The mont the words were spoken, the air seed to thicken. Every chief, every warrior, and every champion knew that this was the mont that would decide their fate.
The champions from each of the twenty villages stepped forward in unison, their expressions solemn, their determination burning quietly within their eyes.
Max felt the tension rise as he followed Chief Igris and the warriors of his village toward the enormous, jagged pit ahead. The den of the Devouring Ants stood like a wound in the world itself.
The entrance stretched wide and deep, swallowing the faint violet light of the wasteland. A foul stench of decay drifted out from the darkness, thick with the sll of soil, death, and the strange tallic tang of blood.
As they descended into the den, their steps echoed against the stone walls. The air grew heavier and more humid. Strange clicking sounds reverberated through the tunnels, faint at first but growing clearer the deeper they went. After a few minutes of walking, they arrived at a massive underground chamber.
The chamber stretched far into the distance, illuminated faintly by glowing crystals embedded in the ceiling. All twenty champions and their accompanying dwarves gathered there, surrounded by a labyrinth of smaller tunnels. Around these tunnels, one could see countless ant's corpse, ants as big as Max and the others.
Each tunnel was about large enough for a human to pass through and dwarves as well. The walls of these tunnels were smooth, covered in traces of sli and claw marks.
Tribal Lord Grodan stepped forward once again. His massive hamr rested upon his shoulder, and his voice carried across the echoing chamber. "From here on, only the champions will continue. The tunnels are burial ground for us as many devouring ants walked in those tunnels. As the natural predator of our race, we are simply no match for them and so we could only accompany you all champions to this place only."
His gaze swept across the champions, his tone deep and commanding. "You will face death in its purest form. The Devouring Ants hunger for everything that breathes. They will not stop. They do not sleep. Rember, Holy Nectar lies in the heart of their nest. Those who reach it will not only claim the it but will also prove the worth of their blood, body, and soul. Now go."
The ground trembled slightly as if sothing far below was already stirring. The champions exchanged glances before turning toward the tunnels. One by one, they stepped into the darkness.
Max turned to Chief Igris, who stood beside him with a calm yet unreadable expression. The faint glow from the ceiling crystals reflected off the old dwarf's armor, giving him an almost ethereal presence.
"This is where we part ways, boy," Chief Igris said in a low voice. His tone was steady, but there was a subtle warmth in his eyes that Max had not seen before. "From here on, it's all on you."
Max nodded firmly, his expression serious. "I will not fail you, Chief. I will bring back the Holy Nectar, no matter what."
Chief Igris placed one massive hand on Max's shoulder. "Good. I know you will." He then leaned closer, his voice turning almost like a whisper. "But rember one thing, Max. Do not waste your strength on every battle you co across in there. The Devouring Ants hunt in thousands. No amount of pride will save you if you are surrounded. Fight with your mind as much as your body. You are strong, but even the strongest can fall to endless hunger."
Max t his gaze. "I understand."
For a mont, neither of them spoke. Then Chief Igris stepped back and straightened his posture. His deep voice bood once again, loud enough for all the champions to hear. "May the forge of your soul burn brighter than the darkness of the ants' nest!"
The champions responded by nodding solemnly before disappearing one by one into their chosen tunnels.
Max was the last to step forward. He glanced back one final ti at Chief Igris, who gave him a firm nod of encouragent. Without another word, Max turned and entered one of the tunnels. The darkness swallowed him completely.
The tunnel was narrow and silent, save for the faint sounds of his own breathing. The air slled of damp earth and decay. With every step he took, the sound of clicking grew louder, echoing faintly in the distance.
Behind him, the chamber slowly emptied as the other champions vanished into their own tunnels. Chief Igris watched the last flicker of light fade into the darkness and muttered quietly to himself. "May the gods of stone guide you, boy. May you return alive."
---
Inside one of the tunnels, Max moved cautiously, every step asured and silent. The air was thick and humid, clinging to his skin like a living thing. The walls around him were rough and uneven, carved not by tools but by mandibles. Faint grooves and scratches covered every surface, evidence of countless claws passing through this place over ti.
The further he walked, the stronger the sll beca. It was a mix of earth, decay, and sothing sharp—like rusted iron mixed with blood. He glanced around and noticed several corpses scattered along the path.
So were small beasts, others were half-eaten remains of creatures he didn't recognize. Each carcass was dried and hollow, as if its life force had been drained away. The wounds on them were not tears or gashes but small punctures, perfectly round and clean. The work of sothing precise and rciless.
"Devouring Ants…" Max muttered quietly to himself. He rembered what Chief Igris had told him—their hunger was endless, their coordination flawless.
In the violet wasteland, the Devouring Ants stood above all as the true apex predators. Not even the Giant Dwarves could face them directly. For every warrior a dwarf tribe had, a single Devouring Ant could match its ferocity. When they sward, even the strongest among the dwarves were reduced to bones within monts.
Max stayed alert. His Three Dinsional Body was fully active, sending faint pulses of perception in all directions, mapping out the tunnel around him. The sensation of his own detection ability brushing against the cold stone walls made him more aware of the silence pressing in. It was too quiet—no movent, no faint echoes of insects, nothing.
He slowed his steps and exhaled softly. "It's too still," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the narrow space. His instincts were screaming that sothing was near. He extended his perception further, and within seconds, his mind registered a shape moving ahead—fast and deliberate.
From the darkness ahead, a sound rose. It began as a low clicking, rhythmic and sharp. The sound grew louder with each passing second, echoing off the tunnel walls like the beating of a thousand tiny hamrs. Then he saw it.
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