Great Wave (4)
“Fire!”
“Fire!”
Boom! Bang! Bang! Kaboom! Kablooey!
The shells streaked through the air, turning the ground a kilometer ahead of the fortress into a smoldering wasteland. The ant horde surging forward faltered, a gap ripping open in their ranks. The number of ants clambering up the hill began to thin, giving the Gigants locked in frontline combat a momentary breather.
The Gigant pilots resting in the rear mounted up and surged forward, while the exhausted frontline fighters pulled back. As the rotation completed, the ant monsters came charging again. But the fresh Gigants, piloted by pilots who had replenished their stamina and Odd, held the line once more.
Purlong, the squadron commander from the Ronsstock Grand Territory, dismounted his Gigant and immediately turned to Wayne.
“Hah! Incredible! Riding a 2nd class Gigant at that young age is one thing, but that flawless tactical command...”
“Tell me about it. What was I even doing at his age...”
The other Gigant pilots shook their heads in amazement.
Squad leader Dorcan spoke up. “It's not really tactics, is it? The strategy's the same one they used ten years ago during the last Great Wave.”
“No, you miss the point. He's reading the frontline perfectly and rotating troops at the exact right moment! That's tactics—marks of a brilliant commander.”
“Ah!”
As Purlong said, Wayne was directing the frontline even amid the chaos of battling the ant monsters, timing the rotations with uncanny precision.
“Looks like Adam Stein's got a real rival now.”
“What? Dresden Territory already named Adam heir. You think they'd change it?”
“With a standout like that showing up, who knows? Frank Marquis might rethink things. Unlike me, Wayne still has a shot.”
“No way! You've still got a chance, Young Master Purlong!”
Purlong scowled at Squad Leader Dorcan's words. “Didn't I tell you not to use titles?”
“S-sorry, sir.”
“Wayne's the son Frank Marquis officially recognized. I'm just some nameless bastard. Better not chase pipe dreams.”
“Understood, sir.”
He said it firmly, but a bitter wave rose in Purlong's chest.
Purlong smoothed his expression. “Enough. Let's grab some food. Who knows when our turn comes again.”
“Yes, sir!”
That was the Great Forest for you. A dumping ground for the discarded from grand territories, sidelined bastards from noble rivalries, Gigant pilots without connections. They dreamed of a comeback here, but in truth, it was little more than exile.
“Move it! Inspect the Gigants first!”
As the rotated Gigants rolled in, mechanics and maintenance crews rushed over, checking and cleaning them. Merchants and locals from Westline Fortress hauled food to the front, cleaned tents for the pilots to rest, handled odd jobs—everyone giving their all. The defensive line hummed with relentless efficiency, holding back the ant legion.
“Ugh! These things just keep coming, endless.”
Curtis dismounted his Gigant, hands trembling from Odd depletion side effects as he spoke.
“If you have breath to complain, get some sleep. We're far from done.”
“Are you okay, Commander? I haven't seen you rest once.”
“How's anyone supposed to hold without rest? I catch naps here and there. And my Odd recovers fast—one or two hours does it.”
Curtis shook his head. “You're a monster. But it's been six days already. How long till these ants stop?”
“Who knows... We kill maybe twenty, thirty thousand worker ants a day. I'd say we've taken out about a third.”
“A third?”
“Shh! Keep it down.”
Curtis's face fell in despair. Honestly, he had nothing left to give. Odd aside, the physical toll was crushing.
Then Brock and the dwarf trio rotated to the rear.
“Wayne! I'm dying here!”
Thud! The usually stoic, stamina-packed Brock slammed his double-headed axe to the ground like it weighed a ton.
Spear-wielding Yond collapsed right there. “At this rate, Valhalla for real!”
“Feels like I'm already there.”
The other dwarves looked pale as ghosts.
“Good work. Rest till your next shift.”
“Too exhausted to even sleep!”
“Rest anyway. You'll fight better.”
The dwarves headed to the rear tents. Curtis glanced around and asked, “When's reinforcements coming?”
“Doubt they'll make it on time, from what I see.”
“What? We all die here?”
“Who said anything about dying? Hold a bit longer—something'll turn up.”
Wayne remounted Predator and patrolled the line, encouraging the troops.
Deep breath. Gather Odd to fingertips and toes. Draw the bowstring, aim. Hold breath!
Twang!
Sabina's arrow whistled away.
Splat! Slash!
“Kreeeeaaak!”
The princess ant shrieked, one antenna snapped—the other all it had left.
Wayne swung his iron mace wide at the onrushing workers.
Whoosh! Boom! Crackle-crackle-zap! Boom! Bang-bang!
“Wh-what?”
“Gah! The ants are exploding!”
Sparks erupted where the mace struck, a dozen bursting and flipping dead. Wayne bulldozed through the workers, charging the princess ant.
Sabina unleashed a barrage on the workers. Suddenly, a man stepped forward from behind, loosing arrows.
Thunk! Thunk!
“Kweek!”
“Kik! Squeak!”
Sabina's Artemis dropping workers was expected. But a human arrow piercing two-meter ants? Bizarre. It was Blaster, the hulking archer called the territory's strongest.
Weeks ago, Wayne had sent him back to Frank Marquis—couldn't keep a spy around. Yet here he was again.
Workers fell to the archers' volley. Wayne closed on the princess ant in seconds and snatched its broken antenna.
Got it!
Infusing Odd and shaking it scattered waves around. Then the weirdness: workers, as if receiving a signal, wheeled about and retreated!
The panicked princess ant shot skyward, waving its last antenna. The ants resumed their hill assault.
But Wayne shook again—they turned tail.
“Kweeeeeek!”
The princess flailed its antenna; Wayne showered yellow Odd, shaking relentlessly. Five thousand ants milled in confusion.
Wayne's Predator kept waving the antenna, retreating to lines.
Bastian pulled alongside, bellowing.
The floundering five thousand stalled the charge. Peace returned to the hilltop defenses.
“Kuok! Charge!”
“Kuoook!”
Five hundred orcs raced forth, lobbing massive oil barrels at the ants.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Roooar!
Monster-oil barrels, highly flammable, erupted in flames. Still milling, the ants ignited each other.
“Got it!”
Ping! Ping!
Arrows forced the princess ant dodging. No signals sent. Wayne shook the antenna fiercely—flaming ants veered toward the rear legion.
Had the princess retained control, only the burning ones might advance. But hijacked, they obeyed Wayne.
“Whoa! They're burning!”
“No way! Controlling monsters now?”
“Wow! Young Master Wayne's unreal!”
To onlookers, it was miraculous. Ants clumped, fire spreading wildly. Thousands incinerated in moments.
The line savored sweet respite. Five hours later, charred corpses cleared, fresh hordes advanced.
Next day, Eleven's red Odd signal pinged Wayne.
Found it! Queen ant!
Wayne clenched his fists.
Wayne mounted a 2nd class Gigant from the territory, leading Sabina's Artemis and five hundred orcs underground. Dwarves had prepped vast chambers and tunnels; five thousand of his ant army waited—his secret weapon for the queen.
“Let's go!”
Wayne shook the princess antenna, advancing narrow passages. Ants followed, then Artemis and orcs.
Whirr! Rumble-rumble!
His 2nd class Gigant, unearthed from Lava Cave—Karian king's guard machine—renamed Hermes. At seven meters, slimmer and unarmored than peers, but superior mobility, light, evasive. Weapons: back-mounted long spear, Jamie's wrist-launch daggers.
Grrrng! Grrrng! Eleven urged haste.
Got it! Coming!
Tracking the queen in this wasteland? Tough. But follow worker ants—they led to her.
Queens' Odd range limited; workers relayed as antennas. Stealthy tracking took ages.
Dwarf tunnels stretched forever—full day running, then more post-exit. Scouts spotted soon after, ignored. Main horde at Westline; return trip long.
Five thousand ants swarmed soldier ants guarding workers. Bardetu and five hundred orc warriors struck workers.
Twenty soldiers no match—overwhelmed.
“Kuooo! Orcs are strong!”
Stab! Stab-stab!
Dwarf-forged six-meter steel spears: huge, heavy. Orcs, drilled in dwarf stamina and Karian stage-one Odd breathing, twice as strong—devastating with long reach.
“Kweeeek!”
Worker skewered by dozens, fell.
“Bardetu! Smash every mid-line worker!”
“Kuok! Orcs are strong!”
“Kuoook!”
Queen's fatal flaw, horde's weakness: Safe in nest, no issue. But far from forest, kill relay workers—princesses lose signal, sense queen's absence after time, turn on rivals to claim throne.
Good job, Eleven!
They arrived next dawn at Grint Grand Territory's Luten Fortress.
Her Odd Eye spotted odd tent-like cover atop fortress. Hundreds of giant soldiers guarded front.
Sabina's laugh was awkward.
“No!”
With Wayne, even worse than a queen seemed doable.
Wayne shook both antennas—five thousand ants surged toward the fortress.
Eleven! Scout ahead, find the queen!
“Kraang!”
Eleven dashed in. Wayne unleashed red and yellow Odd, charging for the S-rank beast.