The battle was over, but the work was far from finished.

The field lay littered with the broken remains of golems, shattered chimera ant carapaces, and crushed insect bodies.

The stench of blood, scorched earth, and molten rock lingered heavily in the air.

I surveyed the aftermath, my gaze falling on the remnants of my army.

The golems stood rigid, cracked and battered, their once-immaculate forms now marred with battle scars.

The chimera ants were sluggish, their movements strained as they limped across the battlefield.

Magra and Magal, my trusted lieutenants, bore deep wounds and fractured limbs, their once-fearsome presence dulled by the relentless clash.

But this was not the time for sentiment.

My army needed to be ready for the next stage.

I commanded the remaining forces to gather. The horned moles scurried through the tunnels, bringing information and resources.

The little golem worked tirelessly, coordinating repairs among its brethren.

Magra and Magal stood side by side, their injuries slowly mending with the help of the queen blue ants and other healers among the insect ranks.

Hours passed in meticulous preparation.

The sounds of repair echoed throughout the dungeon as stone was reshaped, limbs were reforged, and energy coursed back into my creations.

Slowly but surely, the army began to recover.

Finally, they stood ready—a force rebuilt and reinforced, a tide of destruction poised to surge beyond the dungeon’s boundaries.

My lieutenants assembled before me.

Magra, towering and imposing, his molten body gleaming anew.

Magal, the embodiment of feral rage, his repaired wings flexing with renewed vigor.

The queen blue ant, regal and commanding, their army of drones surrounding them.

The horned moles, led by their cunning and burly leader; the beetles, sturdy and resilient.

Little Golem, the ever-reliable strategist

And finally, Krothe, my most trusted companion.

I gazed upon them with satisfaction, pride swelling within me.

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Each one of them had proven their worth in the brutal battle, and now they were ready to march again.

Ahead of us, the portal shimmered ominously, its black surface rippling like dark water.

Above it, the timer glowed faintly, its numbers steadily ticking down to zero.

Black-ranked dungeons had one defining trait that set them apart from others: a dungeon break was inevitable if not cleared within a day.

And now, the countdown was reaching its end.

As the final seconds faded, the portal surged with energy, its surface opening like the mouth of a beast.

Beyond it lay the city, its sprawling streets and towering buildings clearly visible through the shimmering veil.

The time had come.

I stepped forward, the portal casting an eerie light across my form.

Behind me, my army stirred, their combined presence a tidal wave of power and destruction.

One by one, they began to move, their footsteps resonating like a drumbeat of war.

The first to enter were the horned moles, their bulky forms disappearing into the dark portal.

Then came the chimera ants, their ranks disciplined and endless.

The golems followed, their heavy, resounding steps a promise of devastation.

My lieutenants entered in unison, their presence commanding and unstoppable.

Finally, I stepped through.

As I passed into the portal, the cold, oppressive air of the dungeon was replaced by the hum of the city.

This city, this fragile bastion of humanity, would soon know the wrath of my army.

------

The air outside the dungeon was thick with tension and dread.

Families clutched one another, their faces pale as they stared at the ominous portal that loomed before them.

The hunters who had entered had been their last hope, but as hours stretched into silence, that hope dimmed.

When the timer above the portal hit zero, gasps rippled through the gathered crowd.

And then it began.

The black portal shimmered like a pool of liquid night, and from its depths emerged a tide of horrors.

First came the golems, their colossal forms stepping through with earth-shaking force.

Chimera ants followed, their multifaceted eyes glinting with malice.

Insects of all shapes and sizes spilled forth, their legs skittering and mandibles clacking in unison.

At the forefront stood Magal, his black carapace gleaming and his demonic aura crackling with energy.

Beside him was Magra, his molten body radiating unbearable heat, his fists clenched like battering rams of destruction.

Behind them, my army poured out like an unstoppable flood.

And then I stepped through.

The sight of me, the architect of their doom, drew audible gasps and cries from the onlookers.

I scanned the area, my cold, calculating gaze locking onto the hunters waiting for us.

Their weapons gleamed in the moonlight, raised in defiance—but their hands trembled.

Their fear was palpable.

With a single, commanding gesture, I unleashed my army.

The battlefield erupted into chaos.

Magal surged forward with terrifying speed, a blur of black and crimson.

Hunters who tried to stop him were ripped apart, their weapons shattered against his claws.

His screech echoed like a death knell, paralyzing those who dared to stand in his path.

Magra followed with deliberate, crushing force.

Each swing of his massive fist obliterated anything in its way—walls, vehicles, hunters.

The ground quaked beneath him, his molten body setting the very earth aflame as he advanced.

The golems and chimera ants swarmed the hunters.

Golems smashed through barricades and defenses, their stone fists turning steel shields into scrap.

Chimera ants coordinated with precision, overwhelming their enemies with sheer numbers, their venomous bites leaving hunters writhing in agony.

The horned moles burrowed beneath the city, surfacing only to collapse buildings in spectacular displays of destruction.

The queen blue ant and the beetle led their respective swarms into the heart of the city, targeting civilians.

Screams filled the air as the insects tore through the streets, leaving carnage in their wake.

One by one, the hunters fell.

Despite their bravery, they were no match for my army.

Their formations crumbled under the relentless assault.

The few that tried to rally were swiftly dispatched by Magal or Magra, their efforts crushed under claw and fist.

I stood at the center of the chaos, watching it unfold.

The city was burning, its once-proud skyline now wreathed in smoke and fire.

The cries of the fallen mingled with the roar of destruction, creating a symphony of despair.

But this was only the beginning.

I commanded my forces to split into groups and spread out.

Their orders were clear: destroy everything.

Leave nothing standing.

With military precision, the army dispersed, each group led by one of my lieutenants.

Magal charged toward the industrial district, his claws tearing through steel and machinery as if they were paper.

Magra lumbered toward the residential areas, his every step leaving molten craters in his wake.

The horned moles burrowed beneath key structures, collapsing entire neighborhoods into the ground.

The insects rampaged through the streets, their frenzied attacks sparing no one.

And yet, amidst all this, my mind remained focused.

I had no time to relish the destruction.

Jökull, the greatest threat to my plans, would arrive soon. I needed to do as much damage as possible before then.

The rampage continued unabated.

Block by block, the city fell.

Resistance crumbled like sand against the tide.

My army left nothing but ash and ruin in its wake.

This city, once a beacon of human pride, was now a graveyard.

And I would make sure to turn everything similar.