I Became an Ant Lord, So I Built a Hive Full of Beauties-Chapter 388: The Sand That Heard a Cry part Two

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"Yes, Vice General," the nearest captain said. The man swallowed hard. He did not like the way his own voice sounded.

(Kai’s point of view.)

"Kai," the soul road whispered to him in the shape of a sob. He was already on his legs in the lee of a dune with his chin lifted to taste the wind. His mind was quiet. The road was open. Her voice hit him like cold water.

"Papa," she cried on the road and out loud in the camp both at once. "My friend is dead. There is blood all over me. I am in pain. Papa, kill them. They are bad ants. I do not like them."

He did not answer with words. He sent his hand again. Palm up. Warm. Steady. I am here. I am close. He felt her answer for one breath. Then the line went slack as she fainted. The road showed him only the shape of her small body slumped and the smell of iron and dust.

He said the words out loud to make them real inside himself. He repeated her lines as if he needed to hear them twice.

"My friend is dead. There is blood all over me. I am in pain. Kill them. They are bad ants."

The road went dark. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Kai opened his eyes. He stood. He did not run on the ledge. He did not stamp. He walked fast and level along the stone until he reached the last ramp. He did not talk to the fear in his chest. He put it where it belonged: behind his teeth.

He whispered her lines again so they would live in him, sharp as knives. "My friend is dead. There is blood on me. I am in pain. Kill them. They are bad."

Heat rose under his ribs. The world narrowed to one thing.

He dropped to the sand at the dune’s base and did not stop. The first steps sank deep. The skin of the dune slid. He did not fight the sand. He used it. His aura ran like a man who has carried a spear his whole life.

His blood got hot. Not warm — hot, like water that is just about to break into bubbles. A mist came off his shoulders and arms. You could see it. It moved without wind. The sand blew away from his feet. The ground under him sank. A shallow pit formed with each hard step. The air hummed.

He could feel every aura channel in his body open and rush. He could feel the path of every beast he had eaten since the new life began. The frogs. The scorpions. The beasts. The long lizards. The Silvertail wolf. The burrowers with pale eyes. They ran in his blood and none tripped. They pounded in his heart like drums.

Something formed on that beat. It did not weigh anything. It had shape. It felt like a ring set just above the hot muscle. It settled there. It turned once and burned like a coal.

A black crown rose over his head. There was no metal. There was only will and heat and a weight that pushed on air. The crown hung in the air without strings. It was his. It turned slow.

"ROOOAAARRR"

His mouth opened. The sound that came out was not a word. It was a long, deep note that came from bone and core. It rolled out and tore the night. It hit the sand like a hammer hitting water. Ripples ran. Tents shook. Stakes hopped. Ropes sang. Torches bent, coughed, and spat. Far birds took wing all at once. Far beasts went flat in their burrows and hid their noses with their paws.

[Ding! System notifications- The host has learned Predator Roar. Effect: creates fear in enemy hearts; reduces will to fight. First use weak; practice to raise the effect.]

He did not see the letters. He did not care.

[Ding! System notifications- The host has awakened the First Crown of Wrath. The crown may be kept or gifted. Warning: system recommends the host keeps the crown; gifting may cause harm to the host.]

He did not see that either. He bent his knees and jumped from the pit. Sand sprayed and fell. He took five fast steps and then more. He did not move like a person looking for glory. He moved like a knife that knew the way to the cut.

Behind him, Azhara stopped on the slope for one breath. The sound made her bones shiver. It made tears fill her eyes that did not fall. Then her legs found power again. "Move," she whispered to herself and to the bleeding captain on the leash. She yanked. He stumbled and almost fell. "Walk," she told him. He walked because walking hurt less than what would come if he stopped.

High above, Alka shivered once midair, then set her wings wide and flat again. The roar slid under her like cold water. "Him," she said to the empty sky, and the breath of the word froze on her beak and blew away like dust.

In the camp, the world changed in a heartbeat.

Three-star soldiers were the first to go. Some dropped to one knee, then to both, like men at prayer who forgot what god to name. Some went flat, eyes open, mouths open, hands loose. Shields slipped. Spears tilted and fell. A pot of porridge tipped and hissed on coals. Someone dragged a cousin out of a flame by the back of his belt.

Four-star lines did not fall. They bent a little. Their eyes went wider. Their hands shook so hard they had to clench their fingers around wood until the knuckles whitened. They could still move. Not all wanted to.

Mardek felt cold run up his spine like wet fingers. He hated it. He smiled wider to hide it. He set Miryam down on the cage floor, just inside the door, as if that was a kind thing. He looked to the east where the tents opened into the first yard.