Every transition from one layer of the Dungeon to the next may as well have been a portal to a new world. I look closer at the swirling maelstrom in front of me, intrigued to see what it might promise of the stratum below and pleased to have made it through the burning cloud of death above.
An endless flow of thick goop falls into the roiling storm of energy, trailing down the walls of the shaft. As the condensed corruption of the fifth comes into contact with the energy of the sixth... it is eviscerated. Now it is clear where the acidic mist originates from, it's all that remains after the mucus falls into this blender.
Holy moly! I'd hoped the sixth's mana would be strong enough to withstand the mucus, but I didn't expect it to be anything close to this effective. No matter how much mucus we dump into here, I don't think it's going to get far. Which is helpful, because we are going to dump a lot.
Before I even touch it, I can feel the electrical charge snapping and cracking from the sixth. Like a cloud made of power and fury, it moves with unbelievable energy—no soft, fluffy-looking thing but an angry, bubbling cauldron. Tilting my antennae towards it, I feel certain that this cloud is... heavy in some way. Perhaps a hint of gravitational energy is in there as well?
Tentatively, I start to approach, intrigued by the strange mix of energy I'm feeling in there. It's not air, it's not even lightning, not exactly, but as I get closer, there's a definite hint of gravitational energy. My antennae are quivering with it.
Gravity mana?! In the sixth?! Am I finally going to my home stratum? How exciting! Just thinking about having that kind of home field advantage is enough to make me giddy. After being brutally punished by the energy I've had to contend with in the fifth, it would be a welcome change, that's for sure.
Eagerly, I move forward, keen to stick my head in and get a better sense of what is going on, but before I can, something else catches my attention, something behind me.
At first, it isn't much. A swirl in the toxic cloud of energy refuse, an eddy that somehow snags my eye and draws it away from the fascinating scene before me. It doesn't stop with that slight shifting, gaining momentum and strength to the point where I turn around. A different feeling is starting to suffuse the air in the tunnel, a worrying aura that grows stronger and stronger and stronger, until I feel as though I'm standing in front of a truly powerful monster. I've felt something similar before, but only once.
It's not a comfortable feeling, to be in the presence of an Ancient.
Deep inside my carapace, the Pure Core grows hot, reacting to the furious thickening of decay in the mana around me. The snail song in my ears grows stronger. A rising chorus of purity that washes the world around me clean.
A mind reaches out and connects with my own. Enormous. Powerful. Bubbling with contagion.
[Theorazzn, I assume?]
There is a face, within the mist above me, and it is hideous. Gibbering, palpitating mouth parts formed of snail flesh that drip and foam with unspeakable ichor. Thankfully that stuff isn't actually manifesting right here, but where the Ancient happens to be, far from me, thankfully. The touch of the monster's mind is as light as a feather and as deadly as a spider bite. I can feel the contagion frothing over the connection, trying to eat into my mind and destroy me from the inside out. I don't think Theorrazn is even actively trying to hurt me, this is simply what happens when one is connected to them. Everything they touch, even with their thoughts, begins to decay.
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[AN INTERESTING CREATURE. I DID NOT EXPECT SUCH AS YOU WOULD HAVE ANY SUCCESS IN THE REALM I HAD COLOURED AS MY OWN.]
The words are painful to comprehend, slamming into my mind and then immediately starting to fray the edges of my consciousness, chewing into them like ravenous worms. Within me, the Pure Core heats up even further, dragging away the corruption and destroying it, preserving my mind. I really don't want to be talking to Theorazzn for any longer than I have to, given that I can't guarantee that the Pure Core is going to hold out against this sort of pressure. If it doesn't, my mind may just dissolve into mist.
[Hey, well... it's been fun. Loved the place. Really great. Did you have something you wanted to say?]
Any chance you can say it quickly? That horrible visage seems to regard me with amusement. Can they actually see me? Surely not, right? This is just a projection, a manifestation made by manipulating mana. I hope they can't see me....
[I WANTED TO DESTROY YOU. MELT YOU INTO AN INSOLENT PUDDLE, FOR DARING TO TAKE FROM ME THAT WHICH IS MINE. I WAS PREVENTED. ODREN AND MORRIBOLG DEMANDED THAT YOU BE ALLOWED TO PASS THROUGH.]
Well... that was nice of them.
[FOR THAT REASON, I WILL DESTROY YOU SHOULD YOU MAKE IT TO THE CORE, AND IT WILL BE AN AGONISING DEATH. YOU WILL EXPERIENCE SUCH TERROR AND PAIN AS NO OTHER CREATURE IN THE HISTORY OF PANGERA HAS EVER IMAGINED.]
Oh, they're laughing alright, highly amused but furious at the same time. It appears that Theorazzn doesn't appreciate being told what to do. You know what, though, I'm glad they're mad that the fifth is getting cleansed. Somehow, that makes it all worth it, just to annoy this stupid creature. Irritated by the situation, my caution gets a little lost. I clack my mandibles in anger.
[Don't come barking at me because you got put in your place by other monsters I don't care about and never will. Big Ancient Theorazzn, threatening everything weaker than themself. You know what? You think you can take me up here? Come and get it, you slobbering git. My mandibles are rated T for Trash Disposal.]
Considering that Theorazzn is currently almost killing me by thinking at me, this probably isn't the wisest decision, but, in the event that things go sideways, I do have a surefire method to escape. Sure enough, enraged by my words, the manifested Ancient screeches and rushes towards me, engulfing me in the hyper concentrated mana they have conjured.
It's bad, real bad. If I thought the acid burned before, it's ten times as potent now, eating into me with shocking speed. Without the regeneration network running at full speed and the Pure Core soaking up so much toxic energy, I'd have been melted rather quickly. The song of the chal rises to a soaring crescendo, as if their voices were light used to drive back the darkness. As it is, I stand within the mist, pretending it's not working.
[Weak, Theo. Weak beyond words. If you're this unimpressive when I get down there, you'll be fed to the hatchlings before I even get warmed up.]
Before my legs start dropping off and the Ancient quite rightly calls my bluff, I release my hold on the tunnel wall, dropping rapidly into the border with the sixth.
[I WILL SEE YOU SOON.]
[You'd better hope not.]
The connection between us breaks as I pass into the sixth, the corruption of the fifth unable to break through.
Well. That went well.
-x-X-x-
My carapace is sizzling so much that I think I must look like a smoking meteor as I sink down into the sixth. The maelstrom of energy sparks and burns around me, lightning and energy whirling in endless motion. I feel like I'm dropping through the heart of a tropical storm, but soon enough, I'm through to the other side, blessedly healing as the acid no longer burns me. Thankfully something had continued to attack me, keeping the regeneration network churning over at full blast. Slowly, the Pure Core begins to cool down, no longer under the insane level of pressure that Theorazzn had placed on it by just... being Theorazzn.
Sheesh. Imagine having thoughts capable of corruption and decay. There's no harm to having a theme, synergy and all that, but surely there's a limit on committing to the bit. Was the Ancient always like that? A corrupting influence, spreading decay like a contagion from the moment they spawned? Or did they evolve carefully down this path, seeking the optimal path of virulence? And he wanted to try and vaporise me because I cleansed the fifth? Well, that's a relief. If they blame me and not the Colony as a whole, then Theorazzn is more likely to try and extract vengeance just on me, which is exactly where I want the heat. Frankly, the Colony is so much bigger and better than I am, capable of so much more, I'm sure they'll go on to do incredible things, even if I'm not around.
If I eventually lose to Theorazzn when I reach the... core... or whatever, then that's fine. Hopefully the grudge will be expunged and the Colony can go on without having to worry about that weird thing coming after them. Although, who did they mention had stepped in to stop the planned anticide? Odren and Morribolg? I wonder what their deal is. Well, I think Odren is the one responsible for the Call, so I am not a fan of theirs. Morribolg, though? No idea. I should probably talk to my resident cult expert in Granin....
Before I deal with that, I should perhaps address the fact that I am still falling.
My first impression of the sixth? Cloudy. Really cloudy. As in, I can't see a dang thing. There is crackling purple lightning all over the place and I've already been struck a few times. Rather than painful, I find the experience strangely energising, although a larger bolt would probably burn my antennae off. Even the cloud is strangely compelling, always moving to the point it makes me dizzy trying to keep track of it. Now that I'm in it, there is definitely a strong whiff of gravity mana here, filling the air and pulsing all around me. It's thin, but it's definitely there. My various gravity-aligned organs are positively pinging, soaking up the energy and pouring it into my Gravity Mana Gland.
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Rather than fall forever, I take hold of myself with a Gravity Well, arresting my descent until I come to a nice, gentle stop. Once I'm there, I just sit and enjoy the ambience for a moment.
The sixth! Finally! I've been wanting to get out the fifth for so dang long it almost feels surreal to be here. I'm so happy I could shed a tear, but I'm not capable of that, so I just wiggle my legs happily. Imagine being one of those morons who told me that I couldn't make it, that the fifth couldn't possibly be overcome. Hah! Time to eat some words up there, fools! I'm here, I'm in the sixth right now! Behold my mighty wiggle of joy!
My happiness, as profound as it is, is slightly ruined by the subliminal understanding that a large portion of it is due to the total lack of pain from the Call that I'm experiencing right now. Having a barb sunk into my soul, yanking away day and night, has become such a normal part of my life that I don't even think about it anymore. Well, when it gets bad, I certainly notice, but now that I don't feel it at all, the absence feels like dipping into a brood nest and cuddling up to the larvae. It's nice.
But it can't last. With a sigh, I manipulate the Gravity Well and start to rise, floating back up through the dense maelstrom, not letting the fierce winds or lightning distract me from my path. Almost as soon as I start moving, the Call begins to complain, a gentle tugging that grows sharper the higher I get. When I cross back over the threshold to the fifth, it's going to go absolutely nuts.
Lousy Odren. I'm gonna have a stern word for them when I reach the core. Very stern.
There are monsters down here, I can feel them already, whipping through the storm and lurking where I can't see them. Thankfully they seem hesitant to come and take a bite out of me, which is a win. As much as I could do with the distraction, I do have work to do. The path to the sixth has been fully mapped out now, which means I need to report back to the Colony digging teams as fast as possible. It's very close to the time when they'll start to pump the mucus, so there isn't time to muck around, as much as I'd like to.
Well, I may as well harass Granin for some knowledge on the Ancients while I'm climbing back up. Thankfully he has a spot in the Nave, so it's fairly trivial to annoy him.
[Hey, Granin.]
[... Uh... Anthony?]
[Who else? Look, I have a question, if Theorazzn were to get into a fight with Morribolg and Odren, who would win?]
[... I'm going to need a drink.]
-x-X-x-
Granin finished his conversation with Anthony, then leaned back in his chair with a groan, the beginnings of a headache starting to rumble in the back of his head. By the stone, meeting that ant was the best and worst thing to happen to him all rolled into one.
"Everything alright?" Corun asked him, looking concerned.
The younger Shaper hovered and Granin could tell he wanted to help but didn't know how. More motherly than a hen lately, Corun had been visibly concerned about the older golgari, which only frustrated Granin to no end. He was more than two centuries old, he certainly didn't need looking after!
"I'm fine," Granin growled, then modulated his tone when Corun blinked at him in surprise. "I'm fine," he said again, more softly, "just... had a difficult conversation."
"With who?" Corun said, looking around their shared living space. "I didn't sense a mind bridge."
"Anthony doesn't need one, because of course he doesn't."
Corun blinked again, processing this information. After a second, he shook his head, trying to rattle loose the many questions that this brought up. Instead, he focused on the here and now.
"What did he have to say?" he inquired.
Granin grimaced. He'd rather push the memory out of his head for the time being, give himself a little time to... just exist in the world before the consequences of what had taken place were broadly known.
"Anthony got into a fight with Theorazzn," Granin said flatly.
Corun, unsurprisingly, blinked again. And then a few more times.
"Do you have something in your eye?" Granin groused.
It wasn't uncommon for golgari to get dust or powdered stone in their eyes as a result of flaking from their second skin, which bonded even to their eyelids. Of course, this wasn't the case for Corun, he was just shocked.
"What? No... he did what?!"
"Did I say something unclear? Which part has you confused?"
That headache was definitely coming now, he could feel it making its way to his temples. That damned ant!
Corun spluttered. "Uh... all of it?"
"I only said one thing."
"That was the confusing part."
"Which part is confusing?" Granin said with uncharacteristic sarcasm. "Anthony got into a fight with Theorazzn. It's a simple sentence."
"How did he even do that? Theorazzn is far, far deeper in the Dungeon than Anthony is."
"Apparently," Granin sighed, "Theorazzn projected himself into the fifth in order to tell Anthony he wanted to kill him."
Corun absorbed this for a moment, his eyes going wide.
"Is... is he... is he dead?"
"What? Of course not! How do you think he was talking to me? From beyond the grave?"
"Maybe?"
Granin resisted the urge to respond derisively, because he himself had experienced the exact same thought. After all, the Ancients were, to all intents and purposes, gods, as far as their cultists were concerned. Granin himself had experienced a vision of Yarrum, and the worm had been terrifying and unknowable in its sheer power. If something like that wanted to kill him, then it certainly could. With ease.
"Anthony is fine. Apparently Theorazzn just wanted to talk to him and say that he had intended to kill him before he escaped the fifth, but Odren and Morribolg intervened to prevent any retribution for cleansing the stratum."
Corun's eyes bulged out of his head the further through the sentence Granin got, which only discouraged the old Shaper further. Yes, that was how a cultist would react to news like this. Hearing about any sort of interplay between the Ancients, from a primary source, in this instance one of the Ancients themselves, was the stuff of fantasy. It simply never happened.
"At this point," Granin went on, mercilessly, "Theorazzn went on to threaten Anthony, saying that if he ever reached the core, then the Ancient would kill him in a slow and gruesome manner."
"Oh," Corun gulped.
Knowing that a nigh-invincible, god-like monster wanted to kill your friend wasn't a good feeling. If that had been the end of it, it would have been bad. However...
"At that point," Granin ground out. "Anthony taunted Theorazzn, enraging the Ancient and causing him to attack on the spot. Anthony survived and fled into the sixth, where Theorazzn couldn't follow. Now he's on his way back up, and apparently Theorazzn hasn't appeared again, perhaps because Odren and Morribolg intervened again to protect him. But... there you are, that's what he had to say."
"I see," said Corun faintly. "That's... that's really something."
"Isn't it just?" Granin muttered.
Maybe he could keep it a secret? There was no need for word of this to leak out, was there? Morribolg and Odren had cults, obviously, and any word of the Ancients they worshipped would be treated as a holy text to them, but just... what would happen? How would they react? Unfortunately, there was really only one way to find out.
"We have to talk to the others," Corun said.
"Yes," Granin replied heavily. "We'll have to gather the cults. Can you and Torrina spread the word? I'd like to just... think for a moment."
-x-X-x-
For thousands of years, ever since the Cataclysm, the cults had existed in one form or another. People who had decided to worship or serve the Ancients, rather than fear or fight them, were never overly welcomed amongst civilised society, but at times throughout history they had been more or less able to operate in the open, within certain free cities and frontier kingdoms, at least. However, there were a few organisations who eagerly acted to stomp out the cults wherever they found them, such as the Church of the Path and the Abyssal Legion, which made it rather difficult for the various cults to establish themselves.
By a quirk of fate, the Colony already had extremely tense relations with both of those superpowers, and therefore didn't care one whit what they had to say regarding cultists who happened to worship monsters. If anything, finding another way to annoy the Church in particular seemed to make the ants happy rather than worry them.
So, with the blessing of their hosts, the varied cults of the Ancients had found themselves able to operate with an unfamiliar level of openness while staying within the lands of the Colony. After calling a gathering of the various cults represented within the fourth stratum ant mountain, Granin did not go to an underground cave, or secret niche carved into a corridor wall for a secretive meeting while under heavy enchantments to prevent detection, but instead to a nice cafe serving tea, cakes and other baked treats in the visitors' wing of the nest.
He himself was there as the representative of the Worm Cult.
Rassan'tep the ka'armodo attended as a representative of the Red Truth, followers of Arconidem.
Oloron, a hooded attendee representing the Cult of Origins, followers of Odren.
Stormchaser, a member of the Cloud Cult, followers of Kygar.
Dr. Melshin spoke for the Bloodletters, followers of Perrianon.
Samuel attended on behalf of the Hatchet Cult, followers of Hogran, axe by his side, as always.
Kierly, her eyes blindfolded and nose covered, represented the Deprivation, followers of Gon.
Poitre, nervously twitching in his seat, attended for the Cult of the Hound, followers of Torra.
Deorth attended for the Bog Dwellers, followers of Morribolg.
Only half of the Ancients were represented at the gathering, far from the full spectrum of cults, but some cultists were a lot harder to find than others. A lot harder to work cooperatively with as well. The Cult of Asylum, in particular, was difficult to include in any group, simply because they were mostly insane. Zothoth feasted on sanity, after all.
Each of them felt rather uncomfortable, seated, or standing, around the table out in the open, an attending ant bringing them their orders of tea and snacks. Granin thanked the server before turning to the gathering.
"Uh, thank you all for coming on such short notice," he said, a little awkwardly. He wasn't really one for hosting public gatherings. "We had some news that needed to be disseminated amongst the cults as soon as possible and felt that this was the fastest way."
[I assume Anthony has done something to upset matters, as usual,] Rassan'tep observed while his set'sulah servant inspected the food and drink served to the giant lizard, as was tradition among their people.
"Naturally," Granin said, thinking and speaking the words at the same time so that all were included even if they hadn't joined the mind bridge. "Anthony seems to have a talent for stirring us up."
"It's because the ant has great promise," Kierly said softly. "They have the Call, and have spoken to an Ancient directly. Even the Ancients take notice."
"Well... yes," Granin said. "More than we thought, in fact."
Immediately the air around the table became tense. Poitre, focused to the point where he no longer twitched and shook with perpetual fear, leaned forward.
"Are you saying there has been another revelation?" he said intently.
This was exactly what Granin had been worried about. Interpreting every little thing to do with the Ancients was what the cultists did, Granin himself was no exception. Maybe he was just too close to it all now. His friend spoke to his gods, what was the big deal? Yet he knew that was just an excuse. Granin himself was, beneath the surface, just as excited and dizzy with possibility as the others around the table would soon be.
"Anthony spoke to me just two hours ago and said they had engaged in conversation with a projection of Theorazzn in the depths of the fifth."
They all looked astounded, with the exception of Deorth, a grandmotherly-looking woman who looked like she'd been called from working in her garden, which she probably had. Followers of Morribolg were less than fond of Theorazzn and anyone associated, since the two Ancients were rumoured to hate each other after competing over the fifth.
"Theorazzn said they had been prevented from punishing Anthony for curing the fifth by Odren and Morribolg," Granin went on with a rush, just getting the information out there.
He might keep the news of Anthony threatening Theorazzn directly to himself for now. No need to turn a whole set of cultists against the Colony, because they would do everything in their power to interfere with the ants if they thought their god held a grudge. As far as Granin knew, they were already working against the Colony due to the invasion of the fifth, which was why none had chosen to attend these gatherings.
The news, as he had imagined, landed on the table like an explosion.
Immediately, hearing word of their gods, Deorth and Oloron went into paroxysms of rapture, holding up their hands and turning their faces toward the ceiling.
"A blessing! A blessing from the Fetid Earth. Morribolg has endorsed Anthony as the twentieth Ancient!" Deorth declared.
"Well, we don't know that," Granin tried to say.
"Odren has spoken!" Oloron roared, tears running down his face and into his beard. His hood flung back as he sprang to his feet, overcome with emotion. "Another Ancient will soon be born! Praise the Father of Monsters! His will is my will!"
Cultists.... They had far too much in common with a certain one-armed priest Granin knew of.
"Settle down," he growled. "We don't know any of this for certain."
But it was no use. He may as well not have spoken at all.
"From this day forth, the Colony shall have the full support of the Cult of Origins," Oloron vowed.
"We too, of the Bog Dwellers, hereby pledge our support," Deorth echoed, eyes shining with tears. "This is a glorious and wondrous day! We must celebrate! We must... but what am I thinking? I have to spread the word to the others!"
"PRAISE ODREN!" Oloron roared at the top of his lungs before turning and sprinting out the door behind Deorth, most likely to do as she was and spread the word.
Granin watched them go, a sinking feeling in his chest. The others, all very excited, were somewhat more restrained.
"Did Theorazzn mention Perrianon at all?" Dr. Melshin asked, eagerness breaking through her normal reserve.
Granin shook his head.
"I'm afraid not," Granin said, to her great disappointment.
In that moment, an intrusive mind bubbled into his own, speaking to him through some means he didn't fully understand.
[Hey, Granin. Got a second?]
Anthony again... what was it this time?
[Not really, but go ahead.]
[What do you know about Perrianon?]
Granin felt his heart leap and his head start to pound at the same time.
[Why are you asking?]
[Just had a word with them. Seems unusually nice for an Ancient. Lovely manners.]
And just like that, the contact was broken, leaving Granin dazed and confused. He turned back to Dr Melshin.
"Never mind," he said faintly, "apparently he has heard from Perrianon after all."
Dr Melshin, a calm and educated person who showed extreme reserve in public spaces, surged to her feet.
"PRAISE THE BLOOD!" she shrieked.
Granin sighed.
-x-X-x-
Apparently the Ancients have a lot of spare time on their hands right now. Those that have hands, at any rate. In fact, I have no idea if Theorazzn or Perrianon have hands at all. One Ancient decides to reach out and throw threats, talking about how they were going to melt me into a puddle of goop, but then another two of the Ancients stepped in to make them back down. Then another one reaches out, right on the heels, just to say hi.
I mean, Perrianon had more to say than that, the main reason they called was to thank me for returning their home stratum back to its original state. Well, getting the process going, at any rate. Very polite, very nice thing to say, not really all that similar to my previous conversations with Ancients. After talking with Granin, I know that Perrianon is some sort of horrific blood creature, which didn't give me the best impression, but after speaking with them, they're my favourite Ancient by far.
Our conversation was extremely brief, I don't think they can reach out to this stratum with the ease that Theorazzn can, but maybe that'll change in the future. Certainly, more influence from the blood monster and less from the diseased corruption crab/starfish thing would be an improvement, putting it mildly.
I'm back amongst that corruption now, making my way back up the tunnels. After being free of this cursed energy for a brief spell, being back amongst it is making me feel even more ill-disposed towards the Ancient responsible for making it this way. I'm glad I gave them a piece of my mind while I had the chance. Sheesh, these tunnels are even worse than they were before. It's almost like they're reacting to Theorazzn's anger. Well, I'm able to get through in the end and make my way back to the tunnel teams.
"You managed to find the sixth, Eldest?" the leader of the first team I encounter asks as I make it back inside the dig site.
Looking up, holy moly but they've achieved a heck of a lot in a short amount of time. The ant build teams are really getting out of control with their special evolutions, mutations and improving Skills. Besides their high levels of specialisation, there are a ton of them, over two thousand working in this shaft alone. Thankfully, the entire thing is still filled with blessed cleansed mana, keeping them all safe and ridding me of that irritating acidic burn once and for all.
"Of course I did!" I declare, indignant. "You thought I wouldn't? I haven't been slacking like those lazy siblings up in the nest. I've been working hard."
"They have been slacking up there," the carver agrees with a huff. "Let them know what we think when you get back up there."
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"I will. Let me tell you about the tunnel layout below, then I'll be on my way. Can you pass the word to the other tunnels?"
"Come here for a sec. You describe it and I'll manipulate this model. Every dig-site has one and they mirror each other, so whatever changes I make here will be replicated to the others."
It takes me ten minutes to explain the basic shape of the Dungeon below us and ensure what they have lines up with my tunnel map. Once I'm done, the dig team leaders gather to plot and plan, working out the best way to reach their target. There isn't long until this entire shaft is going to be filled with an unbelievable volume of mucus, so they need to get the digging done as fast as they possibly can. That haste can't let them compromise on safety, though, and they are at great pains to make sure the path they choose is as low risk as they can make it. Every time they intersect with an existing tunnel, the Colony has to expend a huge volume of cleansed mana to flush out the contagion and secure the site for work, so they prefer to avoid it when they can.
I leave them to their work, since I have nothing much to contribute, and use a Gravity Well to lift myself up the shaft towards the fortress. It isn't a straight path, there are inevitable turns and angles they had to make on the way down, but they managed to keep them to a minimum. Making sure the work was as simple as possible in order to keep it moving quickly was the name of the game. Interestingly, there is an absurd amount of work being done almost all the way up the tunnel by even more teams of ants, reinforcing the walls, making sure they won't be compromised by the absurdly powerful mucus being flooded through. Well, they'll break eventually, making them invulnerable to the acidic effect is impossible, but they don't need to last forever, just long enough to clear room for us to attack the final strongholds of the Krath.
Securing this territory for the Colony is our focus after all. It doesn't matter if we can reach the sixth, so long as we have to go through Krath land to get there our victory is incomplete.
Other than that, there are offshoot tunnels and pumping systems already tapped into mucus sources and ready to go, the holding tanks filling up before my eyes. By the time I reach the top, I count no less than two dozen branching pipe systems designed to hoover up the mucus and shift it into this main shaft. It's hard to believe they've been able to cobble all of this stuff together in such a short amount of time. As always, I'm left speechless by the incredible potential of my siblings. Pretty soon, they won't need me for anything, which is good!
When I reach the top, I find Solant waiting for me.
"Just about ready to go, I think," I tell her.
She clacks her mandibles with satisfaction.
"Then it's time to end the rule of the Krath in the fifth," she says coolly. "This campaign has taken long enough. I'm ready to wrap it up."
-x-X-x-
Most were entirely unaware of the monumental task that the carvers had accomplished with their construction work. Draining an ocean's worth of highly acidic, immeasurably toxic goop wasn't a simple matter. Anything that came into contact with the stuff was liable to break in a matter of minutes, and if it broke containment, then there was a very real risk of it flooding into areas the Colony didn't want it to go, with no way to fix the problem once it had snowballed out of control. Pumps that didn't need to touch the material they were pumping, pipes and shafts that would be able to withstand the potent acid until the work was done, methods to contain the contamination and provide safeguards against it spreading into the fortress.
All of it developed and implemented in a matter of days.
Solant, for one, was perfectly aware of what the build teams had achieved, and she was extremely grateful and impressed. She stood atop a massive grating, looking down into one of the shafts, with Tungstant by her side. Beneath them, the steel was rattling slightly as the enormously powerful pumping mechanisms came online, sucking in the slime in their holding tanks and bringing it up to pressure within the feed pipes. The carver pointed and Solant followed the leg to see the first pipe begin to drip mucus from the outlet.
"Give it a second for the pressure to build up," Tungstant grumbled.
"I didn't say anything," Solant replied calmly.
"You were thinking that it wasn't working," the carver accused.
"I was thinking no such thing," came the reply.
It didn't take long. A few seconds later, the drips of thick chunks of mucus became a steady, gurgling flow, rolling out of the opening and falling into the enormous void below.
"It's getting there," Tungstant said.
"I know it is," Solant replied.
Half a minute later, that flow had upgraded to a roaring jet, flying ten metres from the outlet into empty space before arcing downward and splattering into the wall of the tunnel. From there, it oozed and squelched before vanishing into the depths, out of sight. Further rumbling indicated that yet more of the pumping stations were coming online farther down, and soon there were multiple jets of mucus streaming into the vertical shaft. Once they were all operational, dozens and dozens of these outlet pipes would be moving millions and millions of litres an hour, and that was just for this one shaft. Three others were also coming alive alongside this one.
Already, a misty miasma in the form of a hazy yellow-green mist was rising up from below, but before it could hit the grating, it was blasted out of existence by a strong flow of cleansed mana, released from within the grating they stood atop.
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"You've made a miracle happen here, you and your teams," Solant congratulated Tungstant. "Well done."
"Thanks. It was an interesting project, but I'd much rather have a wider timeframe for the next one."
"I should be able to manage that," Solant said, clacking her mandibles with satisfaction.
It would take days before the lower tunnels were drained enough for the Colony to make meaningful progress, but that was fine, it wasn't as if the Krath were in any sort of position to push back. They could advance leisurely for a change, expending their reserves of liquid mana in a tactical manner, rather than disgorging enormous volumes in a tidal wave and having it slosh down through the layers. Of course, executing such maneuvers would require delicate planning and flawless execution, for which she had a day, perhaps a day and a half, to arrange.
"You and your teams should take a well-deserved rest," Solant said. "I'm certain we'll need you again soon when something unforeseen pops up."
"A few of us will stick around a while longer to correct anything that breaks."
"I thought you engineered this so that it wouldn't break."
Tungstant snapped out a quick, sharp laugh, a single resounding crack of her mandibles accompanying the pheromones. With nothing else to say, the council member turned and headed back to confer with her teams, watching the pumping process from nearby and monitoring readouts on several arrays they had installed within the pipe network.
So long as they were happy, Solant had nothing to complain about. She turned her back on the digging works and headed back into the fortress. Within the inner sanctum, her expert tacticians and strategists were already hard at work, poring over the still developing maps and models of the lower tunnels while arguing with each other over the best path forward.
"Where were we?" she asked as she settled into her seat, generals gathering around her along with her own trusted broodmates.
"It's difficult to develop a comprehensive strategy," Caesant reported, "since we don't have a complete picture of the terrain. What we think might be a key tunnel junction might lead nowhere at all."
"We will have to 'play it by ear' as the humans say," Solant said, her antennae swaying gently as she sank deep into thought. "When certainty can't be found, we must use likelihood as our guide. Play the percentages, as we would say in the Tunnel Ball days. We need to shift our priorities also. Rather than seizing locations that are most likely to be key defensive positions as we normally would, we must prioritise those that will give us the most information."
She leaned forward and tapped the model in front of her.
"This junction here is a perfect example. Five branches, wide open, difficult to maintain our hold over it if things were to go poorly, high chances of getting flanked. Normally, I would recommend we avoid this location as much as possible. For this mission, it is of the highest priority. From here we have the highest chance to gain more information and expand our maps the furthest. In the uncertain battlefield, knowledge becomes ten times as valuable."
"I see," Caesant said thoughtfully. "I will report to the others. We will develop our plan of attack along these guidelines. We should have the first stage ready in a few hours."
"Excellent," Solant said, nodding in satisfaction. "As long as we move quickly enough, the Krath won't be able to escape us."
-x-X-x-
Solant looked down into the tunnel below and struggled to conceal her disgust. Normally, she had no problem maintaining her disposition, even when confronted with the worst the fifth had to offer, but these... 'lungs', as the Eldest described them, were foul beyond description.
Pulsating, oozing, clotted and rotting, somehow all at the same time, they were also absolutely clogged with a thick layer of mucus that only seemed to grow and drip down into the lower passages with every passing second. As promised, the density and velocity of mana through these passages was absolutely stunning, just as the Eldest had reported.
"Well, that's quite something," Leonidant muttered to herself. "What on Pangera am I looking at?"
"You don't know? Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," another voice chimed in brightly. "Not everyone can be BRILLIANT, after all!"
Leonidant snipped her mandibles in irritation at being addressed in this manner, but Solant soothed her with a twitch of one leg.
"Would you care to explain it for us?" Solant said, turning to her fellow Champion, the extremely intelligent but somewhat grating Brilliant. "How does this work?"
"Like lungs," Brilliant shrugged her antennae. "The Eldest described it perfectly."
Solant took a moment to ensure she maintained her patience. The disgusting display below was rattling her more than she cared to admit. Or perhaps it wasn't so much the appearance of the tunnel but the sounds that emitted from it. So much squelching surely wasn't natural, even for the fifth.
"I do not have lungs," Solant pointed out, "nor do I understand how they work. This is why I have asked you to come here, so that you might explain it to us."
Brilliant tsked before she began to pace, her middle legs bent behind her back where her claws could clasp each other. It was such an odd thing to do that Solant found it difficult to focus on what she was actually saying.
"For the most part, living creatures require oxygen to live. This is true of humans, golgari, ka'armodo and all other regular, living creatures on the surface. This was proven by the Magio-Scholars well over eight hundred years ago in an interesting experiment that analysed-"
"We are limited on time," Solant pointed out.
"There is always time for learning!"
"No, there isn't."
Brilliant huffed.
"Fine. Well, they need oxygen. Good news, there is oxygen all over the place in the air. Bad news, they need it in their blood, which has to remain clean in order for them to, you know, live. So they can't just throw blood around in the air, instead, they developed a neat solution involving mouths and all sorts of other bits and pieces. The main one being the lungs. Made of gooey, fleshy little sacs, much like that chamber just below us, they fill up with air when a breath is taken, and then the oxygen is slipped into the blood which flows through very small vessels in the walls of the sacs."
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Brilliant pointed downward.
"In this metaphor, the oxygen is mana and blood is mucus. Down there, huge amounts of toxic mana flood into the system of connected chambers and tunnels before being soaked into the walls, converted into a highly concentrated form, and shipped out by the vessels. We already know where that mana comes from. Multiple hearts are connected to this location, forcing that mana to circulate through here."
The mad ant turned, clacking her mandibles derisively.
"It's a silly way to sustain life. Insects on the surface don't use blood but a system of air pipes to deliver oxygen throughout their bodies. No need for lungs or any other such silliness."
Solant paused.
"Then why don't we have such a system? Last time I checked, we didn't need air to survive."
"Oh, well," Brilliant said, "without access to the heart to help move the oxygen around, the insect system can't shift the oxygen all that far, so it doesn't really work in larger lifeforms. For an insect monster, like us, we rely on mana rather than oxygen to fuel our bodies, removing the size limitation. I was doing some calculations actually, trying to work out if we could become more mana-efficient if we were able to introduce some sort of respiratory system during an evolution. Right now, the larger we get, the more mana we need just to sustain our bodies. It's a lot more than you think it is."
"So the Eldest..."
"Needs a boatload of mana just to move."
"Do they... know that?"
"I doubt it."
Solant sighed. That was a problem for another time. She wondered if Brilliant was being deliberately unhelpful, but quickly dismissed the idea. Brilliant wouldn't miss an opportunity to make herself look clever, she simply didn't realise when she'd figured out something that nobody else in the Colony had. This knowledge about the mana dependence of ant monsters might be nothing to her, but it could be massive to the development of the Colony. She made a mental note to look into it in future.
"So what can you tell us about this... mess... below."
It really was hideous.
"There's two ways to tackle the problem," Brilliant said, resuming her pacing with two legs clasped behind her back. "You can either dump cleansed mana into the lung network, hoping that it will flush through the system and then export the new energy via the vessels. That could create a positive feedback loop where the cleansed mana filters into the hearts, fixes them and then flows back here to the lungs, completing the cycle."
"I presume there's a risk?"
"There's always a risk! Not of explosions though, sadly. You could export clean mana, but it doesn't fix the hearts, just gets converted back to corrupted energy, and then filters into the lungs again, undoing the work you've done. Alternatively, you could attack the hearts, clean those out, and therefore provide the lungs with nice, healthy mana and hope that it will fix the system over time. Of course..."
"The same risk applies except in reverse," Solant sighed. "The lungs might corrupt that mana and then feed it back into the hearts, undoing our work. What's the solution?"
"Well...." Brilliant mused. "The solution is rather simple when you think about it. If doing one isn't going to get the job done, then you have to do both. Clean the hearts and lungs, at the same time. Clean energy flowing into clean energy, the harmonious loop will be established no matter what."
"That's your solution?" Solant said. "We would need an unfathomable amount of liquid mana to achieve that result. These lungs are the most energy-dense part of the fifth we've ever found, and the system is huge. At the same time, we have to cleanse four hearts? That would take-"
"That would take every drop of liquid mana you have stored in the entire fifth stratum," Brilliant said, smugly.
"You've calculated how much we have in storage? Exactly?"
"Of course I have! I'm BRILLIANT!"
-x-X-x-
"I thought I said I needed more time to rest. Actually, I think you said we should take more time to rest."
"That's right," Solant agreed, "I did."
Tungstant's antennae swung wildly as she tried to hold onto her temper.
"I think I also said that I would prefer a longer timeframe on the next major project."
"That's right," Solant agreed once more, "you did."
"And instead of doing that," Tungstant went on, as if she hadn't spoken, "you gave me and my teams very little time to rest, and then brought us an even larger project, with an even shorter deadline? Am I smelling you correctly?"
"You are," Solant nodded solemnly.
It had been roughly a day since the pumps had been switched on, and in that time Solant and her troops had worked hard, capturing terrain, driving back the corruption and expanding the Colony's reach into the lower tunnels as they became available. It had been difficult, dangerous work, battling monsters and corruption at a constantly moving frontline, across a dozen fronts at once. Had the Krath been active in the tunnels, she never would have attempted it, as they would certainly have succeeded in abducting an ant, with almost no chance of recovery. Although fraught with danger, they had been successful, driving the cleansed zone all the way down to what the Eldest had described as the lungs. There, however, they had been forced to stop. Mucus still flooded the nearby tunnels, leaking out of the burst vessel the Eldest had described, and so far the pumping stations hadn't been able to clear out the gunk fast enough to give them access and make repairs.
They'd been able to move sideways, branching outwards and trying to gain direct access to the hearts, but so far, they had been stymied by the mucus and hadn't found what they'd needed. She was confident that the pumping system would eventually get the job done, it simply needed more time. Certainly, every antgineer she'd spoken to had been confident that the pipes were holding up and would continue to function for the near future. Already they'd moved billions of liters of mucus, but they needed to move billions more before the Colony could get where they needed to go.
However, Brilliant had told Solant what was needed in order to win, and so Solant would now make sure that it happened. That meant the carvers had work to do.
"The mana channels have already been installed, we simply need a reservoir to hold the volume of energy that we need to complete the purification."
Tungstant hung her head in despair.
"Oh, you 'simply' need a reservoir capable of holding the entire supply of liquified cleansed mana in the entire stratum. Is that all? Let me just snap my mandibles and produce one, it's so simple!"
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"What are the challenges?" Solant asked calmly. "Whatever they are, I will ensure they are overcome."
Tungstant seemed to lose all of the fight that had been bubbling up within her in a rush. She knew that this was going to happen, Solant would do exactly what she said: whatever the build teams needed, whoever they needed, everything would appear in a timely manner, no matter how impossible it might have seemed at the outset. The ability to produce what was needed when it was required had been the little general's real superpower during this invasion.
"First of all, the channels are in place, that's true, but there is no way they can handle the kind of volume of transfer you're talking about in the short time you want it to happen. In fact, I doubt the current network could even handle the amount of liquid mana being generated across a day, let alone the entire reserve."
"How many times over does it need to be expanded?" Solant asked, unflustered.
"Ten times," Tungstant guessed. "That's an estimate, probably an overestimate, but it's better to be safe and go larger than fall short."
"Agreed," Solant nodded. The general paused for a moment, considering, then nodded. "Very well. We will construct new mana channel systems aiming for ten times the flow capacity leading to this fortress. I'll have the necessary materials in place by the time your teams are ready to begin work."
Which was a truly staggering amount of highly engineered and delicate components. Mana channels were not simple to make by any standard. However, Tungstant knew that it would be done, just as the general had said. She would simply find a way to make it happen. Even so, she was baffled by the task ahead.
"I still don't see how it can be done," she said. "We need to survey the ground, begin planning routes, there are careful calculations that need to be completed in order to ensure the channels won't fail or interact negatively with the tunnels they pass through."
"No time for that," Solant said. "We will need to dig dedicated shafts for the new channels so we can control the environment and ensure their safety. We can't risk monsters chewing on our work and losing a single drop of mana."
"That's even more work you're asking for! There's a limit to how much we can get done, and I'm not sure you appreciate how much effort is required to dig out the kind of tunnels needed to host something as vulnerable as a mana channel. I simply don't have enough workers to get this done in time."
"Then you'll have more," Solant said.
Tungstant stared.
"Almost every high tier, high Level building and excavation specialist in the entire Colony is here in the fifth already, Solant. There aren't any more to get."
Solant appeared untroubled.
"You said it yourself," she said, "the lower tier, lower level specialists are not here. They will be."
Tungstant stared.
"You want to bring every construction team in the entire Colony down to the fifth?"
Solant tilted her head to the side, as if slightly puzzled.
"You said that's what is required to win. Therefore, I will do it."
Not for the first time, Tungstant wondered if Solant might be a little mad. It seemed every Champion who came into contact with the Eldest came out just a little crazy. Then how to explain Merchant? In fact, there were many examples of ants who were somewhat strange that had never even met the Eldest.
Finally, Tungstant was forced to admit that perhaps, just a little bit, everyone in the Colony was slightly crazy. She certainly was, she was starting to think this project might just be possible.
-x-X-x-
How many carvers, mages, soldiers and other castes within the Colony had dedicated themselves to the art of construction? At this point, nobody really knew the final number, but it was certainly the second most common specialty after combat. It was in their nature, Solant reflected, to want to dig and build. She herself hadn't had much opportunity to engage in the peace and satisfaction that every ant felt while digging through the soil and stone with her mandibles, but she had thoroughly enjoyed those few chances she'd had during her time in the antcademy. Her own calling had lain in a different direction, but she truly understood those who had chosen to focus on this aspect of their inherent nature and respected them.
Which is why she felt a real appreciation for the seemingly endless column of ants passing by her post, funneling into the elevator system that connected the fourth stratum to the fifth.
"I can't believe you've done this," Sloan muttered, baffled. "Do you have any idea the chaos this is going to cause across the territory of the Colony? You think we don't have other construction projects underway?"
"I know we do, and I know they are important," Solant said, "and I am certainly aware that this will cause damage and delays, weakening the Colony in other places. I know all of this."
She was totally unruffled, as always, but Sloan did get the sense that she had indeed thought about the chaos she had caused, thought about it in a great deal of depth, in fact. Solant had simply determined that this would be worth the cost. Turning back to the thousands and thousands of ants piling into the lifts every passing moment, many of them only tier four, she couldn't help but worry.
"They will be perfectly safe," Solant ensured her. "They will never be placed anywhere near the corrupted areas of the fifth. The Krath won't have a chance to abduct any of them."
"But the cleansed areas are spawning monsters, are they not? Strong ones!"
Sloan was perfectly aware of the dangers these new monsters represented, as she had been involved in the various committees and groups dedicated to studying and combating the evolving threat. Evolving in the true sense of the word. Born at tier one, the native monsters of the fifth were still powerful by way of their inborn advantage of more potent native materials, punching well above their weight. Now that the Colony's territory in the fifth had expanded to the point where they weren't able to properly police and patrol every tunnel and chamber that they controlled, the monsters had enough room to fight each other, mutate and evolve. Now they were regularly running into tier two, three and four versions of monsters that had only been tier one a matter of weeks ago. And they were strong.
Even more concerning was the bizarre way some monsters in the fifth were able to team up with others of the same kind, bonding themselves together to create a new whole from many individuals. It wasn't much unlike the way the Colony itself operated, creating something far greater by combining smaller, weaker components. It had been an ever-escalating challenge to deal with these new monsters and ensure that the enormous infrastructure investments that the Colony had made in the fifth remained undamaged.
"All of the build sites are being cleared of monsters as we speak and will be regularly patrolled. I promise you they will be safe."
Although it was reassuring on the surface level, this was concerning in another way.
"Are you saying you've pulled garrisons from the fortresses and border areas in the fifth? Are you insane?!" Sloan protested.
"I am not. I assure you that everything has been finely calculated and planned. Yes, troops have been pulled from the borders. Yes, this will increase the pressure and create dangers and risks. Yes, they are aware of the dangers and have been prepared to meet them."
The two watched in silence for a time as the great migration of ants into the fifth continued, tens of thousands lowered down every few minutes. By the end of the day, over a million would have been added to the population of the fifth, all necessary to get the work done in time.
Solant watched with silent satisfaction, certain that victory was finally right within reach of her mandibles. She had been patient for so long, now was the time to reap the rewards. Sloan watched with a sinking feeling in her thorax. Wasn't this exactly the sort of overreach the Eldest had warned them against? She had a terrible feeling this was going to cause a great many issues down the line.
And where was the Eldest anyway!?
-x-X-x-
Truly, it can be said that there is no substitute for grub tickling. Fat and happy, spoiled by the immense love and tender care that they experience under the ever-watchful Brood Tenders, the way they wiggle and roll while being tickled fills me with joy in a way that nothing else can.
An incomparable and irreplaceable experience that, sadly, simply isn't available down in the fifth. Quite sensibly, the Colony has not moved any Queens down to the fifth, judging that the risk of capture and general overall level of danger is simply unacceptable for the most important of all ants and the precious future generations of workers.
So instead, I have come to the snailcare centre to hang out with the chal.
"Be careful, Eldest!" Theresant scolds me for the thousandth time.
"I am literally not moving," I hurrumph. "It isn't physically possible for me to be more careful."
"You could be outside of the room," she mutters.
"Would you stop fussing? The snails seem happy to see me."
"If they weren't, I wouldn't have let you in."
"Can you deal with your sister?" I complain to Florence. "This is supposed to be a relaxing and soothing experience, which it would be if not for her incessant hovering!"
Florence only shakes her head and clacks her mandibles sympathetically.
"I used all of my leverage up just getting you in there, Eldest. I'm sorry, I can't do more."
I swear, I'm a hair away from asking Protectant to save me from this pestering pest. Surely preserving my peace of mind counts as defending me from harm, right?
Pushing the endlessly anxious Tender out of my mind, I try to focus on the here and now. I meant what I'd said, this really is a nice and relaxing environment, even if they did have to remove a wall so I could fit inside. Pleasantly green, with real, natural, non-monstrous plants and a trickling little mini-stream, the indoor space the snails inhabit is a verdant paradise.
If I lay my head on the ground, it almost feels as though I'm a giant lording it over a miniature rainforest, most of the foliage not even making it up to the level of my eyes.
As if the excessively pleasing environs weren't enough, there is a constant stream of the most beautiful song in the room. It's truly quite incredible to hear it up close and personal. From one corner of the room, hidden under the leafy vegetation, one chal will pipe up, contributing a few notes or perhaps a little melody. From another corner, this tiny piece of music will be taken up by one or perhaps multiple chal, each adding a little bit of their own colour, a harmony, a counterpoint rhythm, or even adjusting the original melody, adding layers and complexity.
And then, as if they had all practiced and rehearsed it a few thousand times in advance, the room will break out into spontaneous, flawless and rich song, every snail contributing to an indescribable harmony that they came up with only a few moments before. Then, as suddenly as it began, it will fade away, the last soft notes hanging in the air to accompany the sudden pang of loss that strikes at my heart as I'm left with only a memory to cling to.
After a few moments of silence, it all starts again with another snail, in a different corner, with a new song that they only just came up with.
They really are born for it, these chal. I don't know, is this some sort of ancestral knowledge, preserved somewhere in the filthy sludge the Krath count for blood? I know for a fact the Colony has been working frantically to teach them the fundamental theories of music and technique and such, but I'm really not sure if they need it. I wonder if it's made any difference at all; these little snails are born songbirds.
For the most part, they seem reasonably happy to see me. I've got chal up on my back, sliding about after using my legs as a ramp to get up there. It's giving Theresant fits, but I really don't think they're likely to fall off. They're snails! Gripping onto things is a speciality of theirs.
They're so small and light, I can't really feel them, but they appear to be having a good time. There's a lot of singing going on alongside an equal amount of what appears to be restful meditation.
Is it as good as rolling and tickling grubs? No. But it's still quite nice. I'm being healed.
However, I didn't only come here for the sake of rest and relaxation. The entire time I've been here in the snailcare centre, I've been monitoring the activity of the Pure Core, which was specially modified via song magic in some bizarre fashion. Ever since I mutated it to deepen its connection to the chal, I've been turned into a mobile snail radio, beaming out healing music to all and sundry inside the Dungeon.
Interestingly, ever since I returned to the Colony's territory, the song has stopped and the core has gone silent, making me think the song effect is powered by the purification process. Well, it's a guess.
It turns out that being here, surrounded by the chal and experiencing their song directly… doesn't do anything to the Pure Core. I've been watching like a hawk, but there has been a big fat load of nothing going on.
"Alright then," I sigh, "I better get up and get moving. I think I've lain here for long enough."
"You are getting up immediately, are you?" Theresant screeches with a truly shrill burst of pheromones. "Are you mad?!"
I prod her with an antenna. Man, I wish I could still dispense a solid THWACK, but they've become far too lethal.
"No. Obviously I'm not mad, I was going to wait until the snails got bored and worked their way off my back. Call them in for a meal or something."
As it turns out though, the chal were quite happy to stay on my back, sliding about and singing. In the end I had to get the Brood Tenders to collect their moustachio'd charges and move them a safe distance away. Only then was I able to back out of the snailcare centre and watch as they rebuilt the wall behind me.
Well, it was fun. There's probably something I should be doing right now though.
-x-X-x-
The Colony's strategy, when Solant explains it to me, is pretty straightforward. There are a total of four hearts surrounding the network of tunnels that I call the lungs of the fifth, and each of them needs to be tackled pretty much simultaneously, flooded with cleansed mana and the Krath tribes hiding inside rooted out completely.
At the same time, we have to flood the lungs with cleansed mana, hopefully removing the contagion from the entire region in one fell swoop. Sounds good in theory, but the sheer quantity of energy required is posing some problems.
Well, that's the sense I get when I see the size of the holding tank facility being constructed above the fortress. If the Krath knew this thing existed, they would burn half of the fifth down to destroy it, I bet. So much pure, concentrated wuffer juice held in the one spot, the entire reserve of every fortress combined, so I'm told, destroying it would be a strategic victory so immense it would set the Colony back months.
Not only would the upcoming attack be completely foiled, the fortresses currently lack the ability to defend themselves with surges of cleansed energy, making them more vulnerable than they've been at any point since their construction.
Solant is taking a massive gamble, looking to punch through to the sixth, prove to the world it can be done and secure passage for the Colony in one fell swoop. It's the kind of calculated gamble a regular ant general would never take, but that Solant cannot resist. She knows the odds are on her side. After all, she has me!
"So, how am I going to hit all four hearts at the same time?" I ask her.
She looks at me.
"You aren't. As far as I'm aware, Eldest, you can't be in four places at once."
She hesitates for a moment.
"Can you? Be in four places at once?"
I'm not sure the Dungeon is prepared to handle that much Anthony.
"No. No, I can't. Does that mean we do the attacks in sequence? One right after the other, so I have time to move between them?"
"No, Eldest. One heart will be assaulted by the Immortals, supported by four battalions. Another will be hit with ten battalions, Sarah and Odin have agreed to assist in that assault."
"Sarah and Odin? They're going in? That's really nice of them!"
"Yes, it is. We are very grateful for their help. The third heart will be assaulted by a further ten battalions and, if you acquiesce, Tiny, Crinis and Invidia."
"That's fine with me. I'm pretty sure they want something to do. Tiny is getting tired of flexing and posing. That's a lie, he never gets bored of flexing and posing. Even so, some action would be good for them."
I know for a fact the three of them have been getting more and more angsty that they haven't reached tier eight yet. It's not like they can go out and hunt for powerful monsters in the fifth, because they'd be melted by the mana and environment before getting the chance to find anything. This has left all three, to varying degrees, frustrated that they're falling behind.
I don't really expect them to be able to keep up or anything, I've had some rather fortunate evolutions after all, but I certainly don't want them to be unsafe. The stronger they are, the less I have to worry about them, so giving them the chance to smash some Krath faces in is fine by me.
"Alright then, that leaves one heart left. Who's assaulting that one?"
"You are, Eldest."
"Oh, of course. Nice! Who's going in with me? Battalion or two? Torpor police? As yet unknown secret military force you've been developing in secret?"
Man, that last one would be exciting, but it's basically impossible for the Colony to keep a secret from me. Vestibule and all that.
"Just you, Eldest. I suppose the Templars may want to go also. They do seem to have a rather strong desire to protect and aid you."
Yes… they do. I wonder if they've always had that, or if it's something that is forced on them by their Class? The idea of emotional manipulation via System mechanics hasn't occurred to me before, but now that I think about it, I can't discount the possibility. I suppose the Vestibule could be considered a form of emotional manipulation towards me, since all of that Will certainly has an influence on my behaviour. Just knowing what the Colony wants and thinks changes my decisions.
"Well, I suppose it's fine if the older three want to tag along. There's no way I'm letting the kids attack a heart. That would be nuts."
"How do you intend to stop them? The non-ant members of the battalions hold them in high reverence and are unlikely to hold them against their will."
"I'll figure it out."
I'll put the Nameless on the job. They can babysit three young humans easily enough, surely.
"Do we have access to the hearts yet, or are we still pumping?"
Solant cleans her antennae as she replies, giving a satisfied click of the mandibles when the job is done to her satisfaction.
"We do not yet have access to all four hearts and pumping continues. Soon, we hope to be able to repair the arterial damage that was caused by… unknown entities, and thus reduce the demand on the pumping stations."
I really hope I haven't caused any problems to the sixth. An endless rain of mucus would certainly rile up the locals and create a terrible impression.
"Alright, I'll go round up the gang and Templars and get them moving. I assume this is going ahead soon?"
"The moment the tunnels are clear."
-x-X-x-
Tiny is, predictably, in the middle of an intense flexing session when I return to my closest friends, currently relaxing in a wide, spacious chamber within the fortress.
With a look of intense concentration on his face, Tiny is slowly shifting from one pose to the next, flexing a different set of muscles with each until he's run through the entire set. At which point he, of course, goes back to start and runs through them all again.
I don't understand how he became so obsessed with flexing in the first place, he doesn't have a mirror or anything? What's the purpose? What is gained through this exercise?!
I think, deep down, I actually know the answer to that. Tiny doesn't do this in order to impress others, no, his love of bulk isn't so superficial as that. Tiny likes to flex simply for his own satisfaction, to feel the power and size that he has developed for himself. I wish he gained even a fraction of that happiness from working his brain.
Sadly, Tiny is completely satisfied having a sack full of bricks for brains. In fact, if he had the choice, he'd be down to a single brick wrapped in a lone, scraggly thread.
[How are we all, gang? Ready to break through to the sixth stratum?]
[Of course, Master,] Crinis says, somewhat sinisterly. She's mad that I made it to the next layer and didn't take her along. [I am looking forward to seeing it for the first time. I'm sure you'll be bored of the sixth, so I hope you don't mind being dragged there again.]
[I was there for no more than a few minutes and didn't see anything other than the inside of a cloud! Sheesh. We will go together and the first time I see anything interesting, you will be there right beside me.]
Crinis is not satisfied with this, just like she wasn't the first time she heard it. I can't tell if her clinginess is getting worse or if she's just maintaining a steady level of obsessiveness. At least she's not trying to sneak into my carapace.
Oh wait, she is.
I nudge a creeping tentacle to the side with a leg before I turn to Invidia.
[How about you, Invidia? Excited to explore new surroundings?]
[Friends are alwayssss there to supportssss each othersss,] he says, eye flashing. [I will go together with my friendsssss.]
[That's… very wholesome of you, Invidia. I love to hear it.]
Somehow this demon always manages to bring a warm glow to my heart lately. He's just so friendly and reliable, exactly the kind of explosion-flinging wizard-demon you want in your corner.
[Tiny? How are you feeling about it?]
He shrugs, then becomes distracted by his traps, turning his head to try and get a better view of his shoulders, but when he tries, his shoulder turns further away. Eventually he winds up spinning in a slow circle, growing more and more frustrated.
[You stupid… hey, Tiny!] I clack my mandibles to catch his attention. [There's Lightning Mana down there. Tons of it! Doesn't that sound exciting? Big ol' stormy stratum full of electricity!]
He does seem rather enthused at the prospect, his pointy bat ears perking up and twitching as interest is sparked in his eyes.
[Once we've smashed through some hearts and gotten rid of the Krath, we are free to explore a bold new frontier!] I enthuse. [No more sitting around waiting for stuff to happen, doesn't that sound nice?]
I might be talking to myself more than them. After all this running around in the fifth and dealing with problems in the fourth, I've run out of patience for dealing with the nitty gritty. Of course it's necessary, and I'll do anything that the Colony needs me to do, but holy moly I'd love to do some free exploring around the sixth.
With the pets geared up and ready to go on their mission, I head elsewhere to find the Templars and have a chat with them about what they may or may not want to do. I run into some unexpected resistance when dealing with the little ones.
To me, they are so little, not even full grown humans, and a full grown human is quite a small thing at this point.
"No, you aren't allowed to come," I reiterate sternly.
Allison, Emilia, and Trean don't throw a tantrum, or even argue. They just… stare at me… judgementally, as if disappointed in me.
It stings.
"Look, it's too dangerous. You're young and… and small… and haven't evolved many times."
"We don't evolve, Great One," Jern says helpfully.
"Don't call me that! Right. Well you still can't come."
I look at them, and they stare back. Obviously they are still intending to come to the heart, no matter what I say. Determined and ready to fight, they don't want to be left behind, which is fair, to an extent.
"Get 'em!" I yell.
The shadows erupt into liquid, reaching and grasping, surrounding the three Templars. In return, they move faster than I've ever seen them move before, their figures melting into darkness before they dive into a shadow and try to make a break for it.
What follows is a bizarre game of tag, with shadows chasing shadows all around the chamber, zipping about so rapidly that I can barely keep track of them, even with my compound eyes. Before I get too dizzy, the situation seems to resolve itself when the entire chamber shifts into a nightmarish realm of pure darkness, only to snap back less than a second later.
At that point, all of the shadows are gone, along with the three young Templars.
"Well… good. I think."
-x-X-x-
As it turns out, moving truly vast quantities of mana over a long distance is a rather complicated affair. Mana is, after all, energy, even in its liquid form, and it has a nasty habit of interacting with other mana even when you don't want it to.
Every fortress controlled by the Colony holds an enormous reserve of liquid mana, converted by the wuffers and then condensed after being sucked in through the many, many, many intake pipes along the borders of the Colony's territory. Shipping that energy to the front and using it to flood out new sections of Dungeon was key to Solant's strategy, so the infrastructure was in place to facilitate that movement. At these volumes though, problems start to arise.
Problems like spontaneous spawn point creation.
Monsters always pop out of dense areas of mana, that's where we come from. Once upon a time, The Queen was spawned in exactly that manner, born out of pure energy by some twist of Dungeon luck in a section of tunnel with higher than normal mana concentration.
Shifting a decent sized lake's worth of concentrated mana creates a lot of movement in the nearby energy, creating ripples and whorls that disrupt the otherwise predictable flow. These eddies shift the concentration, causing some areas to thin out, while other areas get dense. Shockingly dense.
Before you know it, pop, a new monster jumps out and starts chewing on the pipes.
Which means a heck of a lot of Dungeon is having to get patrolled. Thankfully there isn't that much risk and large groups of younger, weaker ants are able to handle the bulk of it.
I myself have been put on patrol in the area where the mana is expected to be at its most concentrated and thus most dangerous: the reservoir.
"Just look at that," Brilliant sighs, her antennae quivering in excitement. "Isn't it spectacular?"
I assume I'm looking at the same thing she is, and I have to say, it doesn't seem that impressive?
"It looks like a whole bunch of fancy tanks arranged in a grid. Some of which are starting to fill up with liquid mana."
To be honest, it's a heck of a lot more impressive to my mana sense than it is to my eyeballs. I don't understand a fifth of the technical wizardry that went into making the holding tanks, but the way they manage to contain and separate the dense rich energy within, energy that blazes to my senses with extraordinary power, is seriously impressive.
"That's because you lack my imagination, Senior!" Brilliant declares, snapping her mandibles vigorously. She uses a foreleg to grab onto one of mine and issues a wide sweeping gesture across the reservoir with the other. "You see the mechanics and the mundane nature of the scene in front of us. The glass, the metal, the pleasing symmetry and the shiny liquid. What I see… is potential."
"Potential for what? All of this is going to be used for the assault. If you have other ideas, you should probably put them forward now."
"Potential," Brilliant says intensely, "for one heck of an explosion."
I…I mean…
I'm tired.
"Brilliant," I say wearily, "do I need to lock you away in Invidia's mouth again? Just until you lose this… explosive urge to detonate? This was your idea, remember?"
"Bah!" the little ant exclaims, clearly disappointed by my lack of vision.
"What would you even want to blow up? There's nothing around here in need of detonation that I'm aware of. Certainly not on the scale that this much energy could cause."
"That's not the point," Brilliant declares, throwing up her front legs in frustration. "Don't you want to see what is possible? To test the limits of the imagination? To push the boundaries of the possible?"
"To blow up millions of members of my own family? No. No, I don't."
Brilliant sags down with a sigh, uncharacteristically dejected.
"You're taking all the fun out of this, Senior."
"Fun out of what? Did you actually think I would approve some sort of insane experiment with all of this liquid mana? Is that the case? Because if that's the case, I can see you spending some time in the mouth."
My antennae twitch as I sense something nearby.
"Wait there," I say, still cross, "I'll be back in a minute."
I move fast enough that when the monster roars to life, tearing itself free of the chamber wall, my mandibles are right there to meet it. Sorry, monster, you were just unlucky.
When I get back, Brilliant is shuffling rocks about between her two front legs, still looking dejected.
"Can I blow up something?" she complains.
"Here? No. You have an entire lab—a series of labs at this point—all there for you to explode. Go back there and play if that's what you really want. In fact, why are you here anyway?"
"They wanted me to monitor the influx of mana to make sure nothing went wrong," she mutters.
"Well, isn't that important?"
"I did the calculations myself," she retorts, "nothing is going to go wrong, which means I'm wasting my time."
"Then go back to your labs."
"They made them explosion-proof."
"Ah."
Is it possible to be addicted to explosions? If so, then that's what we have here, an addict, and she needs a fix. I can only sigh. Taking care of the Champions is always such an effort. Thankfully, Vibrant is currently occupied racing all over the captured territory in the fifth, plugging all the gaps created by the concentration of resources down here. As long as she's busy and running fast, she's happy.
"I'll let you blow up something in the sixth, alright? Try to hold on for a while yet."
"Excellent," Brilliant says, jumping back up and looking more like her normal, bouncy self.
Wait a second.
"Did you just act miserable in order to trick me into agreeing to satisfy your idiotic need for detonations?"
"I did," the little ant declares, quite pleased with herself. "And do you know how I was able to come up with such an ingenious scheme?"
"I wouldn't," I warn her.
"Because I'm BRI—"
THWACK!
".... ouch."
"I warned you."
-x-X-x-
Lightning crackled along the cells, each filled with swelling brood or Biomass undergoing the transformation to sweet nectar. Tucked into a corner along the roof, nestled between natural folds in the stone, the hive location was well concealed, with only a narrow entrance on either end. A defensible enough location for now, but without much room for expansion. The Queen was already on the lookout for another place in which to build a larger nest.
Workers, the first of her children in this new stratum, moved amongst the cells, ensuring the developing brood were tended and fed, ensuring the transition from Biomass to nourishing nectar was completed smoothly. There were other jobs for them as well. They were the ones responsible for construction now that they were old enough, using their own saliva and processed Biomass to expand the hive.
Since the Queen no longer needed to tend to the nest as actively, she had more time for hunting.
Despite heavily modifying the status of her children during her last evolution, the Queen wasn't confident they were yet strong enough to compete in this new environment. Loyal and faithful, they yearned to fight for the hive, but she wouldn't allow them to, not yet. She needed to hunt for them more, bring back prey to give them Levels and let them accumulate mutations.
When they were more numerous and stronger, they would be able to take over the hunting duties, giving her more time in the nest, but for now, she spent far more time out of the nest than she did inside of it. Her children were growing increasingly annoying about it.
"My Queen!" buzzed one of her firstborn, Elizabee. "You should not leave the hive alone! Allow me to accompany you!"
Her pheromones were filled with anxious care for her mother, which was nice, but only served to catch the attention of her sisters, which wasn't.
"Is the Queen going out again?" Beeatrice asked. "Alone? Absolutely not!"
"I am not required to take you with me," the Queen told her firmly. "You are too weak to leave the nest. Stay here and tend to the brood until I return."
"I must protest and protest I shall!" Guinebee declared. "I have reached the third tier and my stinger is fully mutated. The monsters out there stand no chance against my mighty toxin!"
Irritated, the Queen buzzed her wings in frustration, blowing back the much smaller workers. "The monsters out there would destroy you in an instant," she said, her pheromones flat and unamused. "None of you are leaving this hive until you reach the fourth tier. Now stop being pests, I have to hunt."
"Boo!"
"Hiss!"
"Meany!"
Paying no attention to her protesting children, the Queen flew quickly out of the exit and out into the Dungeon. Lightning and wind immediately buffeted her, but she absorbed the blows and moved with the air current, her legs tucked tightly underneath her carapace as she began to search for new prey.
It had seemed like such a good idea at first. If her children were more intelligent, then they would be better able to navigate the difficult hunting conditions here, so much deeper in the Dungeon than where the Queen was born, and where her first hive failed.
So, she made them smarter, modifying her egg-laying process heavily during her last evolution to create smarter, stronger, more adaptable workers. What she hadn't appreciated at the time was just how independently minded it would make them. In her first hive, the very thought that any of her children would ever second guess a single thing that she had told them was absurd! Now it was a daily occurrence!
Which only compounded the second decision she had made. After all, they had pheromone glands already, from the moment they were born; why not make it so they could communicate better? This would mean more cooperation, more efficient tending to the hive and hunting.
So far it had only led to more coordinated protesting.
Antennae blowing wildly in the strong winds, the Queen was still able to detect a faint scent. It wasn't much, but it was something she had found before.
Banking hard, she turned into the wind and let it blow her to the side, angling her massive body to ensure she moved in just the right way. Suddenly, her wings buzzed once more, louder than before and she picked up speed.
From somewhere nearby within the swirling cloud on her right came a surprised cry followed by powerful wing beats. Monsters in this area were growing to know and fear the droning sound of her wings, the Queen had noticed, but this one was too slow.
She may not be nearly as fast as they were once they picked up speed, but she could dart in and tackle them before they had a chance to flee, agile and quick thanks to the unique nature of her wings.
With a loud crack, she smashed into the target, spraying feathers wide as she latched on, mandibles snapping. Talons slashed, beak stabbed and lightning crashed. The fight was on.
When it was over, the Queen struggled back to the nest. Injured and burdened by the Crackling Hawk she had defeated, it was a difficult flight, but failure was simply not an option. The hive had to flourish, no matter what.
"The Queen returns!"
"Ah! She's injured!"
"Prepare the medical nectar immediately!"
"I'm fine," the Queen groused, finally coming to a rest, lowering the Biomass down into the nest. She appeared grumpy, but on the inside couldn't help but feel warmed by the care of her children. "I wasn't able to keep it alive, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."
"Don't you dare apologise!" Elizabee yelled, waving her forelegs in the air. "You have done everything for us and we are truly grateful!"
"Hear, hear!"
"Three cheers for the Queen!"
Well, maybe having noisy children wasn't too bad.