After Harold's triumphant return, day two drew to a close and the fellowship felt rather good about their contributions to the various delays.

However, they were not the only things disturbing the massive project going on to complete the ritual pattern.

A horde of mean, bark-covered boars with a leader, that seemed able to run full speed with its huge head almost fully down into the hard packed earth, had come charging past at noon and messed up a big portion before being driven off in a screeching, discordant and snuffling mess by the combined efforts of the ants and the Mantis.

It was encouraging, but by the morning of day three that budding enthusiasm turned difficult to maintain in the face of the ritual finally starting to activate.

All the Mantis gathered and touched a long, dark metal rod which was strongly enchanted and suddenly started projecting an oppressive aura that covered the valley. The Mantis leader placed it in the middle of the four sinkholes which the whole project had been built around and that in turn caused the outer ring of the pattern to suddenly glow up in flaming violet energy.

The magic light quickly spread inwards like a racing blaze, but despite the swift pace the entirety of the pattern was so huge that it should take several hours to reach the centre.

Redd knew his fellow Humans must be close, but they still needed to delay as much as possible.

Thankfully Sten had been very busy that morning, doing work that nobody else would have even thought- or been capable of.

He told no one and he returned before they even questioned where he might have been.

Only once the last of the morning fog had faded, and everyone’s dismay was on full display from the news that the ritual had now started, did he share this extra delay they could still count on.

When he described it all in detail Livia suddenly ruined the whole thing by bursting out. “You were dancing ballet!”

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When Sten woke that morning he was feeling a little inadequate.

Livia had been making the plans, together with Oscar. Harold had done his successful mission, and even his flying animal companion, who seemed to not think much of the [Druid], had done a raid of his own.

Now Kalle was apparently levelling a Skill just by watching. Sten had just gone down to try and relieve him last night when the [Esperlock] announced he was volunteering for a double.

When Sten was less than enthused–about the prospect of not getting to do even this minor share of contributing–was when Kalle explained about the potential levelling by observing.

So, there was nothing else to it.

Sten had gone to bed that night for the second day in a row, not having done more than a very few shifts on the watch–and chasing off a curious lime-coloured stoat who kept trying to get in their supplies.

The damn bugger was quick too. It dodged away and fled when it saw I could probably catch it. I just wanted to rub it for a bit.

It was not until Sten woke up extra early the next morning–and saw the heavy fog covering the valley floor–that he was struck with sudden inspiration.

Sten had run down to the fields, past a Kalle who was just now starting his morning watch, rubbing sleepy eyes–having taken an extra shift from Redd again.

He ran straight past and out into the foggy fields so fast that Kalle actually believed the passing spectre had been a figment of his imagination, until his mind noted that he had sensed a strong sense of excitement as well.

Now, what Sten was doing might have seemed like a huge risk to anyone else.

But Sten was not in the habit of being foolish. He was doing this because he knew a few things for certain.

For one Mantis did not do well staying up at nights, and were notoriously easy to spring a dawn ambush on, since that was often when the discipline of their ant patrols failed–rather than during the day when the commanders could all hear every threat coming.

By night they relied instead on a perimeter of patrols to stay active enough that nothing could sneak past without causing a commotion.

Which meant that–now with the fog present, it made this sort of pacifist raid a lot easier to pull off.

At least when you could use [Unnatural Senses] to hear the heavy, tapping steps of any ant getting close.

Combined with [Weighted Footwork] making the palisade an easy enough climb to pull off in relative silence–using one of the rougher trees in the hasty construction–for someone used to tree tricking it was a cinch.

Other than that you just needed a cool head under pressure and reflexes designed to pivot on a dime.

Once Sten was inside the pattern he proceeded to stomp and drag his heels–spin and slam his arms into the earth to pull–he even found a heavy stick that he dug with until it broke, and overall just made a complete mess of the careful work that had been done.

He was only one man, but he sprinted from location to location, spinning around patrols and making some of the more imaginative ants suspect there were ghosts of their ancestors about.

And yes, at one point he even moonwalked and did moves that made Livia think of her ballerinas. So, what?

In the moment Sten had been thinking that enough missions like this might soon enough earn him a Skill, maybe such as [Martial Furrowing Kata] or something. It was typical of Livia to mischaracterize things!

And he let her know as much when she would not stop laughing during his demonstrations and retelling.

Which admittedly he embellished a bit, once he had everyone struck down with laughter.

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The extra delays did a good job of keeping their spirits up; but as noon came and went and the flaming light kept approaching the middle portion, with no sign of a human force approaching–was when Redd was forced to make a grim decision.

Their plan to try and pull out patrols by chucking rocks with their Skills had failed.

It was predictable really, with all the things they had learned. Nothing was more important than the mission for the Mantis now, and nothing short of an army was likely to make the commanders order a sally past their barriers.

The ritual was going to go through multiple phases, but each one could be slowed down by messing with the pattern since it affected the accumulation of energy.

And so, all out of options; the [Bloodfield Farmer] went down to confront his race's ancient enemy and left the young ‘uns he had been watching over behind.

They decided it was best that he head in alone at first, so no others would risk drawing the ire of any of the warriors he was going to force out from behind their wall–they were likely to grow frustrated when Redd provided them with nothing but a single elusive target to strike back at.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

When he really got their blood going and denied them any satisfaction it was likely they would try and target anything they could find within reach.

Although Livia and her gang did prepare a site for retreat. Redd was still hoping that the Ants would underestimate him and send few enough elites that he could handle it and get out scot-free even after he made himself impossible to ignore.

The spring sun remained high in the sky and was warming his neck. He put his body through an old routine his drill sergeant had once taught him, upon a time. Old Anders is likely to be gone and buried by now. How time flies. He could have still kicked my ass last I saw him.

The mind was a strange thing when it thought you were approaching death.

It made your body feel sharp, and strange. But it also made your mind want to distract you, make you think of things that made life worth living.

You had to stay completely focused. Stay in the moment, even if it meant you heard and felt nothing but the sight of your next enemy and their weakness.

The giant, one-legged man approached the palisade and the few boxed in warrior Ants who were able to stand and look over the barrier by leaning on the supporting beams that kept the palisade strong even where the ground was unfit.

They were under the assumption that the first few strikes would be absorbed by their wooden protection.

They were mistaken.

Redd launched his most devastating attack to begin with–one which had upgraded with his Class when it finally accepted how he was using it–and then he started counting down the ten minute cooldown in his head.

It had originally been a Skill called [Combine Harvest] which allowed him to reap a whole row of grain stalks, only to have the harvested grain end up in a ready pile at his feet.

It still did something similar.

[Combine Assault] launched outward like a wave, devastating the cleaved apart wood and killing over twenty warrior Ants behind it with the concussive force.

Then Redd stood there, waiting for the oncoming horde.

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What Livia, Harold, Oscar and the rest witnessed that day would turn into a memory for life.

The minute movements that kept Redd alive and continuously swinging–the intimidating shouts he unleashed, clearly powered by a Skill–that blew entire sections of ants back as he made room and forced another delay in his getting cornered.

But the one watching most carefully was Sten.

This was his father’s teacher in action, and the old man was not even a martial artist. But the things he was doing, it was clear as day which parts his father had copied and which he had yet to even begin to master.

Redd was nearly completely surrounded, but his every step and swing was with the weak side in mind.

He took a kill whenever they made a mistake and did not approach in unison, and where someone died was where he landed his body next, to launch another attack. He was using the resulting corpses to put something in the way of those attacking from behind–while constantly moving–making the rest of the fatally strong but clumsy six-legged warriors get in each other’s way.

Eventually he took wounds, and he got his weapon caught a few times. But the solution of bloody-minded violence kept allowing him to find a new angle and pull the giant, razor-sharp arrowhead of his hoe free each time.

And the wounds even seemed to be slowly closing. Each new kill in fact–each new spurt of blood washing over him–seemed to make Redd reinvigorated.

Like rains watering the fields.

Whenever he slowed down and took another wound from a stressed ant that was too eager to get in a proper limb-rending chop, his devastating retort had him awash in guts and attacking with renewed furor all over again.

It felt like they must have been watching Redd fighting for thirty minutes by the time that first phase of the ritual suddenly finished.

It made the dark rod in the middle of the pattern light up the valley like a strike of lightning, and then even the non-Casters could feel the magic all around starting to get pulled towards it.

The violet, intensifying flame started over from the outer ring of the pattern, and phase two was begun.

In response Redd unleashed another [Combine Assault].

The devastation made the ants pull back in fear and the well-earned breathing room was something Redd partook in gratefully.

But the break was not for long. A new company of warrior Ants–with a much more complicated pattern of paints on their thoraxes–approached in a steady beat.

Time to start retreating. But as Redd started to move away–that just made the approaching elites move to a hunting formation.

Warrior Ants were not known for being fast, but these ones were clearly a different breed. Their six legs had them caught up within a minute, and Redd was quickly forced to turn around and engage, while trying to keep moving backwards any chance he got.

If he was still level 30 this would have been his doom, but Redd was still moving like he was new to the battlefield and despite the warriors having witnessed the earlier devastation and being rather cautious as a result, they were not cautious enough.

One magic Redd had been saving up was [Plasmatic Edge]. It had originally been a butchery Skill, but after 30 years of use, the thing had taken on a nature more personal to the [Bloodfield Farmer] who wielded it.

Wherever his weapon broke the exoskeleton of his pursuers–and tasted blood–his edge accelerated like it had a mind of its own, and even minor wounds were suddenly deep enough to cause even the most hardened warrior to falter.

The wounded Ants dropped back quickly, denying him their kills–and the retreat was making sure Redd could only move in one direction, so there was nothing to be done.

Their counter-tactics were tiring Redd out quickly.

He was approaching the retreat site, but several of the ants were still on him and the group of guildfolk waiting knew not to engage.

Luckily Redd was saved in just a few more moments. He got past the tree line and then found that the warriors behind suddenly refused to follow.

A few short seconds of hesitation passed with the two sides staring at each other–then they were moving back towards the palisade, and in a rush to boot.

It seemed something new had happened.

That was when Redd suddenly felt the healing hand of Harold behind him, and found himself surrounded by his [Guild].

“They came, they’re here!” Livia was breathing heavily from the run and was pointing with an eager finger.

The Human force had finally shown up, hopefully to put an end to this mounting disaster.