TRANSMIGRATED INTO THE ANT KINGDOM: WAR OF THE INSECT WORLD

The tunnels beneath the colony were darker than night and thicker than breath. Humidity clung to the walls, curling into beads that slid noiselessly down the packed dirt. Down here, light never came—not even the faint glimmer of moonlight reached the lower nurturing chambers. Instead, the air pulsed with the dull, unwavering rhythm of discipline: wooden rods conjoined to stone by resin cutting through the air, sharp barks of command, and the quiet grunts of effort.

This was the lower realm of the Nurturer Caste—an expansive subterranean network untouched by daylight, humming with sweat, breath, and the determined thrum of drills. Here, three distinct zones carved the paths for the colony's future. In the Warden Zone, discipline was law and order was forged. In the Worker Zone, endurance was beaten into muscle through labor and grit. And then there was the Military Zone—where the scent of resin and sweat filled the air, and the ground shook with the weight of impact training.

Further in lay the pitch-black rest chambers, deliberately devoid of any luminescence. Not even the moon-fungus was permitted to glow there, a design meant to strip trainees of comfort and ground them in isolation for their protection, to prevent them from ever reaching the surface until they are of age. Each nurturing zone had its designated overseer chambers, but the military sector had no need for tenderness. It trained warriors, not comfort-seekers.

The Military Ant Nurturing Area, carved deep into the foundation of the colony's heart, crackled with its own rhythm—rough, raw, relentless. Within it, the young stood in rigid lines beneath a ceiling lost to shadow, mandibles clutched to their waists, wielding thick resin staffs reinforced with hardened bark. Dozens moved in near-perfect unison, their bodies rising and falling with the rhythm of motion—crack, crack, crack—the staffs cut through the air and struck stone with practiced power.

Well—almost perfect unison.

Some arms lagged behind the rhythm. Some footing faltered. Muscles quivered under the strain. The occasional grunt of pain broke the steady flow, followed by the bark of a correction from a watching overseer. Antennae flicked with tension. Breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat dripped freely, vanishing into the dusty ground below.

"Torra...I can't hold out much longer…" a voice whimpered.

He was wiry and awkward, let his stick droop, sweat dripping from his brow ridge.

From the side, Torra marched over, her steps swift and stern. She reached out and gave the back of Korrin's head a light smack with her open palm.

"That's Corporal Torra to you," she said, tone clipped.

"Ow! That actually hurt…" he mumbled, rubbing his temple.

"Good. Maybe it'll knock some pride into you," Vira snapped, standing beside him. Her back was straight, lips set in a firm line, her stance sharp.

"Quit your complaining, weakling. You were chosen to be a warrior. Be proud of your lineage and don't quit."

Her voice was clipped and formal, but her chest rose and fell with fatigue too. The tremble in her limbs was just barely controlled.

Korrin gritted his teeth. "You're just pretending to be strong, Vira. We both know you're struggling too."

She turned toward him, eyes narrowing. "Don't compare yourself to me. I have someone I look up to... and a goal."

Just hours earlier, Vira had crouched low in the amphitheater's upper edges, hidden behind a boulder. The Queen's voice carried across the chamber.

"Commander Anastasia—you have done something everyone thought was impossible. Many tried and failed. Defeating Hopper has proven something even greater... that you are worthy of the title: Protector of the Colony."

The crowd gasped, the silence heavy.

Anastasia bowed, deeper this time. "I humbly accept this title, my Queen."

Then the flower on her left shoulder began to glow—but not the gentle white everyone had seen before. This time, it turned vivid crimson.

A wave of awe froze the crowd. Then came the eruption.

Young Vira watched from her hiding place, hands clutched tight. Her heart thundered.

That's who I want to become...

Back in the present, Torra's voice cut in. "Enough, Vira. Focus on your swings."

"Yes, Corporal Torra!" she shouted with renewed vigor, her grip tightening.

Korrin sighed, lowering his voice. "Fine... I'm still swinging. Just... don't hit me again."

Torra watched them with arms folded. Her stern face softened slightly.

They've got the fire... Just like Anastasia did when she was their age.

She allowed herself a small, private smile.

She really became the protector. I owe her my congratulations...

In the farthest shadow of the room, another figure trained alone. Edwin—small, compact, with focused eyes—was rhythmically swinging his stick, every motion smooth and silent. No grunting. No complaint. Just work.

They're whining about this weight? It's barely heavier than my arms, he thought, shoulders steady.

From the entrance, a thunderous voice echoed.

"EDWIN!"

He froze, stick mid-swing. "Oh no..."

A blur rushed toward him, and before he could blink, his antennae were seized.

"Ouch! Orsena, stop—that hurts!"

An older ant with a stern posture and tired eyes dragged him forward.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak in here?! You're supposed to be in logistics!"

Edwin twisted, trying to pull away. "I don't want to be some boring worker ant! I want to fight like my sister and father did!"

"And they fought so you wouldn't have to!" Orsena snapped.

Edwin grumbled, tugging against her grip. "I can fight too... I'm not weak."

She sighed, softening just a bit. "They protected the colony because it was their duty. Yours is to keep it alive. Accept your role, Edwin."

She resumed dragging him away as he muttered, "It's not fair..."

From across the room, Torra smirked. "Didn't even notice him sneak in again. That kid's got guts. Just like his big sister."

She clapped her hands.

"Alright, pick up the pace! Arms up! And no slacking!This isn't a fun exercise it's to prepare you for war."

Orsena dragged Edwin by the arm through the narrow tunnel paths, her grip like iron. The dirt under their feet shifted with each step, the humidity clinging to their skin.

She didn't say a word until they reached the worker ants' zone.

Isabella, crouched near the tunnels of the chamber, had been digging in silence when she noticed Edwin's arrival. Her hands, already sore and dirt-smeared, paused mid-motion as Orsena tossed him toward the corner. Her wide, violet eyes flicked toward them, then quickly back to the dirt in front of her.

Then—slam— Orsena flung him over to a dusty corner near the half-dug trench. His back scraped against the dirt wall, knocking a small puff of soil into the air.

"Get back to helping your peers dig the tunnels," she barked, her tone edged with irritation. She turned only slightly, just enough to glance at him from the side. "Don't make me drag you again."

Isabella shrank in on herself slightly, shoulders hunching. Her soft breaths came faster.

Is he… in trouble again? she wondered. He always looks so determined, even when the others yell at him...

Edwin remained slumped against the wall for a moment. His chest rose and fell. A faint sting bloomed in his shoulder where he'd hit the stone.

As Orsena's footsteps retreated, he slowly pushed himself up, wiping the grit from his arms. His fingers curled tight.

"…What's with all of them…?" he muttered under his breath. "All I want to do is protect the colony… Why is that so wrong?"

He glanced down at his own body—shorter mandibles sheathed at his sides, lean arms, slighter build than most.

"…Is it because I was born with a weaker physique? Because my mandibles aren't as long as theirs?"

His jaw clenched.

"No. I refuse to give in."

She peeked again—just a glance—watching Edwin as he picked up his crude pickaxe and began to swing. His strokes were rough but purposeful. Dust scattered with every hit, but he didn't stop. He didn't even flinch when dirt got in his eyes.

Isabella swallowed hard. Her own digging tool slipped slightly in her grip.

He's... really trying, she thought.

But her arms ached. The tunnel wall she was working on barely budged no matter how hard she scraped. She bit her lip and forced herself to keep going, even as sweat rolled down her temple and tickled her chin. Her muscles trembled under the strain.

A hush fell over the chamber like a ripple in still water. The faint glow of moss clinging to the walls caught a subtle shimmer in the air.

Then—

Soft footsteps. Graceful. Steady.

Every antenna twitched. Every head turned.

Princess Tanya had arrived.

Her presence didn't thunder or scream authority—it settled like a calm sunrise, quietly stealing attention. Orsena, who had been directing the younger workers near the mural stones, immediately dropped to one knee, her arm pressed to her chest.

"Your Highness."

Tanya paused just beyond the threshold, her long orange hair swaying behind her with every step, almost catching the glint of the chamber's light. A gentle exhale escaped her lips. She raised one hand in a smooth, practiced motion.

"There's no need for formalities today, corporal Orsena, I'm just passing through" she said, her voice soft but steady—just loud enough to carry across the room.

Orsena hesitated, then rose with a small nod, eyes lowered in respect.

The children nearby had already begun to murmur. A few of the smaller ones pressed their faces to each other's shoulders, trying to get a better look.

"It's the princess…"

"She's so pretty…"

Tanya walked forward with natural poise, her bare feet brushing over the warm stone floor. The chamber light danced on her polished exoskeleton—each carved royal line catching the moss-glow like tiny golden rivers etched across her arms and legs. Her wings, folded neatly behind her, gave off a faint luminescent sheen, their gentle curve twitching once in the still air.

The children couldn't hold back any longer. A dozen of them darted forward, their high voices echoing through the chamber.

"Princess Tanya!"

Without hesitation, Tanya knelt. The movement was fluid, practiced—not rushed, but not hesitant either. Her knees met the earth with a quiet thud. Small hands reached toward her, and she smiled, placing a palm atop one of the children's heads. Then another.

Their warmth grounded her.

A young ant stepped forward, his large eyes filled with wonder. A faint scar ran down the side of his cheek—faint, but noticeable beneath the chamber's dim light. He tugged gently at Tanya's hand, blinking up at her.

"I heard the grasshoppers took you away…" he said, voice barely louder than a whisper. "Is that true, Princess?"

Another young ant, older but still small, leaned in beside him with twitching antennae. "Wow… is it really true?"

Tanya's fingers curled gently around the boy's hand. Her breath caught for a moment—not out of fear, but from the weight of their innocence.

Then came the question.

"Were you scared… when the grasshoppers took you?"

She froze for a heartbeat. The noise in the chamber seemed to fade, just for that brief instant.

"…Yes," she finally answered, voice low but clear.

The children stared, wide-eyed.

"I was terrified," she continued, her tone soft and honest. "Everything inside me felt heavy… like I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. The darkness around me kept closing in. But even then…"

She smiled faintly, blinking slowly as her voice steadied.

"I didn't give up. I believed that our warriors would come for me. I had to hold on to that hope—because it was the only thing keeping me from breaking."

The scarred boy nodded slowly, as if trying to understand something far bigger than himself.

Tanya's gaze softened as her words trailed off. The flickering mosslight caught the sheen of her eyes. And for just a moment, her surroundings fell away.

In that quiet, she thought of him.

Ari.

In that moment, she thought of Ari—how he stood fearlessly against Hopper, the tyrant who had crushed sixteen colonies, theirs included. How a strange, faint green shimmered on his mandibles as he fought. No ordinary ant should possess that kind of power… and yet, he severed Hopper's upper arms with ease, as if it were natural. Tanya had seen it. She never told anyone. She kept it a secret.

That silence didn't last long, of course—Korrin made sure of that.

Tanya lingered in the silence, the weight of memory still hanging softly behind her eyes.

Then—

A voice cut through, dragging her back to the now.

"So… you totally fell for the ant who saved you, right?"

Korrin's tone was light and teasing, but loud enough to turn every head. He stood just a few paces away, arms lazily behind his head, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

Tanya blinked. "H-Huh?"

Her body stiffened slightly. A wave of heat rushed to her face, coloring her cheeks with a visible blush. She instinctively took half a step back, glancing around at the kids who were now all staring.

"N-No! That's not—That's not what happened at all!"

She waved her hands in front of her chest, flustered, voice rising just a bit too high. Her wings twitched sharply behind her, a clear sign of nervous energy.

Korrin snorted. "C'mon, you hesitated. That means yes."

Before he could say another word, a loud smack echoed through the chamber.

"OW—HEY!" he yelped, clutching his shoulder.

Vira stood beside him, arms now crossed, her palm still raised in the air.

"You're so insensitive!" she snapped. "She's the princess, Korrin! Can't you take anything seriously for once?"

"I was joking!" Korrin muttered, still rubbing the spot with a dramatic scowl.

Tanya let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Then—soft laughter. Her hand rose to her mouth, and she shook her head slowly.

"You all really haven't changed a bit…"

She glanced between them—Korrin's exaggerated sulking, Vira's fuming pout, the wide-eyed kids trying not to laugh. Her chest loosened. The tension faded.

This… felt normal.

She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, her smile gentler now.