I Became an Ant Lord, So I Built a Hive Full of Beauties

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Grev’s scythes rasped at each other. "Understood." He stared north, where the sky writhed.

Dawn Blades and Klick resumed marching. The tunnel ejected them onto a valley floor sheeted with fused skeletons and herd beasts long petrified. Each step thunked hollow.

"Spread out," Shale ordered. He tapped the crust, vibrations suggested caverns below. Needle etched warning glyphs every ten strides. Flint sealed minor cracks with flame. Vexor prowled the perimeter.

Halfway across, a bone-fin shark-like cartilage, calcified burst from beneath. Vexor intercepted, blades scissor-snapping the monster mid-lunge. Its halves slid apart, spilling diamond dust marrow. Klick gasped, then chuckled. "Free fertilizer!"

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Shale hastened pace until they reached solid basalt. They’d lost no blood, only breath and a sliver of calm.

Shadow-Talons halted on a spur where the air turned thin. Sil’s illusions flickered, aura density interfered. Grev grunted. "Drop cloak; rely on steel."

They advanced openly. Near dusk the path widened into a plateau of black glass. In its reflection, the sky-scar looked like a gaping maw under their feet. Drask tapped the surface magnetic resonance. "Stable."

They set a minimalist bivouac. Grev honed scythes. Sil meditated to clear illusion burnout. Brask and Drask took turns gnawing an anchor cache into the plateau’s edge, for a rappel tomorrow.

Grev muttered toward the basin below. "Dawn Blades will be first to reach the destination. They might find treasure before us."

Sil raised one brow-plate. "Unless the guardian devours them whole."