Where Are They? Where Are The Ants?

Pierce

A sharp metallic thunk echoed through the cave as the ant's serrated and sharpened jaws sliced into the hard soil of the wall. In between the two jaws, Hubert sat, his eyes closed, waiting for death's invitation.

It was quiet for a while, only the sound of the ant's antennae twitching reached his ear. Curious, he slowly opened his squinting eyes.

"Ha…" he sighed, relieved. Greeted by the sight of the ant's black and abyss-like stare while it twitched its body and its leg pulled back effortfully. Its body wriggling and trembling.

Then Hubert checked with his hands, first his arms then his legs, after that his belly and waist, the limbs closest to the ant's nearby jaws.

"Ha-ha… Hahaha," Hubert laughed, like a maniac, upon realizing he was intact.

His grip on his sword returned and strengthened. He raised it with both hand over his head, reverse gripped. Then he launched it down, its sharp edge directed straight to the ant's vulnerable head.

Defenseless, the ant struggled, its jaws began shaking and its body pulled back as hard as it could. Then the sword came to him, its reflection filled the ant's empty and black eyes.

"Huagh!" Hubert shouted.

Pierce

A sharp sound filled the air, green blood-like liquid splurged out of its head. Not long after, a high pitched shriek followed. Then the sound died down, and its body fell to the ground, accompanied by a loud thud.

Hubert's hand shaky, and his palm, arms and face showered with the green blood of the monstrous ant. He looked at it and then at the ant that laid lifeless in front of him. The sword pierced its head and came out under it.

Hubert sighed, then gasped for air, his body trembling. The scenery, the danger, the enemy and its threatening weapon once like a choke on his neck. Yet he found himself to be the victor, intact and tired.

"Good…" Ron said to him in the distance. Hubert then looked toward Ron, sitting on the ground cross legged with the shovel planted beside him.

"Di-did I?" he questioned himself, pride and achievement rushed, filling his mind. A huge grin, a sign of accomplishment, present on his face, his body still shaky.

"I-I won? I won… I won!" He exclaimed.

"Come…" Ron then stood up, grabbing his shovel, then walked toward the unconscious slave in the middle of the cave.

"Calm down, Hubert, calm down." He muttered to himself. Inhaling deep and exhaling long, his breath flew toward the corpse of the ant in front of him. Then clenched his fist.

Full of struggle, he pulled himself out of the cramped place in between the ant's jaws. He then grabbed hold onto the sword, staring at the ant.

"Thank you…" he said to the soulless ant.

Then he pulled out the sword embedded on the ant's head. Hubert walked away, as the green blood poured out from the hole he had created between the ant's still eyes.

Amidst the tools and weapons lying on the floor, the amputated limbs of hands and legs, the lifeless corpses, some split in two and the puddles of blood. Laid, a single slave of which that was just about to be bit by the ant that met its demise with Hubert.

"Hey," Hubert called onto him.

Both Hubert and Ron squatted near the slaves calling onto him and tapping on his cheek.

"Wha-what?" the slave weary and strained eyes slowly opened, his face pale. He felt a light and waking tap on his cheek, like being awakened every morning to be reminded of his duty as a slave to the Church of Visions.

"…" Ron stared at him, word came not of his mouth.

"Where am-" the slave asked as he supported himself with his arms to sit up, his words interrupted by a sudden urge to cough.

Cough!

He covered his mouth with his hand, as his coarse and loud unusual cough came, a sense of wetness felt by him. The slave extended his palm in front of his, on which spurted onto something foreign of human body, green liquid, similar to the ant's blood.

"Poison…" Ron muttered under his breath.

"What?" Hubert heard. the slave's hearing blurry, he looked at the two of them and then around him.

Then he remembered as the pungent smell of blood and striking scenery of doom and death hailed onto him.

"Ah, yes, I remembered," the slave murmured to himself. His exhausted muscles, graying hair and forgetfulness indicated his old age.

Hubert looked at him with an expecting eyes, while Ron did the same with his stoic stare.

"Then, tell us!" Hubert said, his voice slightly demanding. The slave looked at him, before lowering his sight in obedience.

"The ant came out of the hole, we all stopped mining when it did… At first it was fine, the guards fought and crippled it, a younger slave, like a muscular hero that he is, delivered the killing blow, I think his name was… Robe-" he told.

Cough!

The old slave interrupted by his own cough.

"Then, then…" his voice trembled.

"Then what?" Hubert asked.

The slave gulped his saliva, then clenched his fist, his mind traumatized by the sight that came before him.

"Then ants came… There were at least dozens of them, each the size of a carriage. We didn't stand a chance, they killed slaves and guards, but some were paralyzed by a light bite," his voice still shaky, his pupils dilated.

He then pointed out onto his neck, where two holes could be seen. From that hole, leaked out not blood, but the same green liquid the slave previously coughed out.

"…" Ron quietly listened to the story. His eyes occasionally glanced at other direction, mainly toward the hole.

"This… This was horrifying, I couldn't move a single muscle, I couldn't hear anything, but I could see the ants collecting the paralyzed slaves with their jaws and returning back into that hole… I could see but I chose not to, I'm scared, I'm afraid I'll end up like them…" the slave continued, his shaking index finger extended and pointed at the huge hole twice the size of a well.

Hubert's head moved, looking at the hole, and then scanning thoroughly of what laid on the ground. He looked and looked, his stare slowly widened, his mind filled with relief and fright.

"Robert… He's not here," Hubert said to Ron.

"Yes… Food," Ron replied.

"Food? As in the ants took them for food?" the slave asked, sweat trickling down his forehead as his cracked and dried lips spoke.

Ron nodded, his glance fixed to the hole.

Vibrations suddenly came under their feet. It was light at first, then it got harder and rougher.

The slave's eyes widened.

"N-no… This is the exact same as before, they are coming… They are coming! The ants are coming!" he shouted and shouted.

Hubert terrified gaze fixed to the hole, gripping his sword as hard as he could, though his hand shaky.

In Hubert's ear, came the sound of steps, not from underground, but above. To which he looked at the passageway leading up. He listened, his ears leaned.

Then the steps got louder, along with it the clanking sounds of metals against metals.

"Men! Prepare bathing in those insect's blood tonight!" a man shouted from above, his authoritative voice echoing in the narrow passageway.

Then the soldiers came down.

Steels armors and helms covered their bodies and heads, swords in their hands and halberds in some, on their shields, painted with the symbol of the Church. Behind them, a group of monks in pure white robes and capes marked with the symbol as well.

The torches in their hands flickered, the sound of their steps died down, the trail of dust that was created from their hurried jog sank back. Their eyes widened and their grip on their weapons died down.

"Wh-what? Where are the ants?" the captain of the group said. His armor more vibrant and glorious than the others. His pure white armor, streamlined and stitched with lines of gold, shone brighter in the dark cave.

"Don't let down your guard, Clasius, the ants have been here, and they will return," a woman beside him said. Her dark red hair like the color of wine and her bright red eyes like a pair of ruby, her face beautiful.

"Of course, Kira, I'm just surprised there are survivors here," Clasius replied.

"But it seems, we can't ask them anything now," Clasius continued.

The rumbles and trembling of grounds under their feet got harder and harsher. Their powerful grips over their weapons returned, expecting the worst.

"Defense formation!" the captain shouted over his men, his voice like a roar of lion, echoing through the cave.

His men rushed forward, bypassing Hubert, Ron and the slave still sitting on the ground. The swordmen, with their bright and unscratched shields, formed a shieldwall, weapons to their side.

The halberdiers stood in between them, their pointy and sharped spike pointed toward the hole. The monks grabbed the books out of their leather bag and opened it, their lips ready to chant.

Then the ants came spurring out of the hole, akin to pressurized water.

"For the Goddess!" the captain shouted, raising his sword high.

"For the Goddess!" the soldiers echoed.