Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Eastern Alliance (3)
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"Doesn't it seem suspicious? They show up out of nowhere with a bunch of heavily armed warriors and suggest we fight the monsters together..."
"Exactly. Around here, orcs have always been the real disaster. Whenever they swarm, they loot all our food, massacre the elderly and weak, and drag off anyone who survives as slaves."
Thanks to Daniel's meddling and the ants' rampage, this impromptu gathering of northern lords had erupted into a heated debate over the orcs' sudden appearance.
Some argued they should accept the proposal, form an alliance, and fight the ants together. Others insisted that orcs were just as untrustworthy as the ants.
"And the timing feels way too perfect, like they were waiting for this exact moment. Those brutes who despise and look down on humans aren't attacking while we're in chaos—they're offering cooperation instead."
What made the orc skeptics especially wary was the orcs' attitude in approaching them for an alliance.
For decades—no, centuries—the conflicts between these two forces on northern soil had been written in blood. That bloody history was precisely why no one could just blindly trust and join hands, even with the new threat of ants.
"Our stance hasn't changed. This is the goddess's will, and we must obey."
In stark contrast to the northern lords who'd suffered relentlessly at orc hands, the Golden Mandate Society members from the central regions strongly insisted on accepting the orcs' proposal.
Their sole justification? A divine oracle from Goddess Henes herself.
That one reason was so ironclad that their arguments kept looping in circles.
Damn fools. They won't listen to reason no matter what.
Isn't that obvious? Edelion's still in the early pioneer phase. Everyone's focused on expanding their own forces—it's no wonder they won't drop everything for this.
Of course, the Golden Mandate Society's claim that it was the goddess's will was undeniably true.
In reality, this abrupt alliance proposal—which felt so alien to most—was the result of higher beings beyond mortal ken hashing it out and setting it in motion on their own.
Are they all newbies here? Don't they know what happens to places the Outer God's forces target? If you don't wipe them out early, those creepy bastards will be a thorn in your side forever.
The driving force behind this on the Divine Net's Divine Community was Goddess Henes, fresh off her war with the ants.
She was dead certain those ants were Outer God subordinates who ignored reason and dialogue. She believed the deities pioneering Edelion needed to band together and expel them ASAP.
Think realistically. Even you couldn't fully secure that puny human kingdom of yours, right?
Ur, the orc deity who'd sent northern orc forces in response to her call, inwardly sneered at her griping about deities who weren't cooperating fully with her vision.
Only a tiny fraction can afford to divert troops from their bases right now.
Deity power wasn't infinite.
Especially in these early pioneer days, their influence over subordinates was severely limited.
Henes and Ur both had main territories in other worlds, but linking them to Edelion required a certain scale of holdings and subordinates here first.
'Damn it, this is way worse than my original plan...'
Henes bit her lip, staring at her screen.
Her initial recruited alliance was meant to encircle and annihilate the northeastern ants from all sides.
But overlapping issues had slashed that scale dramatically.
Only Ur had truly stepped up with substantial troops.
'Still, no choice but to try. Of all places, an Outer God force nests right near my turf.'
If the northern lords caved to the Golden Mandate Society and allied with the orcs, it'd at least give the Eastern Alliance some semblance of form.
With a bit more personal sacrifice, it might even work.
But that sacrifice would leave her trailing other deities, so Henes ground her teeth imagining the Outer God's hideous mug.
'Bet it's grotesque and ugly as sin. Hundreds of eyes or slimy tentacles, probably.'
Packed with her biases from past Outer God encounters.
Check this out. Pics of the Outer God subordinates spotted in Edelion. Disgusting, right? Anyone know more about the Outer God commanding these things?
She didn't stop there, uploading footage of the ants to the community and ramping up activity to gather intel from more deities.
"Ugh..."
Even sealed in the test tube, the feel was totally different from buying ants. Far from pleasant.
Heavy, with real weight to it. Incredibly dense.
Maybe it was just me—stung bad by a hornet as a kid, so wasps freak me out more than most bugs.
Its massive size, freakish strength, scissor-like jaws, and that razor stinger.
Could my ants really take this giant hornet staring me down from inside the tube?
Your subordinates detect a change in the sky.
After picking it up post-work, I rushed home.
The moment I opened the breeding pen lid, worker ants atop it snapped their heads up in unison, gazing skyward—now able to sense it themselves.
Always a weird feeling.
Seeing them do things no normal ant could reminds me they're constantly evolving monsters.
"Eek!"
I hastily unscrewed the tube, dumped the hornet in like hot garbage, and clumsily slammed the lid back on.
Even sealed, the buzzing wings echoed clearly.
No wonder they don't call it a drone by mistake—it's a giant hornet for a reason.
Your subordinates are bewildered by this new type of prey.
I wasn't the only one spooked.
To the ants in the pen, this winged behemoth buzzing around was like a combat chopper dropping in.
Up till now—even against mages blasting spells or mana-clad warriors hurling sword beams—they'd only fought ground-bound foes like themselves.
This was their first winged enemy.
'Of course, they could just wait it out.'
Trapped inside, the hornet's options boiled down to flying till it drops dead or fighting the ants.
The ants just needed to bide their time.
Your subordinates see this as a chance to gain combat experience.
But they didn't.
Though instinct drove them to prioritize efficiency and output, they deemed hands-on experience against new foes equally vital.
More ants poured from the tunnels, swarming to hunt the hornet.
Even normally, few bugs could beat sheer ant numbers.
And these were mutants who'd shattered limits.
'Charging first?'
After a brief scout, though, the giant hornet dove straight at the ant cluster.
I couldn't guess its feelings upon realizing transparent walls sealed the sky, but it bared its stinger openly, refusing a pathetic death.
Your subordinates hesitate at the enemy's aggression.
Zoomed-in feed showed a worker ant skewered instantly by the stinger.
No breather given, the hornet rocketed up and perched lightly on a planted leaf.
Strong and fast. Soldier ants matched its bulk with crushing power and thorn armor stinger-proof—but too slow to grab it.
'Gonna use venom?'
As it swooped low again, waiting venom ants sprayed their acid.
In the confined pen—not a vast field—it couldn't dodge everything.
Yet the hornet endured, snatched another ant, and crunched it to bits in its jaws.
The queen orders the colony to neutralize the enemy's wings.
Standard tactics wouldn't beat a flier. They'd just watch kin get diced mid-air.
The queen's direct command popped up, realizing this.
And the order? Sacrifice one venom ant as bait for a suicide bomb.
"..."
Speechless, I watched a venom ant offer itself freely, exploding mid-air to shower acid everywhere.
The hornet's exoskeleton withstood it, but its delicate wings melted under the acid, grounding it.
Your subordinates hunt the crashed enemy.
After that, stinger troops and blade-jawed fighters swarmed, shredding the thrashing hornet.
In the end, the ants triumphed over the new foe. I saw it as a tactical win, not just brute force—adapting to timing and circumstance.
The colony will remember this forever.
As they'd hoped, it became valuable experience.
No matter how many ants die and rebirth, the colony's memory endures eternally as nourishment.
If winged foes appear in that other world, today's lesson ensures no panic—just instant action.
"So, the giant hornet's digestible, right?"
The queen is devouring the new prey.
I smirked, watching the queen chow down on the processed rice cake lump.
She'd rejected the oversized stag beetle as too big, but this smaller hornet?
The queen is thrilled, discovering new potential.
The data is overwhelming, but overlaps heavily with existing ecology—the queen deems it fully digestible.
Thankfully, no puking.
Antennae twitching wildly, excitement alerts piled up.
My eyes widened at "overlaps heavily with existing ecology"—clearly, ant-hornet similarities aided digestion.
This moment revealed a rule: success rose with similarity in form and habits to what ants could handle.
'This was the right call.'
Euphoria surged; I couldn't hide my grin.
Out of countless options, I'd nailed the closest to optimal—purely on my own judgment.
The queen urgently wants to produce a new soldier class. The colony notes it demands excessive resources, but the queen is convinced the results will far exceed the cost.
As expected, overload data was unusable anyway.
The hornet's powers were mass-production unfriendly too, but remarkably, the queen's sheer will pushed production through.
"Yeah, I think the payoff will outstrip the investment too."
I muttered to myself watching it unfold.
Larvae from eggs laid by ovipositor queens—who'd inherited the original queen's blueprints—would get tailored investment from larval stage, maturing into this new class.
The resulting variant? First to absorb non-ant insect traits. Its look would differ wildly from standard ants.
Your subordinates detect suspicious activity at the western edge.
Wonder what stage they'll debut on.
I'd figured the cowering southern humans—routed last time—would be first targets.
Maybe not.
Switching feeds, scout ants had spotted multiple orcs moving there.