The fissure was barely wide enough for Hill's body. He forced himself into the vertical crack, rough stone scraping his skin raw.
Complete darkness enveloped him, leaving him to navigate by touch alone. His fingers searched desperately for any handhold in the smooth, cold rock walls that pressed against him from both sides.
Thankfully, the ants within the hatchery hadn't noticed his departure into the fissure.
His thoughts wandered back to when the phantom hand had gone off on its own to distract the ants. It was definitely... sentient. Almost as if the hand belonged to someone else, and he was just borrowing it periodically. Except this time, the owner of the hand had decided to personally help him instead.
Yes, that was what it was.
It was a weird feeling. He felt like he should be bothered by such a discovery, but strangely, he felt comforted.
A silent partner in the soul's shadow... I should have realized thisearlier. Silly me.
The crack widened vertically. Heading upwards was an option. The alternative—going back down toward whatever had chased him here—was unthinkable.
He began to climb using an improvised technique—chimneying—pressing his back against one wall and his feet against the other. Each movement was agony on his already battered body. His muscles screamed in agony with every inch gained, but stopping wasn't an option.
Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging, but he couldn't spare a hand to wipe it away. The hatchery below was dangerous ground. Where eggs were laid, something had to lay them.
Something stronger than worker ants would eventually appear—like a queen or worse. The thought alone made him push harder against the stone.
He summoned the phantom hand, its red glow pushing back the darkness just enough to see a few feet above. The crimson light cast long shadows across the jagged rock, highlighting the suffocating tightness of the fissure, but it didn't matter.
Getting out was all that mattered now. The glow revealed tiny scratches in the rock—perhaps from other creatures that had used this passage before. Not reassuring.
Minutes stretched endlessly into what felt like an hour. His progress was very slow. The muscles in his legs trembled with fatigue. His breath came in uneven gasps that echoed in the narrow space and within his head.
Occasionally, his worn shoes would slip on the rock, sending jolts of panic through him as he scrambled for stability. Each time, his heart would seize before he managed to wedge himself tighter between the walls, preventing a fatal fall.
Just as his strength began to fail, his reaching hand found a flat edge. Hope surged. He grabbed it and hauled himself up the final few inches, collapsing onto level ground.
His chest heaved as he gulped down air, muscles twitching with exhaustion.
Did I… make it out? the thought floated through his mind as he lay there, trying to regain his strength.
He wasn't in complete darkness anymore. He'd emerged into another ant tunnel, wider than the fissure but carved from the same dark rock. This one stretched in both directions, disappearing around gentle curves.
Patches of strange, bioluminescent fungi clung to the walls and ceiling, casting an eerie green glow that pulsed softly, almost like breathing.
The air here was cool and damp, heavy with the smell of moss and decay. Tiny droplets of moisture clung to the ceiling, occasionally falling with quiet plops.
He pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the complaints from his overtaxed body. The smooth walls and occasional six-legged footprints in the stone confirmed his suspicion—still in ant territory.
The prints were deep, as if pressed into soft clay rather than solid rock, before hardening.
I wonder how something leaves footprints in solid rock…might find out soon enough. The thought brought no comfort.
He took a few cautious steps forward, the phantom hand hovering nearby, its red glow mixing with the green of the fungi to create strange, shifting shadows. Every few steps, he paused to listen, but heard only the faint dripping of unseen water and his own careful footfalls.
Then, a sound split the air—
A human's unmistakable, high-pitched scream. The sound echoed off the stone walls, seemingly coming from everywhere at once.
Hill froze, heart hammering against his ribs. His head snapped toward the sound coming from deeper in the tunnel. Another scream followed, choked off abruptly into a horrible gurgle that made his skin crawl. The silence that followed was somehow worse than the scream itself.
Someone was down there. Someone human. And they were dying. The realization overwhelmed him immediately.
His first instinct was fear. Was it a trap? Some new monster mimicking human sounds to lure prey? Or was it real?
If real, intervening likely meant death. He was exhausted and barely functioning, let alone able to fight. His legs urged him to run—away, not toward the sound. Every survival instinct screamed at him to retreat.
A strange sensation prickled at the edge of his awareness. A growing pressure, like the air itself thickening with some weight he couldn't quite perceive. It came from the direction of the screams.
Danger. Immense danger. The feeling intensified with each passing second, like storm clouds gathering.
He clenched his fists until his nails sliced into his palms. Steel your mind. He couldn't just hide. Not after hearing that. Not after everything he'd been through. Running would mean abandoning someone to a fate he wouldn't wish on anyone.
Hill moved toward the sound, breaking into a stumbling run. His tired legs protested, but adrenaline pushed him forward.
Despite every horror-movie warning against investigating strange noises, he pressed on. The tunnel curved sharply, then widened. The sound had come from just ahead.
The pressure intensified with each step, making his skin crawl like walking toward the epicenter of a silent storm.
He rounded a sharp bend, and the scene burst into view, illuminated by bright patches of glowing fungi that clustered more densely here, as if feeding on something.
In the center of a wider tunnel section lay a young woman with brown hair streaked with distinctive blue highlights, now tangled and matted with dirt and blood. Her clothes were torn, revealing numerous cuts and bruises.
She desperately tried to push something away, her face twisted in pain. One leg bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken.
Towering over her was an ant unlike the others he'd seen. Easily twice their size, its glassy black carapace thicker, like plate armor that gleamed in the fungal light.
Vicious barbs protruded from its joints, and its mandibles were massive, dripping with saliva that sizzled faintly where it hit the rock, leaving tiny pockmarks.
Its multifaceted eyes burned with malevolent light, far brighter than the lava glow. The segments of its body were more pronounced, ridged with what looked like additional armor plating.
The massive ant had pinned the woman under one huge foreleg, its head lowered, mandibles opening wide, preparing to deliver a killing bite to her exposed neck. She weakly pushed against its armored head, strength clearly failing.
Her fingers slipped against the smooth chitin as she fought her losing battle. Scattered around them were several small metallic objects glinting in the green light—shurikens? They had barely scratched the creature's exoskeleton.
The armored ant ignored her struggles, focused entirely on the kill. It made a clicking sound that echoed off the walls.
As its mandibles closed in on her throat, the woman somehow noticed Hill. Her startling amethyst eyes locked with his, tears forming as her mouth opened. Those eyes, wide with terror, pleaded more eloquently than words ever could.
"P-please," she gasped as the mandibles touched her skin, drawing a thin line of blood.
Hill moved without thinking. The phantom hand, tethered to his right fist, passed straight through the massive ant's head, disorienting it before it could bite. The red energy pulsed and flared as it penetrated the creature's brain.
The giant ant froze mid-bite. Its head jerked back, mandibles clicking rapidly in confusion. It shook violently, disturbed by the strange pressure inside its skull. Its burning red eyes lost focus for a crucial second, swiveling wildly as if searching for the source of its discomfort.
"Hey, ant!" Hill shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
The creature swung toward the new voice, zeroing in on the black-haired boy outlined in red, his eyes shimmering crimson. Its antennae twitched, sensing this new threat. A low, grating sound emerged from somewhere within its body.
With a furious shriek, the ant lowered its head and charged, limbs slamming into the ground as it barreled straight toward Hill. Each step cracked the stone beneath its massive weight.
A new challenger had arrived, and this prideful ant wasn't planning to share.