I Became an Ant Lord, So I Built a Hive Full of Beauties-Chapter 491: Killing Lord! (Part two)
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He set his spear, took one staggering breath, and went back to work. ๐ป๐๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ธโฏ๐ท๐๐ฐ๐โฏ๐ญ.๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ
Now the killing became ugly.
The captains, seeing their commander fall, tried to rally. They shouted, pulled men into order, lifted banners stained with both colors to show that discipline still lived.
Kai hunted them.
He moved like a storm down the nearest file of shields, ignoring swords that scraped his plates, bolts that burned lines along his back. When he saw a crest that denoted rank, he cut toward it. A spear through the throat here. A shattered knee there followed by a boot to the visor. Once he simply grabbed a captain by the harness and hurled him off the ramp, watching him pinwheel and vanish into the chaos below.
Five-star after five-star went down. Some died with curses on their lips. Some died with the stunned, almost fascinated look of men who realized at the last second that the story whispered around campfires about the white-haired monster on the hill had not, in fact, been exaggerated.
His body kept a ledger his mind did not have time to read.
[ Ding! System notification-
Enemy casualties attributed to host: +500. +800. +1500.
Captains eliminated: 9... 10... 12.
6โ Commander: confirmed dead.]
His own numbers bled too.
A spear punched in low from his blind side, the point sliding between plates and biting into the soft flesh just above his hip.
[HP: 5450 โ 3880.
Status: puncture wound, right flank.
Bleed rate: moderate.
Recommendation: withdraw within 00:15:00.]
He grunted once, grabbed the spear-haft with both hands, and broke it off on his own thigh, leaving the head where it was for now. He could not spare the blood to pull it free. He drove the jagged end into the face of the man who had wielded it.
"Lord," Vexorโs voice came through the Net, tight and afraid in a way he did not bother to hide. "You are leaking."
"I have more," Kai said. "Hold the bend."
He killed another hundred in the next ten minutes alone.
By then, the vanguardโs neat triple blocks had become a mangled crescent around him and the base of the ramp. The men at the front no longer pushed with purpose. They flinched. They backed away when his spear swung in their direction. They tripped over their own dead and cursed not the enemy but their luck.
Some tried to target his wound, jabbing low at his right side. Adaptive Armor did what it could, hardening around the embedded spearhead, diffusing impact, but every hit cost him.
[HP: 3880 โ 3020 โ 2610.
Aura: 5100 โ 4100 โ 3500.]
His head began to throb. His arms felt heavy. His breath came a fraction faster.
The Net fluttered with concern he did not have time for.
"Shadeclaw: Lordโ"
"No," he snapped. "Hold your line. Look at your own fronts, not at me."
"Flint here," came another voice. "We can send fifty down for a single hard push and then pull backโ"
"You send fifty," Kai said, "and I bury you under their bodies. Hold."
He did not use the Crown. There was a part of him, raw and tempted, that wanted to. To lift it fully, to let it pour terror into every enemy heart and watch them dissolve. But Crowns are debts. He had already spent too much of himself today.
So he did it the slow way.
One more captain went down with his artery opened from collar to hip. Another tried to rally a square and took Kaiโs spear through the chest in mid-word, his injunction to "stand" turning into a wet gargle. Groups that had once moved like parts of a machine now lurched like pieces scavenged from different broken things.
Somewhere in the rear a horn finally sounded.
Not an attack call.
A retreat.
The sound shuddered through the ranks like a relief they were ashamed to feel.
Vorakโs vanguard began to pull back.
It was not tidy. Those nearest Kai ran, discipline cracking in the face of a thing that would not stop. Others tried to cover them, shields raising, spears backing away in measured steps. The squashed, bloody ground betrayed them. Men slipped. Men fell. Men who would have gladly died in a clean forward push spat curses as they were dragged away backward instead.
"Do not chase," Kai said across the Net, voice hoarse but iron. "I will say this once. Do not chase."
Shadeclawโs hand shot out to grab a young droneโs harness as the youngster instinctively leaned forward, eyes wild and hot. "You heard him," Shadeclaw snarled. "We hold. Let them run. The desert will collect more interest than we can."
The drones obeyed. They stayed on the bend, shields still up, spears still ready, panting but in place.
Kai did not follow far either. He took three more staggering steps downhill, swinging his spear in a wide, warning arc that bought the retreating soldiers incentive to move faster. Then he stopped.
His legs trembled under him in a way he did not like.
[Apex Plus timer: 00:04:12.
HP: 2610/7000.
Aura: 3200/7000.
Fatigue index: high.
Advisory: terminate Apex Plus to prevent collapse.]
"End," he thought, and let the skill go.
The change felt like someone had quietly removed half his bones. His height dropped, plates compressing, vents folding back into flat lines along his spine. His muscles, suddenly no longer supported by Apexโs aura lattice, screamed their protest. His vision swam for a second as blood tried to remember what normal circulation was.
He stayed upright.
Barely.
Below, what remained of the four thousand โperhaps a few hundred nowโ spilled back onto the flats, breaking into ragged chunks. Some kept facing the mountain as they retreated, stepping backward with shields up, eyes huge. Others simply turned and ran, discipline torn away by something older and simpler.
Vorak watched from his camp.
He stood at the edge of a low ridge, glass disc in hand, its surface rippling with the magnified vision his engineers had coaxed out of resonant sand and thin, worked mica. Beside him, the old woman held a slate she had not yet written on.







