The soldiers locked their formation tight, a wall of steel and chitin shielding the workers crouched behind the wheeled containers.
Their mandibles clashed against fly fists, each strike sending sparks and splatters into the air. Antennae twitched in constant motion, catching every shift of wingbeat or rush of air as enemies dove from above.
The workers huddled low, pressed to the ground in silence, the massive containers looming over them like crude barricades. Every second the soldiers held was another second the workers lived.
Ari weaved through the swarm, movements precise and lethal. Each swing of his mandibles cleaved through the enemy, bodies collapsing in his wake as he surged forward with unrelenting speed.
A fly landed a solid blow to his face, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Dust rose around him, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.
He winced, teeth gritting against the sting, but didn't pause—pushing off the ground, blades ready, he plunged back into the fray.
Ruth moved with her usual unshakable calm, cutting a path through the enemy line with ruthless precision.
A fly lunged at her, fists striking in rapid succession, but her antennae twitched with perfect timing. She dodged each blow, her mandibles snapping through its four arms, severing them cleanly.
The creature shrieked, flailing uselessly. Ruth used its slack body as leverage, vaulting upward and slashing its head off mid-leap, then spinning to strike down two more airborne flies.
Blood streaked her exoskeleton and smeared across her face, but her expression remained unreadable—calm, detached, unstoppable.
Rory wasn't having as much luck. He was locked in combat with a particularly fast fly, every strike of his mandible blades narrowly missing its mark.
He slashed upward, but the fly twisted in midair with lightning reflexes and landed a bone-crushing blow to his torso. Rory staggered back, teeth gritted, refusing to falter. Pain radiated through his exoskeleton, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He wiped it away with the back of his armored hand, tasting iron as he inhaled sharply.
The fly darted in and out, toying with him. Each strike landed heavy against his ribs, making him wince, every blow reinforcing his frustration.
This is getting irritating—I can't land a single hit on this bastard, he thought, breathing heavily, muscles coiled but shaking from repeated impacts.
The fly hovered above, wings buzzing sharply, a cruel smirk on its elongated humanlike face.
"What's wrong? Unable to hit your target?"
Before Rory could respond, a shadow moved faster than he could track. Beatrice dropped into the space behind him, feet pressing into the dirt as she launched her mandibles forward. Both blades slammed into the fly's carapace, gripping it with precise force.
She twisted her body, levering the fly upward, then drove the mandibles down through its neck.
The fly's limbs twitched once, then went completely slack. Its head separated cleanly from its body, rolling across the ground while blood spattered across Beatrice's forearms and armor. The thud of its lifeless body hitting the dirt vibrated through the ground.
She landed in a low crouch, muscles taut, pressing a hand to her side. Her breathing was steady but sharp, antennae flicking as she scanned the remaining enemies.
She winced slightly, then straightened, blades ready, returning fully to the fight.
"Letting your guard down in a fight like this?" Beatrice's antennae twitched sharply as she scanned the nearby swarm. "That was your biggest mistake."
Rory exhaled, muscles still tight from the impact, and straightened his stance. He wiped a smear of blood from his lip with the back of his armored hand.
"Thanks, Beatrice."
She didn't wait for him to respond further. Pressing a hand briefly to her side Beatrice straightened, flexing her fingers around her mandibles.
"Get back in formation. The workers are our top priority right now."
The chaos of battle pressed in from every side. Ari moved steadily, muscles coiled beneath his exoskeleton, antennae flicking constantly to catch shifts in air and vibration. His mandibles sliced through the space in front of him, severing a fly clean through the torso.
Before he could even register the kill, another enemy attempted to escape. Its translucent wings beat frantically, catching the dim light as it ascended.
Ari's eyes locked onto it, body reacting before his mind fully processed the movement. He gripped one mandible blade with precision, fingers flexing along the haft, and hurled it like a spear.
The weapon cut through the air, embedding deep in the fly's chest. Its wings twitched once, then spasmed violently as it fell, crashing into the dirt with a heavy, thudding impact that sent a faint tremor through Ari's feet.
Sweat slicked his exoskeleton, but his breathing stayed steady. He yanked the mandible free, keeping his stance tight, muscles ready for the next attack.
Across the battlefield, Isla gripped her mandibles tightly, fingers flexing along the handles, exoskeleton plates straining slightly under her hold. Her legs trembled, but she forced her stance, pressing her feet into the dirt to stay balanced.
Antennae twitched rapidly with every vibration in the air—the beat of wings, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, the scrape of armor colliding. The constant buzzing pressed against her ears, sharpening her fear.
Out of the corner of her eye, a fly broke from the swarm and locked onto her. Its four arms rose, fists poised. Isla let out a sharp, terrified scream and swung her mandibles. Steel bit into flesh, slicing through one arm.
The fly screamed sharply, blood spurting from the severed arm, warm droplets splattering across Isla's forearm and armor. Its limbs flailed uncontrollably, the rhythm of its wingbeats faltering as it struggled against the sudden damage.
Rory spotted the opening. He lunged without hesitation, mandibles arcing down with full force. The fly's torso crumpled under the impact, wings flapping weakly before it fell, motionless, hitting the ground with a dull thud that rattled the dirt beneath them.
Rory's chest rose and fell rapidly as he straightened, sweat slicking the ridges of his exoskeleton.
"Finally," he gasped, voice rough from exertion.
Isla's antennae flicked nervously, hands still trembling as she gripped her mandibles, trying to steady them.
"I was the one who injured it! That should've been my kill!"
Rory's jaw tightened, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the tremor in his limbs from the hits he'd taken.
"Quit acting like you had the guts to finish it. We can argue later. Right now, the battle comes first."
The battlefield was shifting. The initial panic had faded, and the soldier ants moved with precision, coordinating in small groups of three to take down individual flies with efficiency.
Commander Ruth advanced deliberately, mandibles flashing, cutting through the enemy with calculated strikes. Ari weaved between attackers, movements sharp and controlled, each swing leaving barely a moment for them to react.
Brooks pressed forward steadily, absorbing blows with rigid posture and countering with exact timing, exoskeleton flexing with each impact.
Zippy's confidence faltered as he watched his swarm collapse. One by one, his forces fell, leaving gaps that the soldier ants exploited without mercy. The battlefield seemed to shrink around him, the buzzing of wings and thuds of falling bodies echoing in his ears.
Brooks advanced steadily, mandibles gripped tightly. Zippy's fists flew, a blur of desperate attacks, but each blow thudded uselessly against Brooks's solid exoskeleton. He staggered backward slightly with every strike, chest heaving, wings fluttering unevenly, yet Brooks barely shifted.
"How… how are you not affected?!" Zippy panted, voice cracking, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. Panic clawed at him as he tried to read Brooks's calm posture.
Brooks's lips curved into a faint smirk.
"Like I said," he said evenly, "timing, patience… experience. That's what wins a battle."
Zippy froze, antennae twitching rapidly as terror coiled in his chest. He clenched his fists, wings quivering with tension, heart hammering against his carapace.
He's no ordinary soldier… not even close. But he can't be a lieutenant. Based on everything I've seen during previous raids and the intelligence reports, only sergeants and below go on these supply missions. Then why… why send him here? Something's wrong…
Before Zippy could react, Brooks surged forward, closing the distance in a flash. Zippy's eyes widened as Brooks's mandibles cut through the air, striking him squarely in the chest. The force drove him backward, his body hitting the dirt with a jarring thud.
He coughed, taste of blood sharp on his tongue, and felt it running down his exoskeleton.
Damn it… he's too strong.
Zippy forced himself upright, wings twitching unevenly, muscles stiff from impact. His gaze swept the battlefield, scanning for comrades, but most were either fallen or fleeing. The realization pressed against him, tightening his chest.
These ants… they weren't normal.
Brooks stepped forward, slow and deliberate. A fly lunged at him, arms swinging in a frantic flurry, but Brooks didn't even shift. He caught the attacker by the throat, felt the tension in its muscles, and twisted his wrist sharply. The fly's body went limp instantly, collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.
Zippy's breath hitched, wings fluttering uncontrollably, antennae twitching as panic surged through him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Zippy noticed a sudden absence. Ari was gone.
Activating his 360-degree vision, he scanned the battlefield, antennae twitching rapidly, muscles coiled, wings fluttering in short bursts. Nothing registered immediately, and panic surged through him.
Then, in a blur of movement, Ari appeared behind him. His mandibles gleamed as they swung downward in a precise, lethal arc.
Zippy twisted at the last second, feeling the wind of the blades brush past his neck. Pain flared as a deep gash split across his back, blood running over his exoskeleton. He staggered forward, chest rising and falling sharply, wings trembling from the sudden strike.
Gasping, Zippy shot into the air, wings flaring with rapid, uneven beats. Pain flared along his back, forcing him to adjust mid-flight. His muscles tensed as he struggled to maintain balance, wings buzzing irregularly. His vision swam, chest heaving, and he clutched the deep gash Ari had left, fingers trembling against his own exoskeleton.
This is impossible… how did I not detect him with my 360 vision? he hissed, spitting out a glob of thick, coppery blood. Don't tell me… he's a high-ranked soldier too?
Panic knotted his stomach. That would explain everything—the raw speed, the precision, the way Ari cut through his soldiers without pause. But if that's true… why send three powerful ants on a simple supply mission?
His breath hitched. No—this wasn't normal. This wasn't just a group of scouts and low-ranked soldiers gathering resources. This was a coordinated force.
"Why the hell would they send those three powerful ants on a simple food expedition? They're just collecting food!" Zippy shouted, wings flaring as he struggled to stay aloft, chest heaving, antennae twitching in tension.
He pressed a trembling hand against his bleeding wound, feeling warm blood seep between the armored plates of his exoskeleton. His gaze swept the battlefield, landing on the fallen members of his swarm and the three ants still standing amid the carnage.
Monsters… he thought bitterly. I ran into monsters.
If they stayed, they would all die.
He clenched his jaw, muscles tightening beneath his carapace, swallowing his pride.
"Retreat! Everyone, retreat!"
The remaining flies obeyed instantly. Wings flared and buzzed violently as they lifted from the blood-soaked ground, fleeing the battlefield.
Ari remained, breathing evenly, mandibles in his hands, surveying the aftermath.
The battle was over.
They had won.