Alpha Strike: [An Interstellar Weapons Platform’s Guide to Organized Crime] (Book 3 title)

Antchaser wove carefully through the gathered swarm of antborgs, mindful not to brush against them more than necessary.

Even now, being this close to the creatures still put him on edge. It was easy to forget, watching how seamlessly the Dungeon Core controlled them, that their original minds were still tucked away beneath the metal. During the early days, more than one village hunter had to be treated for injuries after recklessly approaching an antborg in the forest.

Fortunately, those incidents had become rare. Hunters had learned to recognize ants on dungeon business, and Alpha's control had only grown more refined over time.

Still, caution was a lesson Antchaser never forgot.

The tunnel they occupied stretched wide, every inch of space packed with ants. Neatly arranged in ranks and files, the creatures lined the floor and even the curved walls, clinging like living ivy. Most were the smaller worker caste — the ones Alpha called Alphantonsos — but a surprising number of the larger, rarer Antonio soldier caste were here too.

The latter were rarely seen in the cavern proper. Alpha claimed they weren't as stable as their smaller cousins quite yet, so they had mostly been used to cull the termite numbers and explore the outer caverns.

Antchaser hadn't seen this many gathered in one place before. He wasn't even sure the dungeon had this many. That realization sat heavy in his gut. If outsiders ever learned that a Dungeon Core had built a standing army — one capable of extending its influence beyond the dungeon — it would bring down the attention of the Deep Tribes. Forces that could rival even the stronger clans and sects of Halirosa.

And Alpha? Alpha was walking straight toward that storm.

Antchaser sighed. "You sure this is wise, sir? I know said things will be alright, be letting the Guild know what you can do like this… The adventurers like to act like they're for the little guy — like they're the answer when the sects and clans get too greedy. But truth is, the Guild can be just as bad. They won't steal from you outright, no — but they have no qualms about taking what they want and convincing you it's for your own good."

"Oh, don't worry about them," Alpha replied. "I've still got more than enough surprises left to keep the Guild dancing. The Kigendoro moved up my timeline, sure — but things were never going to stay hidden forever. This way, we control the story. We set the expectations. And if they do try something…" A pause, then a glimmer of amusement. "Well, that gives me all the justification I'll need."

Antchaser pressed his lips into a flat line but said nothing.

"Enough worrying," Alpha said, tone shifting. "Our guest is just ahead."

Straightening, Antchaser reached for the nape of his neck. His armor responded, rippling up and around his body like spilled ink in reverse. In seconds, the goblin vanished beneath a sheath of gleaming black plating, the only visible feature a single glowing red eye on his visor.

He rounded a bend in the tunnel and paused.

There, amid the sea of motionless ants, stood a tall, slender figure. The stranger was hunched over one of the ants, sketching with quiet intensity, a small notebook in hand. With their back turned, Antchaser couldn't glean much — not gender, not age. Just long black hair and flowing silk robes that looked like they'd been plucked from a storybook.

Despite his silent approach, something must have tipped the stranger off. The man straightened slowly and turned. As their eyes met, Antchaser's breath caught. The stranger looked young — maybe even too young — but behind that gaze was something colder. Older. A flicker of something sharp and measuring, like a scalpel pressed just shy of skin.

Then, it vanished. The young man smiled brightly, disarming and warm.

"Well, hello there!" he said, slipping his notebook away as he strolled forward. "You must be the contact the dungeon mentioned. 'Beta,' was it?" He extended a hand.

Antchaser stared down at the hand, then back up. "That's right."

He still wasn't sure about the handle Alpha had picked for him. The anonymity offered by their armor made sense, but the goblin still didn't know why Alpha had insisted it would be 'hilarious'. It was just one more of those strange things he would have to accept as one of the core's quirks.

"And you're Bert's contact from the Guild," Antchaser said. "Mr...?"

The man lowered his hand and laughed. "Oh, names aren't important right now. As I'm sure you're aware, Mr. Beta," he said with a wink.

Antchaser frowned behind his helmet.

At the end of the day, he didn't actually care who this person was. What mattered was why he was here.

"Did you bring what we asked for?"

The Guild agent grinned wider. "Absolutely." With a flick of the wrist, a slim jade tablet appeared in his palm.

"You wouldn't believe how hard it was to get this," he said, almost pouting. "Recording Ironheart's spiritual signal without him noticing? That man's ten times more paranoid than he lets on."

Antchaser didn't respond. He took the tablet and raised a hand over it. Lines of red light traced it from multiple angles.

"Yes... this will work," Alpha confirmed after a moment, through the comms.

Antchaser turned without another word and approached a specific ant — one unlike the rest. Though its base form resembled the Alphantonsos, its abdomen was swollen, bulbous, like a living cauldron. He pressed the tablet against a nano-node on its thorax. It sank in smoothly.

"Fascinating," the Guild agent murmured, leaning over his shoulder.

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Antchaser suppressed the urge to elbow him in the throat. Instead, he turned to face the man directly.

"Thank you for your cooperation. We'll take it from here."

The agent tapped a finger against his chin, grinning. "Oh? Confident, aren't we? You know, you're not the first ones to try and take Ironheart down. But he's still standing. The others... aren't. So tell me — what makes you think you'll be any different?"

Beneath his helmet, Antchaser smirked.

"Watch and see."

——————————————————

The ground rumbled.

The chaos of the battlefield ground to a sudden halt as adventurer and bandit alike froze.,

Regardless of which side they fought for, every one of those on the field had been hardened by countless life-or-death encounters and had developed a keen sense of when something was out of place.

The adventurers used the pause to regroup, dragging wounded comrades back behind the walls or placing more distance between themselves and the bandits.

The bandits, less disciplined, scattered — some expecting another trap, others fearing some hidden formation. A few bolted for the trees outright. Most were punished for their instinct, speared through by lances of light. But a handful vanished into the forest's edge, swallowed by shadows and luck.

Rumble.

Again the earth trembled, deeper now. A waiting tension crept through the air like a rising tide.

Then, the ground around one of the sunken dragon's teeth groaned and collapsed. The stone barricade sank with a dull, final thud. Then another. And another.

One by one, the battlefield's defenses were swallowed by the earth, as if the land itself had grown hungry.

And from that widening sinkhole… came ants.

A few at first. Then dozens. Then a seething black tide poured from the depths below.

Both sides erupted into motion. Bandits scrambled for the treeline, while adventurers vaulted onto the safety of the walls. In moments, the field was consumed by a writhing flood of obsidian bodies.

All but one spot.

At the center of the battlefield, three men stood. Still. Surrounded by the rising swarm.

Each reacted differently.

Robert's sword tip wavered between the ants and Magnus, sweat clinging to his brow as his gaze flicked back and forth, torn between panic and something else.

Magnus didn't flinch, but his sneer sharpened. Teeth clenched tight, jaw ticking — the only betrayal of tension under his ironclad presence.

Bert, on the other hand, looked amused. Unbothered. A smirk teased the corner of his lips as the ants surged around them, never quite crossing the invisible perimeter of their duel.

"Well now, Magnus," Bert said, arms folded as the tide of ants swirled around them, never quite crossing the invisible threshold that marked their duel. "Didn't expect guests?"

Magnus's eye twitched. His posture remained solid, unshaken, but his Spirit Will flickered for the first time since the standoff began, a brief ripple through the crushing aura that surrounded him.

"You think this changes anything?" he growled, voice low and jagged. "Just more vermin to squash."

"Oh, no doubt," Bert said lightly, watching as the ants moved in seamless formations — flowing like water, yet shifting like soldiers. "I'm sure you could handle the first wave. Maybe even the second. But how many can you crush before your Will falters? Before your defenses crack? How long can you go before you give me the opening I need?"

Robert's head jerked toward Bert, lips pressed into a thin line. "What the hell is going on, Bert?"

Bert's smirk grew just enough to show teeth. "Let's call it... strategic reinforcements."

Magnus' eyes narrowed, scanning the swarm as it moved with uncanny precision. Not the chaotic ferocity one would expect from spirit beasts, but more… organized. Controlled. The ants had formed a wall now, an undulating ring of armored bodies that shimmered faintly with embedded runes. Defensive. Coordinated.

"Dungeon spawn," he spat, the word laced with venom.

Robert's expression darkened as realization sank in. "You knew? You knew they were coming and didn't tell me!?"

Bert gave him a sideways glance. "You didn't ask."

Across from them, Magnus barked a cold laugh.

"It doesn't matter." His voice was low and sharp like gravel dragged across steel. "This doesn't change the inevitable."

He stepped forward — and the weight of his Spirit Will slammed down like a hammer blow. The air cracked. The ground groaned. Robert and Bert braced as the pressure redoubled, their own Wills straining to hold ground.

"You think this little display is enough to stop me?" he sneered.

Nearest to him, ants buckled. Legs splayed. Shells cracked under the force. A few were crushed outright, their carapaces caving with sickening crunches. Yet more surged forward, unflinching, relentless.

Bert didn't move.

"Funny," he said. "For a man so certain of victory, you sure seem eager to convince yourself you're still in control."

Magnus's eyes narrowed. His Will pulsed again, denser this time — like a mountain pressing down from every angle. Bert staggered, shifting his footing to hold steady, sweat trickling down his cheek.

"We'll see who's desperate," Magnus growled. "I'll grind you down. Rip through your ants. I'll take that dungeon apart piece by piece. Then we'll see whose 'in control'!"

Bert's smirk returned. Calm. Knowing.

"Will you?"

"Who's going to stop me?!" Magnus roared.

"Mind if I give it a shot?" a new voice cut in.

Magnus's head whipped around — eyes widening — just as the ground between them erupted in a spray of stone and soil. A black-armored figure burst forth atop an ant with a grotesquely swollen abdomen, its body gleaming with a faint inner light.

So focused had Magnus's Will been on Bert, he barely had time to react.

His Will wiped back, aiming to crush the new arrival in one fell motion.

Only for Bert's Will to spring forward like a sudden summer storm and deflect the clumsy attempt.

And that was all the opening Alpha needed.

The ant beneath Antchaser shifted, angling its bloated abdomen toward Magnus.

Then it opened — not with the violence of a weapon, but the eerie elegance of a blooming flower.

Dozens of translucent, crystalline panels unfolded from its body, each etched with faint runes and glowing with focused energy.

Magnus's instincts screamed at him to move — but he was a heartbeat too late.

The panels hummed, and the air thrummed with unnatural pressure.

A pulse of spirit energy rippled outward, not seen but felt. Like a tuning fork struck inside the soul.

And Magnus screamed.

"GUUAAARRGH—!!"

The dwarf crumpled to his knees, hands clawing at his skull. His eyes bulged, crimson tears spilling down his cheeks in thick rivers. His Will flickered violently — not broken, but scrambled, like a storm of jagged signals crashing in on themselves.

Watching through the connection, Alpha mentally grinned.

"Looks like the field test for my new Spiritual Dissonance Weapon is a 'roaring' success!"

The AI broke into laughter. Elsewhere, two goblins and an old human doctor rolled their eyes in perfect sync.

The [SDW Banshee] worked on a similar principle as the Federation's [USW Harpy]. Instead of sound waves, however, the Banshee created a standing 'spirit wave' that Alpha had found did just… terrible things to whatever it had been attuned to.

As a bonus, because this standing wave was unique to its attunement, it wasn't nearly as indiscriminate as the Harpy. Though on the other hand, that also meant that to use it, you had to already have a copy of your target's spiritual signature. As such, it wasn't a weapon that was easily deployed on the fly, much to Alpha's chagrin.

Magnus writhed in the dirt, teeth clenched in agony, his Will flickering like a broken flame.

Bert moved without hesitation.

From his ring, he drew three clay coins and flicked them across the field in a tight arc. They struck the ground near Magnus and flared with light.

In a flash, Bert vanished from his spot—

—and reappeared beside the downed dwarf, boots slamming into the earth as he reformed mid-motion.

His eyes were cold steel. Focused. Final.

Both hands rose high.

[Megaton] materialized in his grip — a warhammer too massive for any ordinary man to lift, its form wreathed in weight and momentum.

With a roar, Bert brought it down.

The next instant, Maggy screamed from the wall.

"BERT! LOOK OUT!!"