The moles dug upwards with relentless focus, their claws scraping through soil and rock with ease, every swipe sending clumps of earth crumbling around us.

Their movements were rapid but careful, carving a twisting path up to the surface while we followed, sealing the tunnel behind us to keep the pursuing ants at bay.

Occasionally, the little golem would pause, his red gem pulsing with energy as he used his ability to sense the path ahead.

Combined with the keen sense of smell of the horned moles, we managed to detect ant tunnels before breaking into them, shifting our digging to avoid confrontation wherever possible.

With every shift, every turn, I could feel the tension around us thickening.

The distant sounds of the ants, their relentless clicking and scraping, echoed from all sides, creating an eerie chorus that chased us through the narrow tunnel.

Though they couldn't quite reach us, they seemed aware of our movements, sensing the disturbance we left behind.

I tried to ignore the unsettling sounds, pressing on with grim determination.

Then, a thin sliver of light filtered down through the darkness above, and a flicker of hope surged through me.

We were nearly there.

Slowly, the tunnel opened, and one by one, we emerged into the open air.

Sunlight spilled over us, piercing through the cloud-dappled sky.

Around us stretched a rugged landscape—jagged rocks, patches of dense forest, and scattered stones.

It was an almost tranquil scene, but I could feel the threat lingering just out of sight.

But peace was fleeting.

"Gee… gre… gre!" The familiar clicking rose from all sides, breaking the stillness.

Red ants, larger than any we’d seen before, were already crawling out from hidden crevices, their beady eyes fixed on us, mandibles snapping in fury.

I sighed, muttering under my breath, “How many more of them are there?”

The ants swarmed in, closing in from every direction.

The air seemed to vibrate with the thrumming of their approach, but I steeled myself, glancing at the golems around me.

“Clear them out.”

The golems responded immediately, moving forward with a steady, unyielding determination.

Their bulky forms lumbered into the fray, fists of stone and rock smashing down on the first wave of ants.

One golem lifted a boulder-sized fist and brought it crashing down, shattering an ant into pieces.

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Another swung a massive arm, sending a row of ants tumbling through the air like discarded toys.

The ants retaliated, their sharp mandibles latching onto the golems, trying to tear away chunks of their stone bodies.

But the golems, though battered, held their ground.

When one took too much damage, it would stagger back, and I’d reach out, manipulating matter to seal its cracks and reinforce its structure before sending it back into the fight.

A wave of ants began skittering up the legs of one golem, their mandibles scraping and scratching as they climbed toward its core.

But the golem retaliated, twisting and slamming itself against a nearby rock to shake them off.

The little golem, sensing the danger, summoned a burst of energy, creating a small shockwave that momentarily stunned the surrounding ants, buying our defenders a few precious seconds to regroup.

I directed the moles to dig temporary trenches and small barriers in the ground, creating obstacles that forced the ants to funnel into tighter areas where our golems could more easily crush them.

The moles, though frightened, worked tirelessly, scraping shallow pits and upending rocks, their claws moving so fast they were a blur.

Gradually, the numbers of the ants began to dwindle.

One by one, the remaining ants were smashed to the ground, their red exoskeletons crushed under the weight of stone fists.

After what felt like an eternity, the last of the ants fell, their broken bodies scattered across the rocky ground.

Finally, the clearing fell silent again, save for our heavy breaths and the occasional creak of the golems shifting their weight.

The area was littered with the remains of ants, the shattered shells reflecting faint glimmers of sunlight.

I looked around, my pulse beginning to slow.

We’d made it to the surface, and we’d cleared the way.

“Good work, everyone,” I said quietly, feeling a surge of pride in our teamwork and resilience.

It was time to press forward, to face the next challenge.

I looked around at my small band of allies, taking in their state.

The moles were huddled together, their bodies heaving with exhaustion, claws dull from the relentless digging and fighting.

Their eyes drooped, each of them visibly worn out and yearning for a moment’s reprieve.

I could see the toll it had taken on them—they needed rest.

The golems, too, weren’t unscathed.

Their once-solid forms were now riddled with cracks, chips missing from their stone frames where the ants had managed to claw and bite through.

Yet they stood, unwavering, awaiting my command.

“Everyone, rest for a moment,” I said gently, hoping to ease their weariness. “Krothe, can you scout the area?”

“Kaw! Okay.” Krothe nodded, his beady eyes sharp with resolve.

With a swift beat of his dark wings, he took off into the canopy above, becoming a shadow against the clouds.

I held a single feather of his in my hand, feeling its faint pulse of energy—a connection to Krothe’s vision.

Closing my eyes, I focused, and soon my own sight merged with his.

I could see through his sharp eyes as he soared high above, taking in the dense forest that stretched for miles around us.

As his wings cut through the air, the view became a sweeping panorama of greens and browns, punctuated by the occasional movement of the forest’s inhabitants.

Krothe’s gaze settled on clusters of beetles, their iridescent shells catching glints of sunlight as they scuttled across the forest floor, only to scatter in fear as he swooped low.

They weren’t alone. In the shadows of the underbrush, large, sleek spiders waited, their many eyes gleaming with an eerie calm.

Yet even these predators looked uneasy, as if they too sensed the true rulers of this forest.

The ants were everywhere. Krothe's sharp eyes picked out trails of red, rivers of ants marching in unison through the trees and undergrowth.

They traveled in packs, weaving through the roots and across rocks, a single-minded army that dominated the forest floor.

Every so often, Krothe would spot a lone beetle or spider attempting to flee.

But the ants swarmed them, their sharp mandibles ripping through shells, their numbers overwhelming even the largest of prey.

The beetles’ hardened exoskeletons cracked and splintered under the relentless assault.

Even the nimble spiders, quick as they were, fell victim to the swarm, ensnared by a mass of ants pulling them apart piece by piece.

Krothe’s path shifted, tracing the ant trails deeper into the heart of the forest.

Everywhere he looked, there were pits—small depressions dotting the ground.

The ants were dragging carcasses and bits of prey into these pits, disappearing into dark holes that burrowed deep into the earth.

These entrances to their nest were scattered across the landscape, like trapdoors leading to an unseen empire.

I realized the sheer scale of the red ants’ presence.

They were everywhere, their reach extending far beyond what I had imagined.

And somewhere beneath the ground lay the heart of their hive—the queen.

My mind raced, trying to make sense of what Krothe was showing me.

The forest itself seemed to pulse with the ants’ presence, their movements almost synchronized, like the beating of a single heart.

Krothe circled back, giving me a final sweep of the area.

The sheer dominance of the ants was clear, but there was something even more unsettling—the way the entire forest seemed to bow to their rule.

No creature could stand against their numbers, and every corner of this forest belonged to them.

Reluctantly, I pulled my vision back to my own surroundings.

Krothe returned, landing nearby, his feathers ruffled from the exertion.

He looked at me, his expression somber.

"Kaw… It’s not good. The ants… they’re everywhere.”

I nodded, digesting what I had seen.

Around me, the moles were stirring, looking up at me with tired, anxious eyes.

The golems, though stoic, seemed to sense the tension.

They knew we were entering hostile territory, and that our path forward was fraught with danger.

It was time to make a decision, but doubt gnawed at the back of my mind.

We were outnumbered, vulnerable, and the queen was buried somewhere in a labyrinth of tunnels and pits, surrounded by her swarm.

The question wasn’t just how to move forward but if we were truly ready to face the heart of this hive.

Perhaps that's how the hunters coming to raid the dungeon felt.

Thinking about getting a lot of riches only to face danger.