Before launching the expedition to the ants’ dungeon, I knew there was much to prepare.

Every detail mattered, every precaution essential.

This wasn’t just an excursion; it was an incursion into hostile territory—a stronghold packed with relentless, swarming foes.

I had to weigh each choice carefully.

First, the tunnels.

They would be narrow, winding, long stretches where only a select few could pass at a time.

Not just any golem could venture in there.

The narrow passages would limit movement, and the sheer numbers we were likely to face meant only golems capable of withstanding heavy damage could enter.

A single lapse in defense could be catastrophic.

This battle wouldn’t be about endurance; it would be a race—a quick, decisive strike to reach and eliminate the queen ant.

Only then would we have any chance of victory.

My mind wandered to ideas for specialized golems, beings that could adapt to the heat of combat within such tight quarters.

A vision of a lava golem surfaced in my thoughts—its molten core radiating heat, its fiery aura able to incinerate the ants as it moved.

The power such a golem could bring would turn the tide, the heat alone a weapon against the masses that would crawl upon it.

I could almost feel the blistering intensity, the sheer force it could unleash.

But my imagination quickly hit a wall.

The problem lay in the core—the energy source.

Our current golem cores couldn’t generate the kind of power needed to maintain such intense heat for long.

To keep a lava golem burning through an army would require more energy than I could currently provide.

Perhaps with a higher-ranked mana stone, I could make it work.

But those were rare, far beyond my reach for now. A pang of frustration gnawed at me; my ambition was far greater than my resources.

As I mulled over my options, Krothe appeared beside me, his wings beating lightly as he landed.

His keen eyes watched me with curiosity.

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"Kaw! What are you brooding over?" he asked, his head tilted to the side.

I looked up at him, my mind still lingering on potential battle strategies.

Suddenly, a thought struck me—one I’d never fully considered before.

"Krothe, what exactly can you do? I mean, your abilities."

Krothe’s eyes glinted, and a knowing look crossed his face.

"Kaw! Come to think of it, I never did share that with you."

He ruffled his feathers, his gaze sharp and focused.

"My main ability... it’s a bit unusual. I can share my vision with others."

"Share your vision?" I echoed, intrigued yet unsure of what he meant.

"Kaw! Hold it."

He lifted his feathers towards me, gesturing for me to hold one.

I hesitated, then grasped it gently.

The crimson gem on his forehead began to glow, a faint red light shimmering in the dimness.

Then, without warning, my own vision shifted.

Suddenly, I wasn’t just seeing from my eyes; I was seeing from Krothe’s as well.

His heightened perspective allowed me a clearer, more expansive view, and I could see details from above, sharp and vivid.

Every movement, every angle came into focus from this dual vantage.

The power was astonishing—perfect for scouting and observing enemies without risking exposure.

As the sensation faded, Krothe looked at me, his voice breaking the stillness.

"Kaw! This is just one of my abilities. I have others... but as a dungeon manager, I’m restricted. They can’t be used in combat."

I gave a thoughtful nod, absorbing the possibilities.

Even if he couldn’t fight directly, his vision-sharing ability would prove invaluable.

To see the battlefield through his eyes, to know exactly where enemies lurked—that would be a force multiplier in the labyrinth of tunnels we were about to enter.

Our journey began under a tense, quiet sky.

I glanced around at our small group, each of us prepared in our own way for the unknown that lay ahead.

Krothe perched on my shoulder, his feathers ruffling with a mixture of excitement and caution.

Beside us trotted the little stone golem, a loyal companion in this dark venture, and the horned mole leader, flanked by a few of his kin.

Together, we moved as one, with a limited number of golems following in formation.

I’d left the rest behind to guard our home and continue its construction; the thought of them keeping our haven safe gave me a sense of peace, even as we ventured into danger.

The moles took the lead, their claws tearing through the soil with practiced ease.

Each stroke carved a clear path ahead, while the golems assisted by shoring up the tunnel walls, packing the earth, and clearing debris.

They also held the torches to lighten up the front.

The rhythmic sounds of digging echoed around us, steady and reassuring in the oppressive quiet of the underground.

We moved slowly, inching forward with every scrape of claw and grind of stone.

Each step took us closer to the unknown, and with it, a thrill of anticipation settled in my chest.

Just then, an unexpected jolt stopped me in my tracks—a blue screen flickered into view, bright and almost intrusive in the dimly lit tunnel.

[Warning! Warning!]

My heart skipped a beat.

I put my hand forward, and there it was—the barrier.

It felt strangely familiar, the same resistance I’d encountered at the dungeon gate and along the edges of the forest.

A subtle but firm energy pulsed against my hand, like an invisible wall, humming with latent power.

[Monsters can't leave their dungeon]

The words stared back at me, clear and unforgiving.

The barrier was weaker here, more fragile than the ones aboveground.

My hand pressed into it, testing its limits, feeling the way it pushed back as though it were alive, resisting my every effort to move forward.

[Warning! Warning!]

The screen blinked, flashing red as I exerted more pressure, forcing my weight into the barrier.

It shuddered, flickering as if unsure, and I could feel it wavering under the strain.

The energy pulsed harder, almost angry in its efforts to repel me, but I held my ground, determination flaring within me.

I would not be confined.

I had a mission, and I would not be denied.

[You can't leave the dungeon]

The barrier pushed back with a renewed force, but it wasn’t enough.

Gritting my teeth, I gave one final, powerful shove.

The barrier quivered, flickered, and then with a crackling sigh, it dissolved, allowing me to pass through.

A chill ran through me as a new message appeared:

[You’ve entered the Chitin Caverns]

The air shifted around us, colder, darker, and filled with an almost electric tension.

The tunnel opened wider, revealing a network of paths ahead, shadowed and foreboding.

This was it—the ants' domain.

[Please destroy the dungeon core]

The message hung before me, clear and absolute, a command as if from the depths of some unseen force.

I wondered for a moment if this was what hunters saw when they invaded dungeons, each message a grim reminder of the task they came to fulfill.

But whether this warning was directed at me as a monster or simply a quirk of the dungeon system didn’t matter.

I was here, and so was my mission.

Krothe cawed softly beside me, his eyes taking in the vast darkness of the Chitin Caverns with a glint of curiosity and anticipation.

I glanced around at our group, each one ready, each one committed.

“We’ve crossed over,” I said, my voice steady but edged with purpose. “Our goal lies ahead. Let’s make every step count.”

In the depths of the Chitin Caverns, with unknown dangers lurking and the memory of the barrier still fresh, a sense of finality settled within me.

We had entered this realm as invaders, but we would leave it as conquerors—or not at all.