As they jumped high into the air, the grasshoppers used their powerful legs to launch them forward.
Emilia, held securely in Zyroth's arms, trembled every time they took off, jolted by the force of each leap.
Her hair whipped across her face as they came back down.
She squeezed her eyes shut when dust and small stones scattered around them.
"I'm surprised you let that ant live," a female grasshopper said, looking toward Zyroth.
Hansel's eyes narrowed.
"That's enough, Gretel."
"That ant was a fool for thinking he could ever match your power. Still, he was braver than the rest of them," Gretel said with a chuckle.
She turned toward Vraijow.
"Hey, you seem to be in a bad mood. What's wrong?"
Vraijow kept his head facing forward.
"Rude…"
Gretel scoffed.
Vraijow's gaze lowered slightly.
Why can't anyone challenge me? They're all just weak. And he's no different.
"Lord Zyroth, I forgot to inform you. Magnus, the leader of the moths, was defeated by the High Monarchs. The remaining moths have dispersed from our region," Hansel said.
"Is that so?" Zyroth said.
His gaze remained fixed ahead.
"Magnus was always a troublesome adversary. His ability to control darkness, quill projectiles, and even inflict decay made him dangerous."
Zyroth paused.
"But whether he's alive or dead makes no difference."
Emilia looked up at Zyroth.
Ari was the one who came up with the strategy that led to Magnus's defeat. Which means…
Her voice trailed off.
In the distance, a massive wall came into view, with a tower rising above the fortress.
Emilia's breath caught.
Her chest tightened, and her fingers curled against Zyroth's arm.
"No way…" she whispered.
"It can't...be."
Zyroth and his generals landed with a heavy thud.
Dust rose around their feet as they started toward the entrance.
Ants were scattered throughout the fortress, working without rest. Sweat soaked their bodies as they carried massive chunks of stone, lumber, and supplies.
Some struggled to keep their legs steady beneath the weight.
Their eyes were dull and unfocused.
Their mouths were dry, their lips cracked.
One ant worked along the wall, his hands trembling as he placed stones and spread mortar between them.
He stopped for a moment and drew in a deep breath.
Suddenly, the wall shook.
The stones shifted.
"Ahhh!"
The ants nearby screamed and scattered as sections of the wall collapsed.
Several were caught beneath the falling boulders.
Blood seeped from beneath the stones.
The ant fell onto his backside and scrambled backward, pushing himself along the ground with his hands.
A nervous laugh escaped him.
His eyes were wide, and his whole body shook.
"No… no, no. It wasn't my fault."
He suddenly bumped into something.
The ant froze.
Slowly, he looked up.
A grasshopper stood behind him.
"Look at the mess you caused. You cost my lord seven workers and a wall that took three months of hard work."
He leaned closer.
"What am I supposed to do with you?"
"I'm sorry, lord Kraivon! I'll work harder. I'll make up for it. Please! I can fix the wall!"
The ant slowly turned around.
Kraivon smiled.
His eyes remained empty.
"You'll pay for all the suffering you caused."
Kraivon hoisted the ant into the air.
The ant screamed, flapping his hands wildly as his legs kicked helplessly.
Crack.
"Hk… khh… rrk!"
Kraivon broke the ant's back across his knee, cutting the scream short.
Tears filled the ant's eyes as the air was knocked from his lungs.
"Since we now have no use for you… you might as well die."
He shoved his lower hands into the ant's back and drew out his spine.
The ant's body went limp, his eyes staring blankly ahead.
Emilia screamed, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes.
When Zyroth returned to the fortress, the grasshoppers stationed around the gates raised their hands.
"The Chief is back!" one of them shouted.
Zyroth continued forward without stopping.
He grabbed Emilia and dragged her through the corridors toward the heart of the fortress.
Her feet scraped against the dirt as she struggled to keep up.
They reached the highest point of the tower.
A large section of the stone had been carved out.
Twisted sticks and thorny vines formed the bars across the entrance.
Zyroth shoved Emilia inside.
She hit the ground hard.
"Ugh…"
Her hands pressed against the cold, packed dirt as she slowly pushed herself up.
"Do you really think they'll be capable of collecting another tribute by then, Zyroth?" Damarok asked.
Damarok folded his four arms and looked out over the workers below.
"What choice do they have?" Zyroth replied. "We took away the heir to the throne. They'll have to obey our every order, even if it means freezing to death."
Damarok stared at Hopper for a moment.
Then his eyes slowly moved toward Zyroth's face.
A thin stream of blood ran down from Zyroth's forehead, passing beside his eye.
Damarok's expression changed.
"You're… bleeding, Zyroth."
The other grasshoppers turned toward Zyroth.
"Don't tell me… that ant actually managed to injure you?" Gretel asked. "No... it has to be a sharp stone or something."
Hansel's jaw tightened as he looked at Gretel.
"Are you seriously trying to insult his strength? It's obvious that wound came from a blade. There's no other explanation."
Vraijow laughed.
"I haven't seen you bleed in a while, not since the Great War between us and the ants." His smirk widened. "To think that weakling actually managed to do it…"
"Silence!"
Zyroth drove his fist into the tower wall.
The stone cracked and shattered beneath his knuckles.
Dust burst into the air as part of the wall collapsed, leaving a jagged opening.
Sunlight poured through the hole as the dust slowly cleared.
Zyroth stood motionless.
"That ant…"
His fist tightened.
"His blood will paint this fortress."
"No, you won't hurt Ari," Emilia muttered.
Zyroth stopped and turned toward her.
"What was that, Princess?"
Emilia swallowed hard.
"You made a big mistake when you allowed him to live!" she said, louder this time, though her voice trembled.
"You can forget about the tribute for winter. Ari will get stronger… and he'll come here. He'll defeat every one of you. He'll rescue me. I know he will."
Zyroth stared at her.
"So you still put that much faith in his abilities, even after seeing for yourself how hopeless he was?"
Emilia clenched her hands around the twisted stick.
"Even so…"
"No matter what he faces, he's always there to protect me. So I believe in him."
Far from the fortress, in the cold training grounds, Lancelot stood alone.
His fists clenched at his sides.
I was right… the difference between Ari and me isn't that great. And yet…
He lowered his head.
He didn't even scratch Zyroth. And I couldn't even…when it mattered, he moved.
Lancelot shook his head.
"No."
He took a slow breath.
"I'm going to get stronger. And the only way to do that…"
His gaze shifted toward the entrance to the colony.
Brooks was walking past.
Lancelot's heart pounded.
He took a deep breath, then suddenly ran after him.
"Lieutenant Brooks!"
Brooks stopped and turned toward Lancelot.
"Oh. It's you, Lancelot. What do you need?"
"Can you spare me a moment?"
"Please…"
Lancelot bowed low.
"Will you train me? Teach me how to use my mandibles?"
Brooks blinked.
"Why do you want to get stronger?"
Lancelot slowly raised his head.
"Because I know Ari is going after the princess alone. And if he does that, he'll die."
"I need to be strong enough to support him."
Lancelot's jaw tightened.
"When he was fighting Zyroth… all I could do was stand there and watch him get beaten. My legs wouldn't move and I just stood there."
Brooks said nothing for a moment.
Then he cleared his throat.
"Do you understand what you're asking for?"
Lancelot looked at him.
"If you follow Ari into that battle, there's a good chance you'll die."
"Yes."
Lancelot nodded.
"I know , I'd rather die trying to save someone than live knowing I didn't act."
Brooks's mouth opened slightly.
Then a small smile crossed his face.
"That sounds a lot like something he would have said back then."
"Stand there."
Lancelot blinked.
"What?"
"Stand there."
"Uh… okay."
Lancelot stepped forward.
Brooks moved without warning.
His fist slammed into Lancelot's chest.
"Uah!"
Lancelot flew backward.
His feet scraped across the dirt before he stumbled to a stop.
He grabbed his chest and looked up.
"What was that for?!"
Brooks walked toward him.
"Your first lesson is understanding why you didn't move."
Lancelot slowly pushed himself upright.
"You were already defeated before the fight even started."
Brooks pointed toward Lancelot's chest.
"Your body followed the decision your mind had already made."
He folded his arms.
"Until you can stand in front of something stronger than you without your body giving up before the fight even begins, no technique I teach you will ever matter."
Lancelot swallowed.
Brooks's voice hardened.
"So I'm not going easy on you this time. Zyroth is stronger than I am. If you can't even handle a lieutenant, then your goal of helping Ari is nothing more than a fantasy."
"We start in the morning. Get some rest."
Brooks turned and walked away.
Lancelot stared after him.
"Really?"
Brooks kept walking.
Lancelot rubbed his chest, then smiled.
"I mean… thank you."