Chapter 2934 - Chry 140

Rathwyn Werilos felt that he was in real danger. It was odd, in a sense. He was sitting in a quiet study, in a comfortable chair, drinking tea and eating delicious cakes with a book in his lap and his pipe between his teeth. On the surface, he seemed as safe as it was possible to be. His fellow Magio-Scholars were still feverishly documenting everything they could about the ant invasion, the nature of the fifth and the incredible discovery of the chal, arguing loudly with each other almost every minute of the day.

For his part, Rathwyn was content to accept the hospitality of the Colony and watch over his fellows, acting as the diplomat and keeping them from stepping on any… antennae.

Yet it felt so… wrong. Here they were, engaged in studious activity and learning, debating, drinking tea, as if there wasn't an apocalyptic battle going on around them. The ants took care of them, but it was obvious there was a strain on their resources. They were fighting for their lives while hosting holiday goers. It simply wasn't right.

He stood from his seat.

Perhaps there was something about his presence that had shifted, because discussion in the room sputtered out and ceased as his fellow scholars looked to him.

"I'm going out to fight," he announced calmly. "You should all join me."

If he was expecting a rousing response, he didn't get it. The other scholars seemed to freeze, their eyes locked on him, then… slowly, their collective gaze slid to someone else.

Nemis, agent of the crown.

Leaning against the wall, watching the scholars with a general air of contempt, she sneered.

"No," she said.

The scholars looked back to Rathwyn.

"Be reasonable. We are here as guests, our survival is dependent on the success of the ants at holding off the wave. Why shouldn't we assist them? It is our moral obligation."

As ever, he slipped into a diplomatic frame of mind. It was his reflex, in these moments, to appeal to an individual's better nature. Intellectually, he knew that was a failing strategy.

"Our… path of retreat… has long been secured. Our survival is not tied to the fate of these monsters at all."

"Are you unmoved by their valorous struggle? Their bold, courageous attempt to conquer that which has defeated even us in the past? If they succeed, the history books will speak of this endeavour for a thousand years as a turning point in the unfolding story of Pangera. The Golden City has a chance to earn its place in those pages, to be a part of that great tale. The name of our great and glorious city will ring down the centuries as contributing, even in a small way, to all that is good and right in our world, moving forward, unafraid of the Dungeon.

"This is a moment that we must seize. It will not do for it to be known that we stood idly by while others carved the path to victory without us. Surely you can see the political and reputational stakes in this conflict? We shouldn't shy away, but be unafraid to make bold strokes!"

Voice ringing with conviction (and the nigh irresistible persuasive power of his Skills), Rathwyn stood, hand extended outwards to Nemis, inviting her to step forward into the wondrous future he had painted for them. Tears shining in their eyes, the other scholars looked back to the palace official.

Nemis spat on the floor.

"Your effort is wasted on me, Mage Werilos, stop trying. You have only been allowed to come here to observe and study, nothing else. The Golden City will not risk Magio-Scholars fighting for these… ants. Your request is denied. Any further attempts at persuasion will result in this trip being summarily cancelled. Am I clear?"

Eyes wide, the scholars slowly turned to look back at Rathwyn. Their faces were pale, terrified their precious research would be taken away from them. Rathwyn's shoulders slumped. Nemis smirked. The scholars flinched, but couldn't hide their relief.

After a long moment, the proud diplomat drew himself up to his full height.

"If you will excuse me, I would like to step outside for a moment," he said stiffly.

"You are permitted," Nemis replied.

Turning away from her contemptuous look, Rathwyn adjusted his robes with quiet dignity, stepped out, closed the door behind him, then took off running.

Inside the room, Camsworth and Lady Meritious exchanged glances.

"We might also step outside," Camsworth said with a cough. "Just to stretch our legs a bit."

-x-X-x-

Rathwyn arrived in what he assumed was the central hub of the Colony only thanks to the assistance of several helpful ants who were more than happy to direct him on his way. He thought their security might be stunningly lacking at first, only to realise he'd been directed to a small sitting room, a cup of tea steaming on the table, with accompanying scone.

"I really need to speak with the diplomatic corps when I get back," he muttered to himself as he sat down. "I refuse to allow the Golden City to be out-done by ants."

Of course, acting in his role as a diplomat, he had taken part in so many negotiations, so many welcomes, trade missions, functions and the like that he'd seen it all before. The Golden City, richest, most powerful island in the entire fourth stratum, perhaps the entire world, was more than capable of hosting visiting dignitaries in the most lavish manner imaginable, but there was something to be said for the quiet dignity and thoughtful nature of the Colony. It may not endear them to some of the royalty he had met, but to him, it spoke of their generous spirit and careful consideration of the needs of their guests.

He sipped his tea and smiled to himself. It didn't hurt that they had so quickly mastered the art of growing and brewing tea leaves, a remarkable achievement.

After a few minutes of ruminating to himself, he was joined by Solant, stepping into the room quietly and closing the door behind her. The Colony had even designed their doors to be easy for their guests, and their own variously sized ants to use. There were the sort of handles a humanoid could easily grasp, and indeed he'd seen some of the smaller ants, the ones with the developed forelegs, use them as well. There were also handles designed to be gripped with mandibles. Squeezing them with enough pressure released the door, making it simple for ants to grip and manipulate them as they came and went.

Since there was no one else joining them, Rathwyn took it upon himself to spin together a mind bridge and connect it to the curiously diminutive ant.

[Is it rude of me to ask why you are so much smaller than other ants of your caste?] Rathwyn said.

Solant clacked her mandibles, amused.

[Did you really run here to question me about my size? This is not what I expected you to say to open our conversation.]

Rathwyn chuckled to smooth over the slight awkwardness he had created.

[I apologise, the thought struck me in the moment and I was curious.]

The general waved an antenna, dismissing his apology.

[It is of no matter.]

She settled down into the ant-chair on the other side of the table while the mage sipped his tea again. The flavour was so rich and complex, and the aroma! Was there a subtle hint of spices?

[Although the Eldest labelled my caste 'generals,' it would be more accurate to think of us as 'captains.' The bulk of my siblings fight on the front lines, helping to coordinate the soldiers and provide useful auras in the thick of fighting. I am somewhat different in that I was raised to be a general in the more regular sense of the word. I have forgone size and strength to expand my mental capacity and gain other advantages.]

[That makes sense,] Rathwyn nodded thoughtfully.

As monsters, with their uniquely modular and changeable biology, the Colony could craft an ideal general from the ground up. Starting at tier one, they could stuff them with knowledge and shape each evolution to create the perfect, formidable general. However…

As always, the clever ant in front of him seemed to know what he was thinking.

[Indeed. Even among ants, our predispositions can be different. Not every smith is as obsessed as Smithant, or as successful. Despite being social insects, born nearly identically from identical Queens, our abilities and interests can vary wildly. If you select a hatchling and try to make them a master general, it may work out well, it may not. Even among monsters, natural talent cannot be forced.]

She adjusted herself in her chair.

[Now, should we speak of how you might contribute to the war effort?]

[Of course you know why I'm here,] he laughed.

[It isn't hard to deduce. Despite your… oddness… you scholars are not so selfish as you first appear.]

Rathwyn nodded, then raised a brow.

[Scholars? Plural?]

[You thought you were the only one? All of your contemporaries… minus one… are in the room next door.]

All he could do was shake his head.

Those idiots.

There was no rancour behind the thought, only a mild frustration. If they were going to stand up and help, why not do so from the beginning?

[Naturally, we, the Colony, don't want to have an international incident on our hands if you or any of your colleagues were to die in defence of this fortress. So, let's talk about what magic you can perform from a safe distance, then get you deployed before a certain someone works out that we have given her incorrect directions.]

[You know about… Kathy?]

[She isn't subtle.]

It was hard for Rathwyn to disagree with that. If she was going to pretend to be a scholar, it would have helped if she didn't openly show her dislike for them at every opportunity.

Another note for the diplomatic corps. Next time they wanted to foist a moron on someone, they should make sure said moron was infiltrating idiots, not high-intelligence ants.

[There's quite a bit we can do,] he said. [Without breaking any… strategic restrictions placed on us by the Tower, we are still very capable mages. For best effect, you should probably put us together. I know that limits our usefulness.]

Solant tilted her head thoughtfully.

[That's fine. I can think of a platform that can use all the help it can get.]

-x-X-x-

[And that's how we ended up here,] the mage concludes.

[Well… you're more than welcome, I suppose. We need all the help we can get out here. Things are… oh snap!]

I barely pause to calculate before launching another empowered gravity bomb. The dense ball of mucus sails through the air towards the platform, only to be met halfway by my own spell. As always, the two collide in a hideous, noisy mess, the mana colliding violently until finally they chew through each other. They've been getting more and more frequent. Whoever is out there launching these bombs is really pushing it. Trying to push my reserves, perhaps? If so, they're in for a sad time. I can make as much gravity mana as I want, and my mental fatigue is washed away each and every second! I'm fresh as a daisy out here!

At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I may not be tired, I may be mentally sharp, but my nerves are getting worse and worse. Also, the kids are really starting to get annoying. The longer I go without sleep, the more they stare at me. It's getting creepy. Every time I shift my head, I see them, staring. Sometimes they're nearby, in a group of soldiers, or perhaps far away, with the reserves, watching. And then, sometimes, they're right next to me, somehow sneaking up and slipping into my nearly non-existent blindspots.

Only an ant could teach them how to sneak up on an ant! Lousy nameless ones.

[What was that?!] Mage Werilos asks, aghast. [A Doom Sphere of mucus?]

[Uh… well, yes. I suppose so. It's super-concentrated mana of the fifth stratum, rolled up into a tight little ball and then launched at the platform from range. What did you call it?]

[A Doom Sphere,] he replies. [That's what they're called, right? A hyper dense, self sustaining sphere of uniform mana.]

[I mean… maybe? Are you telling me this kind of spell has… an official name?]

[Well… yes. I assumed you knew, since you use them.]

[I just came across it randomly when I was younger! I used a sphere of densely packed neutral mana to blast a monster, then started using my… uh… own personal brand of energy, which seemed to fit very well with the spell.]

I mean, it's been my trump card for a long time. I never would have made it this far without it.

[Well… it's a known spellform. They aren't exactly complex, just extremely difficult to cast. Very taxing on the mind. Most mages don't consider them worth the effort.]

I mean… yeah, they're extremely difficult to cast. Forcing the mana to be that dense feels like clenching your teeth until they fuse together. It's gotten easier, though, I assume because my brains have become so large and mighty.

[Why wouldn't they be worth it? They're rather powerful.]

[Well… they're not exactly discriminating forms of magic. Hard to control, require a huge amount of mana and mental energy. Even at the higher tiers of magic, you can still cast spells that are easier to work with and allow for more control.]

[And have the same effect?]

I doubt it. If everyone was flinging spells around that were equal to the gravity bomb, then it wouldn't have been so effective for so long. Even so, I'm curious as to how much Rathwyn Werilos is prepared to say. He's supposedly a respected mage from one of the premier places of magic in the entire Dungeon. If this guy isn't an expert, then nobody is.

Of course, I'm sure there are limits to how much he can talk about with intelligent monsters.

[The same effect? No, of course not. They aren't called Doom Spheres because they are weak or easily countered. I don't have a single spell in my arsenal that could destroy a spell like the one flung towards us a moment ago. The mana of the fifth is… difficult to work against. What did you say that purple mana was?]

[I didn't. If I could roll my eyes, I would.]

[You can't blame a scholar for trying. Of all the mysteries I've witnessed down here, perhaps that is the most intriguing. I would love to know what it is and how it works.]

[Information exchange? I'll tell you all about it if you can educate me more on magic.]

He chuckles in my mind.

[I'm afraid I would need approval to share that sort of information, and I am certain I wouldn't get it. The pursuit of knowledge is defeated by bureaucracy yet again. A shame. Well, I suppose that's enough standing about. My friends and I will put in an honest shift.]

From as far back as they are, it's easy to tell that Solant is intent on not letting them be killed. She set them behind the healers! If they get in trouble, the healers will have to turn around and go back towards the fortress! Well, if they couldn't be useful there, I'm sure she would have moved them forward. I'll just wait and see what they can do.

While I wait, my brains keep churning and I keep fighting, burning, chomping and blasting while remaining ready to retaliate with gravity bombs at the drop of a hat. The strain sets my brains on fire, but they don't get tired. Without the Vestibule, I doubt I could do this for more than an hour. I've been doing it for days!

After a few minutes, there's finally some action. It's difficult to see, since it's all taking place directly behind me, so I angle my body a little to keep an eye on things.

At first, I don't see anything. The mages are gathered together in a huddle, not really moving. When I use my mana sense, however, things really come to light. They are doing some work. A huge amount of energy is being weaved, and so expertly! At this distance, I can't work out the details, but there are layers upon layers upon layers, so many threads, so many mind-constructs, all working in harmony to craft something truly unique.

And then they power it.

A vast sum of mana is pushed in one end of the construct they've created, and out the other end comes something I can see with my mundane eyes.

Tiny motes of fire.

And I do mean tiny. If they weren't so bright, I might have almost considered them little fireflies. More and more of them rise up, clustering together, and I wait for something to happen, but nothing does, nothing except more motes. Minutes tick by, and they continue to pop into existence, while the ones already created seem to drift up into the air.

After ten minutes have passed, there are thousands of the things, a cloud of them, almost like a galaxy, floating lazily up and over the platform. Finally, the mages step back, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from their faces as they turn to admire their handiwork.

I mean… it looks… nice? Very pleasant to look at, really lifts the general mood of the platform.

I'm not very impressed, and I'm about to express that to Rathwyn when the first of the little dots finally reaches the front of the platform, right over my head.

A dense beam of superheated fire lances out of it and spears a lunging monster straight through. The creature instantly ignites into flame and collapses onto the platform, bellowing in rage.

I look up.

There are thousands of them.

-x-X-x-

Hello, dear readers, it is I, Tolly, at your service once again, ready to regale you with tales of my trials and tribulations amongst the collective crafts of the Colony!

I have to say, it has been wonderful to return to my home in the Dungeon, the wonderful fourth stratum. Full of life and light, I think my knees and hips are feeling better than they have in years!

Though I still harbour a suspicion that the wonderful mattress the ants have generously given to me (I'll let them know about their donation soon, I'm sure they won't mind) may be responsible.

After a few days, myself and the jolly fellows acting as my bodyguards had fully acclimated and were ready, filled with vim and vigour, to attack the days ahead! Of course, we were currently occupying the legendary anthill, the mountain filled from top to bottom with ant monsters, a trading hub and hive of activity (pardon the reference, there are certainly no bees here!) known all over the fourth!

Despite its generally benign reputation and the prevalence of Colony-produced goods across the Dungeon, there were surprisingly few tourists or visitors here! I was shocked when my dear guide, Emilia, informs me that almost all of the non-humans I saw striding the halls and occupying the guest rooms around us were merchants.

"But that seems highly curious!" I declared as we dangled our feet in the provided swimming pool within our suite. "Why wouldn't travellers come here to shop and buy things for themselves at a cheaper price? And it isn't like the hospitality of your ant-friends is poor, far from it! I know many, many old biddies who would love to come and stay for a few days, maybe even a week! And they'd spend good money to do so!"

In my eyes, I could see a flourishing tourist industry emerging, thousands of people from the Silver City hopping on a cruise to pop in and visit the Colony, see the sights, taste the cakes and spend some gold! Despite my grand visions, Emilia simply smiled and shook her head.

"There are a few reasons why that hasn't happened, and likely won't happen," she let me down gently. "There are many trade regulations put in place to prevent anyone from buying directly from the Colony; all sales must go through intermediaries, no matter how small."

"Why?"

"Because the Colony doesn't really understand money, even now."

I found this difficult to believe, dear reader. They've built so many wondrous things, achieved so much across the Dungeon in such a short span of time, and yet I was supposed to believe they can't grasp basic economics!

As ever, Emilia, the wonderful volunteer tour guide, could read the doubt on my face. She really is quite the capable girl. I'm half a mind to ask her to be my secretary going forward, readers. She is truly an amazing individual!

"Why don't you come and see for yourself?" she invited me.

Now, I am never one to turn down an invitation to see something interesting, as you all know. It's in my name!

So it was that we took a brief jaunt through the wonderfully lit and accommodating walking tunnels of the Colony to what Emilia described as the 'trading floor'.

The closer we got, the more dense the foot traffic became, and I found all sorts of individuals roaming about, from all parts of the Dungeon, even the odd sophos! When we came to the floor itself, it was hard for me to grasp the sheer scale of it at first!

It was enormous! A grand chamber, with a high-vaulted ceiling, enormous pillars, each carved to depict ants hard at work at various crafts. It was so vast, I felt like a reasonably sized town would fit inside this one space!

And the noise! The hustle and bustle is intoxicating to me, as well you all know! There were thousands upon thousands of people down there, creating a bubbling, fizzing chatter that filled the air and sang in my ears. The feel of the place was exciting! All the vim and vigour of a spring market, with a hint of a harder edge, like a brathian who owes you a favour.

Emelia had to lean close to my ear so that I could hear what she was saying as we took a 'lift' down to the trading floor itself.

"This is where merchants and trade organisations come to make their deals with the Colony. Because the volume of goods and services moving through here is so high, it's difficult even for the Colony to keep tabs on demand day to day. Merchants devised this automated system that tracks every trade and order being made in real time, adjusting the prices accordingly."

"What?" I said, aghast. "The prices are determined automatically?"

My guide could only shrug, her dimples showing as she smiled at me.

"The Colony doesn't like haggling, and they hate the idea of unfair exchange. The automated system removes both elements."

We had to step carefully indeed on the trading floor. There were humans/ka'armodo/golgari/folk and even bruan'chii running around like their backsides were on fire, waving pieces of paper and shouting until they were red in the face!

At first I had no idea what they were doing, but then I saw the ants working at their desks. With little green-shaded caps on, they sat in large banks of desks situated around the room, legs flicking every which way as they took pieces of paper, buy-orders, I'm told, counted money, received or paid out coin or cores, all the while punching away at a strange-looking enchanted slab to their side.

Overhead, a constant ticking sound could be heard as boards shifted and changed, numbers and letters flying all over the place as the name of everything under the surface seemed to pop up, with a price, for half a second, only to vanish a second later as the board changed and another two dozen items were presented.

"This seems like chaos!" I declared.

This wasn't like the usual neat and orderly solutions the ants seemed to prefer. Far too much shouting and sweaty people in robes yelling at each other.

"Personally, I think the Colony agrees with you!" Emelia shouted in my ear, trying to be heard over the din, "but they always try to give people what they want. The visiting merchants, particularly the brathians, seem to love it here. Look over there!"

She pointed me to the side.

Against one of the columns were a group of ants, these wearing a different sort of hat to help identify them, sitting comfortably in chairs under a sign that said 'hagglers welcome.'

"I thought the Colony hated haggling!" I demanded.

"They do! But some traders just don't feel comfortable agreeing on a price if they haven't argued about it first!"

"Does the haggling even change the prices? I thought they were automatic?"

Emelia shook her head.

"It doesn't, but their satisfaction levels go up."

Again, all she could do was shrug.

-x-X-x-

Well, I have to say, after an hour or two spent on the trading floor, I was exhausted, reader. Me! Need I remind you, I was described as the indefatigable Tolly in my day!

And as long as I can jolly well put one foot in front of the other, it remains my day!

It was all very thrilling, reader, and I must say, the temptation to grab my 'kerchief, wave it vigorously in the air and yell 'SELL!' was hard to resist.

After watching all those people go mad trying to make a deal, I am ashamed to say I needed a sit-down and a cup of tea in a cool shaded area.

Naturally, the Colony provided many such locations, and Emelia was able to guide me to one without too much difficulty. The girl was a lifesaver! No matter where we need to go, she always gets us there and there was always room for us. Remarkable.

"Is all of this really necessary?" I couldn't help but ask, waving a hand toward the crowded floor, not far away from us. "Surely, there is a better way."

At least we could converse in a normal tone of voice now.

"As I understand it, this system largely developed after the implementation of the automatically updating price-boards," she explained. "With real-time price changes, it became possible to grab items the moment they began to dip in value. Since the Colony allows a merchant to sell contracts, they can make an order to purchase a hundred tons of Colony-grown wheat a year in advance, and if the price of wheat happens to go up, they can sell that contract to someone else for a profit without having to transport the goods or handle the sales. Many of the merchants in there don't handle goods at all, but contracts."

I couldn't help but stare.

"What does the Colony get out of people exchanging contracts?"

She smirkd. The little minx actually smirkd!

"Brokerage fees," she replied with overwhelming smug energy.

"And you're telling me the Colony doesn't understand money?"

"They understand economics very well," she assured me, "but they don't understand money. The Colony is an entirely cashless society."

"Then what happens to the tremendous profits generated here?" I said, exasperated.

"The Colony pours it into various projects. Most of it goes into rearing future generations. A good chunk is used to import things the Colony can't source within our own lands. Constructing nests, city development, paying for monster removal, lots of things."

"The Colony needs others to fight monsters for them?" I asked skeptically.

Many people question many things about the Colony, but their success as a fighting force is not one of them. Having weathered numerous waves since their arrival in the Dungeon as a new species, across multiple strata, they are clearly capable.

"Why don't we go there next?" Emilia offered, and of course, I accepted.

Off we went, wandering to the outside of the mountain to take in the wonderful sights and sounds that the Colony had created there. I have to say, it was more remarkable than I imagined. I could spend many a page gushing about the gardens, the dappled woods, the chuckling streams and vibrant life the ants had cultivated on the side of their mountain.

I don't know why, but I expected it to be more austere, more utilitarian, but I couldn't have been further from the truth. Art abounds wherever the Colony goes, reader, and it was wondrous to see.

Close to the shoreline, but a small distance from the flourishing port, Emelia guided me to a large building with a domed roof. On either side, mighty soldier ants had been depicted in glittering stone. They gave off an indomitable and powerful feeling. Dear reader, believe me when I say that when viewed correctly, they truly have a noble and dignified visage.

Although, when I looked close, I saw both soldiers were carrying smaller ants, healers, Emelia told me. Those two looked less dignified and more… surly. If not downright irritated.

Inside the building, the craftsmanship of the ants was once again on display. Glittering light filtered through the windows to play across the intricate carvings, the magnificent tiled floor and the gleaming columns holding up the roof. All around the room, ants sat on their unique chairs while non-ants milled in groups or perused the many boards with organised rows of paper posted on them.

"This is where the Colony commissions outsiders to undertake monster suppression missions," Emelia said with a broad gesture. "As you can see, it isn't exactly rare."

I could see that it wasn't! There were so many enterprising and strong-looking young men and women that I'm honestly quite shocked I hadn't heard about this practice before! As I looked around admiringly, I spied something that caught my eye. Surprised, I looked a little closer to confirm I did see what I thought I saw.

I tapped Emelia on the shoulder and pointed.

"My dear, why is there a truly hideous-looking centipede sculpture there?"

I certainly hadn't seen any other artwork within the Colony that depicted a non-ant insect of any kind. I could immediately see that this piece wasn't intended to be… complimentary. I knew the creature was supposed to be a centipede by its form, but it had been depicted as twisted, diabolical and ghastly. Ugly in the extreme, weak and decrepit, it was shown as pathetic and evil.

What I'm saying, reader, is that the ant who carved this REALLY doesn't like centipedes.

"Oh, that," Emelia said brightly. "The Colony has an active bounty on centipede monsters. If you bring the core here, the Colony will double its value. The statue marks the dropoff location. See the desk over there?"

"Double it? That's generous! What sort of centipedes is the Colony wanting hunted?"

"All of them," Emilia smiled.

"I… see. And how many of these bounties do they pay out each year?"

"All of them," Emilia repeated, her eyes tightening, but her smile not budging an inch. "There is no limit to the type or number of centipede bounties the Colony will pay. In any stratum of the Dungeon. Ever."

-x-X-x-

After our tour of the docks and the facilities there, Emilia made a final offer that I simply couldn't refuse, dear reader! It had been an invigorating day already, but there was so much more to see. The domain of the Colony in my home stratum is a wondrous and well-developed place, its grandeur and scenery are truly awesome to behold, and there is, so I'm told, no better way to behold them than from one of the two floating islands that orbit the mountain.

"The Colony fought hard to obtain these two floating islands," Emilia said, filling me in on their history as we ascended.

Interestingly, the Colony uses specially trained and raised pets for the purpose of flying up to islands, so we found ourselves seated in a well-made and comfortable carriage that was carried upward by two enormous, sinuous dragon-type monsters. I was quite curious as to why there wasn't a more mundane option. The Colony had been very deliberate with its transit methods, usually opting for higher throughput than something like this.

I asked Emilia about it, and of course she was ready with an answer.

"The two islands are not open to visitors," she said. "I enquired about seeing them, and the Colony has allowed you to make the trip. They are mainly military outposts. For the defence of the mountain."

My two well-armed companions were less than pleased to hear this and objected most strenuously, but I was able to calm them before we landed. After all, it wouldn't do to refuse the hospitality being extended by our hosts, would it?

To think that the reputation of Travelling Tolly had even reached the antennae of the ants! They must have heard about this travelogue being written and had decided to throw open their doors! How thrilling, dear reader! Perhaps this heralded even greater access to come. Will I eventually meet The Queen, revered mother of the Colony, or even the Eldest? My hopes are up, I don't mind telling you! Nothing gets the heart pumping like a good exclusive!

When we landed upon the island, I sprang forth from our carriage, eyes agleam, ready to take in the sights and report them all to you, dear reader!

Sadly, my expectations were somewhat betrayed. The islands themselves were fairly sizeable, but the surface on which we landed was sadly a little more… unadorned that what I'd come to expect from the Colony.

They carve ants on everything! I was a little taken aback that there were none to be seen, none at all!

"Almost all of the ants on this island are beneath us," Emilia explained before I could even ask. "The tunnels and chambers below are much as you would expect to see. The surface of the islands is used to house and train the non-ant members of the battalions stationed here."

"Oh really!" I exclaimed.

How interesting! Naturally, when I heard about these individuals, my desire to meet one ignited instantly. Emilia was initially reluctant, but my powers of persuasion are legendary across the Dungeon! Before long, we arrived at a square, undecorated building, so plain it almost looked like a box. The only interesting thing about it was the height of the roof, which was possibly twenty metres off the ground.

Filled with questions, I stepped inside, and suddenly many of them were answered.

Opening the door, I was hit with a wave of raucous sound that caused my two guards to half-draw their blades. Emilia threw a hand out and hissed a warning.

"Don't draw them! It'll be much more dangerous."

Inside the room was a mass of feathers, tables and rippling arms.

"Eyyyyy? EYYYYY! You wanna say that again, MATE?"

"I'll say it as many times as ya want, MATE!"

"YEAH?!"

"YEAH!"

And just like that, a sharp fistfight broke out.

This particular building was filled with magpei, well known for their cantankerous temper and ability to endure seemingly endless fistfights.

The scene was repeated dozens of times around what appeared to be a barracks designed for the winged menace. My two guards were both looking grim, and Emilia was shaking her head, resigned.

"I didn't really want to bring you here," she said. "We can leave before they notice us."

"Leave?" I say. "Whatever for? I haven't gotten an interview yet!"

"OI. Old bag standing in the doorway. You gonna close it or what? EY?"

"Yeah! You got no manners? EYYYYY?"

"Did ya parents raise you right? Or did ya grow up in a barn?!"

Well, as you all know, I have the patience of a stone, dear reader. It was I, after all, who won the paint-staring competition of the remote, wind-island Folk!

However, there are certain things that we, as civilised people, must not tolerate. Insults to my dear mother and father are, I'm afraid, well beyond the pale. Sometimes, it is necessary to teach manners! When the time comes, there is no other option but to roll up one's sleeves and get the job done.

Some time later, we were shown out the door.

"I… I'm sorry for what I said about ya mum."

"And… and you wasn't raised in a barn, but a nice house. I know that now…. Sorry."

"Oh, that's quite alright, my dears. We all make mistakes in life!"

"Yeah… I think… yeah. Have… have a nice day… Miss… ah… Tolly."

"Of course, you as well!"

It was very nice of them to see us off at the door, and so politely! It goes to show that the light of civilisation will shine in even the darkest places with a little effort. All it takes is a chipper attitude and a little elbow grease!

"Emilia," I had to say, holding up my hand as I turned to my strangely subdued guide. "Is there any chance you could be a dear and get me a bucket of ice? My knuckles seem sore for some reason."

The curse of age, reader, it comes for us all.

-x-X-x-

A council of Krath'lath was a tense, if not deadly, affair at the best of times. The Krath'lath Zluth had known throughout his life were, for the most part, petty bullies, upstarts and thugs. Stronger than the others, or bigger, they were able to gain influence using the most crude methods. When such tribe leaders met, the outcome was inevitable: fighting, death and destruction.

But those had been petty leaders of minor tribes, such as his own Slee. Weak and irrelevant, their squabbles over the least desirable tunnels in the entire stratum were so insignificant, the truly powerful Krath had never even heard of them. In front of him now was a very different scene. Ulliz, Mulzoz, Chozth, Soluzz, leader of the Zissth tribe, and others, mighty leaders of the deep tribes who had gathered at the call of the Ancient.

These leaders were as viciously cunning as they were powerful. Eyes darting atop their stalks, they saw everything, always alert for the slightest sign of weakness. Even Chozth, sleek and deadly, a coiled snail-snake ready to spring, looked ordinary amongst them, one among the many.

Soluzz, huge and positively crackling with acidic might, was first among equals here, and it was he who held the central position.

"Our scouts have been able to determine that there are pockets of native mana erupting within the fortress," Zluth continued his report. "The vents are straining them, though perhaps not as much as we had hoped."

Atop their stalks, those eyes watched him intently, and he felt their gaze like a physical weight upon his flesh. It was difficult not to reflexively enter camouflage.

"Which scouts were able to glean this information?" Ulliz burbled. "Perhaps we should be speaking to them instead."

"I did," Zluth replied, a sly lilt in his voice.

It hadn't been easy, either. Sneaking under the platform itself using the built-up mucus clinging to sections of the underside had been one of the most dangerous things he'd ever done. But he had to, there hadn't been any other choice. If some other scout had retrieved better information, then they would be here before the tribe leaders and not him. They'd been desperate, too. Seeing opportunity, the Krath scouts had tried every sly, conniving method they could to glean intelligence or hamper their rivals.

It was the kind of contest all Krath revelled in, and Zluth had won.

"And were you able to get close enough to confirm the singing?" Soluzz demanded.

"Yes, the singing interests me the most," said another voice.

The Krath'lath of the Gluzzgith tribe, Thulziss, had arrived from the depths only a few hours ago, along with several hundred of her finest Krath warriors. Like Chozth, she wasn't as large as some of the other leaders, but felt dense and explosive. The air of danger around her was as thick as a toxic miasma.

"Were you able to hear it?" she asked him.

Zluth tried not to shudder at the memory.

"I did," he confirmed.

"And? Describe it to me," she told him, eyes bulging red with the force of her will as it pressed down on him.

"It… it…" Zluth struggled for the words. How to describe it? Despite barely being able to catch the sound, it had filled him, burned him, turned his mind red and his acid to boiling. He shook his head and breathed deep, casting away the memory. "It was enraging. Foul and disgusting, it stirred the rage in me like nothing I've ever experienced."

"An abomination," Thulzziss breathed. "A foul stain on our home, a blight on the creation of the Maker. We must ensure that the singing will cease, no matter the cost."

"Theorazzn asked us to do it, and we will. The question is how," Ulliz burbled.

The mighty Krath'lath thought to themselves for a moment, each pondering their own schemes and strategies. Minds with as many twists and turns as a labyrinth considered, planned and worked through their own plans, each more convoluted and diabolical than the last.

"If I might make a suggestion?" Zluth said ingratiatingly. "I have a thought that has developed during my time observing these invaders."

Once again, all eyes turned to him, swivelling atop their stalks. Whatever he had to say, it had better be good, or he would likely be devoured in moments.

"The invaders. These… ants. They are fiercely loyal to each other, which is proven by their willingness to throw themselves into danger in order to save any we capture."

The surrounding Krath'lath smirked and chuckled.

"You think this weakness can be exploited?" Soluzz asked.

"It can. The Ancient asked us to turn two monsters. As far as I know, we haven't found one of them, but the other is here on the platform. They are fiercely protective of this creature. Every time it is in danger, they react."

"It's also powerful. Every scout agrees that this is a difficult beast to contend with," the Krath'lath stated, eyes blazing red.

"There are ways we can approach. And if we can approach, we can make a move. If we take that ant and turn it, the others will come after us, even during a wave."

"You really think so?"

"I do," Zluth confirmed, then grinned evilly. "We can bring them out of their little fortress and destroy them."

-x-X-x-

Another monster from the sixth arrived a few hours ago, which makes it the third one today. The mana level here in the fifth has probably reached its peak now, and it is deeply unpleasant.

It's a constant struggle for the wuffers to keep up, the blue mana is being consumed faster and faster by the more potent native energy, and they have to chew through that potent toxic stuff at ever increasing speeds. For now, the safe-zone is holding. For now.

I know the vast bulk of the energy cleansed in the fortress is being siphoned off somewhere. Hopefully, whatever Solant needs it for proves worth the effort.

"Be careful, Eldest!" a powerful scent next to me calls out.

"I'm always careful!"

"You're currently melting!"

"... It's not that bad!"

Alis throws her hands up before turning back to the oncoming onslaught and launching fire from her hands. I do indeed have acid on my back, steaming and burning, but my carapace isn't that easy to get through. It'll take more than a little acid to make me worry!

No, the acid isn't the problem, it's the corrupting energy contained within that is slowly leaking into my body. Yuck! Hate that stuff. After a few seconds, a huge volume of water splashes over my thorax, covering me in the deluge and washing off most of the offending acid.

I turn slightly to see Bertran reloading his water cannon. The bearded man smiles and gives me a thumbs up that I do not return. And not just because I don't have thumbs.

I mean… yes, it certainly helps to get the acid off, and wash away the slop and slime that spills onto the platform. It's useful, I know that, I just don't enjoy being dunked in water all the time. Looking down at Alis, who now somewhat resembles a drowned rat, I think she understands how I feel.

"You were too close," I tell her helpfully.

"Thanks," she mutters. "Thanks a lot."

"You could stand further back if you want. You cast magic, you don't need to be here."

"We're here to help you," she replies, just as stubborn as the rest of the Templars. "I can be more effective here, closer to you."

As they fight, the Templars have continued to gain Levels, growing stronger and levelling their Skills. The Class has empowered them in some odd ways. They get stronger when closer to me, for example. As fighters, all of them, even the youngins, have proven to be very capable. Jern swings his axe like it's a part of him, and the light he can produce from that thing is deadly. Alis has been working on her fire magic, and it's getting more and more impressive. She can't hold a candle to Dragon's Breath or to Invidia's explosions, but she's doing very well. Apparently, the bonuses they get from being a Templar are enough to overcome their relative lack of experience. I don't know how human Classes work or anything, but it seems like Templar is a really good one.

My nerves stiffen, and for a moment, I suspect something is coming, but I can't see it. Playing fire across the oncoming waves of mucus, I look for danger… well, danger is everywhere… I look for excessive danger, but I don't find anything.

"Alis? Are you sensing something?" I ask her, a little confused.

She's about to answer me when her eyes roll up in her head and she collapses to the ground.

What the heck?!

I turn and the same has happened to Bertran, which can only mean one thing: spiritual attack! The Nave is under attack! Why? HOW!?

My nerves scream again as my antennae twitch, a slight glimpse into the future sending impulses raging through my neurons. Two massive globs of mana are launched, simultaneously from deep within the tunnel.

Dammit! No way that isn't coordinated!

My constructs spin up, pushing hard, straining to their bursting point as they try to rip out as much gravitational mana as they can. Condense it, pack it as tight and solid as I can until it starts to do the work itself, sucking in mana all on its own.

I don't bother splitting it. I only had one bomb ready to go, and creating a second from scratch wouldn't leave me with enough time to launch it.

Once the spell is ready, I open my mandibles wide and unleash the Doom Sphere….

I mean, the name is growing on me.

HOOOOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLLLLL!!!!!

Empowered by the Altar, the gravity bomb unleashes an air-shattering scream, like the dying wails of a god. The air is sucked in so fast it slices away sections of rock, or rips stones straight off the walls.

The blobs of mucus and the gravity bomb meet halfway down the tunnel, and the bomb expands to consume them. It fills the tunnel with darkness, consuming unfathomable amounts of slime, thousands of monsters and still wants more.

This is clearly some sort of planned attack. I'm not going to muck around, they can have a massive gravity bomb to chew on. If that doesn't disrupt their plans, then nothing will.

Again, my antennae twitch and my nerves burn with fire. I lunge to the left, just in time. Something wet and sticky slaps into my carapace a split-second before it would have hit Alis. I stand over her, as several more projectiles blast out from the wall to smack into my darkly gleaming exo-skeleton. I can feel them oozing and creeping over me already. I can see the lines that extend out into the darkness, connected to their invisible handlers out on the wall.

The Krath have come. For me?!

I clack my mandibles, amused. You think you can take me?

Let's see how that goes.

-x-X-x-

More and more of the nets shoot down from above, each of them targeting Alis from a different angle. I can't move, she isn't able to defend herself in the slightest.

Clever little slugs. You think if you stick a bunch of these to me, then I'll just fall asleep and you can drag me away? Don't be ridiculous.

I lean back and swing my head in a wide arc, mandibles open wide. Snagging as many of the ropes between my jaws as I can, I loop them over and around my mandibles, hooking them tight. Then I pull.

Come on, slugs. You think you're stronger than a tier seven monster? Show me!

As soon as all of my considerable bulk hauls back and tightens the lines, I can feel them give. They aren't trying to pull me in yet, happy to give me all the slack I want until I fall asleep and can't resist anymore. The ooze nets are still spreading over my carapace, seeking, trying to find an opening to spread their paralyzing toxins into my body.

Good luck with that. Those openings exist, but they aren't so easy to find, particularly not with the armour I'm wearing. I rear back and loop the ropes over my mandibles again and again. The moment I feel them go tight, I lean back, digging my claws into the ground, and pull.

Some of the ropes go slack, while others tighten further. Oh ho! Some of you are willing to fight me on this, eh? Excellent.

The Krath have tormented me and my family for so long, I'm delighted they're willing to engage in some stress-relieving tug of war.

"Someone come and get Alis!" I yell behind me.

The healers are already scrambling towards me, along with Soldiers, generals, mages, scouts, priests, humans… everyone, basically.

"Stay back!" I roar. "You'll be targeted by the nets! Someone come and get Alis, that's all I need!"

The Templars are fighting against the invisible enemies within the Nave, protecting it from some sort of spiritual attack, which I suspect the Krath are not responsible for. If they could do that, they would have done it ages ago, surely. They may not be doing it themselves, but they know someone who can, or perhaps someone is putting their poisonous tentacles on the scale….

I have to defend Alis, not just because I quite like her and don't want her to get killed on my account, but because she is actively fighting off an attack on me right now! I need all the help I can get!

In the end, a single healer rushes forward, dodging nets and sliding beneath protective shields woven by the mages. She manages to grab Alis and start dragging her back while I cover the two of them with my body. The ropes pull tight as I back up, but they don't have nearly enough force to stop me.

Slowly, inevitably, I walk back until Alis is safely in the hands of the reserves, then I move forward again. There is danger all across the platform, but so far, the Krath have only sent their nets my way. If they keep targeting me, that's fine, I can deal with that. This makes it easier for me to keep everyone else safe.

In the distance, the gravity bomb flickers out of existence, having torn the tunnel to shreds and absorbed both of the mucus Doom Spheres. If anything else is going to come our way, it's going to be now. I keep my eyes open as my mind constructs whirl and churn, bending and twisting arcane energy into the complex shapes needed for my magic.

These slugs still have no idea what I'm capable of.

The ooze is still spreading out over my carapace, and they'll reach my joints soon. If they find a way in, that's going to be it. I need to work a little faster.

Almost ready…

As if sensing my pending counterattack, the slugs launch another of their own. From the darkness, jets of acid blast out. Not just one or two, but dozens, all converging on a single point.

I curse, body moving before my brain even has time to process.

I pull back onto my hind legs, exposing the underside of my carapace and letting the acid hit me in the chest, directing the spray down and away from the massed ranks behind me. Damn these Krath, they know exactly what they're doing! That much acid would eat through any hastily erected shields in an instant. And they aren't targeting me, they're targeting anyone close enough for me to save.

It's certain now. They're here for me.

The acid burns, as acids tend to do. My carapace is unfathomably dense, formed of diamond compressed by levels of gravity I can't even comprehend. It isn't easy to burn through, so I don't feel pain as the acid bubbles and hisses, turning the outer layer of my precious carapace to goop, but I don't exactly enjoy the feeling either.

Alright then, you lousy slugs. Let's see if you like a taste of this!

Minds straining to the edge of breaking, I unleash my spell and empower it with the remaining energy in the Altar.

A gravity well, a field in which I can shift and mould the force of gravity to my own will. It's large, covering a broad section of the wall from which the acid and nets have been coming.

The spell snaps into place, a purple well manifesting, pulsing darkly.

I could try and crush the Krath into the wall, it's strong enough that it would work on some of them, I think. But they've seen that trick before. This time, something different.

I manipulate the field to pull them away from the wall.

The effect is immediate, and with wet sucking pops that I can hear from the platform, Krath are ripped from the wall. Yoinked into the air, they pass through the well and out the other side, flailing in the open space before they begin to arc down and fall toward the platform.

I clack my mandibles in amusement.

Come and say hello.

-x-X-x-

As the Krath reach the purified mana, they begin to sizzle and steam, just like my carapace is currently doing. Before they even touch the ground, each and every one of them plunges a hand onto their own flesh, puncturing some critical organ inside. They dissolve rapidly, to the extent that almost nothing survives to reach the platform.

Lousy slugs! I was going to give them a good chomp! I deserve that! I've earned it!

"Try and burn these nets off me!" I ask the ants still hesitantly waiting nearby.

I know they want to help, they want to swarm and protect me, and part of me is tempted to let them, but I took the Altar of Self in my last evolution for exactly this reason. I'm strong enough, I can protect them.

"Can you withstand the heat, Eldest?" one of the mages demands.

"Don't be silly!" I scoff. "Fire away!"

Turns out having half a dozen flamethrowers levelled at you at the same time is a bit hotter than I thought it would be. YEEOUCH!

Of course, I stoically maintain my facade. I'd rather cook a little bit than let these oozes knock me out, that's for sure. For safety, I trigger my healing gland, letting the regenerative fluid run through my body and heal the damage I've been taking.

I also dedicate a set of my subminds to seeking out and breaking down the invasive mana that is continually creeping into me. At the moment, it remains at safe levels, but it isn't a problem I can ignore.

There are still Krath on the wall, battling to hold on against the well that is forcing them to fall away from safety. I can imagine them tucked into holes and cracks in the stone, desperately trying to maintain their grip. Gweheheh.

Unfortunately, Krath aren't the only thing on the wall. There is also an absolute nose-load of mucus and slime. Thick clouds of the stuff now float overhead, pulled away from the wall and ready to fall onto the platform the moment I release the spell.

That wouldn't be ideal, obviously.

With regret, I reverse the gravity well and it instantly flips, now crushing against the wall. The hanging mucus zooms like it was shot out of a cannon, slapping into the wall with a sharp, wet slap that resounds through the air. I wince. Anyone under that is going to be very unhappy.

The fire has proven to be fairly ineffective against the nets, but it's slowed them down at least. There's a few things I could do to deal with them myself, but, for the moment, my energy is better spent making sure the platform is safe.

They might have been caught off guard by my gravity well trick, but the Krath won't give up with just that, I'm certain of it.

My thoughts prove more accurate than I expected. I hadn't noticed the brewing storm overhead, since I'd been so focused on all the other shenanigans going on. A dense, roiling cloud of green and dark yellow, hissing and steaming as stray drops of slime are consumed within.

What the heck is this now?!

Some of the slugs must have been posted higher up on the wall, above the area I covered with my well. When did they start working on this nasty thing?!

My minds race. What can I do about this? Gravity bomb? I've been working on pumping out gravity mana at a constant pace, but I'm a little low right now. A bomb of decent strength will take time, probably too much time.

Just as I'm hesitating, a mind bridge snaps into place, and a familiar voice rings in my mind.

[We will take care of the cloud. You focus on the mucus wave,] Rathwyn snaps.

What a relief! Those mages have shown they know what they're doing. All I have to take care of is the mucus wave.

Mucus wave?

My eyes snap back to the tunnel only to see the oncoming tide of sludge. A bright and virulent orange, the slime fills the tunnel from bottom to top, thousands and thousands of tonnes of the stuff, moving much faster than slime should.

Ah, heck! This again?!

Goodness knows what sort of infernal plumbing the Krath do to create these stupid waves, but I wouldn't want to be their tradesman.

The moment I realise what's going on, I leap forward and position myself at the front of the platform, well in front of the other ants. The only thing in my arsenal that can deal with this is a gravity bomb, a big one, and it's not going to be ready fast enough for me to fire it safely.

"Get back!" I yell to the others as they rush forward. "I'm launching a spell. It's going to be dangerous!"

They know exactly what that means. My minds are already churning, forcing mana out of my core and into the gravitational construct. With all the gravity magic I've been doing, my mana gland has restored a decent amount already, and I pull that out too, I need every last drop for this one.

The wall of toxic sludge races towards me much faster than I'm comfortable with. My brains are screaming in my head, straining to the point I fear I'll burst something. The mana has to move faster!

The tidal wave of sludge looms over me, I open my mandibles, and I let the spell rip.

The energy within the Altar drains to nothing.

The air starts to scream.

-x-X-x-

Theresant wasn't sure what was happening. Brood Tenders ran everywhere outside the snailcare centre, checking readouts, consulting with experts. Musical experts were rushed in to listen and analyse, but none had any answers.

The snails wouldn't stop singing.

Young as they were, as little as two months, the hatchlings were still weak, still growing quickly. These weren't monsters, ready to fight for survival the moment they were born, and the Tenders were terrified of the cost this continuous exertion would have on the snails if they didn't stop.

"Are there any of their regular foods we haven't offered them?" Theresant demanded.

"We've tried all of them," a Brood Tender replied. "They haven't shown interest in eating at all!"

Not eating! This was the worst possible sign.

"Leave the food out there and observe closely," Theresant ordered. "They'll surely grow tired and want to eat soon. Is the chief singing instructor here?"

"I am!" another Brood Tender scuttled forward.

"Mozant, I'm glad you could come so quickly. I know you've been busy studying the musical form."

"It's all about structure," the increasingly eccentric ant replied, "I don't even need to hear it anymore."

Theresant looked at her a little strangely. They… they were ants… technically they couldn't hear, not like humans did. No ears, or ear drums to speak of, the members of the Colony interpreted vibrations using the fine hairs on their antennae and legs. Mozant had never been able to 'hear' music, not properly.

It didn't matter.

"Well what can you make of this song the hatchlings insist on singing?" Theresant demanded. "Are you able to glean some meaning from it?"

"Give me some space, some space dammit!" the ant cried. "I can't work in these conditions! Let me listen!"

Then she pressed herself against the two-way glass, antennae flat against the surface, picking up every tiny vibration emitted within the room. Theresant knew they had pushed to evolve Mozant to the fifth tier soon after her arrival in the hopes there would be some music or sound-related organs and mutations she could make use of.

Other than the mane of long white hairs that ran down the back of the ant's head, there wasn't much visual difference between her and the other Brood Tenders, but her behaviour had certainly changed after the evolution. Studying music seemed dangerous for the mind….

"Yes… yes, I see… Fortissimo! Such power in the Rhythm! The rumbling Bass! The falling Alto! The soaring Soprano! The Tenor in support, an unwavering pillar! Such harmony, such beautiful, beautiful harmony!"

"What… what does any of that mean?" Theresant muttered.

"I've had to invent new terminology in the study of sound," Mozant roared in reply. "Now Silence! I'm listening!"

The expert continued to mutter to herself, white hairs slowly standing up until Theresant was sure she could see them vibrating along with the sound from within the chamber. Other messengers came and went, more methods were tried to dissuade the chal from singing, but to no avail. The little snails had gathered together in the center of the chamber, all facing the same wall to the east and singing their little hearts out.

Even as an ant, Theresant knew the sound was beautiful, moving, even. As young as they were, the snails were still capable of such profound vocal skills. Perhaps the curriculum the Tenders had created was working as intended?

"I have it!" Mozant declared with a maniacal laugh. "Yes. YES! It speaks to me, such music. WHAT MUSIC!"

"What? What have you learned?" Theresant demanded.

The white-haired ant rounded on her, mandibles snapping with incredulity.

"You don't hear it? Listen to the timing signature, the urgent rise and fall of the harmony! Surely you can understand, they are speaking with the language of the soul!"

Theresant raised a leg and slapped the ant across the face.

"We don't have time for your nonsense," she said in a clipped scent, "the well-being of the young is at stake. You are a Brood Tender, not a musician. Focus."

Mozant staggered back, clutching at her head. Which didn't make sense, Theresant's legs were not made for striking, and as a being possessing an exo-skeleton, the musically inclined ant would barely have felt the blow at all.

"Yes… yes, I'm sorry. I was seized by the passion of the music. I apologise."

Rising to her legs, Mozant straightened herself.

"They are singing an exhortation of some kind, a plea, if you will. A leg extended in song to another, hoping they will come and meet them halfway."

"How can you be so sure?" Theresant asked.

She could understand the plea, the emotion underlying the song could be interpreted, but the rest?

"There are gaps in the melody. Listen for a moment, right… here!"

Both ants extended their antennae, heads tilted slightly.

"I'm… not sure I understand," Theresant admitted. "I didn't hear them sing much at all in that moment."

"Exactly! The song is structured in layers; at times, the chal rise, their plea coming to the forefront, and then at others, they retreat, waiting for another to come forward and fill the gap, to sing back to them and join the harmony. There are openings all throughout the song. Gaps in every register that would take another choir to fill, to match their rhythm and make the melody complete."

"But who are they singing to? Who are they waiting for?" Theresant demanded.

"I can't say," Mozant replied, clicking her mandibles sadly. "Perhaps if they hear what they want to hear, they will stop singing, but perhaps not. This is all I can glean from the song with my current knowledge. I'm sorry I can't do more."

Theresant pondered for a moment, eyes focused on the tiny snails continuing to sing without break.

"No… there may be more you can do. Don't leave just yet."

-x-X-x-

These stupid net… ooze… things are super annoying! Fire won't burn them off, and it seems as though the Krath have found a way to make them more resistant to the cleansed mana. They're burning away, but so much slower than I would like!

Every moment that passes, they spread themselves further over my carapace, feeling their way around and trying to find a weak spot where they start to apply their paralysing toxins. It's unpleasant, to say the least.

And that isn't even the worst thing I have to deal with right now!

In the distance, my gravity bomb is screaming, the air whipping past my face. It's massive, blocking off a huge chunk of the tunnel and not allowing anything through, but it's not going to be enough.

The sheer mass of mucus and gunk coming down the tunnel is too much, it'll deplete the gravity bomb before my spell can chew through it all. Even if the monsters and Krath can't come down the tunnel to attack us, all they have to do is wait.

My minds continue to burn as I push them as hard as I can, forming more gravitational mana in preparation for creating another bomb. I can't think of anything else that could possibly hope to prevent that tidal wave from slopping onto the platform.

The slugs on the wall continue to play their little games, throwing out blasts of acid and launching their nets. Most of them come my way, but every now and again, they target someone else, just to keep everyone on their toes.

And of course, any time someone gets too close to me, a barrage of acid and nets comes raining down, forcing me to jump in front and take the blows head on. It's clear what they want, to isolate me and slowly wear me down. My initial instincts were correct, they really are trying to capture me this time. Which means they want to drag me off and dunk me in their stupid slime. As if I could ever be anything other than a loyal ant!

You're talking nonsense, Krath!

Again, I loop my mandibles around, catching as many of the ropes as I can, pulling them tight and yanking back with all my weight. Most of the ropes go slack immediately, and I loop them around again until they start to tighten. We aren't playing this game again. Cut the ropes or come down here and say hello!

I pull again, and as predicted, most of them drop away, but there are still a few holding on up there. Well done, doing better than I thought! Where the heck are they?

I've been trying to find them, but the sneaky slugs are working further away than I've ever seen them, high up the wall in the darkness. With their mastery of stealth and trickery, it's almost impossible to get an exact read on them, and with so much native mana between me and them, my spells won't be as effective.

Really been using their noggins before they came down this time. It still won't be enough, but I don't mind giving them credit. They worked hard.

HOOOOOOWWWWLLLLLLLL!!!

There hasn't nearly been enough time for my Altar to refill a significant amount, but what is there, I pour into the bomb. It should be enough; after all, I've switched targets. My brains are gasping for air after straining their neurons to their limits handling so much mana in such a short period of time. Even with my Vestibule, it'll take a little time before my brains are back at their best. I need some time for them to recover, so I let my constructs fall apart. A few minutes, and I can bring them back again.

The bomb sails through the air, a deadly ball of slowly rotating gravitational mana. The tidal wave will break through the first bomb any second now, I can already see it flickering, on the verge of failure. This second won't make a dent in all of that mucus, but it will still save the platform.

After all, I aimed for the lip of the tunnel right in front of us.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" I roar.

It's not really necessary, the ants already know what's about to happen and have reacted accordingly, helping their non-ant allies prepare. I dig my claws in, lower my body and hold on.

The bomb expands and the pull of gravity is dreadful. With the amount of mass I have, my legs are barely able to withstand the pull it has on me. The void screams and rotates, consuming everything in front of and around it, insatiable in its appetite.

Well, it'll be filled with slime soon enough, the stuff doesn't stop oozing out of the walls along with the monster spawns. Before then, it'll achieve what I wanted, which is to chew through the rock.

In the distance, the first bomb fades away, finally overwhelmed by the mucus. Beyond it, the tidal wave keeps coming, wall to wall mucus, floor to ceiling. How in the heck did they even store up this much?! Is there a hoover dam of mucus nearby or something?!

No matter. With the lip of the tunnel being shredded by gravity, the distance between the platform and the tunnel is growing wider by the second. Their plan to overwhelm the platform won't be successful, since all of that sludge is going to drop down into the darkness below.

Gweheheheh!

Then a surge of mana rings in my antennae and mucus netting blasts down from above. At first, my eyes can't even believe what I'm seeing.

The Krath are making some sort of bridge?! You cannot be serious!

-x-X-x-

Krath engineering? Who knew that was even a thing?! Thick ropes of sticky mucus zloop down from above with remarkable speed, latching onto the platform and trailing off towards my still-rotating gravity bomb. Some of them get sucked in and destroyed, but it isn't long before my spell flickers out, allowing the slugs to connect the bones of their slime bridge.

I watch it all with a rising sense of incredulity. They really think they can make something out of mucus to carry the weight of a literal sludge ocean?! There's a freakin' tidal wave a kilometre wide rushing towards us! There's absolutely no way!

I mean, 'rushing' is relative, it's bright, virulent slime, not water. Even so, they don't have that much time.

Despite my doubts, a part of me is nervous. If they actually manage to build something that can hold the weight, even for just a minute or two… the wave of mucus would pour over the platform and bury us in metres-deep slime.

More and more sludge pours down from above as the Krath continue to weave together a lattice that bridges the gap.

Groaning at the absurdity of it, I begin to pull out the gravitational mana within my gland, weaving it with my exhausted brains while enduring a fresh wave of acid and nets being hurled in my direction. The mages, along with Rathwyn and his group, have started to return fire at the slugs hiding above, weaving long-range spells to try and smoke them out.

It's hard to tell, but it doesn't seem to be having much effect so far. The Krath have clearly come prepared, working in the darkness up there to create little pockets of safety.

This is so frustrating! I can't go out there and get them, and I'm running low enough on gravitational mana that I can't afford to waste any. After all, I have to have enough ready to throw out gravity bombs at short notice. Dipping below that amount, even for a few seconds, risks complete disaster!

After I finish this spell, that'll be all she wrote until I can build up my reserves a little bit. It won't take long, but damn, they're pushing me hard.

I turn and look back toward the gathered forces of the Colony, doing their best to support me from a distance. Bertran and Alis are still down, battling away within the Nave against… something. That worries me; I hope they're doing okay.

Constant fire is exchanged between the Krath and Colony as the wave of sludge draws closer and the bridge continues to take shape. Any ants that step towards the edge to try and destroy it are immediately targeted, and I eventually wave them off. My spell will deal with the problem, they can just focus on other issues.

Seeing the tidal wave up close, though… holy moly, that looks nasty.

Wherever they brewed up this particular mass of goop, they added a few extra ingredients. It is bright orange, almost glowing in a radioactive sort of way, a thick haze of orange spores being pushed before the crest of the wave. Judging by the steaming and sizzling of the rocks lining the tunnel as the mucus passes over them, this stuff is potent beyond belief.

As if the regular mucus wasn't bad enough, they had to go and create a condensed hyper mucus. Wonderful.

Looming far overhead and filling the entire, kilometre-wide width of the tunnel, the sheer mass of the stuff is intimidating as heck. This must be millions upon millions of litres.

I look down again at the flimsy rope bridge the Krath have produced. There is a membrane linking the ropes together by now, but I can't conceive of it being able to hold the thousands of tons worth of slime that will hit it in a few seconds. There's just no way….

But I can't take that chance.

My spell locks into place just before the torrent of mucus hits the bridge and a blast of disgusting orange spores slaps me in the face.

A gravity well appears, covering the gap.

Millions of litres of thick mucus hurl into the gap, hit the bridge… and immediately plunge through it, down into the darkness below. The ropes snap, the mucus membrane collapses instantly and the whole thing is dragged into the abyss by the mucus.

I knew it! The Gravity Well was a complete waste!

Lousy Krath, they're probably up there laughing at me. We'll see who has the last laugh.

I turn off the gravity well, hoping to recover some of the mana, then turn my attention toward the lousy slugs sniggering above. They're about to get what's co—wha? My antennae ring like a bell and my legs are moving before my brain has even had a second to catch up.

I can almost see it unfold in slow motion after that.

There are Krath hidden in the mucus wave. I can see them in there, huddled together in little packs. Too late to notice them now, they've already worked their spell. A huge glob of mucus is already separating from the falling wave, launched upwards with some form of slug magic. I've turned around and I'm running back towards the gathered ants. It takes my mind a little while to catch up with my nerves, but I realise what's happening.

They aren't aiming for me, because of course not. If they aimed for me, they would miss.

They're aiming for Bertram and Alis, and the thousands of ants gathered around them, who can't get out of the way.

My minds are spinning as fast as they can, but it's difficult. What can I use? Force magic? Not enough time. Gravitation mana? Maybe change the trajectory of the shot? Not sure it would work fast enough.

I reach my spot, right in front of my Templars, still unconscious on the ground, then turn to face the enemy.

Brace for impact, Anthony. This one is going to suck.

On the other side of the fortress, a ball of infinite darkness, immaterial flesh and endless malice feels a shiver run through her tentacles. In a second, she cuts all of her limbs and dives into her own shadow, vanishing from sight.

-x-X-x-

You know… Gravity Compressed Diamond is really impressive stuff. It's just so… so dense. Honestly, it might even give Tiny a run for his money.

I leap into the giant ball of oncoming mucus and it immediately splats me back down again, which is unpleasant, I'm not going to lie.

I half expected it to eat through my carapace in a matter of seconds, this is the fifth after all, but no! The diamond holds firm!

Well, my diamond holds firm. The diamond coating on the platform isn't doing nearly as well. Hurts like absolute heck, though. It's like having a bath in the kind of acid you use to melt other acids. My antennae are really feeling it, delicate sensory organs that they are. After a few seconds, I don't have antennae anymore.

At least the Colony managed to work out how to use Bertram's water gun by that time. After being blasted with high velocity water at close range, they've managed to wash off a lot of the goo, but it's going to take a lot more than that to get all of it off me. At least the acidic mucus should have burned off a few of the nets.

Ah, of course it hasn't. Why would the Krath use non-mucus resistant net-ooze? In fact, it feels like they're starting to reel me in. I can feel the ropes tightening, feel my carapace getting dragged across the floor.

Fools! You think I'm done for? Hah!

I spring to my feet, except that I don't. Holy moly, my legs are in bad shape.

The Krath plan doesn't appear as if it's over, either. Behind the mucus wave, they've sent another horde of monsters charging toward the platform. All sorts of beasts of various shapes and sizes, all desperate to throw themselves into the cleansed mana and destroy it.

I can tell that the Colony is rallying. Barriers are going up, the scouts are firing coordinated acid barrages against the slugs above us and the oncoming horde. Mages have formed teams and are casting their best long-range spells, raining down terror with the help of Rathwyn and the others.

The humans are in on the action as well. Chanting priests, with their ridiculous antennae-hoods, are chanting at the tops of their lungs while those around them leap into battle with fanatical fervour.

You need to relax a little guys, no need to be so intense.

I personally, am feeling quite mellow. A little sleepy even. Which is… weird… now that I think about it.

Oh, these lousy nets are still on me! Give it a rest, would you! A few of them have finally oozed their way into my joints and have found an opening to deliver their venom. It'll take ages to put me down, I'm rather large, after all, but it'll work eventually.

These dang slugs are working hard. I trigger my regeneration gland again, letting the ice-cold fluid flow throughout my body to help heal my wounds. Gah, this is rough.

"Eldest! Are you alright?"

Wow, the healers are sounding pretty upset. It's not often they show such genuine concern. I should say something to reassure them.

"I'm fine," I say cheerily waving what remains of my rear left leg. "As if the fifth can cook up something strong enough to hurt me."

"You're fine, are you?"

"Of course!"

"Then walk over here, you moron, so I can hit you!"

The rest of the healers also chime in.

"You blocked that mucus yourself! I saw you! Do you think we don't have enough work or something?!"

"Making life difficult for us healers, as usual!"

"You never think of the little ant!"

"Oi! I yell back, a little annoyed at this point. "I frequently think of the little ant! I give your caste more help than anyone else in the entire family!"

They consider this for a moment.

"It's not enough!"

"Yeah!"

"Taking care of the rest of you is an impossible task!"

I mean… they have a point there.

"Your concerns are legitimate!" I yell back to them. "Let's discuss this when I'm not being dragged away by evil slugs."

I feel like it's a fair position to take. There are many, many ants wanting to rush toward me, I can tell that, but I continue to wave them off. Even touching this super mucus would probably put them down for the torpor that does not end. They blast me with the water again, which gets some mucus off me, but there is still a lot of it. Eventually, the cleansed mana will burn it away, but it's taking time. Time I don't really have.

I've still got tricks up my sleeve, of course. Or, I could just take a nap…

No! No napping! Time for tricks.

Acting as helpless as I can, I let the slugs continue to pull me toward the edge of the platform while the Colony braces for the charging monsters, ranks of brave heroes taking their place in the line.

I wind back my mandibles.

The Altar isn't full by any means, but there's some juice in there, enough to cause some problems, no doubt.

Having my carapace scraping against the diamond coating of the platform isn't all that pleasant, I have to admit, but I endure it, letting them slowly pull me forwards. Yes… this is your moment, you filthy slugs. Enjoy it! Savour it!

When they finally get me to the edge, the ants continuing to keep their distance, I brace myself. It takes them a second to pull me up onto the lip of the wall around the outside of the platform, but they get it done. Thanks to a little manipulation with my legs, my face just happens to be pointing outwards toward the oncoming horde and the wall which the Krath are clinging to.

Which is when I unleash my empowered Starcrusher chomp.

-x-X-x-

There isn't much time to think. I pump some of the Altar energy into my carapace, reinforcing it to protect myself, then pour all of the rest into my chomp. It's a blessing the rest of the Colony has listened to me and given me some space. Almost a miracle. Ultimately, a miracle that saves a lot of lives.

It's difficult to explain what happens next. The sensation of power floods through my mandibles. Light explodes from before my face.

It blazes.

It burns.

I can't see a thing as my mandibles crash shut and the Dungeon is consumed by fire. Waves of heat roll over my carapace. What's left of my antennae burns away and my eyes can barely take it. Even if they don't melt, the blazing light of the star has blinded me for a good while.

I stagger and lurch to the side. The platform is unstable beneath me, which can't be right, this thing is rock solid. I can only imagine my legs have been damaged even further by my chomp. Well, if it's bad for me, then it must be terrible for the Krath and monsters that were out there.

Gweheheheh. I can imagine their gnashing, sluggy faces now. Well, I have to imagine them, it isn't like I can see. No problem, I did my legs in and try to get my bearings.

"What's going on?" I ask, hoping someone can answer me.

Surprisingly, I don't get an immediate reply. Where's the rest of the Colony at?

Something hits my carapace and I genuinely can't tell what it is. Debris maybe?

[Master!] a voice rings in my mind.

[Crinis?! What the heck are you doing here?]

Man, I'm feeling sleepy. Seriously sleepy.

[Master! You need to hold on!] Hold onto what? The floor? I'm doing that.

[The platform has broken! Your bite attack sheared a chunk off the front!]

Well, that wakes me up a bit.

[It did what?! Wait, it broke the section I was standing on, didn't it?]

[Yes!]

[Typical.]

Yeesh, if the explosion from the bite was enough to do that, then I'm lucky it didn't blow my head off! That wasn't even fully empowered either. Something to think about… another time. I tighten my grip further and try to figure out what's going on.

My head is ringing and my minds are drifting, there's so much poison in my body and it's a real struggle to break it down. The paralytic venom of the ooze-nets isn't helping either. Gritting my mandibles, I force my minds to work. If I let the native mana run rampant, it'll quickly reach the point where it propagates itself faster than I can destroy it. [So… am I falling to my death or something?]

If the section of platform broke off, then I should have plunged into the abyss along with about a gajillion tonnes of hyper-mucus. I might be durable, but it'll be tough coming back from that one.

[No, you aren't falling, Master!]

[Oh? How's that?]

[I'm holding onto the broken section.]

There is an awful lot of darkness around me. So… Crinis is using her tentacles to hold the platform together? That would be quite the sight. For a second, I wonder why she didn't just grab me, then I realise that she can't, I still have too much gunk on me. Crinis has proven to be particularly vulnerable to the toxins of the fifth. Any tentacle she used to grab me would have to be cut off almost immediately.

Nothing for it, I just have to make it back to the main platform. My legs twitch feebly and I start to turn myself around.

[Let me know when I'm facing the platform.]

[You're turning the wrong way, Master!] Dangit! Back the other way.

I can feel the strain in Crinis' mind, she's working hard to hold on. I have no idea how large this chunk is, but it must be massive. Hopefully Tiny gets here soon to help out. If Crinis got here through the shadows, then I guess he's also on his way, coming through the tunnels in the fortress.

[How about now?]

[That's it! Can you walk?]

[Don't you dare grab me,] I warn her, [I can make it. Any sign of the Krath?]

[There's a bit of acid being shot down from above. I think they're coming back. The ones who survived, anyway. Stay away from my Master, FILTH!]

A fresh wave of healing from the regeneration gland does a little to help restore some clarity. The Vestibule is cleansing the fatigue from my body, and my brains are slowly sharpening up. Just in time, every mind-construct is dedicated to anti-fifth mana duties, and I'm only now starting to get ahead of it.

I'm still so damn tired.

My legs start to push against the ground, and the strain is unbelievable. I don't think I've ever felt so heavy. [I'm on the way, Crinis. Be there in a jiffy.]

I can vaguely feel some impacts on my carapace. If I had to guess, more nets. Lousy Krath. They still haven't had enough? Well good! I've got more for them!

Soon.

[Hey Crinis?]

[Just keep moving forward!]

[I just couldn't help but notice that sudden lurch.]

[It's fine! Keep pushing!]

I sigh to myself.

[They're targeting you with acid, aren't they?]

[No, it's fine. Keep moving.]

[I order you to tell me the truth.]

[... Th… Th-they are, yes.]

Well, nards. This is a bit of a pickle. I'll figure something out, I always do.

[Let me drop and get back to safety, Crinis.]

[Never!]

[I'll survive, don't worry.]

I start pulling in all the cleansed mana I can. I'm going to need it where I'm going. I really have to give Smithant a lot of credit. The ooze-nets are spreading over me again, but there's so little space where they can actually attack me since my joints are well protected. The beginnings of an idea start to percolate in my addled brains.

[I'll never let you go, Master. Don't make me,] Crinis says, stubbornly.

[I'd rather not order you….]

I don't like ordering them. They're my friends.

After a few seconds, it becomes clear she isn't going to let go. Another lurch in the platform beneath me tells me everything I need to know.

[Crinis, I or–]

Before I can finish the thought, something ice-cold plunges into my head, stabbing right into my brain.

[I won't. I WON'T!] Crinis screams into my head.

A mass of shadow rushes inside my carapace, and then I'm falling.

-x-X-x-