146 A(rm)nt

If he were to give himself an objective evaluation, Ackster would say he was doing a pretty decent job trying to puncture the ant queen's underbelly while avoiding the ant queen's legs and the worker ants trying to tie him down both alive and in death. The situation was a lot more stressful than his first encounter.

Back then, when the worker ants first swarmed him and Karandiel, Ackster had only needed to worry about the ants killing Karandiel. He would be fine since the ants weren't powerful enough to inflict any deep injuries on him. And now that he was even stronger since his skills had evolved or ranked up and because he had gotten more of them, the worker ants alone didn't pose a threat.

When they used their full strength, they could still get through his skin and draw blood, maybe even tear his flash asunder if given enough time. But with the ant queen stampeding around and Ackster dancing like a feather caught in a storm, the worker ants were kicked and beaten to smithereens by the queen's and Ackster's joint efforts.

But they were still in the way and prevented Ackster from moving as smoothly as he needed to ensure he didn't get injured by the ant queen, who was certainly powerful enough to injure him if the grape-purple and bloody bruise covering his entire chest was any indication.

The more time that passed, the clearer Ackster felt that his broken ribs weren't the only thing injured by the ant queen's foreleg blasting him into the stone wall. He had suffered internal damage. It wasn't enough to kill him. At least it didn't feel like it was now when he was filled with adrenaline and fighting for his life.

However, Ackster could tell, even without the ever-increasing amount of ants, that he would lose a battle of attrition. He had to end it, and the quicker, the better. And when he was done with this whole ant business, he would have to find a way to toughen up his insides.

He was quickly snapped out of his too leisurely thoughts by an image of the ant queen's leg crashing down flashing through his mind. Battlesight warned him of what the ant queen was doing. But with how tired Ackster's mind was and how much he had used his skills already, the vision bestowed upon him by Battlesight was too close.

Ackster had just enough time to process it and try to move as he felt a deluge of ants crawl all over his body and restrict his movements. He didn't even have time to curse before the ant queen's leg descended like an incarnation of fury.

All Ackster could do was forcefully lean to the side and minimize damage.

He minimized the damage. But he still ended up with a gruesome injury.

The ant queen's sharp and bristly leg brushed against Ackster's arm with enough proximity to expose and break the bones in it. Ackster felt that it would have fallen off shortly below the shoulder if it weren't for his tough skin and muscles holding it together.

'Fuck!'

Ackster swore both in pain and because he couldn't move his arm. With only a single arm, it would become almost infinitely more difficult to kill the ant queen. He wanted to chastise himself for making such a dumb mistake so as to think about anything other than the situation right in front of him. But what had just happened with his arm was all the evidence he needed why that was a bad idea.

So, he ignored the pain, which wasn't difficult since it wasn't much compared to Nold's secret technique.

Although it would be more difficult to win this battle now that he had effectively lost an arm, it wasn't simple to begin with. The difficulty had risen, but when he made a brief comparison to how difficult the goal he had set out to achieve in ten years, it wasn't that much.

And when he thought about it some more and calmed down, he also realized that there was a silver lining. The blood spilling out of his arm and the pieces of flesh the ant queen had torn away were enough to distract the horde of ants from the incoherent and crazed ant queen's orders.

The pressure on Ackster lessened slightly as the ants chased after the pieces and blood of his arm that fell to the ground or on the other ants. But it didn't take long before those crumbs were swept away and disappeared into the ants' stomachs. After that, they turned their sights on the source of those crumbs—Ackster. Or, to be more specific, his arm.

Ackster realized what he would have to do.

The rush of blood and flesh had whipped the ants into a frenzy, even more so than what the ant queen could spur them into. Or maybe it was the ant queen inciting their hunger by sharing her own after she smelled and felt Ackster's arm suffering disastrous damage.

If they charged at him with this renewed vigor, he wouldn't lose just an arm next time.

Ackster knew what he had to do.

But he hesitated. After all, throwing away his arm wasn't an easy choice to make. However, he had already learned several times by now that if there was anything guaranteed to kill him, it was hesitation. So, he threw that out the window and gripped the elbow of his right arm.

With gritted teeth, Ackster reaffirmed his resolve. He could either lose his arm or his life. It was an easy choice. Besides, there were multiple ways to regenerate his arm, even if it disappeared in the sea of ants. Even if it delayed his plans, that was something he could make up for. He couldn't come back from the dead.

Ackster tugged on his broken arm, and the remaining strips of skin and flesh snapped. Before he could feel an ounce of regret, Ackster tossed it as far away as he could.

His arm was picked up in the middle of the air by soldier ants, who ravenously threw themselves at it. It hadn't flown as far as he wanted. But it was far enough to get all the other ants except the queen away from him. And that was all he needed.