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Chapter 128: Brock the Warrior
🕑 Added 2023-03-08 17:36:00 +0000 UTCUpdate on my personal ant war: I have squashed the living shit out of them. I believe they are overrun by fear, lack of supplies, and heavy casualties. Their numbers have dwindled drastically -- I only saw one ant today, which I promptly splattered.
The war effort is going brilliantly. And, just in case they are simply feinting to ambush me at my weakest, I have prepared hot sauce and sprays as the good people in the comment section advised.
I shall not be defeated by something one-thousandth of my size. Even if there are thousands of them. Oh, wait.
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It had been a while since Jack stalked prey from a branch. Some things remained the same. The thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline rush of watching without being watched, the tension that came from the possibility of battle erupting at any moment.
But, of course, most things were completely different than last time.
Jack’s wasn’t stalking goblins or earth bears, but giant conqueror ants the size of large dogs. He wasn’t hiding on an actual branch, but on the stem of some gigantic plant. A torso-sized leaf hung in front of him.
He was also much, much stronger than he used to be. His prey…not so much.
And he had a friend this time. Brock sat next to him, keeping his body close to the branch and his breathing deep and slow. Soundless.
Brock’s body, now reaching up to Jack’s waist, was already toned with muscles that his Dao of Muscles made all the more apparent. Brorillas were made for strength, not stealth.
Still, he tried. He watched Jack’s movements and copied them, learning the basics of stealth from his big brother.
A line of conqueror ants marched thirty feet under them. The ants were five in total, all between level 25 and 30, and the reason why Jack and Brock were stalking them was to make sure they were completely detached from the rest of the colony. That way, they could fight without worrying about enemy reinforcements.
Five ants weren’t many, but this was just a first experiment. Jack would attack these ants and fight them a bit, scout out their patterns and tactics—and see what surprises they hid.
“Go,” Jack whispered. They crawled off the stem and onto the plant’s main body, then slid it down like firefighters on a pole. The only sound was the gentle rubbing of their fingers against the stalk. Their fingers were sticky, but that was only a minor inconvenience.
They followed the ants in stealth, then circled around them. Jack looked to the left and right, making sure they weren’t watched. He made to step in the open.
A hand grabbed his arm. He turned to find Brock, standing there with a hard gaze. He pointed at himself, then the ants.
“You want to fight?”
Brock nodded.
In truth, the brorilla was more than strong enough for these ants. He was a level 37 Elite. He should be able to handle at least two or three of them.
However, Jack frowned. Brock had never seen real combat before. He was strong, yes, but not enough to steamroll the opposition. And if something went wrong, he didn’t have the regeneration that Jack had.
Jack couldn’t help but worry.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “This could get dangerous. We don’t know what they can do. Why not let me fight first, and you can participate next time?”
However, Brock shook his head. “Nu,” he said—probably trying to say no. He pointed to his heart, then his head, then down.
“You must fight now?” Jack translated. “You are tired of watching?”
Brock nodded. He flexed his biceps, then shook his head sadly.
“I see,” Jack said. “You are strong, but you want to be more than that. A warrior. You want to take risks because a coward could never rise?”
Brock nodded again. Jack thought about it for another moment, then nodded back.
“Okay,” he said. “I understand how you feel. If I scout them out first, that is not real battle, it is target practice. You aren’t wrong… However, you must learn to walk before you can run. Your attitude is commendable, but five ants is too much for your first real battle. I will take three of them. How does that sound?”
Brock shook his head, then raised two fingers.
“...Fine. But your dad will kill me if anything happens to you, so be careful, okay? Do you promise?”
Brock’s face split into a monkey grin. “Yes.”
“Okay…” Jack threw him a final look, then took a deep breath. Suddenly, this easy battle was full of tension. He was worried sick. However, if he didn’t let Brock face real danger, he would never mature. Jack couldn’t protect him forever. “Be careful,” he repeated, then stepped into the open.
***
Brock was flooded by excitement. His body was shivering. His fur was rising.
He stepped after his big brother, feeling every muscle in his body flex in anticipation. His first real battle. It was finally time for him to become an adult.
The only other opponents he’d fought were his little dog bros in Integration City, but they were too weak to count. Only now could he feel it. The thrill of battle. The fear that made him grin. The sharpening of the world, the total clarity and thirst for battle that came with risking his life.
What his Big Bro always felt.
Now, it was Brock’s turn.
Big Bro released a mighty cry. The ants stopped and turned to look. Brock sensed the power that flooded Big Bro’s body, so great that it filled Brock’s mind with terror. It was strength. Power.
Big Bro shot out, falling on the ants like a rock from the sky. A set of mandibles wrapped around his arm, but they could barely pierce the skin. Two punches shot out in an instant. Two ants fell to the ground, their heads cracked open.
The three remaining ants shuffled around a bit, then opened their mouths and released a shrill sound that made Brock frown. The smell of ash filled the forest—the smell of the ants’ fear.
They turned and tried to run. Big Bro didn’t pursuit them. It was time for Brock to act.
He stood in the ants’ way. He saw the enemy barreling towards him, mandibles snapping through the air. His heart shook—but his mind muscles were too strong, and they overpowered the fear. They turned it into power. His limbs burst with strength, and his mouth released a cry that contained his resolve to fight to the death.
Brock would no longer be weak. He would no longer be abandoned by his family—even if Father claimed it was for his own good. Brock knew better. They had discarded him because of his weakness, because Father was ashamed of him.
But no more.
The ants arrived. Brock’s world changed. Everything slowed down, becoming less detailed. He became faster.
The ants arrived. They reached up to his chest. He stretched out both arms and jumped at them.
They bit at him. Mandibles snapped, barely missing his face or fingers. They weren’t fast enough. Brock slapped one ant so hard it spun around, then caught the second in a headlock. It struggled, but he was stronger. He swung it around from its neck and crashed it into the third ant, sending them both tumbling.
The first ant returned to the fight, but the other two were gone for the moment. Brock let it snap once, then grabbed its mandibles in one hand and held them shut. He bent under it, grabbing the ant’s underbelly with his other arm. He placed his shoulder under it, and he pushed.
The ant wrestled. Its face moved from side to side, desperately trying to dislodge his hand, but he kept it tightly wrapped over the ant’s mandibles. It tried to squirm out of his grasp, tried to bend its legs to stay on the ground, but Brock was stronger. His core and leg muscles flexed with power. He felt them straining and pushed harder. He yelled. The ant gave way.
Brock rose to his full height, flipping the ant on its back. He also let go of its mandibles. The ant squirmed on the ground, snapping left and right as it struggled to right itself.
Brock brought his hands together, then raised them over his head. His entire body pulsed with power. His muscles tensed, clearly visible under his short brown fur. With a mighty cry, he brought his hands down with all his power, smashing them into the ant’s thin abdomen.
It exploded.
With a sickening crunch, the ant broke in two. Its thin torso was snapped like a twig. Yellow blood erupted from the point of impact. The ant only made a low sound before dying, and immediately, it smelled like dirt.
Brock didn’t have time to celebrate. He jumped forward, sensing the burst of air as a set of mandibles snapped behind his back, then whirled around. The other two ants had recovered and were pursuing him, desperately trying to catch him in their mandibles.
Brock wasn’t a fool to let them. His mind spun, coming up with a plan.
As they came at him from the left and right, he unexpectedly stepped forward. They both missed, snapping on either side of him, and he wrapped his arms around them. Now, he held the mandibles of both ants shut under his armpits. The ants struggled, but they failed to escape in time.
Brock fell back. The ants rose. Their mandibles dug into the soft soil, getting lodged there, while Brock rolled upright. He instantly began smashing his fists into one ant’s underbelly, cracking its spine with every hit. The ant snapped. It fell to the ground, lifeless.
The final ant managed to extricate itself from the soil and turned to face Brock. However, it was now alone, and Brock was a menace. It tried regardless.
The mandibles shot forward, but Brock sidestepped, letting them pass him harmlessly. He grabbed the ant by the spine and raised it into the air. It squirmed helplessly. With Brock holding it from the middle of its back, it couldn’t reach him at all.
Brock bared his fangs. He brought a second hand to the ant’s spine, holding it steady. Then, he gritted his teeth. His muscles flexed. His entire body tensed. His grip was iron. Hundreds of pounds of force pulled the ant’s spine towards either side until, with a massive, ripping sound, the entire ant was pulled apart.
Brock let the two pieces fall to the ground. He looked around. He stood on the remains of his enemies, uninjured. He had achieved victory. Honor. He was a warrior. A true brorilla.
He raised his face to the sky and unleashed a loud holler of triumph, shaking the nearby leaves as he beat on his chest. The excitement was more than he’d ever felt. He had triumphed! He felt alive!
Brock looked aside, searching for Big Bro, who was staring with a mix of satisfaction and wonder.
“That was pretty brutal,” he said. Then, before Brock’s heart had time to drop, he continued, “But you won. I’m so proud of you, Brock. I knew you could do it. You are a true warrior!”
Brock cheered harder. Big Bro cheered with him, and for a moment, the forest echoed with their joy.
Then, it echoed with the sounds of marching. They both looked in the same direction: towards the anthill. An army of ants were streaming their way, and they were…more than Brock could count on his hands and feet.
“Good,” Big Bro said, stepping forth. He cracked his knuckles. “My turn. Stand back, Brock!”
Brock obliged. He took a few steps back, ready to admire his Big Bro’s strength, and he wasn’t disappointed.
Big Bro yelled, then ran into the ant army. His strength and speed were overwhelming. The few mandibles that managed to bite him could only inflict superficial wounds. He was a maelstrom of violence, destroying ants left and right. They tried to pile on him, but they weren’t enough.
He ripped through them. For a short while, the forest rained yellow blood. It was carnage.
