Chapter 123

  Written by Bayzo Albion

  I closed my eyes and mentally summoned the status window.

  A translucent screen flared to life before me:

  > System: Level increased. 1 → 2

  Attributes updated:

  Name: Balthazar

  Level: 2

  Strength: 5

  Agility: 7

  Endurance: 4

  Constitution: 7

  Magic: 7

  Will: 12

  Soul: 12

  I stared at those lines in silence for a long while.

  Something stirred in my chest—a mix of pride and dread.

  To reach level one, I'd needed a thousand experience points. Level two—two thousand. So... level three would demand three thousand.

  I mentally tallied: four ants. Scouts, soldiers.

  Drip by drip.

  And somewhere in between, I'd crossed the threshold without even noticing.

  I squeezed my fingers tighter, the meat crunching in my palms.

  The system didn't explain the rules. It just propelled you forward. Like a mocking taunt: "Want to survive? Kill. Want power? Blood is your key."

  I tore off another piece and chewed savagely, gazing into the flames.

  "Level two," I murmured, almost a whisper. "But at what cost?"

  My companion cast me a brief glance but said nothing.

  And I stared into the fire, pondering that ahead lay not just the number "three"... but fresh wounds and new graves..

  The fire dwindled to embers, the crimson coals crumbling slowly, leaving behind only a faint whisper of heat that danced in the cooling air.

  Level two. My strength had increased, my body felt more resilient. But it brought no peace. Instead, it stirred a restless unease, a reminder of how far I still had to go.

  Memories flooded back: collapsing in the forest, utterly spent and pathetic. Her carrying me like I was nothing more than a ragdoll. The humiliation burned deeper than any wound.

  I realized then—these numbers weren't true power. They were just a stepping stone toward no longer being a dead weight.

  "Tomorrow, we head to the anthill," I said, though she hadn't asked. My voice cut through the quiet night, firm despite the doubts gnawing at me.

  She turned her head slightly, her eyes glinting in the dim light like polished obsidian.

  "But I won't run in blind anymore," I continued. "Now, we hunt. Not greedily, not like foolish kids charging into the fray. Quietly. One by one. Every fight on our terms, not theirs."

  She nodded—a brief, almost imperceptible motion.

  I gazed back at the fading fire. A strange sensation warmed within me: not fear, not rage. Resolve, pure and unyielding.

  "I'm not dying for numbers," I whispered. "But I'm done being weak."

  The night was cold, but for the first time, my thoughts crystallized into clarity. Dawn would test us.

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  – – –

  Morning greeted us with a biting, damp fog that clung to our clothes and skin like icy tendrils. The air hung heavy and thick, saturated with the scent of wet pine, decaying leaves, and an elusive metallic tang I couldn't quite place.

  Level two... The boost was subtle, but tangible—like an iron core had been forged inside me, steadying my frame where frailty once reigned.

  My companion sat by the extinguished fire in the same pose as the night before—immobile, as if carved from the stone itself.

  "Let's go," I said curtly, adjusting my bag's strap and double-checking the tie that secured my beloved frying pan to my back.

  We set off toward the anthill. But this time, I didn't barrel ahead recklessly. Each step was deliberate, calculated like a chess move. I scanned the ground, tracing the faint webs of animal tracks; noted the wind's direction, wary of it carrying our scent; listened to every rustle, every whisper of the leaves.

  Alone, they're blind... but together, they become a River, a Forest, a Wall. A single organism, unstoppable by brute force. The thought hummed in the back of my mind, insistent and ominous, like a distant tolling bell.

  As we reached the colony's outskirts, I halted. The earth here felt alien: compacted, stripped of random vegetation, crisscrossed by a network of precise trails—channels they marched along with unerring purpose. The very air thrummed with invisible activity, a subtle vibration that set my nerves on edge.

  I crouched low, running my fingers over the moist, almost pulsating soil. It was warm, alive with the seething energy beneath.

  "We need to study their rhythm," I murmured, more to myself than to her. "Figure out the time from when a scout finds a target to the first response squad assembling. Understand their reaction distance, movement speed—everything. Every second counts."

  She watched me in silence, and for the first time, her quiet didn't weigh on me. Instead, it felt complicit, sharpening my focus to a needle's point.

  I lifted my gaze to the dark, throbbing mound from which the creatures emerged and to which they returned—a hive pulsing with malevolent life.

  "This isn't a battle," I said softly but clearly, the words hanging in the air like a new vow. "This is a hunt. And now, the hunt is ours."

  I spotted a group of three ants leaving the hill. They moved leisurely, almost casually, their glossy chitin backs shimmering in the morning light piercing the fog. It seemed like a routine patrol, utterly unsuspecting.

  We tailed them cautiously, slipping like shadows between tree trunks. They advanced in a line, methodical, their antennae swaying lazily as they scanned the familiar forest scents. My enchanted cloak worked flawlessly, absorbing my odor like a sponge. Not once did they twitch in alarm, no antennae veering toward us.

  I waited patiently, grip tightening on my knife. Farther and farther from the hill—one step, then another. My heart beat steady and loud. Finally, I was sure: they'd ventured too far for quick reinforcements.

  "Now," I whispered to myself, the word a quiet invocation before the leap.

  I surged forward in a silent burst. The first ant didn't even register the threat: my knife grated into the vulnerable joint between head and thorax. A brief, wet crunch—and it collapsed, legs twitching lifelessly.

  > System: You have slain a scout. Experience +200.

  I yanked the bloodied blade free just as the second froze and pivoted. Its antennae quivered frantically, sampling the air—it detected motion and the metallic tang of fresh blood, but couldn't pinpoint my scent. The enchanted fabric muffled it like water quenching flame.

  I darted behind a thick pine trunk, pressing against the rough bark. My heart pounded in my throat, but I forced stillness. One second. Another. The ant hissed low and menacing, charging not toward my hiding spot, but where it last sensed disturbance. It passed within inches, its chitinous side gleaming in a stray sunbeam filtering through the canopy.

  Seizing that gifted moment of blindness, I didn't just emerge—I ducked under its thrashing antenna in a low, fluid arc. My knife whistled through the air, plunging into its chitinous flank. A sickening crunch echoed, dark, nearly black blood spraying onto the green moss and tangled roots, leaving acrid, smoking stains.

  > System: You have slain a scout. Experience +200.

  I panted heavily, a fleeting taste of victory sweet on my tongue. But it soured instantly as icy dread slithered down my spine. The third... it had just stood there. Unmoving. Unpanicked. Simply watching with those faceted eyes, silent and still.

  Then it sprang to life. Its massive mandibles clamped with a loud, metallic snap, and it lunged—not in blind fury, but with cold determination.

  "Damn!" I dove behind the nearest tree, but a deafening crack split the air: the ant cleaved the trunk in half like rotten reed. Splinters stung my face.

  I recoiled, cold sweat beading on my forehead. This wasn't a scout. It was something else. Smarter. Deadlier.

  Its movements lacked mindless rage. It saw me. Analyzed. Anticipated every feint, every dodge.

  Panic clawed at my throat, but instead of fleeing, a blind, all-consuming fury ignited within. Adrenaline surged through my veins.

  "Come on!" I rasped with hoarse malice, charging straight at it, shattering any sane tactic.

  We closed like twin whirlwinds of death. At the last instant, I drew my eternally sharp knife and hurled it with unexpected force.

  The blade sang as it pierced the chitinous shell, embedding in the head like slicing butter. The ant shuddered, emitting a piercing whistle, mandibles flailing wildly as it staggered side to side.

  I didn't let it recover. Leaping in, risking dismemberment, I yanked my second knife from my belt and drove it hilt-deep into the base of its neck. It froze, convulsed once more, and crumpled in silent spasms.

  > System: You have slain a warrior. Experience +300.

  I loomed over it, hands on knees, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Sweat streamed down my face in salty rivulets, mingling with grime and blood. My fingers trembled from the strain. Only now, as the rage ebbed, did the recklessness hit me—how suicidal that charge had been.

  "A veteran..." I whispered, eyeing the massive, mangled corpse. "So there are those too. The game just got harder, and I don't even know what other types lurk."

  Blood still pooled on the ground, my knife quivering in my grip.

  But there was no time to savor the win.