead!
[Formo!] I cry happily as the little sophos waves a claw up at me.
[I SAY! You got large, MY BOY! VERY LARGE INDEED!]
[I am indeed a magnificent specimen,] I say modestly.
[And quite the shiny core you have! A tier seven mythic. I'm impressed, lad. You've done well!]
[Yes, but what brings you down here? And out on the platform? It's not safe here!]
[PAH! Of course it's not safe. It's the fifth! Even so, I wouldn't be here without a purpose. We are laying a little trap for the Krath.]
[A trap? You? What's going on?] A moment of inspiration sends a thought spinning through my head. [Wait… you managed to create fifth stratum pets?]
Is it possible for a sightless creature to have a twinkle in its eye? No. No it isn't, but there is a slight smile on the sophos' face as he brings a single claw up before his lips.
[Keep this hush-hush, I SAY! If you start trying to sense them, the slugs might be tipped off. Just wait and watch.]
I mean… sure. I'm blasting out gravity magic, globs of lava, fire and unleashing the occasional chomp, as usual. Trying to hold off as much as possible without putting the rest of the platform at risk. I've learned my lesson. It's not hard for me to look busy, because I am.
[How long have you been here?] I ask Formo.
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It's weird to see him. Last time I visited the sophos, I was already larger than them, but not this much larger. I tower over him to an absurd degree at this point, but I still feel a deep-seated respect. The first time I saw him, he loomed over me on top of the most powerful monster I'd ever seen up to that point: his worm pet.
I expected to be smooshed, but he was quite helpful, and has been ever since.
Right now, all he's doing is… standing around. I know he's probably directing pets with his thoughts, but for all intents and purposes, he might as well be asleep on his feet.
[Are there any Krath out there right now?] he asks me.
[Hard to say. They're being more careful now that they know I can spot them if they take shortcuts.]
[I think there are,] he says. [They can smell something wiffy.]
[Who can?]
No reply. Then, a few moments later, I spot something on the wall. It's a rock, or at least, it looks like a rock, but last time I checked, rocks don't wiggle. Before my eyes, the surface of the stone begins to shift and slide away, trying to remain hidden under the mucus.
[I see it, should I attack?] I ask Formo.
[What? There's no point, BY JOVE! That nasty fellow is already done with.]
It is? How?!
The slug tries desperately to slide away, but I can see it growing slower and slower each passing second. Before long, it grows still, then gradually peels off the wall and begins to sink, carried away by the endless flow of mucus.
[What did you do?!]
Formo chuckles to himself.
[There are so many deadly little creatures in this stratum. You don't need to create a large and powerful pet to make something effective. This little chap is modified from a tiny core we snagged from a parasite. Only tier two, but with quite the deadly bite.]
Another disturbance. This time, a mossy area of the wall is starting to undulate and writhe. Soon, a section starts to slide away as the Krath tries to return to its brethren, but again, it's too late. Within a minute, another slug is slowly sinking down into the abyss.
[Holy moly!]
Formo nods.
[This experiment is quite successful. I think we have a proof of concept. Yes, already they're being more careful. I think they know what I'm up to. Canny little BLIGHTERS. Here, I'll bring it back and you can see it.]
See it? How?
It takes a little while, but eventually he gets me to look down at the nearby mana channel coming from the nearest intake. If I look carefully into the concentrated mana, I can see a little wormy-snake looking thing no longer than a foot and no thicker than a pencil. It wiggles its tail at me before it changes colour, blending in with its surroundings and vanishing right before my eyes.
[They'll be on the lookout now,] Formo says, nodding to himself, [but that works in our favour as well. They'll be more careful, knowing they aren't safe out there on the wall.]
[Amazing! I can't believe you were able to get something so useful so quickly.]
[Only possible here, I'm afraid,] he says, shaking his head. [The mutations and organs possessed by these little critters are incredibly deadly to something the size of a Krath. My little friend would have trouble handling your carapace,] he says, knocking me on the leg, [but with something so soft and squishy? PSHAW!]
He turns back to the end of the platform.
[I'd love to stay and chat, OLD BOY, but I must return to my work. Good luck out here. GOOD LUCK, I SAY!]