The battlefield inside Hopper's fortress was chaos.
Commander Ruth darted through the ranks of the enemy, her movements a blur against the writhing mass of grasshoppers. Her mandibles flashed with deadly precision, carving arcs of silver through the air. Every strike found its mark—slicing throats, severing limbs, toppling her enemies one by one. She moved like a phantom, untouchable, her footsteps light yet deadly with every passing second.
Beside her, Amelia and Leon fought back-to-back, each holding their ground despite the overwhelming numbers. Leon weaved and dodged between lunging mandibles, delivering brutal thrusts and slashes that brought the towering grasshoppers crashing down. Amelia's style was more fluid, her strikes graceful yet lethal, her mandibles leaving silver streaks in the fortress air.
They were outnumbered twenty to one, but not for a moment did they yield.
And then there was General Ivan.
Unlike the others, Ivan didn't weave or dodge—he walked calmly through the battlefield, his massive frame looming like a tower among the chaos. His heavy mandibles, shaped like cleavers, cut through the enemy forces with terrifying ease. Every step he took left grasshoppers fallen behind him, their bodies broken, crushed by the sheer force of his attacks.
A single strike from Ivan could cleave through two or three enemies at once. Blood sprayed the cracked stone floor, painting gruesome patterns along his path. The grasshoppers realized with mounting horror that they weren't fighting normal military ants.
"Who the hell are these monsters?!" one of them screamed in terror, scrambling back.
"They can't be regular military ants—it's impossible!" shouted another, disbelief written across his face.
General Ivan chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest.
"I'm General Ivan," he said, raising his voice so that it echoed across the fortress. "I serve Queen Helena. I doubt any of you weaklings have been properly introduced."
The grasshoppers froze. Even the most battle-hardened among them hesitated at the sheer confidence in his tone.
Ivan's cold gaze swept across the battlefield, as if sizing up a collection of pathetic insects. "Whatever the case… you guys are the best you could muster?" He scoffed. "You're just too weak to challenge us."
From deeper within the enemy ranks, a heavy footstep shook the floor. A giant grasshopper, towering above all others, pushed his way forward. His armor was thick, his four mandibles gleaming like polished scythes.
"Look! It's Behemoth!" one of the grasshoppers cried, relief flooding his voice.
The grasshoppers let out a unified cheer, emboldened by the monstrous figure.
"You will pay for killing off our people!" Behemoth roared, his voice reverberating through the stone halls. "You'll pay in blood!"
Ivan smiled faintly, unshaken.
"You're a big, strong fella, aren't you?" he said casually.
Beside him, Amelia looked uncertainly between the two. "Are you sure you can take him, General?"
Before Ivan could respond, Ruth stepped forward, mandibles in hand, her eyes sharp and ready. "Allow me to take him on."
But Ivan shook his head with a quiet authority. "Stand down, Ruth. He's mine."
There was a stillness then, heavy and thick.
"I'll show him what an Ant General is capable of," Ivan said.
To everyone's surprise, Ivan calmly put away his mandibles. His hands curled into fists instead.
The grasshoppers bristled in outrage.
"How dare you mock one of our strongest champions!" one of them shouted, stepping forward angrily.
Behemoth narrowed his eyes. His massive frame tensed, muscles bulging beneath his carapace. "I see," he growled. "You have a death wish."
Without another word, Behemoth hurled himself forward. His four massive mandibles slashed down at Ivan, cutting the air with a deafening whoosh as they collided into the ground with an earthshaking crash. Dust exploded outward, filling the air with a thick haze.
"Looks like he got him," a grasshopper said, smirking. "I'm glad that cocky bastard is dead. Now to deal with the others—"
The dust began to clear.
And there, standing completely unharmed, was General Ivan. His figure was a silhouette at first—then visible, standing casually with one hand raised.
He had caught Behemoth's full-force mandible strike with a single hand.
"Well now," Ivan said, squeezing Behemoth's mandible until cracks spiderwebbed through it. "For a big fella, you really do have a lot of strength. Sent shockwaves through my hand."
The fortress went deathly silent.
"No way… he blocked Behemoth's attack with one hand… that's impossible!" gasped a grasshopper, wide-eyed.
Behemoth stumbled back, startled, his huge body suddenly looking much smaller.
Ivan took a slow step forward. His heavy footfalls made Behemoth flinch.
"What's the matter? Are you scared of my strength?" Ivan asked, almost teasing.
Roaring in defiance, Behemoth launched into a furious flurry, swinging his massive mandibles in a wild storm. The air screeched with each swing. The floor cracked under the force of his strikes.
But Ivan? He walked through it.
Every attack was calmly blocked, deflected, or dodged with terrifying ease. Ivan didn't even bother to raise both hands—he handled the onslaught with just one, almost lazily.
Behemoth's desperate roars echoed louder, until—
Ivan struck.
A single punch, fluid and precise, caught Behemoth straight in the abdomen. The giant grasshopper's body contorted violently as the impact sent shockwaves across the hall. His legs lifted off the ground, and he was hurled backward like a ragdoll, crashing into a stone pillar that crumbled under the force. Behemoth lay still, unconscious.
The battle paused for a heartbeat.
Amelia exhaled in awe, eyes wide. "I've seen Ivan fight many battles since I was a recruit… but this—this is something else," she whispered.
"He's really powerful," Ruth thought grimly, watching the fallen Behemoth. "A force to be reckoned with…"
Deep down, Ruth remembered about how General Ivan had lost a battle against Queen Celeste's forces under suspicious circumstances. And lost to an army lead by a Lieutenant. Watching him now, she couldn't help but wonder—
"Did he lose on purpose? If so… maybe it was for the best for both our colonies."
The grasshoppers—those that still stood—broke into a panic. Fear overtook them completely.
"No way… he took down Behemoth… we're finished!" shouted one.
"Run!!"
The surviving grasshoppers turned and fled for their lives.
Amelia shook her head with a wry smile. "Look at them run. It's not so nice when the roles are reversed, is it?"
"Bunch of cowards if you ask me," Leon said, exhaling tiredly.
But as the grasshoppers bolted away, something even more terrifying happened.
A figure darted among them, too fast for the eye to catch. Slicing. Severing.
In seconds, the fleeing grasshoppers were cut to shreds, their bodies falling like autumn leaves.
The remaining grasshoppers, frozen mid-step, slowly turned around, pale with terror.
One of them stammered, voice shaking: "G-General Denzil…"
Standing among the broken bodies was a new figure—taller than most grasshoppers, lean and composed. His mandibles glistened red with fresh blood. His calm demeanor was chilling.
Pitiful.
General Denzil's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"How dare all of you disgrace Hopper's name," he said coldly, stepping forward. "Utterly defeated by ants… have you no honor? No pride?"
The survivors shivered under his gaze.
"H-how much lower can you guys get?" Denzil asked, a faint smirk on his lips.
One of the trembling grasshoppers collapsed to his knees. "I-I'm so sorry, sir! It's just—they were too strong! One of them even defeated Behemoth… without even drawing their mandibles!"
Denzil tilted his head thoughtfully. "I see. So they are that level."
A grin tugged at his mouth. "This should be entertaining."
Ruth tensed, feeling a cold sweat run down her spine. "He's fast… she thought. Too fast—I could barely track his movements."
"You bastard!" Leon shouted, pointing his mandibles at Denzil furiously. "How can you kill your own men so easily?!"
Denzil chuckled.
"Feeling sorry for the enemy?" he said mockingly. "It doesn't surprise me. That's why you ants are so weak to begin with."
He flexed his mandibles, blood dripping from them.
"You were meant to be slaves," Denzil continued, his voice silky and venomous. "To be used and discarded like garbage."
"You'll pay for saying that!" Leon barked, stepping forward.
"Lieutenant, calm down," Ivan said firmly, laying a steady hand on Leon's shoulder. "He's only trying to get under your skin."
Ivan's eyes narrowed. His instincts screamed danger.
"Based on his strength and movements…" Ivan muttered, voice low. "It's safe to say—this is one of Hopper's Four Great Generals."
Across the blood-soaked ground, Denzil's smile widened.
The real battle was just beginning.