Siren stood at the edge of the iron platform, gripping the strap of his backpack tightly. His gaze didn't wander — he fixed each figure appearing in the doorways with unerring precision. He saw massive silhouettes begin to descend along the walls, clinging to the surface with strong claws. Others moved across the floor, gradually encircling them from all sides.
Their size and appearance left no doubt — they were fire ants that shouldn't have been here. At least, not alive. Yet they came. They moved. Each step echoed through the stone hall with a deep tremor. Dust rained from the ceiling: the first of the creatures had already started jumping down from the heights, each landing with a deep, hoarse rumble.
Mearin did not move, but Siren noticed the ether beginning to quiver. A barely perceptible distortion appeared in the space before the old man. It did not shimmer or spark — but in that spot, the world became different. The ether surrendered to the mage's will, and Siren saw thin lines begin to stretch out of the void. They carved through the air slowly and precisely, as though an invisible hand were drawing on glass.
"Has he started?"
The formulas assembled themselves, cohesive and flawless. Symbols emerged one after another, forming a living structure. The air around those lines trembled, as if restraining some unseen pressure. The magic did not dazzle — it filled the hall with weight.
Meanwhile, the ants continued moving forward. When the nearest came within only thirty paces, the formula before Mearin was complete.
At that instant, the hall shuddered. A rolling rumble echoed deep underground, as though the very ant nest exhaled. From the point where the formula reached its finale burst a powerful impulse of pressure. It surged forward like a bulldozer, sweeping everything in its path. The shockwave was visible to the naked eye — its residual pulse shook the hall in circular waves.
Several ants were instantly thrown dozens of meters away. One collapsed onto its side, its shell crashing against the stone. A second smashed into the wall and went limp. A third, having been knocked over, staggered up and stumbled back toward the center.
A new formula was already unfolding in the air.
The ether twisted in another plane — rings rotating in different directions, connected with slender struts. The symbols within did not repeat; their structure was more intricate. Siren held his breath, entranced by the elegance of the pattern.
The structure closed. A muffled click followed, then a subdued sonic wave shook dust and air alike. The space before the mage flared bright, and from that flash a focused beam erupted. It pierced several ants and, meeting no resistance, impactfully struck a stone wall. Scorching heat rippled throughout the chamber, leaving a charred mark.
Siren squeezed his eyes shut, too slow to react. When he opened them, everything was unmistakably clear: four ants caught in the beam had frozen in place, then crashed to the floor with a dull thud. Their bodies were severely damaged, and the stone beneath his feet vibrated with each impact.
But the others didn't stop.
Even with losses, even though the floor was littered with bodies, they advanced with unwavering regularity. More and more creatures streamed from the side passages, threatening to bury them. They were now almost reaching the platform's edges.
Spell after spell, Mearin's attacks mowed down ant after ant. Their incredibly tough red carapaces cracked under the magical onslaught, temporarily halting their advance. But for every fallen creature, two more took its place. Soon Siren could no longer discern a single escape route. He had to rely entirely on the elder mage's strength.
He threw a worried glance at Mearin. The old man didn't flinch. Behind him, multiple new formulas formed in the ether. They appeared independently, not repeating a single pattern. The constructs hovered in the air, frozen in tense anticipation.
Siren's breath became shallow. The ether coiled at the edge of his perception, as though the very air could no longer bear the mounting pressure.
Every second the chamber filled with greater weight. The approaching ants' steps grew louder, their bodies displacing the air. Some had already reached the platform, their claws gripping the grooves in the metal floor.
Siren didn't blink, watching as the formulas organized around the mage. New constructs formed faster. Ether lines stretched out of the void with unimaginable precision. He noticed how their nature changed: here they were elongated, there spiraled — yet none wavered.
One of them opened first — with a thunderous crash that echoed like a collapsed beam.
Within the spell's range, a colossal force shot upward. With horrifying pull, it flung five ants against the ceiling. They crashed back down, crushed by their own weight.
Almost immediately, another formula activated. A circle opened in the air — it did not glow, but stood ominously still. When two ants entered it, they froze… then exploded into thousands of bloody fragments. The blast was far stronger than the traps formed in the ant nest walls.
Mearin didn't look at the outcome. He didn't need to. A new set of symbols was already assembling right in front of him, closer than before. Ether gathered more densely, nearly brushing the edges of his mantle. Siren felt the heat of the power being drawn together.
It wasn't fire — it was magic too dense to remain unseen.
And then Siren noticed something strange.
Through all the carnage and power, he caught a faint, almost transparent trace — like shadows of ether leaking from the bodies of the dead ants. A dark glow he recognized instantly.
"Don't tell me… it's… dead ether?" he thought, stricken by the thought. Something about it felt wrong. The infection sources on all the ants were placed identically… too much so. And there was no fierce aura, like with freshly infected specimens. On the contrary — it seemed they'd been infected after death.
"How is that even possible?"
Then an idea struck him.
He shouted:
"Old man! Use that mind-attack spell!"
Mearin frowned, but did not respond. He detonated another approaching ant and continued conjuring.
"We'll both die if you don't do it!" Siren yelled, relentless.
Finally, the mage snapped, teeth clenched:
"It'll cook your brains too!"
For a moment, Mearin nearly lost control over two formulas — but he recovered.
"Just do it like I said!" Siren roared, sprinting away. Without looking back, he raced past several ants, miraculously avoiding direct contact. Thanks to his special vision, he skirted around them while they were distracted by the mage.
"Why… do I feel like they can't even see me?" he wondered, immediately brushing the thought away. "Isn't it better if they ignore you?"
He kept running until he was far enough from the center.
Suddenly, the chamber was flooded with bright light. In the next moment, Mearin's voice, amplified by spellcraft, reverberated throughout the room:
"Die!"
Though Siren had fled to a safe distance and covered his ears, he was still shaken to the core. It felt as though a grenade had detonated in his mind.
But it bore fruit. The ants, marching with mechanical precision, suddenly froze. Their movements halted mid-step, legs buckled, and their bodies collapsed one by one in place. The platform trembled under the dull thuds of their shells, and for a moment, the air hung thick with suffocating silence.