Hopper sat atop his jagged, stone-like throne in the heart of the fortress, each passing minute eroding what little patience he had left. His thick arms rested heavily on the armrests, one of his clawed fingers twitching with irritation. His eye scanned the open hall in front of him—still no sign of Denzil.
A heavy silence lingered in the air, broken only by the aggressive tapping of Hopper's leg against the stone floor, the rhythm quickening, more violent with every second.
"Where is that bastard?" Hopper growled under his breath, his fury sending a ripple of tension through the room.
Courtois, a simple patrol grasshopper standing several paces behind the throne, swallowed nervously and dared not speak. Where could Denzil be at this time? Baracko wondered silently, eyeing the warlord's tightening fists. Gianna, bold and sharp-tongued, voiced what many were thinking.
"That idiot Denzil is getting on Lord Hopper's nerves," she muttered, arms crossed as she leaned against one of the stone pillars. Her voice was low, but not low enough to go unheard.
Sly, ever the slouching shadow of the group, stood nearby with a languid posture, his half-lidded eyes betraying no emotion. He looked almost bored, as if none of this truly mattered.
Suddenly, Hopper's fist shot forward, slamming into the fortress wall beside his throne with a deafening crack. Stone split and crumbled under the force of his punch, sending a tremor through the entire fortress. Dust drifted from the ceiling, and deeper in the dark, damp recesses of the prison cells, Princess Tanya stirred.
The sound roused her from a light, troubled sleep—though her dreams were more like vivid memories, bitter and filled with fear. Her throat was parched, her body weak from hunger and dehydration, but her spirit had not yet broken. She sat up slowly, the ache in her limbs sharp and unforgiving. Her wide eyes scanned the dim, suffocating space from behind the bars of her cage.
In the distance, she saw them—Hopper and his inner circle, towering and fierce. A flicker of fear sparked in her chest, her legs shaking beneath her, but she would not allow it to blossom into panic. She steadied herself. She would not cower. Not anymore.
Her antennae twitched violently. Breath caught in her throat, and her body recoiled before she could stop herself. She recognized the figure who stepped into view—the cruel enforcer who once delighted in torturing the enslaved ants. The memories slammed into her like a crashing wave: the cracking of bones, the screaming, his laughter echoing through the chambers.
"Monster…" she muttered, inching backward in the cage, her back pressing into the cold stone wall behind her.
Hopper narrowed his eye, annoyed. "What's the matter, Viser? There better be a good reason you're blocking my way. If not, I'll cut you down where you stand."
Viser bowed slightly but did not step aside. "My lord, there has been… an altercation. Our fortress has been invaded by a small group of ants."
"And what does that matter?" Hopper scoffed, waving a clawed hand dismissively. "All of them will die before even making it past the gates."
Viser shook his head. "Based on reports from our sentries, there are around ten of them. Six have been confirmed as ranked officers from Queen Celeste's army."
"What?" Hopper's expression twisted with disbelief, his eye flaring with rage. "Did you just say Queen Celeste's army?"
Tanya gasped. Her eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. "Mother…" she whispered, antennae stiffening. For the first time in weeks, hope ignited in her chest. It frightened her, how quickly she clung to it. Was it too fragile to grasp? Too dangerous to believe in? She crushed the doubt before it could root itself. "So… Ari really did come to save me…"
Tears welled up in her eyes, trailing silently down her sunken cheeks. The sharpness of them felt almost alien after so many days of numbness.
Viser continued, "The other four are unidentified, but one of them defeated Behemoth with a single punch."
"One punch?" Hopper's clawed hand tightened on the armrest. Behemoth had been bred for raw destruction. For him to fall so quickly… was this ant just strong, or something far more dangerous?
Sly finally raised an eyebrow, his boredom briefly giving way to intrigue.
"That ant… the one who defeated Behemoth… he's the one I'm interested in," Hopper muttered, leaning forward slightly. "Could they be part of Queen Celeste's army, hidden from us all this time?"
He shook his head. "No. Unlikely. Then they must hail from a colony outside our control. One we've yet to discover."
"Denzil has engaged the group, my lord. Meanwhile, Queen Celeste's officers have split up within the fortress," Viser added.
"So they've walked right into our fortress. They must have a death wish." A wicked grin spread across Hopper's face. "With their high-ranking officers so weak, I never expected them to attempt a rescue mission. I even made them an offer to retrieve the princess. Such a pity."
He turned to his generals. "Find them. Kill them. Bring me their heads."
"Oh, I'll do more than that. I'll definitely find that ant who defeated Behemoth so easily," said Sly with a menacing laugh as he left.
"Such a pain, dealing with these puny insects," muttered Gianna, frustrated, as she stormed off.
Before Baracko left, he looked at Hopper and mumbled, "Something feels off. I feel it."
"Go with them as well, Viser," Hopper commanded.
Viser bowed. "As you command."
Tanya clutched the bars of her cage. "I have faith in you, Ari. I believe you can defeat them. Even Hopper. But please… be careful."
Elsewhere in the fortress, Anastasia crept silently along a dark corridor, her antennae lowered, her breathing controlled. Her eyes darted toward every corner, scanning for movement.
A group of grasshoppers stood at the end of the hallway, speaking in low voices. She pressed herself behind a support column, her pulse thudding in her ears.
Then… clang.
Her foot accidentally nudged a loose stone. The sound echoed sharply, betraying her.
"What was that?" one of the grasshoppers asked, turning his head.
Weapons drawn, they glanced around, antennae flicking in irritation. "Must've been one of our slaves working," another muttered.
They wandered off after a tense moment. Anastasia let out a slow breath, her muscles taut with restraint.
"I'm strong enough to deal with them," she whispered, "but I can't afford to waste energy before facing Hopper… or one of his generals."
She pressed forward, moving swiftly and silently, her steps whispering against the stone floor. But soon, she rounded a corner—and stumbled straight into another patrol.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" said one, smirking as he raised his four mandibles.
"An ant in the wrong colony," another hissed. "You lost, sweetheart?"
Anastasia's mandibles slid into place with a metallic rasp. "Back away, or I'll cut you down."
"Oh, she's got fire," one chuckled.
"She won't last long," another growled.
The ten grasshoppers charged in a unified lunge, weapons flashing. Anastasia's movements became a blur—graceful, deadly, relentless. She ducked low, feeling the whistle of a blade grazing past her antennae. The clang of steel struck stone as she pivoted, her mandibles slashing across the chest of the nearest attacker, spraying thick green blood across the corridor walls.
A second came at her from behind, but she spun, grabbing his arm and slamming him headfirst into the floor with a resounding crack. The vibrations traveled up her legs, but she remained steady. Her breathing never faltered.
Two grasshoppers swung in tandem. She parried one with her mandibles, the shock of the impact rattling her arms, then drove her knee into the other's gut, folding him with a choked grunt. Her mandibles gleamed under the faint torchlight as she moved, sharp and fast, cutting tendons, crushing joints, sending bodies sprawling.
The last one tried to retreat, panic overtaking him, but Anastasia was on him in two strides, sweeping his legs and pinning him to the floor with a foot on his chest.
"Tell Hopper his fortress is crumbling."
She slammed the hilt of her mandibles into his temple, knocking him out cold.
Breathing slow and controlled, she brushed dust off her shoulder, stepping over the pile of groaning bodies.
"Useless."
"Impressive."
A voice echoed from behind.
Anastasia froze, her antennae flicking sharply as she turned. Viser stood there, arms folded, a slow clap echoing in the corridor.
"You're not bad," he said, grinning.
"I don't have time for you," Anastasia said flatly, stepping away from the fallen patrol.
"I'm not one of Hopper's main four generals. I know that's what you're thinking," Viser said, taking a slow step forward. "But make no mistake—I'm the strongest immediately after them."
Her gaze hardened. "Is that so?"
He nodded. "Unlike the others, I don't parade around with a title. I serve Hopper from the shadows. My power lies not in rank… but in ability."
She raised her mandibles again, the steel glinting dangerously. "Then show me."
Viser smirked. "Gladly."