Cobalt could only nod. It was true. An ant should live for their work, just as they worked to live. The soldiers were busy training, scouting, planning, getting ready to commence their hunting forays into the Dungeon. The young queens were helping with the training of the current crop of hatchlings, along with the mages and healers. Already, the training process of raising hatchlings to their first and second evolutions was undergoing refinement as the colony learned of more Skills and mutations that would assist the ants as they prepared to take on their more specific roles.
Even the Core Shapers were busy. Engaged in a demanding practice of new Skills they uncovered, utilising the inspiration the eldest gifted them with to push their understanding of their role to greater heights. Even if they weren’t able to craft pets for the colony yet, it was only a matter of time as they improved their techniques every day. When more Shapers were added to their ranks, they would have a clear path of progression established for their new initiates to follow.
Whereas the Carvers…
Cobalt sighed heavily.
“Why so glum, child?” the queen inquired, noticing her sombre mood even as she directed several workers to feed her pet.
“I am feeling confused, Mother,” she mumbled. “I’m unsure of my purpose within the colony. What exactly is the work that I am expected to achieve? I have thought and thought, but I’m still unsure which tasks I have been created to achieve.”
The queen pondered briefly before responding. “There is always work to be done, child. An endless supply. There is digging, teaching, tending to the brood, hunting. For what reason are you unable to find a task?”
“It isn’t that I can’t find a task to do, Mother, but rather what task is for me alone. When the eldest designed our siblings, it was clear what work they were needed to accomplish. My comrade, Tungstant, and I find ourselves at a loss. Look at me.”
Cobalt used her front legs, thinner, more mobile and articulate than those of her siblings, to gesture at herself.
“Too small and defenceless to fight on the frontline, without the Skills and mutations to fight on the backline. I have not the Will for spellcraft, not the tending instincts for brood rearing, and not the healing gland for restorative magic. The advantages of my own evolution seem almost pointless.”
“What are they, child? What are the advantages of your form?” the queen urged.
“I’m smaller than most others, but not faster. My forelegs are more mobile, and I can move them like this.” Cobalt demonstrated by raising them, giving a clear view of the three claws that tipped each leg, arranged in a triangular formation.
Cobalt had only recently made note that the ability to rotate the claws wasn’t shared by her peers. When viewing the humans for the first time, the connection between this strange anatomy and humans’ wrists and fingers became apparent.
The queen watched Cobalt demonstrate her dexterity before questioning again. “And what else, child? I doubt these claws are the full extent of your gifts.”
“It pretty much is, Mother,” Cobalt groaned. “I have a very high Cunning stat, but I don’t know what I can do with it.”
Cobalt couldn’t be a general or a mage. What use was all of this brain power?
The queen gave Cobalt a thoughtful look, before turning her eyes upward to the stone and dirt above.
“The nest is getting quite haphazard, don’t you think?” she enquired, almost to the air.
Cobalt frowned. It was true. The rapid expansion of the nest had been done too fast, with not enough thought given to proper planning and aesthetics. The whole place was turning into a horrid mess of tunnels and chambers, no foresight, no beauty at all.
“I believe someone should take control, before it becomes a problem. Perhaps you could take on the responsibility? Until you find your purpose?” the queen suggested.
Cobalt barely heard her, mind already spinning with ideas, plans and designs for the layout of the nest. There were the farms, the brood chambers to accommodate, of course. The above-ground portion would need to be expanded, no doubt about it. Head buzzing and the previous concerns forgotten, Cobalt went to find Tungstant and rope the other Carver into this task.
Two minds were better than one, after all.
45. The Surface is Just so Draining
Damn… I need some Mana.
After running around the surface, we’ve managed to find a whole heap of nothin’. Ruined buildings, burned out farms and abandoned homes. All the while, my core is leaking Mana into the air. Checking my MP confirms I still have around half of my full tank. Though, I’m a little nervous about that. If we keep pushing, I’m going to reach the point where I’ll need to find a Dungeon access in order to recharge my batteries. Going back to the nest isn’t possible before I run dry.
He’s being stoic about it, but I can see the drain has taken a toll on my big ape associate as well. Tiny hasn’t told me as such, but his expression, tense but puzzled, as if pooping out an orifice he didn’t know existed and couldn’t quite find, has given the game away.
No, Tiny, that isn’t a waste product, that’s your literal life energy being sucked out of your core!
Gah! This whole thing has given me a headache. It wasn’t long ago I was a lifeform that didn’t require a Mana infused gem within their body in order to sustain themselves. Heck, when I was born onto Pangera, I didn’t have a core at all! Now look at me. Filled to the brim with Mana and dependent on it like some sort of junkie.
With great power comes great… addiction? I didn’t think it would ever come to this back when I was fresh and new to the Dungeon, staring at glowing blue veins on the wall and wondering what it was all about—now I want my fix!
Gimme dat Mana!
Even my legs are providing precious little relief here on the surface. No matter how much I try to soak up Mana through my legs, I’m getting vapour at best.
I sigh. All I can do is press forward. Particularly now. A few hours ago, we picked up the trail of a pack of monsters amongst the trees and farmland. Morrelia has been following them like a demon-possessed crazy person. Her hands are tight around the hilts of her swords, only to let go when she realises what she’s done. A little later her hands are back on those swords, knuckles white.
That is one angry berserker.
I have a suspicion things are going to get nasty soon.
The trails lead us to a flat dirt road that has the appearance of being well maintained. I expect somewhere at the end of this is going to be a sizeable community, a town or small city, and considering a somewhat large force of monsters is heading that way—judging by the tracks—something is definitely about to go down.
It’s going down for real!
[You sense anything up ahead, Crinis?]
[I don’t, Master. My ability to sense Mana is far more limited in range than your eyesight. I think I will be much more useful in the confines of the Dungeon,] she responds, somewhat despondent.
[Out here in the open, you might struggle, but inside a city you’d be better off,] I comfort her. [Each of us has our strengths. Not to worry.]
She doesn’t respond, but I sense a more cheerful mentality radiating from the softball on my back. Such a well-meaning horrific dealer of death.
[I think there might be a fight ahead, Tiny. Stay alert.]
The ape instantly looks more cheerful. Damnable ape! I want you to be wary and on your toes. Not happy and ready to run to your stupid death!
Argh.
No helping it. I’ve known what Tiny’s like for a long time now. He’s not happy unless embroiled in a brutal fight to the death. The more risk to himself, the happier he gets. Only a miracle has kept him alive this long. I need to find a healer to join in my retinue of pets. Otherwise, I doubt he’ll continue to survive. He doesn’t have any built-in healing and his Toughness isn’t as high as I’d like. I’ve said it before and it still rings true. He’s a glass cannon is what he is—all brawn, no brain and not enough HP.