Instantly, the clearing was transformed into an apocalyptic meat grinder, a literal hellscape of chitin, fur, and corrosive fluids.
The Dreadwings, finally realizing they had flown directly into a meat grinder, shrieked in panic. Free from the friendly-fire restrictions of their own tightly packed horde, they also unhinged their mandibles and unleashed massive, continuous torrents of neon-green acid.
The radioactive rain fell upon the hive. Hundreds of ants were instantly melted into hissing, bubbling foul puddles of sludge, their carapaces dissolving under the horrific toxicity.
But the ants were entirely, terrifyingly unfazed by casualties. They didn't feel fear, they only felt the imperative to protect the nest. They swarmed the massive insects through the acid rain. Their iron-like mandibles sheared through the delicate, translucent crystal wings of the Dreadwings with sickening crunches, grounding the aerial bombers instantly.
