Each breath Ivan drew scraped like fire through his chest, but he refused to yield. Denzil circled him, mandibles twitching with predatory precision, eyes scanning for weakness. Blood ran freely from the slashes along Ivan's side, but his grip on his weapon did not waver.
Denzil scoffed. "Still standing? After all that? You're either stubborn or suicidal."
Ivan spat blood onto the ground. "I could ask the same of you. I count six clean cuts across your body. Seems we're both too stupid to fall."
The grasshopper growled. "You dare to speak as if you're my equal?"
"I don't have to be your equal," Ivan said, voice low. "I just have to survive longer than you."
Without warning, they lunged.
Blades met with a thunderous clash, the sheer force of their strike sending shockwaves outward. Stone shattered beneath their feet, the earth giving way with a deafening crack. Dust and rubble erupted into the air, blinding them both. In the chaos, they carved at each other like warriors from a forgotten age, each blow precise, fueled by pain and rage.
Ivan took another gash along his ribs but drove his mandibles deep into Denzil's forearm in return. Blood splattered the ground like spilled ink. They pushed off one another and clashed again, roaring like beasts, not soldiers.
A slice tore across Ivan's shoulder, staining the ground beneath him. He growled, but didn't stop.
"Slower than before," Denzil jeered, twisting around to deliver a sweeping kick.
Ivan blocked with a grunt, countering with a shoulder thrust that shoved Denzil back.
"You're bleeding," Ivan noted coldly.
"So are you," Denzil replied, his tone cold but amused.
Blood painted their chitin, dripped onto the cracked earth, marked the passing of seconds. Slashes rang out like claps of thunder. Neither of them cared about the wounds anymore. Cuts littered their arms, sides, even their faces. Still, they moved with fury.
Their feet shifted. The ground trembled.
"Let's end this," Ivan said through gritted teeth.
They both knew it couldn't last longer. They were exhausted, caught in a brutal stalemate. There was only one way to declare a victor.
Denzil nodded grimly. "Agreed."
Together, they leapt forward with a speed that made the surrounding air scream. Their mandibles collided in a perfect arc of destruction.
BOOM.
The ground beneath them fractured. It didn't just crack—it exploded. Chunks of rock flew into the air. A thunderous shockwave burst outwards, flattening most of the area and sending rubble raining down. Dust engulfed everything.
A deafening silence followed.
When the haze finally began to settle, Ivan stood amidst the shattered terrain, one foot near the edge of a small crater they'd carved out with their final blow. He stumbled, legs trembling. Blood poured from a long slash across his chest. One more step and he would have collapsed. But he didn't. He forced his legs to hold.
He wouldn't fall.
"...To think," Denzil whispered weakly, panting. "To think I was defeated… by an ant. One of the weakest species in existence."
He laughed softly, bitterly.
"How pitiful. I didn't calculate this outcome..."
He looked toward the sky, his voice suddenly soft.
"Hopper…"
And suddenly, Denzil wasn't in the battlefield anymore.
He was a child again.
His shell was still soft, his limbs gangly and unsure. He stood in a sun-drenched glade surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the scent of summer grass. Gianna was there—twirling with joy, her twin blades clutched loosely like playthings. Her laughter was bright and loud. Hopper tackled him from behind, both of them rolling in the grass, grinning ear to ear.
Sly lounged on a thick tree branch, his smug grin as relaxed as ever. "Don't lose to Denzil again, Hopper," he teased.
Gianna pouted. "They always gang up on me!"
High above, Baracko stood like a statue. The tall, stoic figure who had trained them all, his expression unreadable—but for the first time, Denzil noticed something else. A quiet smile tugged at the corner of Baracko's mouth as he watched them play. There was pride in his eyes. Hope.
Denzil remembered the feeling—the safety, the innocence. He remembered dreaming of glory, of one day standing beside Hopper, leading their kind to greatness. They had all been brothers and sisters once. A family, forged not by blood, but by bond.
"What happened to us… Hopper?" he murmured.
The memory faded. The warmth vanished.
The battlefield's chill returned.
Denzil's body fell to the ground with a dull, final thud.
From the shadows, a group of grasshoppers cautiously emerged. They had hidden from the destruction, but the silence now drew them in. Their bodies trembled.
"No… no way…" one of them whispered.
"He's… he's not moving…" said another.
"I can't believe this," a third gasped. "They have slain Denzil… this cannot be happening…"
Their eyes darted to Ivan, who stood alone in the wreckage, blood dripping from his limbs, eyes locked on Denzil's fallen form.
He didn't speak. He just stared.
One of the younger grasshoppers screamed, "Run!"
Panic surged. They turned and scattered into the fortress, their fearful cries vanishing into the distance.
Still, Ivan didn't move.
He looked down at Denzil, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady.
"You were a strong opponent… that's for sure. But in the end… you still lost."
His body swayed.
"Damn it…"
His knees buckled—only to be caught by a warm, steady arm.
He turned his head, blinking through sweat and blood.
"Ruth…" he breathed.
The ant's face was pale with concern, her hands firm on his shoulders.
"Ivan," she said gently, "you're hurt. We need to patch you up now."
"Don't worry about me," Ivan grunted, forcing a pained smile. "Tend to Leon. He needs it more."
But Ruth didn't move. She stared at him, awe softening her features.
"You have done so well, General Ivan," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I… I'm flabbergasted by how much strength you possess, sir. You managed to beat a General… one of the five strongest grasshoppers."
Ivan gave a weak chuckle, blood still dripping from his chin.
"I barely won that one. He almost had me… a dozen times."
She helped him to sit against a boulder. His armor clinked against the rock, and he leaned back, closing his eyes.
"Leon's stabilized," Ruth said quickly. "But he'll need real treatment soon. I'll fetch some healing leaves for you both."
She ran off, her footsteps fading.
Ivan remained where he was, breathing slowly.
Above him, the sky had cleared. Blue and boundless, as if unaware of the blood-soaked earth below.
He exhaled.
"We've played our part in the infiltration…"
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"Now it's all up to you and your colony's soldiers… Anastasia… finish this."