The faint glow of bioluminescent fungi flickered unevenly along the damp tunnel walls as three Warden ants patrolled the deepest prison cells — the holding area for the colony's most dangerous prisoners. The air was thick, heavy with dust and the distant, faint hum of subterranean life. The scent of moist earth clung to their exoskeletons.
"Tch… another night stuck in the depths," one of the younger Wardens muttered, his voice low and bitter as he swung the soft light of a glowing fungus lazily from his arm. The bluish-green illumination barely cut through the oppressive darkness. "Here we are, stuck watching over the colony's scum, while the rest of the wardens get fresh air."
The Warden beside him nodded, his antennae twitching with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. "Yeah. All the action's happening up top — the better patrols, meetings and the celebrations. But us? We're stuck guarding ants who should've been silenced a long time ago."
A low grunt cut through the stale air. The senior Warden's frame was broader, his posture straight and unwavering. His voice was calm, firm, and carried the weight of experience. "Enough whining." He didn't raise his voice, but his tone brooked no argument. "The Queen entrusted us with this post. You guard these cells like your life depends on it. Because, in truth... it does."
The two younger Wardens exchanged quick, uncertain glances before falling silent. The quiet was heavy, interrupted only by the scrape of their boots on the dirt floor and their synchronized breathing.
The glow of the fungi shifted as they moved along rows of barred resin and stone cells, embedded tightly in the dirt that lined the prison's lower depths. The further down they went, the colder and quieter the air became — as if the earth itself was holding its breath.
Then, the lead Warden stopped abruptly. His antennae twitched sharply as he scanned the corridor ahead.
"Wait... something's wrong," he murmured, unease threading his voice.
The others caught up and followed his gaze.
A few prison cells — locked just hours before — now stood open. Empty.
"What the hell? How did this happen?!" one of the younger Wardens panicked, his limbs trembling.
"This is bad. If they reach the upper tunnels..." The senior Warden's voice dropped, a grim edge creeping in. "It could be catastrophic for the colony."
"We need to report this. Now. Chief Warden Seth has to know." The lead Warden's words were sharp, urgent.
The three turned to leave, anticipation and dread mounting like a weight on their shoulders.
A gust of frigid air rushed past, kicking up dust and bits of broken stone. The glow from the nearby fungi dimmed, shadows lengthening unnaturally across the corridor.
One Warden's antennae jolted upright. He froze. His voice came out as barely a whisper. "What....was that?"
The silence snapped.
A scream tore through the darkness — high-pitched, raw — followed by the sickening splash of blood against dirt.
One of the Wardens clutched at his arm, blood spraying onto the dirt as his limb was severed clean off.
He stumbled back against the stone wall, panting, antennae twitching wildly as the glow of the fungi caught the spray of blood in midair.
The cold clang of metal on chitin echoed sharply in the tunnel.
A cruel laugh followed, low and menacing.
"Nothing beats the scream of an ant when I cut them," the voice said, dripping with sadistic pleasure. "It's been far too long since I last tasted this thrill."
"Who the hell are you?!" one of the younger Wardens demanded, unsheathing his mandibles in defiance.
Before he could fully draw his weapons, a blur of motion swept past — and his arms were gone, severed in a clean, merciless stroke. His scream was cut short as the blade struck again, cleaving deep into his torso. He collapsed to the floor, lifeless, eyes frozen wide in fading terror.
Then, another silhouette emerged from the shadows behind the first. Taller. Sharper. His movements were precise, his face was impassive, emotionless.
"Although I don't share the same thrill as you, Lieutenant Varkus..." the figure said, voice smooth but devoid of warmth. "I must admit, the nostalgia of my blade tearing through flesh is… refreshing. After over twelve years confined in that wretched place."
Varkus smirked, eyes glinting with dark amusement. "You don't want to admit it, but you're excited, aren't you, Lieutenant Xylon?"
The senior Warden's antennae trembled. Fear gnawed at him as he realized the truth.
"Damn it... these two are Lieutenants."
With a snarl, the remaining officer — now down to a single arm — charged forward, mandibles bared, rage burning in his eyes.
The air thickened with tension, movement slowed.
A blur of motion flashed through the tunnel.
In a flash of polished blades, the charging Warden's body was cleaved cleanly from head to toe. His halves collapsed in opposite directions, pooling blood soaking the ground beneath.
Varkus chuckled, wiping crimson from his mandibles. "Well, well... looks like you haven't lost your touch. But, was that a bit of an overkill, Captain?"
The other's smile was cold, eyes darkening with a flicker of something far older. "Not my intent. But my blade had been itching for blood."
Recognition flickered across the senior Warden's face as dread settled like ice.
"No way... you're Captain Morvain — the Rogue Ant Butcher. Every survivor who's crossed blades with you on an expedition speaks of you in fear... The one Captain Terrence fought and locked away all those years ago. But how... how did you escape?"
Morvain's gaze was sharp, his voice calm and steady. "So, you were there when it happened?"
The Warden took a step back, the weight of Morvain's presence pressing down.
A faint crunch of dirt sounded behind him. His antennae twitched, a prickle of unease running down his spine. Before he could turn, a sharp, unnatural sound sliced through the air — metal sliding through chitin.
A stinger spear punched clean through his back, the force driving the breath from his lungs. He gasped, blood bubbling in his mouth as he turned, shock flooding his features.
"Deputy Chief Darren? But why..." His voice faltered as life drained from his eyes. His body sagged, heavy and lifeless against the spear.
Darren yanked the spear free with deliberate calm, letting the Warden's corpse fall with a dull thud.
Varkus' voice was low, dripping with contempt. "Well, well. I didn't expect you to have the guts to slay one of your own. Consider yourself convicted of treason, Sergeant Darren."
Darren smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I have a goal. If a few need to die along the way... so be it."
Morvain stepped forward, voice cold and resolute. "I see. We have a mission, too — to destroy this colony from the inside. The same colony Captain Terrence gave his life to protect."
Varkus sneered. "Too bad he won't be here to watch the damage we cause."
Morvain turned to Darren. "We're heading for the upper tunnels. I trust you can handle your own objectives."
Behind Morvain, a grim procession of prisoners moved through the shadows — their exoskeleton marred by bruises and old wounds, hardened from years of captivity and combat. Their eyes, dull but burning with fierce hatred, scanned the tunnel with a hunger for revenge. Each gripped a pair of jagged mandible blades tightly in their hands, the gleam of worn steel catching the faint fungus light. They moved as one, a tide of desperate fury poised to strike at the colony that had abandoned them.
He looked back at the prisoners now gathered behind him. "The rest of you — follow me."
"It's time we make them feel the despair they forced upon you... to see it burn in their eyes."
A cold silence hung in the corridor, broken only by the faint scrape of their footsteps as they moved forward, shadows stretching long under the dim glow of the fungi.
As they disappeared into the darkness, Darren lingered for a moment, his gaze distant.
"Well," he muttered, voice low and full of promise, "the preparations are complete. It's time to make my move. Ari won't know what hit him."