All Jobs and Classes! I Just Wanted One Skill, Not Them All!

Chapter 626

The first refugees hit them like a broken wave.

Not physically, most didn’t have the strength left for that, but in presence. In sound. In smell. Sweat, fear, blood gone sticky in cloth. The wet, metallic scent of someone who’d been running with a cut that never stopped bleeding.

Harold lifted his arm and roared, voice carrying over the road like a hammer.

“KEEP MOVING! DON’T STOP HERE! TO THE WALLS!”

The survivors barely registered words. They registered a tone. They registered the fact that armored people were standing between them and the thing behind them.

That was enough.

They surged past, staggering, limping, half-carrying one another. A woman with a child strapped to her back stumbled and would’ve gone down if Selene hadn’t caught her by the shoulder and shoved her forward with brutal gentleness.

“Eyes up,” Selene snapped. “Run.”

A man with a broken spear tried to stop and talk, mouth opening, hands trembling.

Ludger touched his sleeve once, light and precise, and the man flinched like he’d been slapped.

“Later,” Ludger said. “Move.”

The man moved. Because there was a sound behind them that turned language into a luxury.

A dry, continuous rasping, like a thousand blades dragged across stone. Like something hard-legged and hungry was skittering over the world and scraping it clean.

Ludger’s Seismic Sense had already mapped the weight. The rhythm. But when the refugees cleared enough for the line of sight to open… Everyone saw it. And the air changed.

Aleia’s eyes widened a fraction, rare for her. Harold’s jaw went still, the way it did when his brain needed a heartbeat to accept reality. Even Cor’s calm faltered, a small pause in his breath, like the old sage’s body refused to inhale until it understood what it was inhaling around.

The trainees behind them made little sounds, sharp, involuntary noises swallowed immediately after, as if they were ashamed their fear had slipped out.

Because what came out of the dust wasn’t a mixed pack. It wasn’t wolves and lizards and stitched horrors like labyrinths usually produced. It was uniform. An army. A living carpet of chitin and segmented bodies that moved with one purpose, one hunger, one direction.

Ants.

Only… not ants the size of a hand, or even a dog. These were taller than most adults. Their bodies were thick with black-brown armor plates that caught the dying sunlight like oiled metal. Long jointed legs pumped in perfect cadence, each step a synchronized strike into the earth that made the ground thrum. Their heads were wedge-shaped, mandibles opening and closing as they ran, clicking, tasting the air, like the entire world was a scent trail leading to food.

Some had thicker forelimbs that ended in hooked claws. Others had longer heads and narrower bodies, faster, leaner. Scout-caste. Runner-caste. Soldier-caste.

Organized. Incredibly organized. They poured forward in waves that didn’t break on rocks or ruts. The front line adjusted without hesitation, splitting around obstacles and reforming seamlessly, as if the swarm had a single mind and the terrain was merely a suggestion.

Everyone stared. Because this kind of monster had never been seen in the empire. Not in stories. Not in bestiaries. Not in the casual rumors that traveled faster than merchants.

Harold’s voice came out lower than before, almost disbelieving. “What in the—”

Selene’s fingers flexed. “Those aren’t—”

Aleia’s gaze snapped through the swarm with predator focus, searching for a leader, a larger specimen, a command node.

Cor’s staff tightened in his hand. “Hive creatures,” he murmured, like naming it would make it less obscene. “A true swarm…”

Behind them, a trainee whispered, “Ants…?”

The word sounded wrong on human tongues when the things were tall enough to look you in the eye. Ludger didn’t widen his eyes. He squinted. Not in fear. In recognition. Because he’d seen them before. Not here. Not in this life.

But in another one, in a place that hadn’t called itself the Empire and hadn’t cared about noble titles and polite borders. A world where monsters didn’t wait behind seals and didn’t pretend to be manageable.

He remembered the way swarms ate through wood and flesh with equal indifference. The way they tested a defense, learned it, and came back with the correct answer. The way they didn’t panic. Didn’t tire. Didn’t negotiate. Well, he didn’t see them in real life either, but he saw them in other forms…

They just converted. His throat went dry anyway. Because recognition didn’t make it easier. It made it worse.

“Harold,” Ludger said quietly.

Harold’s head turned a fraction, eyes still locked on the oncoming mass. Ludger’s voice stayed level, but it carried weight.

“They don’t break,” he said. “They don’t scatter. They don’t stop because you kill a few. Get ready for that.”

Selene’s grin twitched back into place, thin, dangerous. “Good. I hate when things run.”

Ludger didn’t smile. He kept watching the swarm, tracking the way the front shifted, the way the second and third ranks flowed like a living tide.

“Find the queen,” he said. “Or the node directing them. If there is one.”

Aleia’s eyes narrowed. “And if there isn’t?”

Ludger’s squint sharpened.

“Then we’re not fighting a pack,” he said. “We’re fighting a crazy headless horde.”

The swarm surged closer, mandibles clicking in hungry rhythm. The setting sun painted their armor red. He pushed the memory down until it became fuel.

Then he lifted his hand slightly, subtle, controlled, and the ground beneath the front line of ants began to tense, as if the earth itself was bracing to bite back.

The swarm poured out of the dust like the road had split open and decided to bleed monsters. Ludger’s Seismic Sense counted them without needing eyes.

Four… eight… twenty… a hundred—

Too many. Close to five hundred. Not a scouting group. Not a “wave.” A marching mass, dense enough that the ground’s vibration turned from footsteps into a constant, crawling tremor.

Harold muttered something under his breath that sounded like a prayer and an insult had a child together. Selene’s stance lowered, eager but tight. Aleia’s fingers pulled and released her bowstring once, testing, steadying.

Behind them, the new members, kids, mostly, stared like their brains refused to accept the scale. Spears shook. Someone swallowed hard enough that Ludger heard it.

Five hundred ants taller than men. That wasn’t a number Ludger wanted to face with green guild members at his back. Not because he doubted himself. Because he didn’t trust them not to break when the first wall of chitin hit like a landslide. And they couldn’t fall back. Not now.

The refugees were still too close behind them, running, stumbling, spilling toward the gates. If the Lionsguard retreated, even a few seconds of lost ground meant ants in the crowd. Ants in the wagons. Ants underfoot.

A swarm didn’t “fight” refugees. It harvested them. Ludger exhaled once, slow and controlled. He made a decision that tasted like ash.

“Harold,” he said, without looking away from the oncoming tide.

Harold’s head turned slightly. “Yeah?”

“Hold your line,” Ludger said. “If they break through after this, you cut them down no matter what. Don’t let them reach the refugees.”

Selene cracked her neck. “After this?”

Ludger didn’t answer with words. He stepped forward, placing himself half a pace ahead of the veterans like a small, calm insult to common sense. His boots dug into the road. The earth beneath him felt solid, obedient, ready to be shaped.

He lifted both arms out to the sides, palms open. A few trainees behind him made confused noises. Cor’s eyes narrowed. He recognized the posture. Or at least, he recognized that Ludger was about to do something he hadn’t taught.

Ludger didn’t give anyone time to stop him. Mana surged. Not a flare. Not a burst. A controlled flood, compressed down until it felt like pressure building behind a dam. Two bolts of mana formed above his palms, hovering like condensed storms. At first they were small, tight spheres, bright enough to cast hard shadows on the dirt. Then they grew.

The air around them warped. Dust lifted off the road in trembling spirals. The hairs on everyone’s arms rose as if the world itself was bracing.

Ludger’s face didn’t change. He only narrowed his eyes further, jaw set, shoulders steady while he gathered as much energy as possible.

The spheres swelled until each one was the size of his head, then larger, dense, vibrating, their surfaces rippling with contained violence. The ant swarm kept coming. Mandibles clicked. The front ranks lowered their bodies like they were about to crash into him and simply keep running.

Ludger brought his hands forward. Slow at first, like he was drawing a bowstring made of thunder. Then faster. The two spheres collided in front of his chest. For a fraction of a heartbeat, there was no sound.

Just a blinding compression of light and force, mana eating mana, pressure folding in on itself, reality tightening to a point that shouldn’t have existed. Then it detonated outward, not as an explosion, but as a release.

The fused energy shot out like a cannon round made of raw power, tearing a line through the air so violently that the wind screamed. It slammed into the front of the swarm… and the world kicked.

The impact hit the ground like a giant’s fist.

The road bucked under their feet. Stones jumped. Loose gravel lifted and hung in the air for a split second before the shockwave slapped it back down. The earth shook hard enough that even Harold’s stance wavered, boots grinding into dirt to keep balance.

A wall of dust erupted from the impact point, not a cloud, an instant curtain, thick and violent, thrown upward in a towering plume that swallowed the ants, swallowed the road, swallowed the horizon.

The shockwave expanded outward in a ring.

It shoved the wind away in every direction like the air was being physically cleared from the battlefield. Cloaks snapped. Loose cloth whipped. Refugees behind them staggered as if an invisible hand had shoved their chests.

Even the ants, those front ranks, vanished into the blast zone, bodies flung back in pieces and tumbling silhouettes, chitin cracking like pottery under a hammer. The roar arrived a breath later, deep and crushing, as if the sky itself had finally remembered it could be loud.

When the dust curtain billowed and rolled, it carried the stench of scorched earth and shattered armor-plating. Ludger lowered his hands slowly.

His palms smoked faintly, not from heat but from mana discharge, like the air couldn’t decide what state it wanted to be in anymore. Behind him, the green trainees stared with wide eyes. Harold’s grin was gone. His face was all business now, voice sharp as he snapped the moment back into motion.

“LINE UP!” he barked. “Get ready, because if that didn’t stop them, nothing else will!”

Selene bounced once on her toes, eyes bright with violence. Aleia already had an arrow nocked, gaze fixed on the writhing darkness beyond the dust. Cor watched Ludger for a beat longer than the others, reading the calm posture, the steady breath, the way Ludger didn’t sway despite throwing that much power.

Then Cor nodded, once, like he’d just confirmed something he didn’t like and couldn’t deny.

And out there, behind the curtain of dust, five hundred became an unknown number again… and the sound of steps echoed.

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