A week and a half had passed since King Antares launched himself into the frozen North, choosing to roll up his sleeves beside Kael and the miners to drive the excavation effort forward while awaiting the resupply from the South. Ten long days of unyielding winter air, relentless preparations, and hard physical labor echoed across the Northern Surface Camp.
Utilizing the System, Antares had purchased a four-star blueprint for a wood- and charcoal-powered iron furnace. Building it alongside Kael took seven days of grueling exertion—melting, shaping, and forging raw iron into precision structural components.
Though exhausting, the furnace was finally operational, though Antares knew achieving his desired output would require an entire battery of such furnaces.
To fuel this industrial effort, Antares introduced a new workforce from the underground realm.
With the help of Regent Ian whi answered his call, sending two hundred willing antmen up to the surface. Their sole duty was the production of charcoal—a high-efficiency fuel source Antares introduced to optimize heating and smelting.
Using the abundant local clay, he instructed them in constructing specialized kilns to carbonize timber cleared from the surrounding dense woodlands.
While the excess charcoal was intended for lucrative trade with the Redbeard pirates in the future, Antares realized its value extended far deeper.
Recalling the living conditions of his people underground and remembering the warmth of the renovated orphanage where Solara cared for the children, a memory he held dear.
He launched a settlement-wide housing project. The poorly constructed underground dwellings of the antmen would be replaced with modernized, heated structures. With the underground city's natural ventilation shafts sweeping away excess smoke, charcoal-burning heating units would keep the citizens warm without risking air pollution.
Meanwhile, under General Yanrid's disciplined command, the Northern Surface Camp had evolved into a bustling fortress. Timber sheds bulged with stockpiles, ironwood palisades ringed the perimeter, and butchering stations processed the meat from hunted animals. Yet, despite these structural gains, strict food rationing remained, and the looming winter weighed heavily on every soldier's mind.
That lingering anxiety shattered on the eleventh morning.
High up on the southern watchtowers, a sentry raised his horn, blasting a triumphant note that tore through the frosty air.
"Caravan in sight!" the sentry roared down to the courtyard. "Southern procession approaching! Lord Yajin and Lady Sira have returned!"
The heavy wooden gates swung wide as soldiers, foragers, and Tharvok laborers crowded the perimeter. On the southern horizon, a massive cloud of stirred dust and frost rose into the pale sky. Seven hundred Ashfang warriors marched in disciplined, iron-clad columns, flanked by nine Red Sons whose crimson visors gleamed with stoic vigilance.
Behind them stretched an endless line of heavy wooden supply wagons pulled by hundreds of muscular Sand Steeds. The wagons groaned under sacks of southern grain, root crop seeds—potatoes, yams, and sweet potatoes—and tons of iron tools, pickaxes, and steel sledgehammers provided by Prince Tayron's fleet. Stockade carts brought live mountain cattle, bleating goats, and canvas-wrapped breeding swine.
At the head of the grand procession rode Lord Yajin on his slate-grey Sand Steed, alongside Lady Sira wrapped tightly in heavy winter furs. Reining in his mount outside the gates, Yajin dismounted with a heavy thud, stretching his broad shoulders until his spine popped like dry timber.
"Smells like ice and iron," the warlord growled softly to himself, taking a deep breath of the northern air. "We're back."
Lord Velas shuffled out from the command tents, wrapped in layers of furs with a steam-emitting mug of hot, spiced bone broth in hand. He stopped a few feet away, eyeing Yajin with dry amusement.
"You took your sweet time, Yajin," Velas muttered, taking a slow sip. "A week and a half of listening to the wind howl. I was beginning to think you'd lost your way in the central plains and decided to settle down with the pirates."
Yajin let out a booming, chest-heaving laugh, bringing a massive clawed hand down onto Velas's fur-draped shoulder. "Ha! You old fossil! You look like a frozen owl huddled in a hollow tree! A week and a half is record speed for moving seven hundred fully armed warriors, eight hundred Sand Steeds, three hundred head of livestock, and fifty supply wagons across our untamed lands though we still left a large portion in the South. Lady Sira pushed the march hard, and the Ashfang don't complain about long roads."
Lady Sira dismounted gracefully, handing her reins to a Vanguard soldier before bowing politely to the old mage. "Lord Velas. I trust the camp has remained orderly in our absence?"
"Orderly enough, Lady Sira," Velas replied. "Yanrid kept the men working like slave-drivers. The timber stockpiles are overflowing, and Kael has been living in the mud up at Silver Peak. Though I must say, the sight of actual grain and livestock is the best thing these tired eyes of mine have seen in a while... well, except the ascension of a certain brooding kid you left."
Those final words instantly picked Yajin's interest. He crossed his massive arms, his amber eyes narrowing as he looked around. "Speaking of Ice... where is the kid? How is Yanrid holding up?"
Velas paused, a sly, mocking smirk spreading across his weathered face. "Look at you. Playing the protective papa bear over your bastard son who you've neglected for so long."
A dark crimson flush rose up Yajin's thick neck, nearly matching his skin tone. He bared his tusks in a theatrical scowl. "Watch your tongue, old owl, before I toss you headfirst into the nearest snowbank! Yanrid is an Ashfang warrior trained under my own blade and eye. He carries my blood. It is a commander's duty to inquire about his vanguard officers, nothing more!"
"Of course, of course," Velas chuckled softly.
"What a shame—a father considering his own son a simple expendable soldier. Well, if you must know, your so called'vanguard officer' has crossed a new rank. He ascended to Master Rank shortly before the King's arrival. His ice mana is so dense now he can practically freeze the water in his basin just by looking at it. He's currently at the eastern gate supervising the foragers bringing in a great deal of meat. The hunts have been very good lately."
A rare silence settled over Yajin. The scowl melted from his face, replaced by a deep look of savage pride in his amber eyes. "Master Rank..." Yajin muttered under his breath. "Good. The kid didn't break under the weight of command."
"He didn't break because His Majesty gave him the purpose he needed," Lady Sira added gently. "Speaking of our King, Lord Velas... where is His Majesty?"
Before Velas could answer, a sudden tremor shook the frozen ground. Yajin instinctively unsheathed his blades, he was hoping it another Lycan ambush because the first time they attacked he missed the whole thing and now he wanted show those beasts the power of a seasoned Ashfang warrior.
From the eastern treeline, pine trees buckled and snapped as a colossal Woolly Mammoth burst into the open. Riddled with old scars and fresh spears lodged in its hide, trunk, and eye, the enraged beast thundered blindly toward the eastern gate. Foragers scattered in panic, while General Yanrid stood watching its approach with calm, his icy blue eyes were almost bored.
Yajin and Lady Sira rushed across the camp in seconds to intercept it, but Velas held up a peaceful hand, completely unconcerned. "There is no need to engage, Yajin. It is already dead."
From the sky above, a crimson streak descended like a blazing meteor from the direction of the hunt. In an instant, Antares slammed down onto the mammoth's head, driving his blade Eos straight into its forehead. The massive beast crashed to the earth with a deafening thud, dead before its momentum stopped at the very threshold of the gate.
Antares unplugged his blade and turned to his vassals with a bright, calm smile. "Oh, you are already back. It's good to see you, Lord Yajin, Lady Sira."
Lady Sira blinked in surprise. Her King was not wearing his iconic obsidian armor or heavy royal coat; he was dressed in practical hunting gear, looking every bit like the foragers around him, with only Eos's sheath slung across his back and the blade itself being covered in warm blood in his hand setting him apart.
"Your Majesty!"
Yajin, Lady Sira, and every Ashfang present instantly dropped to one knee, pressing their fists to their chests. Even Yanrid and Velas bowed their heads deeply.
"Rise, all of you," Antares commanded smoothly.
Yajin stood up, beaming with pride as he gestured toward the supply line, trying to ignore the fact that his King had just single-handedly hunted one of the largest apex beasts in the North. "Your Majesty! The caravan from Antisport has arrived without the loss of a single wagon, animal, or warrior. Seven hundred Ashfang warriors, eight hundred Sand Steeds, three hundred livestock, all the antmen who went with us, and fifty loaded supply wagons are at your disposal!"
"You have done exceptionally well, Yajin," Antares said, stepping forward and clapping a firm hand onto the warlord's shoulder armor. "And you, Lady Sira. Moving a procession of this scale across the central plains in just a week and a half is a masterclass showing your logistical genius."
"We serve you and the Hive, Your Majesty," Lady Sira replied, standing tall with a quiet smile. "With these crop , seeds, livestock, and grain, the immediate famine threats facing our people have been completely erased."
"Indeed, and I'm sure this big guy I just brought in will help as well " Antares agreed, his dark eyes sweeping over the crates of heavy tools. "I'm sure these tools will serve as the iron teeth of our expansion. Lord Kael has successfully stabilized the excavation trench. The mana infused clay vein we uncovered is far larger than Kael's initial estimates. It stretches deep into the mountain's bedrock."
Yajin's eyes flared with excitement. "The so-called legendary stuff Kael was always babbling about before we left?"
"The very same that's was used to make emberhive castle," Antares confirmed. "It is the earth that will forge the walls of Antisport and our future capital, solidifying our rule on the surface. But to process it at maximum capacity, Kael needs the strength of your men."
Antares turned his gaze back to Yajin, his expression sharpening into tactical command.
"Here are your orders, Lord Yajin. You will split the seven hundred Ashfang warriors. Three hundred will be dispatched to Silver Peak Mountain under Kael's command after they have rested. They will assist in clearing the granite shelf, operating the heavy iron pickaxes, and constructing specialized blast furnaces at the foot of the mountain to cast structural, mana-infused clay bricks."
"It shall be done, Sire!" Yajin barked without hesitation.
"The remaining four hundred Ashfang, along with General Yanrid, will remain here at the Northern Surface Camp," Antares continued, turning to Sira. "Lady Sira, you will work directly with Yanrid and Lord Velas to organize distribution. The vast majority of the grain, along with half of the Sand Steeds and majority of livestock, are to be transported directly down into the underground settlement under Regent Ian's supervision. Our people underground will finally eat their fill."
"I will personally oversee the underground transport details immediately, Your Majesty," Lady Sira pledged, already pulling a fresh ledger from her robes.
Antares took a step back, taking in his core leadership—Yajin, Sira, Velas, Yanrid, and Adam. The foundation he had envisioned in the dark caverns of the Hive was finally taking physical shape on the surface world. The North was fortified, the South was anchored by Antisport, trade routes were open, and resources were flowing.
It was time to take the next, most crucial step in the evolution of the Ant Tribe.
"Where are you headed next, Your Majesty?" Velas asked, noticing the King stretching his broad shoulders.
Antares looked toward the reinforced stone hatch at the rear of the camp—the heavy descent path leading straight down into the ancient, subterranean home of his people.
"I need to return to the Underground Palace," Antares stated quietly, his dark eyes reflecting a deep resolve. "Now that the foundations are set here, I can focus on giving my wives the attention they need."
Antares raised his hand, his antennae extending from his forehead as he sent a private command through the Hive network. Moments later, the green-robed form of Riya stepped out from the medical tent, her cyan eyes glowing as she walked gracefully toward her Sovereign, bowing deeply at his side.
The Verdant gene-line is ready to be integrated, Antares thought, looking down at Riya before turning back to his council. "It is time I do my duty and give my growing empire an heir."
A heavy, solemn silence fell over the gathered leaders—followed immediately by a wave of profound, unspoken relief. For months, Ian and the council had quietly worried that their workaholic King was completely neglecting his marital duties or perhaps even incapable of producing an heir.
Yajin dropped to one knee once more, his fist slamming against his chest plate. "May the Ant God, Antarion guide your path into the deep, Your Majesty! We will hold the surface until your return!"
"We will guard your work with our lives, Sire," Lady Sira bowed deeply.
"Do what you must, my King," Velas said softly, his dry humor fading into genuine respect. "We will be waiting here, Your Majesty."
Antares couldn't help but smirk, well aware of their long-standing anxieties regarding his bloodline. He turned his back on the surface light, his cloak sweeping across the snow as he walked toward the dark stairwell leading down into the earth. Flanking him on his left was Commander Adam, standing as his impenetrable shield, while Riya walked dutifully on his right, her heart beating in rhythmic resonance with her King.
Before stepping into the darkness, Antares paused and glanced over his shoulder with a playful grin.
"Ohhh, and don't forget to take care of that mammoth at the gate. Byeeeeee."
With a soft laugh, Antares descended into the cool, silent darkness of the subterranean tunnels, leaving the frozen winds of the surface behind as he prepared to begin the next era of the Hive.