The five ant guards' antennae moved in perfect unison, trying to detect the slightest disturbance that could threaten the queen they were sworn to protect to the death.
Victor wanted to take one of them out before the fight even began, but that would be difficult—each of the ants had a clear view of the others' blind spots, preventing any surprise attack.
He hesitated to invest the forty stat points he'd accumulated over the past few days but decided against it, unsure if he might need them later. If things became too complicated, he could always allocate them mid-battle with a single thought.
He had already thought of several ways to use the Symbiote in this fight.
Letting it fight on its own would be counterproductive—its power had already diminished from the previous battle, and these opponents were on an entirely different level.
After thinking for a few minutes about how to fight these things, Victor waited no longer.
In response to his command, the Symbiote morphed into what looked like a one-meter-long mace with a short spike at each end.
It was perfect for what Victor had in mind.
As a precaution, he still allocated ten points to Agility, his second-lowest stat along with Endurance.
Speed was essential, he would need it both to shatter their armor and to avoid potentially fatal injuries.
He just hoped it would be enough.
Almost immediately, that familiar wave of heat and euphoria surged through his body, especially along his legs and joints.
It had only been a few days since he last felt it, yet it seemed like an eternity.
Once his preparations were done, Victor lunged forward in a single bound, taking the five guards and their queen by surprise.
He brought his living weapon down with all his strength onto the back of the nearest guard. A sharp cracking sound echoed from the insect's body.
Although deep fissures now covered the ant's back, the exoskeleton hadn't given way—it had merely weakened.
Victor clicked his tongue in irritation.
He'd suspected it wouldn't be enough, but part of him had hoped to be wrong. It would've made things much simpler.
He pushed off the insect's body and leapt into the air, barely avoiding a pair of razor-sharp mandibles that snapped toward his right arm.
If he lost that arm too, it would be a serious problem.
Two guards positioned themselves beside the bloated queen to ensure nothing could reach her, while the remaining three focused entirely on Victor, who had landed a few meters away.
One of the guards suddenly lunged at him like a cannonball, shattering the cracked tiles beneath its legs with the force of its charge.
Victor dodged to the side with a quick step, his newly boosted agility saving his life by mere centimeters. He heard the piercing snap of mandibles closing on empty air—right where his neck had been.
Without wasting a moment, he countered.
The Symbiote, still in its mace form, shifted in response to his will, extending by another meter. With a precise swing, Victor brought it down on the same guard, striking the fissure he had opened earlier.
The resulting crack echoed throughout the room. The guard's carapace shattered into fragments, exposing pink flesh veined with black lines. Splashes of dark green blood and shards of chitin scattered across the floor.
It wasn't dead yet, but the damage was done—the spike at the end of his weapon had pierced the soft tissue beneath. That was all Victor needed.
But he had no time to celebrate. Another ant leapt onto him, its mandibles clamping down on his left arm.
The pain was blinding—a burning agony that nearly forced a scream from his throat.
For a split second, he almost wished he'd gone numb all the way to his shoulder.
He dropped the Symbiote and grabbed the head of the ant still latched onto his arm, trying desperately to pry it off, but it was useless—the reversed hooks along its mandibles were doing their job too well.
A third guard lunged at him without warning, but Victor was ready this time. He lined up his struggling assailant with the incoming one.
At the last second, the one gripping his arm released its hold, the charging guard slammed into Victor's left shoulder, sending him crashing into the wall hard enough to dislodge a few tiles.
The shock rippled through his spine like a lightning bolt, numbing his senses for a heartbeat.
He immediately regretted not investing more in Endurance.
That distinct metallic taste filled his mouth, but he couldn't afford to think about it now.
In front of him, the three ants advanced slowly, their clawed legs scraping the floor, creating a chilling, rhythmic clatter that echoed through the chamber.
Their eyes—black, deeper than their carapace—glimmered with a primitive but focused intelligence.
Victor rose to one knee and spat a mouthful of blood on the ground, his eyes locked on his enemies.
He recalled his mace, which flew back into his hand like Mjolnir returning to Thor.
A nervous chuckle escaped his lips despite himself before he charged again, focusing on one of the ants whose armor was still intact.
He was still faster than them. With a sharp swing, he brought his weapon down, aiming straight for the creature's head.
This time, he didn't wait to see the result and immediately retreated, returning to his previous position.
The first ant Victor wounded tried to retaliate, but its speed had dropped drastically—and kept dropping for some reason—allowing him to dodge easily with a sidestep.
He struck again, targeting the same one that was still reeling from the impact that had left its senses ringing like a bell.
But unexpectedly, the remaining uninjured guard threw itself in front of the blow, taking it full force on its back. Its carapace held, though the hit knocked it off balance, sending it crashing onto the wounded ant beneath it.
It was the perfect opportunity. Victor raised his arm to finish them both—but a sudden alarm flared in his mind, forcing him to dodge just in time to avoid another pair of mandibles slicing toward him from the right.
One of the guards that had been protecting the queen had joined the fight—she must have sensed her defenders' struggle and ordered reinforcements.
If the Symbiote hadn't warned him at that moment, that thing would've been feasting on his guts by now.
Not that there was much to eat on Victor's lean frame.
[You have slain a Steel Jaw Ant (Lvl 14)]
[Level up. You gain 5 free points.]
Two messages flashed before his eyes, and Victor let out a sigh of relief.
The first guard lay still, greenish blood pooling from what he assumed was its mouth.
« As I thought… softer on the inside. »
The reason it had died was simple.
The spikes at the end of his mace weren't just for decoration—when they pierced the insect's soft tissue, some of the flies composing the weapon burrowed into the wound, tunneling toward the vital organs and devouring them from within.
It was a horrible, agonizing death.
The body still twitched, proof that the flies were still inside, likely feasting on its brain and triggering spasms.
Only four guards remained, one of which still stood before the queen, unmoving—a living shield.
Victor decided to change strategy. He could feel the blood loss catching up to him, his muscles aching with exhaustion.
In an instant, the Symbiote reshaped itself into a sharp, spear-like form.
Victor drew his arm back and, with a cold smile, hurled his living weapon with all his might. The friction of air against the thrown spear produced a sharp whistling sound.
Despite its speed, the ants could have dodged it.
But only if they'd intended to.
Victor had thrown it directly at what mattered most to them—The queen.
When an enemy too powerful bears down on you, it isn't hard to make them kneel.
You just have to threaten what they care about.
A loved one, their wealth, their reputation, their offspring—it doesn't matter.
Unless they're a sociopath or a psychopath, it always works.
You only have to know what matters most to them.
Even relatively stupid beasts like these ants could be fooled by such a trick.
The three front guards aligned perfectly along the spear's trajectory; it impaled the first one completely before embedding itself into the second's shell, severely damaging it.
But Victor wasn't finished.
He recalled his weapon—the ants managed to kill several of the flies composing it, but it was futile. The swarm was simply too vast.
He prepared for a second and final throw. His arm trembled from the effort; he knew a third would be impossible.
Even with less force, the javelin found its mark, taking the third guard down with it.
Victor was panting, drenched in sweat.
But two still remained—and the queen.
At that moment, he knew he had no choice.
Grinding his teeth, he invested ten of his remaining points into Endurance.
A sudden surge of energy cleared his foggy mind, steadied his limbs, and slowed his breathing.
He was still exhausted, but it would have to do.
He rushed toward the remaining ant struggling to free itself from beneath the corpses of its allies that had crushed it when they stepped into the path of the spear.
The Symbiote transformed into a short, sharp blade, perfectly shaped by the will of its master.
Victor pinned the insect's head to the floor with his foot, exposing the weak spot he had noticed earlier when one had latched onto his arm—The gap between its head and thorax.
Without hesitation, he drove his blade into it, slicing easily through the soft flesh beneath the shell.
The notification flashed before his eyes, but he ignored it, focusing on the last one.
Unfortunately, he reacted too late. While finishing off the trapped one, he hadn't noticed the final guard creeping up silently behind him.
Instinctively, he raised his right hand in front of his neck just as the creature lunged.
It couldn't change its trajectory mid-air, its mandibles closed on two of Victor's fingers, slicing them clean off.
« Goddammit! »
He let out a loud scream, echoing through the room bathed in a mixture of red and green blood.
His severed fingers hit the floor with a wet thud.
Victor saw nothing but pain, caring little about the loss of his index and middle finger.
Instinctively, the Symbiote reverted to its original form, placing itself between him and the enemy in defense.
What Victor felt, it felt too.
It couldn't feel pain in the human sense, but it knew Victor was suffering.
It was empathy—of a sort.
Without hesitation, the creature faced the guard, towering slightly over it.
What followed was a clash between razor mandibles and bladed limbs.
The fight lasted a full minute before Victor could steady himself again. The pain was still there, but at least he could bear it.
For now.
He joined his ally once more, supporting it with what little strength he had left, forcing the ant to divide its focus.
It worked.
After another minute, the guard fell, its head cleanly severed by the Symbiote's sharp proboscis.
Victor exhaled deeply.
But it was still too soon to rest. One creature remained.
The queen.
She was still in her original position. As Victor had guessed, she was completely immobile—helpless without her guards.
That was likely why all the corpses had been gathered here, to feed her.
He staggered toward her. Her long antennae waved frantically, sending out what he assumed were desperate distress signals—hoping, perhaps, for a miracle rescue.
But Victor would make sure that never happened.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the Symbiote, now reshaped into a mace, and brought it down on the creature's body.
A shriek pierced the air, painfully high-pitched in Victor's ears.
He wondered briefly if she could feel pain.
It seemed the answer was yes.
So he kept hitting.
The second strike drew a more desperate, louder scream.
After the third, the screams were weaker.
Silence welcomed the fourth.
He received a notification but dismissed it instantly.
He wasn't done.
He kept hitting.
And hitting.
And hitting.
Until his arm gave out and he collapsed, dropping the weapon as he fell to his knees before what was once a queen—now nothing more than an unrecognizable pile of flesh.
Her shell was shattered into countless fragments; her body reduced to pulp, a mix of green blood and organs smeared across the floor. Her skin was flattened like gum beneath a shoe.
Victor's breathing was ragged, uneven. He coughed violently, like a dying man in the final stages of lung cancer.
He had pushed himself beyond his limits.
Far beyond.