"Holy Mother of God…"
Most of his life, Ricky had been a staunch non-believer. He'd mocked devotion, scoffed at superstition, and rolled his compound eyes at prayers. But the scene before him made something primal and instinctive stir deep within—the kind of awe that cracked even the firmest beliefs.
Roar!
The air trembled as a thunderous howl echoed, rising from the throats of a hundred armored monstrosities. The Aegis ants surged forward in a unified tide of rage, like prehistoric beasts awakened after centuries of hunger. Bloodlust poured off them in waves, so thick and concentrated it practically took form—striking Ricky like invisible blades trying to peel his exoskeleton apart.
He gritted his non-existent teeth and readied himself.
Ricky had never been a coward. Not when he'd downed fifty bottles on a dare, not when death circled overhead during his evolution, and certainly not now—when a swarm of bloodthirsty ants threatened to rip him to shreds.
