Matthew had long begun to doubt his sanity, yet under the body of the ant, he realized he had reached new levels of madness.

  The underside was dark and expansive, so black that the legs sometimes felt light-years away.

  He ran from limb to limb, slashing at them, leaving narrow cuts on the six massive legs.

  He didn't have much hope these wounds would hurt the beast, which was nearing even the Monarch in size—but he had a plan.

  The Monarch fought the two ants, and each clash shook his entire world.

  The noise had long since overwhelmed his ears, so he stuffed cotton swabs in them to mitigate the damage.

  The ants attacked from two sides. One clamped against the Monarch's tusk, trying to hold it down.

  The other snapped around its hind legs in an attempt to unbalance it.

  Each of them was so strong that the ground quaked and caved with every powerful step.

  Yet, they couldn't bring the Monarch down. It was like two huge dogs trying to hold a bear in place.

  The gap in power was just untenable.

  The Monarch struggled, but even the ants' jaws—capable of snapping steel—barely tore its skin.

  But there was a third ant coming. Hissing steam leaked from its legs and mandibles as they tensed.

  Matthew had been cutting the ant gripping the Monarch's legs for a reason, and now, his sword had changed—from crystal white to obsidian black.

  Matthew had been counting. Eleven.

  He saw Parker hobbling toward him, Asha weeping in his arms.

  Paul's gone. The words weighed heavy on his heart, but he had no time to dwell on them.

  He ran out from under the ant just as the Monarch shoved the ant backward.

  A leg nearly turned him into a pancake, but he managed to roll away, escaping with nothing more than a layer of dust and a shower of small rocks.

  He jumped, grabbing hold of the ant's leg, using chinks and dents in its armor to climb.

  The monster moved like the world's worst amusement park ride.

  He had to shut his eyes at some points just to keep himself from throwing up. Focus.

  He jumped between two legs, gripping Kinslayer between his teeth.

  He slammed into the ant's leg harder than expected, and blood leaked from the corners of his mouth as Kinslayer bit into him happily.

  He had to quickly let go of his handhold as his fingers barely avoided being crushed between plates of shifting armor.

  He nearly plummeted straight to the ground before catching a groove in the chitin and exhaling in relief.

  He could feel warm blood staining his fingers as he winced.

  This feels like a very bad idea. Am I being influenced by Kinslayer?

  He had come to help the Monarch. So how did it come to this?

  He pushed the thoughts aside. The powerful mandibles of the ant loomed in front of him, and he had to climb almost vertically to reach them.

  His jaw ached from holding the sword, but he bit down harder and pressed on.

  At last, he reached the mandibles.

  There was a chink in the armor where they opened wide. He jumped onto the massive structure, crawling toward the joint where it connected to the ant's body.

  Unlike the rest of it, this area wasn't covered in chitin armor—it was brown, hardened skin.

  He wrapped his leg around the mandible and yanked Kinslayer from his mouth. No hesitation. He stabbed.

  The blade didn't sink deeply, but that wasn't the point.

  Weaken it.

  He struck again. And again. But nothing changed.

  Then something slammed into the Monarch, and an earth-shattering impact sent him clinging desperately to the sword embedded in the mandible as his legs dangled over the edge.

  The third ant.

  It had attacked the Monarch's forearm and was now pulling it down.

  He wondered if the fourth ant would arrive to land the finishing blow, but it was still delayed—tearing through stone titans with horrifying ease.

  Molten rock splattered against its white armor, but the unstoppable monster didn't care.

  Matthew panicked, sitting on the mandible. The heat radiating from the ant was unbearable, sweat from his body made his hand slippery. Steam rose from deeper within the joint, curling into the air.

  Steam?

  The thought clicked. Some kind of hydraulic pressure. Could that be why these creatures moved with such overwhelming force?

  He raised his sword to stab whatever vein was inside—then hesitated.

  He shifted his position, climbing until he was above the joint. Then he stabbed and immediately yanked his hand away.

  A jet of boiling water shot unpredictably from the wound, and he scrambled backward to avoid being scalded alive. Even at a distance, the steam stung his legs like fire.

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  His theory had been correct. Now, he just had to survive it.

  He screamed, tears threatening to pour as the heat ravaged his legs. He bit down on his tongue to endure as he crawled.

  He watched the mandible shake slightly, but nothing changed.

  He considered dismissing the sword but decided to wait.

  Instead, he made his way down the ant's body before jumping off a lower part of its thorax and retreating quickly.

  He limped toward Parker and Asha, holding back a cry of pain with each step, they were frantically waving him over, he collapsed into Parker before then dismissing the sword.

  A large flood of steam erupted from the ant's mandible as it suddenly fell limp. It lost its grip—just then the Monarch sent it flying aside with a bucking kick.

  Instantly crushing the ant's head

  Freed, the Monarch lunged at the ant, clamped onto its tusk and gathering it under it's white tusks. Then raised the ant into the air.

  The sight was unreal.

  The massive form of the ant lifted almost weightlessly, but the air billowed and screeched around it from the terrible force it generated as it tore through space.

  For a moment, it hung there—suspended, almost like a painting.

  It gripped onto the tusk for dear life while its comrade pulled fruitlessly on the Monarch's powerful forelegs.

  The contrast between their white armor and its black fur was mesmerizing.

  Then, the Monarch finally brought the ant down.

  It fell in what looked like slow motion but was jarringly fast. The air seemed to break and collapse as it plummeted.

  The Monarch slammed it onto its ally—the one still clinging to its leg.

  A cloud of dust rose, covering the entire central cavern.

  Matthew and his friends huddled together to weather the force of the winds and the pain of debris flying against them.

  When the dust settled, the ground where the Monarch had struck looked as though a meteor had devastated the area.

  The ants struggled weakly—black blood and steam pouring from them like a river. Their legs were completely crushed, their heads caved in and shattered from the harrowing blow.

  The Monarch reared on its hind legs, and then it stamped down with even greater force than before.

  Matthew wondered if the entire world would fall apart under the Monarch's might.

  Then, it turned—to the fourth ant.

  The creature's body was glowing red-hot from the magma poured over it. It jumped high into the air to attack.

  The Monarch opened its mouth, its white tusks became iridescent with a mystical power.

  The air shook as the space between its tusks gathered a ball of pure white light.

  Matthew's very being trembled as he gazed upon this terrible light. Everything in him told him to turn away.

  He huddled up with Parker and Asha. They all shut their eyes.

  The Monarch unleashed a beam of light that slammed the airborne ant against the cavern ceiling.

  Matthew felt as though the world had been tossed into a dryer, spinning uncontrollably.

  Dizziness overwhelmed him, nausea rising in his gut. His body swayed, then collapsed.

  Everything went black.

  ---

  He finally felt at peace—unconscious. For a few minutes, the world was dark and tranquil.

  Then, a white light fell from above, illuminating his mind.

  He felt the gentle touch of the Monarch once again—before it faded.

  He cried out as the light left his mind.

  Then, a voice in his ear startled him awake. "Matthew! Can you hear me?" Asha asked.

  He hummed weakly in agreement—squinting against the white light of the cavern, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep.

  But the splitting headache and the horrifying memory of the battle jolted him upright.

  His breath came fast and uneven.

  His eyes darted around frantically, searching for monsters.

  "Hey, hey, calm down," Asha soothed.

  Parker, Jesse, Brian, Joey, Asha—even Jackson and most of the group were there. They watched him, smiling in obvious relief.

  He was covered in bandages. So was Parker.

  A lot of them were used, but he really didn't mind. His legs were in a bucket of water, stinging slightly, but the cold was pleasant.

  His body ached all over, like he had just run a marathon—while fighting and getting beaten up by all the other contestants.

  That sounds strangely fun.

  Parker lay beside him, smiling a little bitterly. Three mangled, half-missing bodies were beside him. His voice was hoarse from shouting.

  "Nice to see you're still with us."

  Matthew cringed as he moved his shoulder, rasping, "I don't feel very alive right now."

  Asha laughed before turning to the tunnel. It was rife with carnage—crushed bodies, rivers of black blood, and a devastated landscape.

  She sighed sadly. "We won."