Chapter 2935 - Chry 150

"There's an emergency!" The scent burst through the command centre, filled with a level of panic and urgency rarely felt within Solant's presence.

"Bring that scout to me immediately," the general commanded, waving away the ants gathered around her.

Not waiting to be given space to approach, the scout simply rushed over, climbing upon the others still in her way.

"The Eldest has been taken!" she burst out. "The Eldest has fallen off the platform and been taken by the Krath!"

A chill ran through the chamber, a shiver that crawled along the hairs on every ants' carapace. A profound silence fell upon them.

"Be clear," Solant said, an enforcing calm before panic could break out. "Describe exactly what happened."

She listened intently as the scout explained the situation. Fortunately, she had been present on the platform herself and was able to give her first-ant perspective. The general was keenly aware of every other ant in the command centre listening in, ignoring their other work in favour of hearing of the Eldest's sacrifice.

"We will need to launch an operation to retrieve the Eldest," a nearby general snapped, breaking the silence. "The Krath may not have even retrieved them by now. We need to be quick!"

She hadn't even finished talking before others spoke up, volunteering this battalion or that to brave the fifth and bring the Eldest of the Colony home. The air was filled with pheromones, plans made in haste stinking of desperation and panic.

"Enough," she said softly.

Somehow it was enough, the force of her will emanating through the air and rolling over the crowd like a wave.

"We will not be launching an operation to retrieve the Eldest," she said.

Every compound eye was fixed on her, even her closest siblings looking as if they couldn't believe what she'd just said. Abandon the Eldest? Abandon the Eldest? Abandon the Eldest?! Impossible. Unconscionable. It was un-ant. It was… completely unthinkable.

She could almost hear the thoughts churning in their heads, wondering if she was a traitor, if she had gone mad, if they had gone mad. Nothing about this situation added up to them, and they were unable to put the pieces together themselves. Before things spiralled out of control, Solant took it upon herself to explain.

"Where are the mana levels at?" she demanded.

After a pause, someone scrambled to find the number.

"They've been holding steady at the peak for three days now," came the reply from a corner of the chamber.

"You hear that?" Solant asked of the unmoving swarm of ants around her. "The peak of the wave. If any of us go out there, we'll be dead in an instant! There aren't any measures we can take to protect ourselves from that level of contamination. Attempting to chase after the Eldest will only get ants killed."

"It's worth the sacrifice," Leonidant stated, staring at her leader defiantly. "We are more than willing to die if it means the Eldest can come home!"

There were nods all around the chamber, and Solant couldn't help but sigh.

"And if you die and still don't bring the Eldest home? What then?"

"Then we would have tried!" Leonidant shouted. "How can we sit here and act like the Eldest is already dead when we know that they aren't!"

So much passion, so much fire. It was one of the reasons why Solant liked to keep Leonidant with her at all times. Despite her great leadership and coolness under pressure, the scout had all the rage and heat of an Immortal who'd seen a death trap. She was a window into an aspect of the Colony Solant herself only understood intellectually.

"Exactly," Solant stated, clacking her mandibles in satisfaction.

"I-what?" Leonidant stuttered.

Solant extended a foreleg to pat her sibling on the carapace.

"The Eldest is still alive," she said. "I know it, you know it, everyone in this chamber knows it. Am I right?"

Confused, hesitant nods broke out around the room as ants examined themselves and somehow realised that it was true. They did know the Eldest was alive. They didn't know how they knew it, but they did.

"If the Eldest were exposed to the full brunt of the native mana, they would already be dead. They have found a way to keep themselves alive out there, and we will have to bet that they will continue to endure."

"You think the Eldest will just be able to ride out the wave without help?" another ant demanded. "That's insane!"

"If we go out there, we give the Krath exactly what they want, a fight on their terms, not ours. We will be overwhelmed in minutes and achieve nothing," Solant stated. "I would much rather bet on the Eldest instead of wasting lives for no purpose."

She glared at the gathered ants and they shied away from her eyes.

"The Krath will seize the Eldest soon enough," she said, "and when they do, we know exactly where they are going to take them. There is only one place nearby where they can corrupt a monster as large as the Eldest. The moment the wave subsides, we will be able to strike a decisive blow and retrieve the Eldest at the same time."

It still didn't sit well with the ants around her, Solant could see that. They were on the verge of doing something very unlike what they should: rebel. Their instincts demanded they rescue the Eldest, along with their sense of integrity. After all, the Eldest was the single greatest contributor to the success of the Colony, exceeding even The Queen. What ant wouldn't trade their own life for that of the Eldest?

Yet Solant couldn't let it happen. They were close now. So close. Once the wave subsided, everything would fall into place and she would finally have achieved the impossible.

She would win.

If the Eldest wasn't able to hold on for that long, then perhaps this was fate. She couldn't tip her hand too early, it would only work if the concentration of mana had fallen back to normal levels.

Sometimes it was necessary to make a sacrifice to secure victory.

-x-X-x-

"Have you found it yet?" Chozth demanded.

There were a dozen, valid, excuses that Zluth could make, but he knew that each and every one of them would get him killed. Instead, he simply said "no", and waited.

As expected, the powerful Krath boiled with raw fury, her eyes bulging atop their stalks and her flesh visibly popping with acidic detonations. Her lips pulled back to reveal her fangs, and Zluth knew he was on the verge of death, yet Chozth managed to master herself just in time.

Her self-control was incredibly impressive, and rare for a slug of her station and appetite. If he'd had to report to anyone else, he'd have been on the run already, or worked harder to find someone else to report in his place. Thanks to Chozth, he could remain in charge, and take the credit he was rightfully due, while also surviving to the end of this mess.

"That thing killed many of my strongest slugs," Chozth forced out between her clenched fangs. "Do not lose it."

"We're close," he told her, feeling confident enough to speak, but only softly. "The mucus is thick and incredibly toxic, but we almost have it."

"Go. Don't come back without it."

Not needing anything else to be said, Zluth turned around and dashed away. Any more time in the presence of the furious Krath'lath was a risk he wasn't willing to take. All of the tribe leaders were furious. The plan had been well thought out, and executed well. Using the weakness of the ant, its unwillingness to sacrifice the lessers of its kind to ensure its own survival, had been key. What they hadn't accounted for was the creature's power. That final bite had punched straight through the Krath defences and devastated such a wide area that almost everyone had been caught in the blast.

He shuddered to recall it. The blinding light, the force of the impact alone had been enough to blow his eye-stalks back, then came the fire…

He shook his head. There was no need to dwell on it, the ant was either incapacitated or dead by now. All he needed to do was retrieve it.

Moving carefully, Zluth began to make his way back down the narrow passage the scouts had carved to access the depths of this emptiness the ants had created. Despite himself, he couldn't help but be impressed by what the invaders had made. Their fortress existed like an egg surrounded by a pocket of empty space. The construction itself wasn't what drew his reluctant admiration, but the sheer scale of it. Despite moving as quickly as he could down the mucus-slick passage, it took hours to get to the right level.

A vast reservoir of mucus had formed at the bottom of the ant fortress. It appeared as though they might have prepared for something like this to happen, given the space they had left available down here, along with the drainage they'd constructed, but like everyone who came here, they'd underestimated the fifth. The sheer acidity and volume of the mucus had eaten into the stone and collapsed several of the tunnels, blocking up the works. No longer draining as fast as it was filling, the underside of the invaders base was rapidly transforming into an ocean of deadly mucus.

Floating somewhere in all of that, the ant would be found.

When he returned to the rest of the scouts, huddling to the wall above the enormous, deadly slime, they gave him surprised and envious glances. It was clear they hadn't expected to see him alive after reporting their failure. He grinned savagely at them.

Underestimate me again and you'll be food, he thought, satisfied as the worst of them turned away, unable to match his gaze.

"Back again?" noted Bluzoth, an old slug.

The younger, more ambitious ones were holding back, waiting to see the lay of the land before trying to make a potential grab for power. Bluzoth was too old to bother with it anymore. Resigned to her death, she was the exact opposite of Goszi. No longer scheming and squirming to stay alive, she just tried to do what was asked of her and get back to the slimeground to rest.

As if to match her lack of fight, her body had shrivelled, leaving her as one of the thinnest and smallest Krath Zluth had ever seen. For all that, she was tenacious and intelligent, which was why he'd put her in charge in his absence.

"I'm not easy to kill. Have we found it yet?"

"Yes."

"You have?"

"In a sense."

"Have you found it or not?" Zluth demanded.

Bluzoth just sighed and pointed one of her thin hands towards a section of the vast mucus ocean.

"We've been trying to find the location using our mana sense, but the mucus is making it impossible. For some reason, there's an unusual amount of shadow energy down there. It's not much, barely there, all things considered, but it's all we've been able to get so far."

"Has anyone gone in to check?"

"No," Bluzoth snorted, "without the direct threat of death hanging over their head, who would dare?"

Zluth could only nod. That made sense. The mucus was incredibly dense, and highly potent. Just being out in the fifth during a wave was nightmarish, even to the Krath — Zluth's own skin was sizzling from the concentrated energy in the air — but diving into that mess was almost certain death. Derisively, he looked at the other scouts, who all turned away, not wanting to draw his attention.

They were certain he was going to pick one of them, force them to jump in and try and locate the target, and likely die in the attempt.

Fools, all of them. Trying to live, when they should have been trying to ascend! The slug who managed to bring back the target would be celebrated by the Krath'lath and rewarded accordingly. Especially after what had happened at the platform. He was never going to give them this chance.

If this slight lead was all they were going to get, then he was going to act on it.

"Get me a slime, extend it out into a rope."

Bluzoth shook her head, but didn't say anything. She'd probably expected this from him. She was smart.

While they got what he needed, Zluth focused on himself. He'd been extremely successful in cultivating his internal acid lately. His repeated successes during this invasion had seen him consume several rewards, and he hadn't let any of those gifts go to waste.

As a result, he was capable of so much more than he was before.

Combining his powerful internal acid with his mana, Zluth began to vomit up a dense mixture of slime on himself. It burned at first, sizzling onto his flesh until the two melted together. When Bluzoth returned, he'd almost finished coating himself in this protective layer. She handed him the rope, and he grasped it tight before retracting his hands as far into his own flesh as he could, then did the same with his eyes.

Completely blind, he brought up more coating, covered himself, then waited for it to properly bond. Without saying anything, he leapt down into the mucus, trusting his more esoteric senses to guide him.

The moment he was in, he could sense the acid burning into his coating. He didn't have long before he would be melted into nothing.

But Zluth had confidence, he was going to succeed. He was born to succeed.

-x-X-x-

"He's really gone."

"So… who goes up to report next time?"

Bluzoth couldn't help but roll her eyes atop her stalks as she listened to the other slugs mutter amongst themselves. They'd all watched as Zluth had leapt into the mucus, certain that he would fail and die. Now they eyed each other suspiciously, wondering how they could manoeuvre their way out of having to report this latest failure to the Krath'lath waiting above.

Whichever slug landed that job was sure to be eaten, messily at that. Some of them would die even before having to make the report, desperate to force someone else into the role.

"You shouldn't write him off that quickly," she advised them.

Collectively, a dozen Krath looked at her as if she were mad. She might be old, but Bluzoth didn't consider herself lost to the spores just yet. She gurgled and spat a wad of acid, wincing as the searing, acidic air burnt the inside of her mouth.

"You need to learn which Krath to watch out for," she warned them, then pointed down to the mucus sea. "Of the ones like him, ninety-nine out of a hundred die doing something stupid."

"Fits so far," one of the others remarked in a snide tone.

"But the one that survives rises far. Every powerful, exceptional Krath you've ever seen was like him once, a scheming, murderous scum-slug that was willing to bet on themself. If he comes out of there, he's going to be a powerful Krath. Did you think about that?"

The others shifted and didn't answer, causing her to snort once more.

"Exactly. You've pissed off someone who could hold your life in their grip in the near future. Stupid. This is why so many of us don't live to an old age," she grinned at them. "Too stupid to see the way the mucus is seeping."

"Even if he finds it," the mouthy slug growled, "we can just leave him in there. He can't get out without our help."

"You think so?" she wheezed a laugh then spat again. "Just what are you capable of on your own? Even if you manage to kill him, what then? Someone has to go and report the failure anyway. If anyone even breathes to Chozth that we could have found the target and let it go, we are all dead. Worse than dead."

The other Krath grimaced, realising just how trapped they were. Bluzoth grinned again. Educating the young was always a pleasure for her. At least, pointing out how stupid they were was. She called that education. They might see it another way.

A hint of movement caught her eye and she swivelled a stalk to stare at the rope. It had been secured around a dense spike of rock on the wall, so it wasn't going anywhere, but she could have sworn it had…

There! Again, a little jump, definitely this time.

"Hah!" she cackled, then spat again. "He's still slithering around in there!"

"It's impossible," the others muttered, but they couldn't deny the evidence in front of their eyes. Something was moving the rope, little twitches and jumps. They stared at it for a few minutes, only for it to grow still again.

Before anyone could declare Zluth had died, there came two solid pulls at the rope. Then again. Then again.

"Well?" Bluzoth said as she eyed the others. "Are you going to pull him out?"

"Why don't you?" they demanded.

"Because I'm too old!" she spat. "Get to work!"

It wasn't easy. The mucus was suckingly thick, refusing to release whatever had been tied on the other end of the elongated slime. It took so long, even Bluzoth was sure that Zluth was dead by the time the surface began to bulge as something rose to the surface.

Holding onto the rope, steam rising from his burning flesh, Zluth stared up at the others, eyes blazing with triumph.

"Hurry up!" he roared.

At least, he tried to roar. Heavily injured and drained of energy, the best he could manage was a croak. To those hauling him up, it had the same effect as if his voice had cracked like thunder. They redoubled their efforts, and soon the thing he had found began to reveal itself: the prize.

Completely wrapped in a protective coating formed of slime netting, the massive shape couldn't be anything other than the ant. Unmoving, paralysed by the slime toxin, it was helpless, a prisoner. Zluth, grinned, baring his fangs.

"Now does someone want to go up and report to Chozth?" he said.

For some reason, there was no shortage of volunteers this time.

By the time the Krath'lath came down herself, Zluth had managed to recover a little of his strength with Bluzoth's help, but he was still in a bad way. He barely realised it when the mighty tribe leader loomed over him, only noticing she was there after she prodded him in the face.

"You really dove in there and pulled out this thing?" she asked him.

"Of course," he said, trying to pull himself up but failing to do so. He coughed, burbled and spluttered for a moment. "Isn't that what my messenger told you?"

"Your messenger claimed to have done it all themself."

"Speaking of which, I don't see them."

"You won't."

Chozth turned her gaze to the mass of connected slime-nets, vaguely ant-shaped beneath the slick, green-brown surface.

"Is it still alive?" she asked.

"I think so."

With a cry of fury, Chozth leaped forward, only for her own guards to block her passage. With difficulty, she mastered herself once more.

"Of course. The Ancient wants it turned. That will have to do. Let's get it up to the others. Then we can transport it to the heart."

She smiled savagely.

"I can't wait to see the twisted nightmare it will become."

-x-X-x-

[See? Everything's fine.]

[I fail to see how this is fine, Master!]

[What do you mean? We aren't going to die. In the next few minutes.]

[That we know of!]

[Look, I'm not saying it's ideal, but it isn't as bad as it could have been. There's probably heaps of people out there who have it worse than us.]

[You threw yourself into the fifth stratum during a wave!]

[I mean… that's… that's true. On the other hand, we aren't hungry. See? Could be worse!]

[...]

Now, I could consider that Crinis has fallen silent because she now agrees with my position and is reflecting on the relative merits of our current state, or she has given up on me entirely and is now trying to find her own way out of this mess. I choose to believe we are in agreement. It's more fun that way.

[Oooo, they're moving us!]

[THEY SHOULD GET THEIR FILTHY CLAWS OFF!]

[Hey! Whoa! Do not extend your limbs out there. We have enough toxin problems to deal with as it is.]

Currently, the two of us are nicely cocooned by the slime-nets of the Krath, which have expanded out and melded together to cover my entire carapace. Normally, that wouldn't be a good thing, but it's literally the only reason I was able to survive inside the mucus. The Krath have either engineered or bred these things to be incredibly resistant to the acidic and toxic influence of the fifth, which means very little is actually getting through to me.

Makes perfect sense when you think about it. If they want their captives to survive long enough to be corrupted, they have to have a way of getting them to their evil goop pools alive. With all of my minds dedicated to breaking down invading mana, along with the enchanted equipment I got from Smithant, I'm actually doing alright, despite everything.

The only problem is, I can't break out of this slime covering. Not until I'm either much closer to the fortress, or I've recovered a heck of a lot more than I have right now.

For the moment, the best course of action is just to go with the flow and keep a low profile. The problem is convincing Crinis of that.

[LET ME OUT, I'LL TEAR THEM APART!]

[Oookay. First, no. Second, you need to chill out, and before I forget, I order you to never use your weird tentacle things on my brain slash brains ever again.]

[You were going to order me to go back to the fortress!]

[Of course I was! I didn't want you to get hurt! You know perfectly well that this environment is more dangerous for you than for any of the rest of us!]

[But how else am I supposed to keep you safe?]

She sounds so worried, so helpless, I can't help but take pity on the poor little ball of infinite darkness and eternal despair.

[Hey,] I tell her gently, [Sometimes I'm going to be in danger. You've just got to trust me. I've always made it out before, and I will again.]

Except for that time I starved to death. No need to mention that.

[You've almost died lots of times,] she points out, still sounding a bit teary.

[Key word is almost. You really think I would ever let myself get killed? If I go, then you, Tiny and Invidia go as well. We can't have that. I refuse.]

I'm still determined to try and find a way to disconnect them from my own fate. There has to be a way to graduate them from being pets to being fully autonomous beings in the eyes of Gandalf again. Crinis would refuse for sure, but I'd much rather they choose to be my friends than have no option.

A problem for another time. For now, I need to try and find a way out of this mess. Luckily, I have some fairly unique tools that can help. A little nervously, I reach into the Nave, but find nothing wrong with it. Hopefully, whatever situation caused the Templars to collapse has been resolved successfully. I should reach out to them soon, but for the time being, I contact someone else.

[Hey, Solant, how's things?]

[Senior?] she asks, sounding as cool, calm and collected as always. [I'm surprised you can still reach out to me. This communication ability you have is extremely powerful.]

[And completely unexploitable by you. Weird how that worked out. Anyways, I'm going to assume you haven't sent anyone to rescue me?]

[I have not.]

Not even a moment of hesitation. Yeesh, I always knew she was ice-cold, but even in this scenario, she doesn't even pause for a fraction of a second. That's harsh. Well, it's fine, she made the right choice, after all.

[Good. Keep the others in line as best you can. I think the Krath are trying to lure us out of the fortress, which would be a disaster.]

[I agree.]

Now there's an ever so minute pause.

[Do you know what the Krath are going to do with you?] she asks.

I presume that gap means she knows better than I do.

[It doesn't seem like they want to kill me, so I'm guessing that means they're going to corrupt me instead.]

[Indeed. I believe they will take you to the closest heart to achieve this.]

[Huh. It's going to take a while to move me all that way. Will the wave even last that long?]

[It's hard to say. The wave has already peaked, but we can't know for sure how long it will last. If I had to guess, I would say it would be close.]

Interesting… I could buy a lot of time just by sitting tight. If the wave ends before they get me to the heart, I can bust outta here and do a heck of a lot of damage. If it doesn't… then I get to experience the bath of no return.

I can't say the idea fills me with glee.

[I'll sit tight for now,] I sigh. [Hold down the fort as best you can.]

-x-X-x-

Jern woke, feeling his head pounding in his skull. He groaned and tried to sit up, his vision swimming before finally settling, letting him see that he'd been moved into one of the barracks. One of the Colony members must have pulled some beds in here to lie the comatose Templar down on.

Slowly shifting his head to the left, then to the right, Jern confirmed that he was indeed not alone. Alis was with him, along with Bertran, but he didn't see the kids.

"Trean? Emilia? Allison?" he called.

His voice was rough, as if he'd been shouting for hours, but he hadn't, had he?

Memories of the battle within the Nave returned to him in a rush. The tide of critters who had flooded in, trying to do something to it while he and the other fought them off desperately. It had seemed like it would never end, but eventually they stopped coming, not long before the Templar had been completely out on their feet. For some reason, fighting inside that place was so much more exhausting than doing battle on the platform. Some sort of spiritual drain, instead of a physical one? Maybe it was both. He did feel tired. In every way.

"Trean? Emilia? Allison?" he tried again, a little louder this time.

"We're here."

Barely a whisper, the pheromonal message brushed past him, so light it could have almost been mistaken for a stray scent in the air. Typical of the kids, they were always this secretive.

Craning his neck, he spotted them in a dark corner, huddled together and wrapped in blankets. With a groan, he pushed himself up and swung his legs off the side of the bed, feeling around for his shoes. It was almost pitch black inside the barracks, not unusual for areas of a nest dedicated to the ants, but even so, Jern could see just fine. The training of the nameless ones was especially strict on this point. If you couldn't find your way in total darkness, you wouldn't make it from one side of a room to the other inside the Sanctum.

Boots on, he stood and made his way over to the kids, squatting down a short distance away from them, Jern spoke to them, using his softest pheromones.

"How are you?" he asked. "Anyone hurt?"

The three kids looked somewhat the worse for wear. As strong as they were, it hadn't been enough to endure the draining war that had occurred within Anthony. Every time they struck down one of those… creatures, it had taken something out of them, something he couldn't identify.

"We're fine," one of them replied.

Again, the communication was so soft, a hushed whisper, he couldn't even tell which of them had said it. Jern looked around, but didn't see anyone paying attention to them.

There were many ants in the barracks, still as statues as they enjoyed their torpor, and it was difficult to say if they were watching or not, fancy all-direction eyes that they had, but he felt he was probably safe.

There's no need to be so quiet, he gestured to them clumsily using the secret language of the nameless.

They hissed at him. Hissed!

Eyes wide with fury, Emilia snapped out a series of gestures.

Not here! Do you want to be seen?

Then talk to me, Jern signed back, his gestures growing ever so slightly larger.

The three glared at him but he only smiled slightly.

"Fine," Trean said aloud. "We will talk."

A win. It wasn't easy to get these three to bend on anything, but it could be done with the right leverage.

"How long have you been awake?" Jern asked them. "Do you know what happened to Anthony?"

"Not long," Emelia replied, still a little sullen, "and I heard that the Eldest fell from the platform."

Jern's eyes widened. He what?

"That's not possible. I know he's alive."

All three of the young folk looked at him as if he were a fool. Of course, they all knew he was alive. Which meant either Anthony hadn't fallen, or he had, but found a way to survive anyway.

Jern felt fairly confident it was the second. He sighed. Well, nobody had ever said it was easy to follow a living ant-god.

"Do you have any idea how we're going to go and get him?" he asked hopefully.

He certainly had no plans. Jern had been told in no uncertain terms that leaving the safety of the platform would be almost-instant, painful death. There was no doubt in his mind that someone much smarter would need to find a workaround for him, then he could get out there and do what needed to be done.

"We've been talking to the nameless ones," Allison whispered to him. "They're working on something."

That was enough to put Jern's brows up. If they were going to move, he would need to get in touch so they could bring him along.

"What did they say?" he asked.

"They've been in contact with The Shadow. She went with the Eldest when he fell."

As if the nameless needed more motivation….

"They're trying to coordinate something, but moving through the fifth is going to be very difficult. Even for them."

It was hard for everyone, even secret shadow ants, apparently.

At least Jern could be confident someone was working on a solution. All he had to do was tag along.

"You should get some more rest," he suggested to the three.

They looked offended, but he only smiled at them.

"We might need to fight again soon. Better to rest while we can," he said, and shrugged.

Hoping they would take his advice, Jern left them and headed back to his own bed, kicking off his shoes and lying down once more. With a subtlety he hadn't displayed before, he left a faint message in the deepest pocket of shadow in the chamber, then pulled up his blankets. In minutes, he was softly snoring.

-x-X-x-

Reports came flooding in from all over the Colony at a frantic pace. There were problems everywhere. Tunnels were overflowing, channels were breaking, the hospitals were filled with mana-poisoned soldiers, supply lines were stretched and the platforms were being pressed harder than ever before.

Solant was in her element. She synthesised the information at a carapace-warping speed, making decisions to address the problems she could fix and working to mitigate the ones she couldn't. Supplies were redirected, stores were drawn down, reserves were committed, room was found, tactics adjusted, resources reallocated.

She had built the systems around her to be as robust as she possibly could, and they were now being strained right to their limits, but they were still holding. The decision-making processes needed her direct intervention more and more often, events continuing to diverge from the carefully prepared responses she had crafted in the buildup to the invasion, requiring novel and untrained responses.

Perhaps for any group outside of the Colony, it would have been impossible to hold on in these circumstances, but the ants were unique in their temperament. She knew every one of her sisters had complete and total faith in the others and they would hold the line, do the work and get the job done, no matter what.

All except one.

"You aren't going to get them?" the troublemaker asked, disbelieving.

"I am not," Solant replied. "Senior themself agreed with my decision. Going out into the fifth is too dangerous."

"Who cares about dangerous? Everything is dangerous! Dangerous is just another way of saying interesting!"

"No, it isn't."

"It is if you're BRILLIANT!"

"It still isn't."

"Bah! That kind of attitude is going to hold you back in the long run," Brilliant scoffed. "If you want to progress, you need to take chances! You need to be bold and brave! You need to accept a little danger."

Solant tipped her head to the side.

"Where do you think we are right now?" she pointed out.

Brilliant went to speak, then hesitated for a moment, looking around the chamber. It was in a state of chaos, hundreds of ants running in and out every second, the air so thick with pheromones her antennae itched. Of course this command chamber was in a fortress that had been built deep within the fifth stratum, known to be a deathtrap across the entirety of Pangera.

"Your point is well made," Brilliant conceded, but only for a moment. "If you understand the need to take on risk, then you should be perfectly happy with my rescue plan! We can pop out there, nab the Senior, then pop back, no problems at all!"

"Your dimensional magic doesn't work as well in the fifth."

"I can fix that," Brilliant laughed, waving off her concerns.

"How?"

Brilliant cackled.

"You want me to explain how dimensions are stitched together and the tricks I intend to use to get around the corrupting influence of the fifth?"

Solant nodded.

"Yes."

For once, Brilliant didn't quite seem to know what to say.

"Well… ah… are you sure you have the time?"

There did seem to be an awful lot of ants looking rather desperate to communicate with the little general. Frantic, even.

"If there is a way to safely return the Senior to us, then I will listen, but I won't approve anything without understanding the finer details."

Brilliant scratched at her head with one antennae.

"Do you… think that you… well… would you be able to… uh… comprehend it?"

She attempted to reach for tact, but failed rather spectacularly. Despite her intelligence, some might say genius (she definitely would), Brilliant was not in the habit of looking down on her siblings for not being as intellectually minded as she was. However, having to waste time explaining the intricacies of magic to someone who wasn't even a mage was enough to bring out her indelicate side.

"I have memorised the structural, mechanical, and arcane schematics of this entire fortress down to the last bolt," Solant clacked her mandibles without the slightest whiff of smug energy. "I devised the tactics used by every battalion within it and designed the logistics system that keeps it functional. Just because I have not turned my mind to the manipulation of mana does not mean I am unable to comprehend it. Begin your explanations quickly, if you would. I am rather busy."

Despite herself, Brilliant was a little impressed. Perhaps there might be another ant with an intelligence as formidable as her own!

She doubted it.

"Very well! I shall reveal to you the great secret! Everything I said about my plan to overcome the corruption of the fifth was a lie! I did not have a plan, but fully intended to wing it!" she declared proudly.

Solant nodded, slowly.

"I… see."

"I will still succeed," Brilliant insisted. "Do you know why?"

"Yes."

"BECAUSE I'M BRILLIANT!"

"I said yes," Solant sighed.

She shook her head.

"Your request is denied. Unless you have a concrete plan, I will not allow any ant to step foot outside the safe-zone until the wave has subsided."

"I think you'll find you don't have authority over me," Brilliant pointed out, with an abundance of smug energy.

There wasn't much the little general could say to that. She paused for a moment, turned, then placed an antenna on her sibling's carapace.

"You would be a tremendous loss to the Colony if you died. Think twice before you do something you aren't sure of."

Having said her piece, Solant could delay no longer and threw herself back into the fray. There were decisions to be made.

For her part, Brilliant simply looked confused.

"Think twice? Think twice?" She shook her head and laughed. "Who needs to think a second time? Absurd notion!"

-x-X-x-

The Krath were in a frenzy.

"Move back!" Thulziss bellowed, phlegm and mucus flying from his lips as he glared down at the others. He loomed large over them, radiating power and authority, yet he did not get the reaction he expected.

Some were cowed, especially those from his own tribe, the Gluzzgith, who had travelled from the heart to come to this blighted place, but others still roared back at him, foaming at the mouth.

"Can't you hear it?"

"It's cleansing filth! I'll tear it apart!"

"I can't take it! I can't take it!"

The last Krath, frothing with anger, eyes bulging to the point it seemed they might burst, lashed out, no longer able to contain their rage. Almost blind with anger, they sank their fangs into the Krath beside them, who screeched and retaliated in kind.

In moments, the entire scene would descend into chaos, Krath tearing each other apart in an orgy of violence that would kill dozens. The Krath'lath of the Gluzzgith sucked in a breath and let the rage boil in his voice.

"BE STILL OR I WILL TEAR YOU APART!" he roared, the threat resonating in the air as the thick, acrid scent of his unfathomably concentrated acid spread.

He moved amongst the crowd, daring them to defy him, his maw gaping wide to reveal his enormous fangs. It was difficult for them, he could see that they were deep in the grip of the rage, and he didn't blame them, he felt exactly the same.

When finally the last of the crowd had been cowed, Thulziss moved decisively; as the leader of the undisputed largest tribe in the area, his presence commanded respect.

"Get them out of here," he commanded the various Krath'lath of the smaller tribes in attendance. "Move to the first staging ground. That should be far enough from the fortress."

"Has the way been made safe?" Ulliz demanded.

"If you don't leave, you will find this place will grow increasingly unsafe," Thulziss growled.

Ulizz, Krath'lath of the Bulg, understood him immediately. With the help of the others, they were able to keep the slugs in line long enough to get them moving away from the fortress. Thulziss, along with the other Krath who were strong enough of will to resist the rage, waited to ensure that nothing went wrong as the other tribes withdrew.

All the while, the singing resonated in their minds.

Pure, clean sounds rang like peals of unsullied water, washing against their thoughts and trying to soothe their souls. Endlessly, effortlessly, the song invaded, calling, seeking, desperately crying out for acceptance and peace.

They hated it.

Like needles poking them right in their guts, the song was intolerable to every Krath that heard it. Its purity offended them. Its appeal disgusted them. Its cleanliness was so rage-inducing, no Krath could possibly endure it.

Should they remain in its presence any longer, they would tear each other apart before they managed to reorganise any sort of assault on the fortress. Whatever the song was, it was inimical to the Krath. Theorazzn was right to seek its destruction.

"If we can't endure the song any longer, then how are we going to attack the fortress?" Chozth demanded.

Of all the various Krath'lath of these minor tribes, Thulziss approved of Chozth the most. She was a real Krath, determined, vicious and brutal, eager to do the work of the Ancient and visit innumerable horrors upon her enemies.

"We will have to work on a countermeasure," he replied. "We can endure the song for a time, but every slug has its limits. If it doesn't stop, we will need to find a way to block it out until we can get inside the fortress and eat whatever is creating the dreadful racket."

The massive slug didn't even have adequate words to describe how much the song repelled him. It was antithetical to his senses, and every cell in his body cried out to annihilate the creatures responsible. The acid within his body stirred and burned with every note, searing his flesh and burning in his throat.

He turned away from the fortress before he lost control and surged toward it in a fit of blind rage.

"Have the others retreated?" he grated out.

"We're only waiting for the slugs we sent down to retrieve the body of the ant," Chozth told him. "They should be here shortly."

They'd have to be quick… otherwise they too might have succumbed to the song….

Just as he was thinking it, the large Krath'lath sensed movement nearby and turned to see a group of slugs dragging up something from below. Whatever it was, pulling it up the sheer vertical surface that plunged down into the depths below was clearly a chore and a half.

Chozth's eyes glittered as she looked at them, particularly at the sturdy scout at their head.

"Zluth. Good of you to finally join us."

The slug, Zluth, grinned savagely.

"It would have been easier if you'd stayed and helped lift this cursed creature."

"You had no problems with the song?" Thulziss asked, cutting through the useless chatter.

Zluth spat a wad of acid onto the ground.

"Nothing we couldn't handle," he said. "Could I ask you mighty Krath'lath to help us pull this thing? It's unbelievably heavy."

-x-X-x-

There was a rising sense of urgency amongst the Brood Tenders. They worked as they always did, with a sense of calm and control. They were the most critical workers in the entire Colony, tasked with the greatest responsibility, to care for and raise the future generations. They were an unshakeable force whose cool and calm was impossible to rattle.

Yet this situation was unlike anything Theresant had seen before.

The young Chal would simply not stop singing.

The Tenders had tried to distract them. It didn't work.

They'd encouraged them to sleep, to no avail.

Offering them toys, or activities, or food, none of it had worked. Being so exhausted, they were beginning to droop and fall over, passing out as they became overwhelmed with fatigue.

Theresant herself had led an effort to communicate with the hatchlings via performative dance, but the attempt had failed miserably, the young chal not even acknowledging their efforts.

If the situation continued for much longer, the young ones might suffer permanent damage to their voices. Thinking of the stress and suffering her charges were enduring was enough to cause Theresant to grind her mandibles in frustration. This was entirely intolerable to the Brood Tenders! They had to do something.

And yet, no matter what they tried, nothing worked. They were down to one, final idea, little as they believed in it.

"We have no choice," Theresant announced. "According to the Colony's singular music expert, the chal are calling out to someone, hoping for a reply. If that's the case, we will need to create that reply ourselves. Mozant!" she snapped.

Alone in the corner, antennae gently swaying in the air as she 'listened' to the music, the ant jumped.

"Wha? What?"

"You must write a reply to the hatchlings. Quickly! We will find a way to perform it and hope that they are satisfied."

"M-me?!" Mozant said, aghast. "Write the music? I am unworthy!"

"Who else can do it?" Theresant demanded, her normal calm, nurturing attitude fracturing in the heat of the moment. "The rest of us have only understood the basic elements of musical structure that we've taught to the young ones. None of us can write music. Only you can."

"B-but you don't understand! Their song is such… such a thing of beauty! Anything I wrote would only sully it!"

"It doesn't have to be perfect, it only has to satisfy the hatchlings," Theresant replied, impatient. "Or are you satisfied to watch as they sing themselves unconscious?"

Despite her reservations, Mozant was still a Brood Tender; she could not bear to let the young suffer. Gritting her mandibles, she firmed her will.

"Very well. I will try. Clear me a space. A space, I said! I must create!"

So saying, Mozant swept back the shock of white 'hair' atop her head, causing it to fuzz up wildly as the writing materials of the Colony were summoned for her to begin.

So began a nervous wait as the Brood Tenders continued to do all they could to ensure the hatchlings were comfortable while Mozant underwent her creative process.

As it turned out, it was quite a process.

"DISGUSTING! APPALLING! It makes me SICK!" she roared, throwing the piece she had been working to the side with a violent sweep of a foreleg. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! This isn't right, not right at all!"

She dragged her white hair through the elbow joints of her forelegs, a soothing and cleaning gesture as she continued to rant to herself.

"If I come so crudely over the top of their own harmony, it will seem like dominance, a demand for submission and obedience. It should be a partnership, a joining of equals striving towards a common goal. So… so where do I harmonise? I could move an octave down, be a strong supporting influence… or perhaps sing a counter-harmony that interlaces with their own? How would that sound? How would it sound?!"

Flailing wildly, Mozant rolled around on the ground, legs kicking and antennae flailing. Several Tenders moved to see if she was alright, but she pushed them all away.

"No! Shut up! I think I have something!"

Throwing herself back to her desk, she began to write a new song, using her scent gland to mark the special tablets used by the Colony.

"Yes. YES. I can hear it. The notes are flowing out endlessly. It's… it's so beautiful!"

In the back of her mind, Mozant made a note that she should add tear-ducts in her next evolution so she could weep with joy, as the humans did.

Except… a few minutes later….

"NO! It's GARBAGE! How could I ever imagine that this was good?! It's FILTH. DISGUSTING!"

With another wild fling of her legs, she swept her work on the floor and tried to stomp on it, only to find she was too weak to destroy the reinforced stone with flimsy ant legs. Giving up, she once again flung herself on the floor, rolling and flailing until once again, inspiration struck!

Desperate to break the cycle and make some progress, Theresant watched and waited. Mozant's work was getting better, it took longer and longer for her to throw it away after each revision, but if they waited until she produced something she was actually happy with, the chal would have collapsed, or perhaps worse….

The next time Mozant went to destroy her work, Theresant lunged and deftly snatched it out of the air with her mandibles. Turning swiftly, she passed it to another Brood Tender waiting at the door to the chamber.

"Take it and get copies made! Prepare the singers!" she ordered, passing the tablet.

Without hesitation, the Tender raced away, just quick enough to avoid Mozant's diving lunge.

"No! Nooooo! It's sewerage! You hear me? RAW SEWERAGE! Singing it to the chal will be like pouring foul muck into their ears! Bring it back!"

"We don't have time," Theresant snapped. "Get yourself together and go help prepare the singers. We're doing this now."

Of course, the ants couldn't perform the music, even if one of them wrote it. They had no way to vocalise, singing was entirely out of the question. Yet, they could put on the same charade they had been doing for weeks, pretending to sing as they taught music theory to the chal while others provided their voices to the act. This would be no different.

To Theresant, stepping into the chamber was a painful experience. The song of the chal might not have made sense to her, she may not have 'heard' it as others might, but even so, she could feel its power. Despite their flagging strength, the little snails had pure, piercing voices, and their hope and sorrow rang in the air clear as a bell.

Even more than their song, their tiny, wilting selves gave the Tenders who saw them great pain.

This is going to work, Theresant thought to herself. This HAS to work.

Reluctantly, Mozant took up her position before the gathered Brood Tenders, who had arranged themselves as a choir, facing the little snails.

"Although it pains me," she grumbled, "we don't have time to rehearse. Try to follow my instructions while you pretend to sing so it looks more convincing. In five, four, three, two…"

-x-X-x-

Mozant was unspeakably nervous. She had been designated as the Tender with the most musical mind, her work on the curriculum for the hatchlings being the best of any of the ants. As such, she had been chosen to evolve and expand her musical capacity, to take mutations and Skills that would expand her mastery of sound, something the Colony knew and cared little about.

It had been… a liberating experience. Free to pursue this one subject to its limits, she had been able to unleash all of her passion, all of her drive and dedication toward music. She studied composition, she composed, she pestered the experts the Colony had summoned day and night.

Her expertise had grown rapidly in a short time, and yet, she felt she was no closer to actually understanding it than she had been before.

It was hard! It made no sense! Why did things sound good to some people, and not to others?! Sometimes the notes were mathematically pleasing, vibrations spaced at even distances along frequency spectrums to create chords, and harmonies. Other times, they were not, discordant notes sending shivers running along her carapace!

She had developed a thousand strong opinions about music during the course of her learning, only to throw all of them away.

And now, they were going to perform her work for the chal. Her disgusting, inferior work! To a musician, the chal were like creatures of light and magic. Even newly hatched, they were able to sing and weave harmonies with only the bare minimum of training. They were a race capable of literally changing the world with song, for goodness' sake. She knew they were going to hate her work. Having it performed in front of them was like having nails scraping the inside of Mozant's carapace.

Intolerable!

But she would tolerate it anyway, for the sake of the little ones.

After counting down, it began. The ants arrayed in front of her were not performing, because of course they weren't. Behind the arrayed ant choir stood a glass panel, opaque on this side, but quite see-through on the other. Beyond that stood the real choir, a gathering of humans, bruan'chii, the odd set'sulah and even a few magpei, the most gifted and well-trained musicians the Colony could find on short notice. It was to them that Mozant looked and directed her gestures.

The chal continued to sing their little hearts out, a sorrowful melody that rose and fell along with their hopes. Despite their flagging energy, some of the snails quite literally flat on the ground, yet still they were singing, still hoping. She had heard it enough times to know it like the back of her mandibles. Each of the fine hairs sprouting from the top of her head was alive with the vibrations of their song. She could feel it, tickling at the edges of her brain.

She raised her forelegs and, with a sweeping gesture, brought the choir in.

Theresant and the others did a workable job with their miming, but more importantly, the real choir did well to follow her lead, their sound flowing through the panels open around the window and filtering into the snailcare centre.

Softly at first, her song was light and delicate. A sprinkling of notes, a counterpoint that emphasised the sorrow and hope of the snail's own song.

Yes, you are alone and you do not want to be. I know that. Your sadness is my sadness, Mozant was trying to say.

The chal did not react, continuing to sing as they had before. Mozant had half expected them to turn and vomit, purging themselves of their stomachs' contents along with the horrid feeling of disgust her music no doubt caused them, but they did not. A good sign or not, she couldn't say.

She continued to sweep her forelegs, guiding and directing the singers who had been given almost no time to familiarise themselves with the music.

It rose now, slowly, cautiously, interweaving itself with the snail song, a swelling wave that rose from beneath, supporting and strengthening. With a firm foundation, the soaring exhortation of the chal became even more powerful, more pure. It pierced Mozant in the heart, igniting her very spirit with fire and sending tingling waves coursing through her entire body.

Yes! YES! It was working!

With each moment that passed, she became more immersed in the music. The shame and disgust began to recede, replaced by an overflowing energy that she could not describe. Her movements became sharper and sharper, her hair whipping from side to side as she conducted the choir. She couldn't see anymore, her brain simply paid no attention to visual information. What use was it? What was the point? She wanted to hear, wanted to feel.

Now came the critical moment.

With a sharp gesture, Mozant brought her legs low, cutting off the choir completely. Then, slowly, she raised them again, urging the singers to come with her, to rise to the occasion.

She had told the chal that she understood their pain, that they were supported and loved, now she needed to tell them that they were not alone, that the partnership they sought was right in front of them all along.

Desperate to continue their miming, the Brood Tenders were holding on as best they could, but they couldn't sing, couldn't understand the power of what Mozant was doing.

For those behind the window, she knew they felt it the same way she did, and it shook her right to her core.

Once more the choir rose up, no longer supporting the chal, no longer holding firm beneath their melody, but interweaving with it, filling in those gaps the snails had deliberately left open. They wanted someone to sing with them, someone to come and complete the music they had made.

Mozant wanted to tell them we are here. The Colony is here, we will sing with you.

It wasn't perfect, there were mistakes, burrs in the song that stabbed Mozant deeply, but she pushed forward, refusing to let the blemishes bring her out of the haze she had found herself in. Surrounded by beautiful sounds, she felt her consciousness rise to a higher plane, into a world of sound and light.

With growing confidence, the choir repeated the refrain, their own song dancing around that of the snails, rising when theirs fell, retreating when they rose. For every call, there was a response, for every question, there was an answer.

As desperately as Mozant wanted to turn and look at the chal, she knew it was pointless, as she had abandoned her eyes. Only the sound mattered, only that.

And… the chal… their song was changing.

It was subtle, but slowly an evolution was taking place. It was growing… sadder.

At first, Mozant was plunged into the depths of despair. Her music! Her awful, putrid music! It had wounded their ears and spirits! However, the more she listened, the more she realised this wasn't the case. The chal were no longer asking as powerfully as before, their seeking questions had become muted as if they no longer expected a reply. Instead, their voices were filled with melancholy, minor notes in falling arpeggios spoke of a deep sadness the hatchlings felt, knowing they would never get the answer that they had hoped for.

And yet, they had received an answer.

As the questions fell away, the sadness gave way to acceptance. Effortlessly, the chal switched up their song in unison, a transition to a soft major key to support the higher registers still descending in minor. There was hope. There was a quiet joy. There was a letting go.

And then, the sound cut off entirely.

Shocked, Mozant froze, only to sweep her legs sharply a moment later, cutting off her own choir. Where moments ago there had been heart-rending song, now there hung a heavy silence, so profound it seemed as if all the sound in the world had been sucked away.

Pulled out of her trance, Mozant swung around wildly to see the little snails, exhausted and pale, some trembling with fatigue, looking at her, at the other ants. Then, as if nothing had happened, they turned and began to slide away, curling into the beds the Tenders had placed nearby and retreating into their shells.

Except for one.

The little snail, clearly exhausted, slid toward Mozant slowly, and she stepped towards it, wanting to help.

The little snail was crystal blue, with eyes that shone like stars, its shell the colour of a glittering rainbow. Its moustache of pure white was disheveled after its efforts, yet still provided an air of grace and wisdom to the young creature.

Mozant leant down, reaching toward the hatchling. What did it want? What did it have to say?

When it was close enough, the snail looked up and, after a pause, trilled a few short notes at the much larger ant. Then, slowly, painfully, it turned and began to slide to the beds where the others were already sleeping.

Mozant, frozen in place, felt those notes rumble through her head like thunder.

"Is it over? Mozant? Is everything alright?"

Delighted that the chal were going to sleep, had finally stopped singing, Theresant rushed to her fellow Tender and shook her on the shoulder, finding her totally unresponsive.

Only for the white-haired ant to fling herself on the ground, writhing and kicking.

"Of course! It's so obvious! My melody was such GARBAGE, and they knew it ALL ALONG!"

-x-X-x-

You might think there's nothing to do when you're wrapped up in a cocoon of slime and being rolled around the Dungeon, heading toward a slime-pool of doom created by a god-monster several thousand years old, and you'd be right!

At least I had people to talk to.

[Crinis, for the last time, I am not letting you live inside me. Stop asking, it's never going to happen.]

[I wouldn't ask if you stopped getting in trouble like this,] she told me primly. [You make all of us worry, and how can we help you if you won't let us close to you?]

Ugh, this again. Everyone wants to babysit me, the Colony, my own pets. I didn't have to worry about anything like this when I was a human! In fact, nobody paid much attention to me at all.

[There's a difference between being 'close to me', and 'inside my body'. My carapace is not a house!]

[Maybe it should be.]

[Not happening.]

Crinis goes back to sulking and I can't help but sigh. I don't want to make her upset, but at the same time I don't want to have a ball of endless darkness and horror living inside me. My carapace is for me, it's not such an outrageous demand! I am going to have to make some sort of concession eventually. The fact that I do keep ending up in these situations is true, after all. Well, it's not that bad.

I'm surrounded by the mana equivalent of deadly toxin, sure, but it isn't getting through to me right now. On top of that, I'm starting to win the war against the poisonous mana that already seeped within me, which is also a plus. My wounds are healing, I'm reducing the amount of toxin inside me, this is all a win!

Well, it would be if I weren't being steadily moved further and further away from the fortress. I'm still easily in range of the Vestibule, but I won't be forever. Once I lose contact with the fortress, things are going to get pretty dangerous. Out here, I'm fairly helpless. If I break the slime cocoon, I'll be bombarded with a lethal dose of toxic mana in minutes. Once the wave subsides and the concentration of energy falls, I can jump out of here and kick slug backside, no problems. Until then, I kind of have to stay put.

[Hey, Solant, how are things going over there?]

I reach out to the little general using my Nave, just to avoid having to keep arguing with Crinis. Also because I'm bored.

[Busy,] she says curtly.

[Would you… care to elaborate?]

[No.]

How rude! Why does she think I'm out here in the first place? I fell off that platform, fighting to the last, to keep my siblings safe! I mean really.

[Oi, I think you can spare a thought or two, don't you? I'm really bored out here.]

There comes a long mental sigh, and I feel her thoughts slowly turn towards me, like a Queen ant turning toward a particularly lively grub.

[Yes?] she says.

[Yeesh. You are getting such a thwacking when I get back.]

[... This does not incentivise me to ensure your safe return.]

[You need incentive?! Is this the sort of treatment I get from my own family?!]

[Of course not,] Solant sighs. [We will do everything we can to bring you back. I apologise if I seem rude, but there really is a great deal going on here.]

[Quick update, then I'm out of your head.]

[Very well. We continue to pull in as much power as we can process, which is increasing the strain on the already overloaded network. The vents are still spewing forth mana, clearly the Krath believe we won't be able to hold out forever, but so far we are containing the damage. Barely.]

[That sounds… dangerous.]

[Without harnessing this energy, we will not be able to hit our quotas. It is necessary.]

[Wouldn't want to miss a quota. Anything else?]

[The battles on the platforms continue to become more and more difficult. We are suffering from severe attrition. I believe you hurt the Krath badly on your own platform, which has relieved the pressure there, but that doesn't mean they aren't pressing at the others. So far, we have managed to hold, but the situation is in flux. I am constantly moving battalions and adjusting tactics. In fact, I intend to head to one of the most pressed battlefields and take command myself.]

[Oh shoot. Is it really that bad?]

[It is challenging,] she allows, [but we will win.]

[Never in doubt.]

As promised, I cut the connection, thinking about what I've heard. Things are rough at the fortress, but they're holding on. They don't need to last that much longer, if our predictions are right. The wave has peaked already, so as long as it falls soon, all will be well. If not, then I need to figure something out, quick.

-x-X-x-

Pets can be exceptionally powerful assets in the Dungeon, and much has been written about them, but I find a great deal of the discourse settles on the expense of raising them.

Some argue that pouring valuable cores into a pet is a wise investment, since delving the Dungeon with a capable monster by your side makes the endeavour much, much safer. Others dismiss this attitude, saying that by the time the pet has become strong enough to assist on deep delves, the person raising it has already spent so much they could have retired.

This purely transactional attitude does not take into account all that a good pet can be. More than an asset, more than a tool, they can be a loyal companion and friend who will never turn their back on you. Indeed, they are incapable of it.

-Excerpt from 'Delving Tips' by Bolsen Smith

Tiny was furious. Not the usual, simmering anger that he channeled into his fists, but a deep-burning, chest-thumping rage that pulled his lips back in a permanent snarl and sent waves of heat rolling through his chest. His friend the little-eye could sense it as well.

[Be calmsssss,] Little-Eye urged him, but Tiny found it harder and harder to listen.

Despite his inner conflict, the giant ape's fighting style had never been more disciplined or controlled. Elbows tight to his sides, his fists flickered out too fast to see and returned twice as fast. Compact, quick, Tiny wove his body in unpredictable patterns, his feet dancing across the diamond coating of the platform. Always perfectly balanced, able to shift his weight in any direction at any time. A poison-tipped spike flashed towards him and Tiny felt a surge of fury. With the slightest slip of his head, he allowed the projectile to blast by him. Lightning coiled around his shoulder, charge building until…

SNAP!

His coiled muscles detonated like an explosion, the light around his fist blasting outwards along with a bolt of electricity that boomed with thunder. The target of his wrath was obliterated, seared by lightning and crushed by the impact of the light from his fist, but Tiny was already moving, weaving to another target, positioning his feet just so, rotating his body, shifting his weight. His right fist snapped out, the light forming and rocketing away so fast it looked like Tiny was launching flares into the fifth.

Punch, punch, duck, shift, weave, punch, punch, punch, lightning blast.

Sweat poured down the bat-faced ape's leathery skin, soaking his fur and dripped off his brow. He couldn't maintain this for long, but he wouldn't stop, not until the anger was gone.

[You couldss hurt yourssselfsss,] Little-Eye warned him.

Tiny roared.

Thick ropes of electricity snaked around his upper arms, crackling and twisting as he unleashed the storm within himself. With a deafening boom, Tiny thrust his arms forward and sent a deadly arc of lightning into the faces of the oncoming monsters. They hissed and howled, but he didn't relent. His vision went white as his own eyes began to blaze with electric energy. His own body felt seared, dangerously burning within as his organs emptied out all of the potent lightning energy they'd gathered.

Lightning surged, discharging from his palms in an endless surge as he bellowed his fury.

When he finally ran out of energy, Tiny felt drained, the crackling light that normally filled him gone. His muscles steamed as the heat rolled off him in waves, his innards ached, probably singed by the sheer volume of lightning he'd pushed out. Physically weary, Tiny fell onto his backside, breathing deeply. In moments, the ants were on him, checking, healing, giving him comforting pats as they worked to make sure he hadn't taken any lasting harm.

He let them, grateful for their help, but he paid them little mind, focused instead on the surging anger that still burned within him.

[I toldsss you,] Little-eye said. [Doesssn't get them back.]

[Know that,] Tiny grunted back, curling his fingers into fists.

He knew that, but it didn't help. Tiny knew he wasn't smart. There were things he was good at (punching) and there were things he was not (thinking about stuff that wasn't punching). Right now, his Master and his Sister had gone away, gone somewhere Tiny couldn't follow, and he didn't know how to get them back.

A giant, bat-faced gorilla with unbreakable bones, wings of shadow and the power to shatter the hardest steel with his fists, Tiny was not used to feeling helpless.

[You're smart. You think how to get them back,] he told his Brother, Little-eye.

[I amssss. It will takessss me timessss. It issss hard, but you needsssss to waitssss.]

This was the same thing he had said before. Tiny knew it. He even accepted it. But it was hard.

[Try.]

And he would. He would try. It wouldn't be easy to hold back his surging anger, but he would try. Hopefully his smarter brother was able to come up with something soon, because he didn't think he'd be able to hold on for long.

If it came down to it, he would go out into the tunnels and he would punch everything that tried to keep him from his family.

If monsters got in his way, he would punch them.

If the sneaky slugs tried to stop him, he would punch them.

If the nasty mana tried to slow him down, well, he would punch that too.

-x-X-x-

It wasn't always easy being the smartest person in the room. Yet, Brilliant wasn't just the smartest person in the room, she was the smartest person anywhere.

What a burden she bore upon her carapace.

Surely there were people, or monsters, out there with higher Cunning than she had, of course there were. In fact, one could be found not far away, her Senior's brainy pet demon had more mind-matter than she possessed by a large margin.

And yet... did that make Invidia smarter than her? Clearly not, since she was the one named Brilliant.

No, her inexhaustible mental faculties were dedicated to something other than weaving mana and casting spells, she had no time for that sort of nonsense. Her brain was wholly consumed with the knowing of things. Secrets she would ferret out, puzzles she would solve and mysteries she would de-mystify.

Right now, there was a particular puzzle she was working on, and it was proving to be rather tricky.

"I've told you already, we can't go out into the mana of the fifth," Assistant groaned. "We'll melt into a puddle in five minutes."

"Bah! Can't is not a word I'm interested in unless there is hard data. And explosions! You know very well we aren't planning on travelling by mundane means, so don't bother me with your useless prattle! I don't intend to expose us to the contaminating energy of the fifth for more than a split second!"

Assistant clacked her mandibles in frustration and tried to keep her temper. Brilliant was being unreasonable again, which was perfectly normal for her, but being shifted from one impossible project to another in a short span of time had done nothing good for Assistant's state of mind. Of course, they should do everything they could to save the Eldest, that was their duty, but plucking them out of danger using an alternate dimension?

"We don't understand how those dimensions interact with our own well enough to try and move something as powerful as the Eldest through it," she said, sensibly. "Nor how to get in and out of it. You can do it, thanks to your evolutions and such, but we can't."

In fact, Assistant had no idea how Brilliant managed to hop from one dimension to the next. She had some ability that let her perceive them, an organ or mutation, but as for the actual jumping about? It was a mystery to everyone.

"That's what the experiments are for!" Brilliant declared, sweeping her leg in a grand gesture around the lab.

"D-d-d-did you call me?" Experimant asked from behind a nearby desk.

"No, don't worry!" Brilliant declared cheerfully, turning back to her instruments.

"Yes, you said you want to check dimensions for stability, but how are we supposed to do that? We haven't created the methodology! We're starting from scratch and we have to be ready in... hours!"

"That, my dear sibling, is why I am creating... this!" Brilliant declared, turning around and waving a design document in the air with great vigor. "Once we make it, we should be able to determine the relative stability of a given dimension at a particular point in space and time. With that, we can work out which will be our best path to move through the fifth without entering the fifth! It's BRILLIANT!"

"You have the design?"

"I do!"

"How long is it going to take you to build it?" Assistant asked.

Brilliant waved away her concerns.

"I can't be bothered with such details. I never make them myself."

"There's no way it'll be ready in time!" Assistant screeched, dragging her antennae through her elbow joints so hard it felt like they were going to be pulled out from the root.

"I-I-I-It's r-r-ready," Experimant said, creeping out from behind her table to place the device in front of Brilliant.

"Ah, many thanks, Experimant!" she beamed, with a happy clack of her mandibles. "I'm glad I gave those plans to you yesterday. Right, where were we?"

Assistant, somehow, managed to gloss over that.

"We still don't have a safe path through," she insisted. "We know the mana from the fifth bleeds into everything that it touches, and that includes other mana and dimensions! How are we supposed to find a dimension that is stable enough and doesn't suffer from the mana bleed so badly we get infected with it?!"

To her shock and horror, the entire lab plunged into complete darkness in an instant. Such a deep and penetrating shadow could only mean one thing....

Assistant threw herself on the ground.

"I went for torpor yesterday! Take Brilliant, not me! She hasn't rested in forever, she's guilty!"

She laid there, covering her carapace with her legs and waiting for the inevitable wave of drowsiness to come over her. Yet, as the moments ticked over, it didn't come.

"I take regular naps, I'll have you know," Brilliant huffed from nearby.

The darkness slowly receded to reveal a single, small ant, no different than any other, standing in the middle of the lab, looking at them. Assistant feared her deeply.

"I am the Nameless One," the ant told them. "I believe I know of a way to get you where you want to go."

"Shadow dimension?" Brilliant mused, clacking her mandibles. "That just might work."

-x-X-x-

"We need to move faster," Chozth demanded. "At this rate, it will take a week to reach the heart and give this invader what it deserves."

She followed her statement with a powerful strike to the side of the ooze cocoon that contained the giant ant. However, power was relative, and no Krath had ever considered their arms strong, sticklike as they were. Zluth doubted the monster within felt a thing.

"We are at the peak of a wave," Zluth hissed at her. "Moving through the Dungeon is dangerous enough even without dragging this giant sack around with us."

A noise grabbed his attention and he swivelled his eyes, flattening himself against the tunnel wall on reflex. After a few moments of careful examination, he resumed his normal size, confident that they were, for the time being, safe.

Discontent with his lack of respect, Chozth glared at him, but was smart enough to know she should defer to the experienced scout at times like this. Zluth had successfully traversed sections of Dungeon that no other scout would even attempt in recent months. It would be foolish to argue with him.

"Then how can we move faster? The less time we spend in the tunnels, the safer we will be."

Objectively true, yet there wasn't much Zluth could do to fix the situation.

"Have the ants pursued us into the tunnels?" he asked. "Mulzoz was going to watch them."

"Nothing so far," Chozth spat angrily. "The ants are more cowardly than we thought."

"Or smarter. They may be willing to sacrifice this one in order to keep their invasion alive."

They hadn't expected this. The Krath had been confident that the ants, who had shown they would go to extraordinary lengths to prevent even one of them from being taken, would stop at nothing to retrieve their leader. That the giant monster had preferred to let itself be taken rather than allow its allies to take on risk and help said all that needed to be said.

"If they don't come, their invasion is still over," Chozth burbled gleefully. "Once this beast is turned, we can set it against its own kind. How will they react when their own champion returns to them, dripping with malice and hate?"

Zluth also felt a surge of savage, hate-filled joy at the thought. The cursed ants and their invasion had gone on too long to be tolerated. It was time for them to feel the true terror of the Krath and fight against one of their own. He couldn't wait to see what emerged from the primordial slime once the ant had been tossed in. A shambling horror, no doubt, its mind twisted and warped like all the others who had experienced Theorazzn's touch.

"What's going on back here?" Thulziss growled as he slid around the corner. "We have a hundred warriors holding down this section of tunnel so we can plot our way forward, not hold conversations!"

At the appearance of the massive, mighty Krath'lath, Zluth was careful to appear less threatening and defiant. Even the formidable Chozth was less vocal around the leader of the Gluzzgith, deferring to his authority. Ever since he had emerged with his tribe's warriors from the heart, Thulziss had been the leader of their assault by virtue of the strength of his tribe and his own power. No other slug was willing to stand against him, therefore, he was in charge, and he did not tolerate fools.

"We are plotting our path," Zluth said, "but this area is known to be treacherous. We could take a longer, safer route, but Krath'lath Chozth suggested we should move faster and spend less time exposed. We were weighing up our options."

The fact that he was even allowed to speak directly to Thulziss without having his head bitten off showed just how high Zluth had risen over the course of the invasion. When this was all dealt with and over, his tribe, the lowly Slee, would ascend high along with him. When he thought of the rewards that would come his way when all was said and done, the saliva hissed and bubbled in his mouth. New Slimegrounds, expanded territory, his pick of Krath to absorb into the tribe.

He couldn't wait, and all he had to do was make sure he didn't lose the favour of the powerful tribe leaders around him now that he had it.

If the ant monster was able to break down the fortress after it had been turned, then he would be hailed as the most cunning and vicious Krath who took part in this fight.

Thulziss snarled and spat, eyes sweeping the tunnel atop their stalks.

"We will go that way," he said, pointing with one arm.

Zluth turned to look down the tunnel, confused.

"There? That... can I ask why?" he said, catching himself before he declared it a foolish idea.

Thulziss grinned savagely.

"The minor tribes are not told all the secrets of the Krath, since you lack the strength to defend them."

Zluth grew still, carefully not reacting as he felt the rage boiling off of Chozth. If she didn't know this particular secret, did that mean Thulziss considered her Thuuz to be a 'minor tribe'?

"Every tribe has shortcuts cut into the stone," Thulziss went on, not acknowledging the insult he had levied. "The Gluzzgith are no exception, even up here. We will still have to fight our way down, but it will be faster, and safer. Get moving."

-x-X-x-

Hmmmmm.

Thanks to the most broken of all Skills, Tunnel Map, which somehow works even though I can't see a thing, I can tell that the Krath have managed to drag me to a shortcut. The speed they're taking me away from the fortress is really accelerating right now.

I'm not happy about it.

[Hey, is there any sign of the wave finishing yet?] I ask Solant, interrupting her thoughts.

[A moment… Not yet.]

Dangit! I was sure it was going to be dropping by now… this isn't good. Every moment, I'm being dragged further and further away from safety and closer and closer to a swim I do not wish to take! If I don't manage to get myself out of this situation, I'm going to be very, very annoyed with me.

[Master? Is there a problem?] Crinis asks me.

[What? Nooooo. Why would there be a problem?]

[Because you threw yourself off the platform.]

Oof. That's cold.

[Yes, alright, things aren't exactly ideal right now, I'm aware. I was checking with Solant to see if the mana concentration was going down and she tells me it isn't.]

[Why don't you just check for yourself?]

[Because I don't want the Krath to know I'm awake and alert in here! If they tear open this cocoon of slime, we'll both be toast. I'd rather avoid that scenario if I can.]

[But they can't detect you using your special organ to communicate?]

[It seems not.]

Now that Crinis mentions it, I am a little surprised they can't, actually. I'm glad, but a little surprised. This lends more weight to the theory that they didn't have anything to do with the spiritual assaults that were made on my Nave. If they knew about the Nave and Vestibule well enough to actually attack it, then they would know enough to sniff out communication, surely?

Either it can't be done, or they don't know anything about it, which would mean there was another culprit. I already had someone in mind, but this does make it much more likely my suspect is the one to blame.

I guess I don't have any other option than to go with the flow, still. My wounds are well on the way to healing at this stage, thanks to repeated use of the regeneration gland, and the war against contamination continues, my mind-constructs continue to work hard, fighting to break down the invasive mana faster than it can replicate itself. With every passing minute, the battle tips ever so slightly more in my favour, since less of the native energy of the fifth within my body means the speed it creates more decreases.

Looking forward to the moment when that is finally dealt with. If I had a healer with me to help deal with the internal damage, I would have been able to recover so much faster, but there was no way I was going to drag one of them out here with me.

Once I'm fully recovered, that'll be something, at least. Even if I have to hop out of my protective little shell, I'll be able to last at least for a little while, long enough to inflict some serious pain on the Krath nearby. Gweheheheh.

Thinking about the Vestibule invasion has put the Templars back into my mind. I wonder what they're up to. Even more than that, I hope they aren't planning anything silly.

Of all of them, Bertram and Jern are probably the most calm. I imagine the three kids are fairly worked up, and Alis can be a bit… fiery. I'll check in with the more levelheaded of my spiritual defenders and make sure they aren't doing anything foolish.

[Hey there, Bertram! Anthony here. How are you doing?']

[Gah!Anthony? Is that you?]

[Yes? Who else is going to contact you like this and introduce themselves as Anthony?]

[Well… only you, I suppose. Hah. You caught me off guard is all.]

Why does he sound so nervous? So shifty? Bertram is the newest of my Templars, but he's a pretty stand-up sort of fellow, a bit of a gadgeteer who made his living tinkering and doing odd jobs for most of his life. Dodgy dealings are certainly not his forte.

[Are you doing something you shouldn't be, Bertram?]

[Me? O-of course not!] he says, entirely unconvincingly. [Certainly, I don't have any knowledge of any rescue plans. I-I mean… why would I? Who is there who even needs rescuing?]

[Uh… me?]

[O-oh! You-you do? I hadn't heard! Erm… Oh no!]

This guy… is absolutely the worst liar in the history of the universe. I can't imagine what that must be like, considering my own incredible skill and suave manner of speech, Bertram however, is practically leaking guilt with every thought he sends my way!

[Why don't you tell me about this rescue plan?] I ask him.

[Uhh… what rescue plan is that, Anthony? C-certainly none that I know of! Ha-ha!]

I'll leave you to it, then. I'm going to talk to Jern.

As always, the big fellow has a very placid and calm mind, never too worked up about anything is Jern.

[Jern! Anthony here! Bertram seems to be working on some sort of hairbrained rescue scheme. Can you go tell him to stop before he gets hurt? I'd appreciate it.]

[Hello, Anthony,] he greets me, unsurprised by my sudden communication. This man is like a cucumber buried in an arctic hillside. Way too cool.

[Oh, I can't do that, sorry,] he tells me.

Uh… what?

[Why?!] I demand.

Is he trying to get his fellow Templar hurt or something? The idea of Bertram waging war on the fifth with a cast iron skillet is making me very worried!

[Because he's working on my rescue plan,] Jern tells me calmly. [If he was just working on his own, I would tell him for you. Sorry about that.]

Dammit!

[This isn't any better! You need to scrap your rescue plan too! Coming out here is certain death for you. Don't be daft!]

[We'll figure something out,] he tells me, still unshakably calm. [No need to worry.]

-x-X-x-

Jern and Alis were side by side, cleaning their weapons and armour and talking. Alis had been unusually reserved since Anthony had been taken, and Jern knew she felt somewhat responsible. Which was silly. She'd been on the platform at the time, but the attack on the Nave had knocked her just the same as it had the rest of them. She had nothing to feel bad about, but she seemed to insist on it anyway.

"Jern? Jern! Are you alright?" she asked, looking concerned.

The big man shook his head and smiled at her, causing her to blush slightly. She'd been like this since Anthony had exposed their feelings so openly. He knew she was a little irritated at having their feelings discussed like that, but Jern didn't mind it. He wouldn't necessarily thank Anthony for it, but he did feel like the big ant had saved them some time.

"I'm okay. Sorry to worry you," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you look so distracted. It didn't seem like you were hearing a single word I said!"

Alis did not like it when Jern wasn't listening properly, which he felt made sense. If nobody was listening when you spoke, what was the point of speaking in the first place? Alis tended to have a lot to say, which suited Jern down to the ground, since he never felt the need to speak all that much. Between the two of them, they found a good balance, he thought.

"Anthony is yelling at me in my head," he explained with a smile. "He's really loud."

Alis' eyes went wide as she stared at him with her mouth open.

"Sh-shouldn't you answer him?" she said, waving her hands in the air as if she didn't know what she should do with them. "Why is he yelling at you? That isn't good! Is it because of me? Is he mad we haven't helped him yet?"

Jern reached up and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder, squeezing her against his side. For some reason, she always went quiet when he did that.

"He's telling us not to go and save him," he told her. "I'm ignoring him."

Alis still looked very nervous, even as she leaned into him.

"Is it alright to ignore him though? Isn't he… like… a god?"

"I think he is," Jern affirmed his belief, "but that doesn't mean he can't be wrong sometimes."

"Are gods allowed to be wrong sometimes? Aren't they just… always right?"

"Anthony? Always right?"

"I suppose that's a good point."

Jern smiled at her again. It was easy to smile when Alis was around.

"He just doesn't want us to get hurt, so he's trying to tell us to stay away. We don't want him to get hurt, so we're going to go and save him. That's all."

"It's all so simple when you say it like that," Alis sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

In Jern's opinion, it was simple. It was possible for them to keep Anthony happy and still save him. They just had to do it as safely as possible. He'd tried to explain that to him, but Anthony didn't want to listen. If he were being honest, it was often hard to make Anthony listen.

He did a lot more talking than he did listening.

Despite the danger posed to the giant ant, Jern wasn't too worried. He knew that there were many people working on the rescue, people he knew were a lot smarter than he was. No matter what, they'd come up with something that would work.

As if summoned by his positive thoughts, the darkness around the two thickened until it was almost impossible to see his hand right in front of his face. For a normal person, it would be impossible to do anything in a lightless place like this, but Jern had learned to adapt to it. There were ways to know what was going on around him, even when his eyes didn't work properly.

The moment the nameless one appeared, Jern and Alis turned towards them, able to feel it as the ant stepped out of the darkness.

Welcome, they both signed to the ant.

Able to sense the disturbance in the air caused by their movements, the Nameless One returned the greeting.

Our design is moving apace. We will have everything we need in place soon. Are you ready to depart?

Yes, Jern signed.

"Wait, are we going somewhere, Jern?"

"I'm going to help rescue Anthony," Jern told her.

Immediately, she got a look on her face, a look that he knew all too well.

"I'm coming too," she told him, looking determined.

Of course, Jern's first thought was that he didn't want her to go. It was going to be dangerous and he didn't want her to get hurt. That was only sensible, Alis was precious to him after all, why would he want to take her somewhere she might get hurt? But Jern understood that thought wasn't a good one. That was exactly the reason why he was ignoring Anthony ranting at him right at that moment.

"Okay," he said.

Gather your things, the Nameless One signed to them. We do not have much time.

Jern gave Alis a squeeze on the shoulder and she flashed him a look before they turned to pick up their armour and weapons.

"Do you think the kids will be coming too?" Alis asked him.

"I doubt we could keep them away even if we tried," he replied.

Once they were ready, the two Templars stepped into the waiting darkness and disappeared, leaving nothing behind.