In the northern part of the island, a wide, rocky mountain rose. From the outside, it was nothing special: not particularly tall, barely reaching a thousand meters, and its silhouette didn't command attention.
It could have passed as just another elevation in the landscape, forgettable, ordinary.
But its interior told a different story.
That mountain was home to a colony of gray ants. They hadn't just inhabited it; they had claimed it. Over generations, they had drilled into the rock, carving tunnels, chambers, and passages that delved ever deeper, twisting the mountain from within like a living organism. They expanded not only horizontally but also downward, devouring the stone with a clear purpose.
Creating a sanctuary.
In the deepest interior, far from light and the outside world, they had built a safe place for the queen's egg. A core protected by layers of rock, distance, and numbers. From the outside, the mountain seemed harmless. From within, it was a hostile labyrinth, pulsating, completely alien to any human notion of refuge.
From one of the mountain's four entrances, a young man emerged.
He was slender, with black hair and dark eyes.
His Asian features combined in an attractive, serene face, and his bearing had something naturally majestic, almost elegant. The setting sun slipped between the tree tops and bathed him frontally, casting golden tones over his silhouette and stretching his shadow across the ground. For a brief moment, the scene seemed carefully composed, almost perfect.
But there was one detail that ruined it.
A gaping wound ran across his stomach. A clean, deep stab that had soaked his uniform with dark blood. Ryun advanced along the forest path, pressing his hand against the wound, his gesture firm despite the obvious pain.
What Ryun didn't know was that he wasn't alone.
From the moment he stepped out, multiple eyes were fixed on him.
Students hidden among dense bushes, behind moss-covered rocks, and high in tree canopies watched in silence. They waited for this exact moment: someone exiting the mountain, exhausted, wounded, vulnerable. A perfect opportunity to snatch points… or the egg.
Greg took a slight step forward, tensing his body to leap.
But Benjamin's hand rose immediately in front of his chest, stopping him.
Greg turned his head, annoyed, and met his companion's gaze. His face was serious, focused. He slowly shook his head without saying a word.
Greg gritted his teeth. He hesitated for a second… and finally stepped back.
He chose to trust Benjamin's judgment.
Without Ryun realizing, the same scene repeated again and again among the students watching from afar.
Many already knew him.
And those who didn't had the luck of being stopped by those who did.
But Randy wasn't so lucky.
He leaped from a high tree and landed in front of Ryun with a solid thud. He was tall, bronzed, with dark, curly hair. His presence was aggressive, confident.
He didn't hesitate for a second.
He used his trait, and a metal bat appeared in his hands.
Randy gripped the bat and charged at Ryun without hesitation.
Ryun responded with a simple gesture.
He invoked his katana.
He didn't adopt a flashy stance or step back. He simply waited.
Randy raised the bat above his head, ready to smash it against Ryun's skull with all his strength.
He never got the chance to bring it down.
In the blink of an eye, Ryun vanished from his field of vision.
He appeared right in front of him.
The katana slid slowly and with insulting ease through Randy's stomach, as if slicing through air instead of flesh.
With a slow motion, Ryun pulled the blade out.
Randy froze.
His eyes widened.
His mouth parted in a silent gasp as blood spilled from it, trying to form a scream that never came.
His body took a second to realize what had just happened.
By sheer will, he tried to turn toward Ryun, who was already walking away without looking back.
He took three unsteady steps toward him, each slower than the last, and then lost consciousness.
His body collapsed to the ground.
Blood flooded the sand beneath his feet and his bracelet glowed red.
From a distance, Benjamin waited for Ryun to disappear among the trees. Then he looked at Gregory and slowly shook his head.
—That's why you never fuck with Ryunnosuke.
—————-
In the center of a wide, luminous chamber, an epic scene unfolded.
A young man faced a swarm of ants of various sizes, every movement calculated, every gesture brimming with contained strength.
During the battle, Marcus had devised ways to maximize his effectiveness. His fists, forearms, shins, and the lower part of his back and stomach were protected by dense fibers and plates to enhance his defense.
Spikes twenty centimeters long emerged from his fists, designed to increase the lethality of each strike. His knees were no less deadly: upward-pointing spikes ready to harm anyone daring to approach.
A wolf-sized ant tried to bite his hip. Marcus reacted in the blink of an eye: he crouched, dodged the jaws, and placed his full weight on it. From that position, he delivered four consecutive powerful blows to the same spot.
The creature fell dead, its blood splattering Marcus's face.
He sensed another ant lunging at him from the other side.
A dog-sized ant leaped toward his face. Marcus blocked with his forearm, letting its jaws close on the dense plate harmlessly.
With his other hand, he slammed it into the ground and struck its head repeatedly; two hits were enough, but a third sealed the job.
When another ant jumped at him, Marcus used his kneeling position to roll under it, evading the attack with feline agility.
He stood and ran toward the next one, leaping onto it and planting his palm for balance before facing the largest: a horse-sized ant.
Using his momentum, he decided to end it with a single strike.
He focused all his strength into one blow, grabbed the creature's jaws to propel himself further, and launched an upward knee strike. The combination of the leap, extra impulse, and sharp knee spike pierced the ant's shell. And the beast fell dead instantly.
This was Marcus's method for killing such ants.
Another wolf-sized ant leapt directly at him. Marcus reacted instantly: he kicked it up slightly, caught it by the jaws in the same motion, slammed it to the ground, and flipped it over. Three rapid blows to the head sealed its fate.
The second lesson he learned was simple and effective: always aim for the head or just below. Repeat until the brain is reached; there was no safer method. Breaking their necks also worked, though it was more difficult.
A dog-sized ant charged at him. Marcus jumped and landed on its neck, crushing it under his full weight.
From the other side, another wolf-sized one charged. Marcus reused the same tactic: he landed directly on top, increasing the density of his plates to add weight in midair. His knee fell on the ant's neck with a dry, definitive crack.
The third lesson allowed him to fully explore the possibilities of his trait. During battles, Marcus discovered he could manipulate his plates density for brief moments, increasing his weight and the lethality of his strikes.
One ant managed to reach his knees and bit his thigh. Marcus turned his head and saw the jaws sunk into his flesh. Without hesitation, he raised his fist and struck backward like a hammer, pushing it away. In a swift turn, he slammed his fist into its head; blood splattered onto his plates.
Another lesson became clear: he couldn't remain still for a single instant. Immobility meant being cornered, overwhelmed, and defeated.
Marcus charged toward the chamber's wall, approaching the edge of chaos.
Several ants of varying sizes advanced toward him.
With precision, he stomped on one's head, rebounded off the wall, and from there, his fist struck with force and weight the head of a wolf-sized ant, killing it instantly.
Another horse-sized ant lunged at him; Marcus applied the same method as before, using an upward knee strike to finish it immediately.
Another leapt at him; he responded with a left hook followed by a right.
At that moment, he sensed a greater threat approaching from behind. Quickly, he grabbed the ant in front of him by the jaws and used it as a projectile against the attacker.
Twisting his torso and extending his right arm fully, he landed a brutal hook that stunned the creature. Without missing a beat, he kicked its leg with all his weight and plate density. The blow broke it; unable to support itself, the ant fell, defeated.
Another lesson learned: break their legs.
Learning all this had cost Marcus blood and ether in abundance.
His arms, shoulders, thighs, feet, sides, stomach, and back were covered in cuts and stabs.
His shirt had long ceased to be black: now red, spattered with blood, and darkened by sweat and dirt.
His arms throbbed with pain each time he struck due to Duke's stomps.
His left leg burned with each step; a wolf-sized ant had torn his thigh in a moment of carelessness while he was on the ground.
Every movement reminded him of the wounds that still throbbed, sharp and bothersome. Marcus gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore them. He had to endure; he had to keep moving forward. Every step was a challenge, but surrender was not an option.
The Ether, his source of strength, gradually waned, inexorably and steadily.
But at the same time, his ability to fight ants, his instincts as a Transformer, his monster-combat skills, and his ether control improved with every passing moment.
Another thing Marcus began to notice was his own endurance.
For the first time, he understood Elías's surprise: summing all the accumulated effort throughout the day made sense. Every ambush planned—the boy with the throwing knives, the two girls locating the egg, the youth who indicated the exact position—every confrontation against the elite ants and the current battle, which had lasted at least fifteen minutes at full power, all added up.
Marcus barely felt as if he had run the first half of a soccer match. Tired, sweaty, but with enough energy to keep going far beyond.
He was wounded, bleeding, low on ether. But neither his lungs demanded oxygen nor his muscles rest.
Then Marcus kicked the ant beside him and launched himself to finish it.