The first thing that hit me was the heat.
Even from the forest's edge, the central area radiated a heavy, oppressive warmth that clung to my skin like a second layer. Volcanic ash drifted lazily in the air, a stark contrast to the vibrant greenery surrounding this hellscape. The trees here were blackened but alive, their roots drinking up nutrients from the fertile ash-covered soil. Survival thrived in unexpected places.
The volcano sat in the center of it all, belching a steady plume of smoke into the sky. It was both majestic and menacing—a natural fortress, perfect for creatures like the Fire Ants. I motioned for the group to stop, crouching low behind a tangle of burnt shrubs.
"Nibbles," I whispered, gesturing ahead. The squirrel darted off silently, his small form disappearing into the underbrush. That little guy was earning his keep and then some. Without him, we'd have probably stumbled into half a dozen death traps by now.
Zainab crouched beside me, her massive frame shrunk down to a mere ten meters thanks to her polymorph ability. Even so, she looked out of place, her dark scales glinting faintly in the ash-filled light. The Earth Dragon—who I'd reluctantly started calling Terra—stayed a few meters back, her form similarly compact. Both of them radiated power, but out here, even the strongest could get caught off guard.
"Is it always this hot here?" Terra muttered, wiping at her head.
"Stop complaining," I replied, keeping my eyes fixed on the horizon. "You're a dragon. I thought you'd like this kind of thing."
Terra snorted softly. "Even dragons prefer comfort. This place is unnatural."
"Unnatural keeps you alive," I said dryly. "Comfort gets you killed."
Nibbles returned in a blur of motion, skittering up to my shoulder and gesturing frantically. I could tell by his exaggerated movements that something big was up ahead.
"Trouble?" I asked him, though I already knew the answer. Nibbles nodded, then mimed a fight, tiny paws slashing the air.
"Battle," I murmured, glancing at the others. "Stay low. We're scouting."
The sound of the fight hit us before the sight did—an overwhelming cacophony of screeches, roars, and the clash of chitin against monstrous flesh. When we finally reached a vantage point, the scene below left even me momentarily speechless.
The heat was oppressive, but I couldn't afford to focus on discomfort. My attention was locked on the battlefield before us—a chaotic symphony of war and survival, with lives clashing, swarming, and falling amidst the volcanic terrain. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smoke of molten rock, but it was the ants that dominated the scene.
The Fire Ants were awe-inspiring in their coordination. Their movements were precise, almost mechanical, like gears in a massive war machine. The Workers, though smaller and less armored, moved with purpose. Their carapaces glowed a dull orange, streaked with ash and scars from countless battles. On closer inspection, I noticed subtle carvings etched into their exoskeletons—simple geometric patterns, likely functional rather than decorative. These ants were the unsung heroes, hauling away the wounded and reinforcing breaches in the frontlines with an efficiency that bordered on unnatural.
The Soldier Ants were more intimidating. Bulkier and more aggressive, they formed the core of the hive's combat force. Their carapaces were brighter, almost fiery red, with jagged, flame-like patterns that shimmered as they moved. These weren't just markings; they were battle scars, each line representing a fight survived, a foe defeated. It was as though the hive itself had a way of rewarding its warriors, leaving a record of their deeds for all to see.
Then there were the Elite Soldiers. They were monsters in their own right—two meters long, with carapaces so dark they were nearly black, traced with intricate, glowing orange veins. These veins pulsed rhythmically, like lava flowing beneath their armored shells. Their markings were far more elaborate than those of their lesser kin, resembling ancient glyphs or sigils. Each Elite Soldier was a walking work of art, a masterpiece forged in the fires of endless combat.
I couldn't help but admire their craftsmanship—or, rather, the Queen's craftsmanship. These ants were more than just insects; they were her creations, each one an extension of her will. The battlefield was her canvas, and this war was her art.
The Abominations: Twisted Foes
The Fire Ants had a formidable enemy. The abominations, though fewer in number, were unlike anything I'd seen before. Twisted amalgamations of flesh and tounges, they moved with a feral grace that belied their grotesque forms. Some had too many limbs, others too few. Their bodies were covered in pulsating black flesh that seemed to ooze and writhe, as if alive on its own.
And the cursed werewolves—these were the true monsters of the battlefield. Each one stood nearly ten meters tall, their massive, muscular frames covered in matted fur so dark it seemed to drink in the light around them. Their claws were jagged and uneven, glinting like obsidian in the volcanic glow. Their eyes burned with a malevolent crimson light, and their howls carried an unnatural resonance that made the ground beneath us tremble.
The ants swarmed them relentlessly, dozens upon dozens piling onto each cursed werewolf in an attempt to bring them down. But it was a losing battle. The werewolves moved with brutal efficiency, ripping through the ants like they were paper. Even the Elite Soldiers struggled to pierce their thick hides, their mandibles sparking uselessly against the cursed fur.
***
I stayed crouched, analyzing the chaos below. The ants' ranks were clearly divided:
{Worker Ants: Rank (G/F-)The backbone of the hive, but fodder in battle.}
{Soldier Ants: Rank (F/E-). Tougher, stronger, and more aggressive.}
{Elite Soldiers: Rank (E/D-). The real muscle of the army, capable of holding their own against mid-ranked abominations.}
Against a lesser enemy, this would've been over in minutes. But the abominations, especially the cursed werewolves, weren't playing by the same rules. They were abominations for a reason—twisted creatures that didn't follow the natural order. Even their deaths were unnatural, their bodies collapsing into blackened ash rather than leaving behind a corpse.
"Thoughts?" Zainab asked, her gaze fixed on the battlefield.
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to stay out of it. The ants were handling things... kind of. But the master-ranked werewolves were the problem. If they weren't dealt with, this battle could drag on for hours, maybe even days, and by the end of it, the Fire Ant army would be too depleted to be of any use.
"We help them," I said finally. "We need the Queen's favor."
Zainab raised an eyebrow. "And you think she'll just welcome us with open arms?"
"Not open arms," I admitted. "But she'll recognize strength. She sees these ants as her children, right? Show her we're willing to protect them, and we'll have leverage. Besides..."
I glanced at Terra, who was watching me with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
"Having an army like that on our side wouldn't hurt."
The plan was simple. Hit fast, hit hard, and retreat before the ants mistook us for enemies. I'd learned the hard way not to underestimate insects—they didn't care about friend or foe if you stood between them and their objective.