Time was no longer on their side.
Adam surged through the nearest tunnel, his sharp claws tapping with urgency against the smooth-packed soil. The air was dry but tense, the subtle pressure in the tunnels now tinged with incoming danger. His thoughts flowed fast, almost instinctively now, a fusion of tactical foresight and his recent evolution-enhanced awareness.
He stopped only once, flaring his silk glands and weaving thick, reinforced webs across all non-critical tunnel exits, wrapping the colony's core paths in sticky barricades. No way in. No way out.
If they made it past the trap line… at least the core would remain untouched.
"Brill. You and the new burrower, start immediately. I want a kill trap: vertical. Deep and tight."
The burrowers nodded and vanished into the earth like specters. Dirt sprayed behind them in rhythmic spurts as they vanished below the main access tunnel.
Adam turned to the warriors next.
"You two—stand ready beneath the trap's ceiling. When it collapses, do not hesitate. Mandibles straight into the soft shell beneath."
The warriors thumped their forelegs once against the soil in silent salute, then scurried into position.
This one won't be enough. It will only affect the frontlines. Once they fall, the others will immediately run away to report. And he can't let that happen.
"We're going to make them split."
Three new tunnels were carved deeper into the advance path. Two diverging branches appeared identical to the main passage. Each curved and dipped just enough to seem like a safer route, both merging later back into the main tunnel once more.
At the same time, identical traps were built into both fake paths—collapsible floors, shallow kill pits, and warriors embedded beneath them, waiting in the dark, breath low and patient.
But the real advantage was what lay between the tunnels.
A latticework of thin, hidden crawl spaces, barely wide enough for an ant to slip through, connected all three major passages. Silent, narrow, winding tunnels where one ant could hide, move, and listen.
"Skitt," Adam said quietly. The scout turned, his movements still and serious now.
"Get into the position and listen. Report everything. I want to know their formations, their ranks, their doubts. Anything and everything understood? .... And be careful out there this time."
Skitt gave a solemn nod.
Adam placed a limb briefly over his shell. Wishing that it would bless him with divine power.
With every tunnel now rigged and each ant in place, the preparations were nearly complete.
The walls of the main kill tunnel still smelled of fresh dirt, raw and damp. Even underground, tension clung to the stale air. The warriors had covered themselves in thin layers of discarded dirt and beetle chitin, blending into the surroundings. The burrowers sat buried and still, antennae the only part showing, waiting for the exact vibrations.
The silk barricades behind them were firm and gleaming in the dim bioluminescence, shimmering like thin muscle fibers pulled taut.
Adam found one of the tight surveillance tunnels and slipped into its cramped space. His sharpened exoskeleton scraped lightly against the walls. Dirt brushed against his sensitive hairs.
He pressed low, eyes closed, heart steady.
Now… they waited.
The tunnel had become a trap.
And the fumes from the fiery battle will soon traverse the air.
The soil was warm. Silent. Pressed tight against Skitt's carapace as he lay motionless inside the thin surveillance tunnel.
Only his antennae moved, gently flicking, brushing vibrations in the air. Every subtle shift in pressure translated into sound, and the distant thud…thud…thud of heavy footsteps rippled through the earth like a heartbeat.
Then, words. Muffled, deep… the accent of beetles was crude, but the scout's sharpened senses caught enough.
"Gone. Again."
"That's four patrols now."
"I told them not to venture too deep."
"Silence." The voice of command, weighty and metallic. "We stay sharp. Formation wide. Remember we are not here to chit chat. Observe and don't engage and we can back before dinner."
Skitt pressed closer to the edge of the tunnel wall, angling to catch more detail. From a crack above, he glimpsed one of them.
A massive beetle, larger than the scouts from before. Its shell was layered with jagged plates; edges scarred with age and battle. Thick forelimbs scraped against the tunnel as it walked, its every step deliberate, its voice a dry, grinding rumble.
They continued deeper until they reached the prepared fork in the path. A wide chamber with three branching tunnels lay ahead. Everything about the space was designed to confuse: the curves, the symmetry, the natural shadows.
Skitt could hear the beat of Adam's pulse in the distance. Everyone was in place.
"Scouts."
The beetle leader's voice echoed off the walls.
"Eyes open. Report."
A smaller beetle crawled forward, twitching, peering into each tunnel.
"All three look clear," it said.
"I don't smell anything… not fresh."
Another added:
"Middle one's widest. Feels like the right path."
"We split," the leader declared. "You know the drill. Middle group—my team. Two scouts, three soldiers. Other two teams; two Ironhides, one scout each. Quiet. No wandering. Scouts! As soon as you find anything remotely suspicious, I want you to retreat. Remember we are only here for reconnaissance."
With that, the order was sealed.
Six beetles moved into the center. Three into each side passage.
In the tight crawlspace that linked all three tunnels, Skitt tensed.
They're splitting. Just like he planned.
Skitt pulled back, scurried into the connecting tunnel, and vanished into the dirt.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of the convergence chamber, Adam's antennae twitched.
Soil whispered of movement. Vibrations filtered into instinct.
He nodded.
"Zell, Norkk," he said in a hushed tone. "The flanks are yours. Stay low. Strike the scouts first—they're the eyes. Take them fast and do not let them escape no matter what."
Zell's mandibles twitched with resolve. Norkk gave a firm nod, his stance sharp and eager.
"Mira," Adam turned to the healer, "You and the others will stay with me. Do not engage unless ordered. Keep your senses sharp. Focus on healing me safely from the back."
Mira's antennae lowered in solemn understanding. The small healer beside her, one of the new recruits, stood close, trembling slightly, but nodded.
Adam took his place at the heart of the center tunnel. His claws dug into the dirt. The smell of dried chitin still clung to the walls. A faint wind carried dust across his face, air displaced by approaching mass.
The kill tunnel was silent now.
Even the beetles would feel it—the strange stillness. The unnatural quiet before something ancient and terrible.
Adam closed his eyes. Blending into the environment.
Waiting... for that one chance.