Chapter 402 - 402: Bad Timing
"Little brother, remember that we need to be sneaky! Don't go too fast now." Ruby exclaimed, riding aboard Cyberfang's head.
[Affirmative… Elder sister.]
The AI of the mechanical beast replied, calling Ruby "elder sister" for the first time.
Suddenly, her eyes began to sparkle like little gems. Internally rejoicing, she embraced the giant metallic head of the beast.
"So cute!" Ruby murmured, barely following her own advice of keeping quiet.
During the whole ride, Ava had crossed her arms smugly, a smile plastered over her face. Remembering how Richard was made to remain at the feline camp while she accompanied Michael, since her petite frame and speed made her easily remain hidden.
"As I stated before… Sometimes it pays to be small!" She giggled. This time no one tried to ridicule her.
Gradually, they neared the tyrannical Monarch, its overwhelming aura settling over their bodies.
First Colt and Nyla were affected, being the weaker of the bunch. With the rest of the group following suit, only Michael and Cyberfang remained unaffected by the pressure, both unable to feel fear.
Just when they felt on the verge of listening to their instinct of self-preservation, Michael spoke in a calm voice.
"Endure it. Now is the perfect time to get accustomed to the aura of a Monarch."
They nodded in unison, appreciating the words, particularly Colt and Nyla, whose faces had turned pale as a sheet. They might be weaker, but they were willing to prove themselves.
Abruptly, Michael raised his hand, signaling for everybody to halt.
"Here they are…" He spoke barely above a whisper, observing the horizon.
Focusing their vision one by one, the group extended their senses further. What they saw left them stunned.
A large line of towering ants marched like a unit.
Black exoskeletons most cultivators would struggle to break, mandibles sharper than any blade. The sheer size was alarming… These were not ants, but fearsome monsters that wouldn't go down without a fight.
Sadly, their height wasn't the biggest cause for concern. Since they were spiritual beasts, they were measured by the same realms humans used to assess their progress.
Every single one of the ants was equivalent to a cultivator of the Master realm.
Not counting the members of Michael's crew, Nyla and Colt were among the strongest warriors of the feline camp. Yet even they doubted they could defeat a single one of these creatures… while their numbers were at least in the thousands.
"Goodness…" Nyla's hands trembled in fright.
Meeting Michael had been a miracle. Without him and the crew, the felines in the camp would have been crushed by the ant colony in due time.
"Honestly…" Colt gulped audibly. "Forget what I said about keeping outsiders out of our business. My eyes have been open… Without external help, we would be doomed."
Michael, not paying attention to their chatter, observed the ants in silence.
One thing he noted was that while the ants were equivalent to Masters, some of them carried the slain corpses of aliens from the General tier.
Under normal circumstances, only Grandmaster cultivators were capable of slaying Generals. That either meant the ants were capable of masterful cooperation to be able to take down such fearsome aliens… or that there were more exceptional ants in their ranks, "champions" in a way.
"Given that they travel in such a perfect line, I place their success on teamwork." He mused.
He was still too far to make out clearly the pillar where their ruler resided, yet he was able to see the faint outline of dots moving in the distance. All were ants carrying food for their queen at the very top.
"The silver lining is that they haven't spotted us." He exclaimed in an even voice. "Let's observe from a distance. We only stand to benefit if we learn how they behave and act in battle."
Their primary concern was not to engage them unless necessary. Steadily, the line of ants advanced, and any Hreh'tar alien that was dumb enough to stand in their way met its end swiftly.
Acting in perfect harmony, the ants would encircle any challenger, attacking from all sides simultaneously, gradually wearing their foes down. Once stripped of their strength, the aliens would meet their demise, only for the ants to carry their corpses toward the heart of their nest.
Surprisingly, the ants didn't show competition for one another. Every ant that fell in battle would be treated as newly acquired nourishment, its remains carried to the top to be consumed as well.
The realization was the first good news in a while. It meant that while the soldier ants shared the strength of spiritual beasts, the same could not be said about their intelligence.
While the ant queen might have passed part of her comprehension of spiritual energy to her offspring, that wasn't the case with either intelligence or finesse. The end result was soldiers that, while tough, lacked any kind of adaptive elegance or strategic thinking on their own.
"This should be enough." Michael called out. "Let's not push our luck and retreat for now. In the meantime, we will focus on rescuing the abducted felines from the cultists—"
Abruptly, Nyla interrupted, bringing Nyx's dire news.
"Michael?" She said worriedly. "We have a problem… a big one."
Before he could ask her what she meant, panicked voices echoed.
"Help! Anyone!"
It belonged to a group of frightened felines. Judging by their thin frames, they had only recently escaped the cultists' clutches. Finding themselves in unfamiliar territory, not knowing where to go next, it had been only a matter of time until they drew the wrong kind of attention.
One man, two women, and ten children ran as several ants followed their trail. Their sharp mandibles snapped open and shut, eager to seize the helpless felines and deliver them to their queen as food.
Michael frowned, helping them was only given. He wasn't the type of man to turn a blind eye to the helpless… Heck, even if he was, Ruby was bound to charge in to rescue them any moment now.
The problem was that by doing so, they would be revealing their position.
Sensing his distress, Nyx gently landed on his shoulder.
"Fuck!" The crow bellowed a curse, letting out his frustration aloud.