The good thing about resting at night is waking up with your mana fully restored. Since I haven’t spent anything this morning, I still have my fourteen points intact.

  Well. Soon they’ll be twelve.

  Unless that transcendence thing of mine decides to activate for once. For a low-level skill, it hasn’t worked a single time yet.

  I focus on the rock blocking our way and cast stone control. My mana drops to twelve.

  Actually, it’s only since I raised the skill to low level that I even have a one percent chance of not spending mana. That one percent applies even if I’m nervous, distracted—thinking about Vincent—or pulled away from a perfect state of balance for any reason.

  With an ease gained from expanding caves, shoring tunnels, and making bricks, I move the rock aside. Part of it I merge into the tunnel walls and ceiling to reinforce them. The rest, since I’m already at it, I leave stacked at my feet in the shape of stone blocks.

  Ronan nods in approval as soon as he sees them.

  No comment.

  I move closer to the entrance without releasing the spell. I can feel the airflow coming from within the tunnel.

  “We’re going in,” I say. “Organized.”

  I remain silent for a few seconds, looking each of them in the eyes. It’s difficult, since I have to stay focused on stone control the whole time. More training, I suppose. A few days ago, I wouldn’t have been able to do this at all.

  I look at them one by one because I want to be a good leader. I want them to know I’m aware of every single one of them in this fight. The orcs, still eager to prove themselves, puff out their chests a little more when my gaze lingers on them.

  As for the marching order, Ronan and I decided it beforehand. One of the two tanks should go first. The Bronze Fist, that way we give him the spotlight.

  “You’re up first, Stoong,” I tell him. “Carry a torch. Ornogg, right after.”

  I glance at Ornogg, but Stoong has already entered the tunnel, silent. Good—he won’t interrupt while I give orders.

  I keep calling names. Two goblins go next, advancing side by side. The orcs, being larger, can only move single file. Stoong’s shield alone nearly fills the width of the tunnel. Ronan follows in the middle with another torch. Two more goblins come after him, then the totem with Grumpa at his side. I bring up the rear. Finally, closing the formation, the orc shaman carries the third torch, followed by the other tank.

  Once everyone is inside, and I’m still within range of the spell, I carefully collapse the entrance, sealing it shut while making sure Convergence’s cave remains perfectly stable.

  If I hadn’t made those bricks, I could’ve reused that rock to plug the gap. But if I destroyed them now, I think the goblins and orcs would be just as disappointed.

  Not Ronan.

  Ronan would laugh at me. You wouldn’t notice it, but he would. Just like the dog at my feet, watching everything with curiosity. I already know that mocking expression he gets when he thinks I’m being silly for not thinking things through.

  With the entrance sealed again and no ant able to reach our settlement, we advance.

  Slowly.

  The orc at the front says he can’t see the end of the tunnel. From where I am, all I see are backs. The torches provide limited light.

  It takes a long time before we encounter the first ant.

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  Stoong stops abruptly and even takes a step back, bumping into the fighter right behind him.

  Good thing it wasn’t a goblin. They’re much punier.

  “What’s wrong with you?” the warrior snaps. “Why are you backing up?”

  “It’s huge,” the tank replies, crouching and planting his shield on the ground. “I’ve never seen an ant like that.”

  “I can’t see it,” the warrior says.

  Honestly, peering through the gaps between those ahead of me, neither can I.

  Still… come on. As far as I know, they’re about the size of a large dog. Big, sure, but I’ve seen worse in video games.

  “Get ready,” Ronan says calmly. “They already know we’re here.”

  Then the warrior smacks the tank hard on the helmet.

  (This one seems more brutish than Darius.)

  “Don’t embarrass us,” he growls.

  That’s when I catch a glimpse of movement—unclear, hard to make out. It’s Ornogg, the warrior, who verbalizes it, clearing up doubts for those of us in back:

  “A whole horde is coming,” he shouts. “Huge ants.”

  “Get down!” the totem orders.

  We do. All of us. The goblins, of course, because they’re used to obeying him. The orcs too, which pleases me. The totem is one of my only two officers, after all.

  A fireball sails over the heads of those in front. Not over mine—I’m right behind the goblin mage—so I seize the chance to look.

  When I heard “horde,” I imagined the tunnel widening, side passages feeding into it. But no. The tunnel is barely wider than an orc. The ants aren’t just charging along the ground, they’re crawling over the walls and ceiling.

  A red tide.

  My skin crawls just looking at them. Worse, coming at us like this. A massive, seething wave.

  The fireball illuminates everything as it hits the second ant and bursts, engulfing it in flames. The creature keeps advancing anyway.

  Damn it. It keeps walking like one of Ronan’s zombies, as if the fire doesn’t even hurt.

  Still, I can’t help wondering whose fireball would deal more damage, mine or the totem’s.

  “What is this?” Ornogg shouts, panic clear in his voice.

  So much for lecturing others about fear.

  I hear whispered chanting behind me, words spoken with the rhythm of a spell. Shortly after, I feel better. Stronger, somehow.

  I know the system doesn’t usually show notifications during combat, but I open it anyway. I want to see this:

  Warning. Your vassal Grunbleinderflagglernigrt has cast High-Level Bear Fury on your group.

  +3 Strength, +2 Constitution.

  An area buff. Excellent.

  Grumpa, right in front of me, opens and closes her hands in surprise. The totem notices and immediately follows up with his Blessing of Strength and Rage, a goblin-only enhancement.

  I know because I look for the system notification:

  Warning: The totem just tried to bless you with Blessing of Strength and Rage. The blessing has failed. It’s only compatible with goblins.

  Grumpa looks at the totem. He smiles at her, then turns proudly toward the shaman.

  The orc ignores him completely.

  The flaming ant finally collapses before reaching us. By the light of its burning body, even I—far in the back—can see the red tide advancing.

  “They’re climbing over their dead,” the tank says. “They’re coming.”

  The first ants reach us. Stoong braces and blocks them with his shield. Ornogg takes the opening and swings his axe hard at the chitin between an ant’s antennae.

  The blow bounces. He only manages to make the ant lower its head slightly.

  Visibly frustrated, he strikes again. This time the ant’s natural armor cracks. He drives the axe in fully and kills it.

  The ants press against the shield, crawling over their fallen sister, trying to get past. One on the ceiling lunges, nearly biting Ornogg as he yanks his axe free.

  Goblin spears flash. They pierce—at the joints where legs meet thorax and in the membranous areas of the abdomen—dropping the creature instantly.

  Good for the goblins! I think. You can tell they’ve fought ants before and that I taught them how.

  Then, suddenly, the ants freeze.

  All of them.

  Their legs seize mid-motion. Mana and life flows twist visibly through the air.

  Ronan.

  He’s using an area life-and-mana drain.

  I’m supposed to be proud of my transcendence, which might work and save me the mana of a spell, and here’s the lich boss from one of the otome endings burning mana and recovering it like there’s no tomorrow.

  Weren’t we supposed to be here so the orcs, goblins, and the pup could gain experience?

  Still… I get it. If neither of us intervenes, they’ll swarm past the tanks and go straight for our heads.

  Stone spikes might’ve worked. But now they’re immobilized.

  Let the others finish them.

  “Go,” I tell the seed. “Finish as many as you can before Ronan drains them dry.”

  With a sharp bark, the pup charges forward.

  Unlike the orcs and goblins, he’s smaller and more agile—and he uses it. He casts shadow claws and goes straight for the joint between the head and thorax, striking with ruthless speed. He’s fast. He cuts down far more ants than anyone else. Even so, some end up collapsing, completely drained by Ronan's spell.

  The newly arrived ones don't last long either. They push aside the fallen bodies as they advance, only to step into Ronan's area of effect. I don't know if it happens automatically or if he deliberately selects them, but they freeze instantly as their energy siphons toward the necromancer.

  I shake my head.

  That guy is terrifying.

  Good thing he's my friend and my loyal vassal. He meddles a bit too much in what I tell my fiancé, but he's genuinely a good person.

  Mituindal, Kay, Trevor Ramsey, Slipperyfish, Skisquirrel, Paul, HeirenFel, OakieTheTree, AbyssalChaos, Jasmine, Nicholas Mccalister, Just Dave, Kail, Kerri Knorr and Aaron Stewart: Huge thanks for your support on Patreon! <3