Level Up The Colony
Chapter 71: Firepower

Chapter 71: Firepower

A Few Hours Later...

Under a storm-darkened sky, massive stone slabs loomed like silent sentinels, spaced irregularly across the barren land.

A boy darted across the open field, his movement so fast it blurred into the night.

With effortless agility, he vaulted over a towering gate and landed silently on the other side, weaving between trees and jagged rocks with the precision of muscle memory.

A distant thunderclap rolled across the heavens, and a streak of lightning briefly illuminated his face, sharp features half-obscured in motion before he vanished again into the shadows.

The weather had shifted.

The clouds swelled with an unspoken rage, promising rain soon.

The streets of the nearby district were still.

Midnight had stripped the world of activity, and the blackout that consumed both moonlight and electricity left homes steeped in silence or not.

Behind drawn curtains, the absence of light stirred primal instincts.

In that hushed void, indulgence replaced routine.

Meanwhile, the boy skidded to a stop in a vast clearing where the terrain changed subtly.

Centered in the space was a shimmering blue portal, pulsing faintly.

He was in the midst of a cemetery; this time, the gate they needed to clear had to be In one of the creepiest places.

It stood like an anomaly in the open, silent, waiting.

But he didn’t step forward.

Instead, he turned toward the trees, his gaze cutting through the foliage with uncanny clarity.

Perched among the branches were figures, watching him.

"I thought we were closer than this," he said dryly.

"We are, Tim. You just have a habit of being late. Most of us don’t appreciate it," a voice responded coolly.

Timothy offered a small shrug. "I apologize. I got caught up running errands."

Their stares burned into him, but he stood unfazed.

He’d long since grown used to their disapproval.

Four shadows dropped from the trees in practiced silence, landing before him.

Their expressions varied from irritation to quiet disdain.

"We could’ve left you," the leader said.

"And it would’ve gone straight on your record."

Timothy was about to retort, but something caught his eye. His brows lifted.

"What happened to your hair?"

"I cut it. Problem?" the man replied with a sharp glance.

Timothy grinned.

"Mie, I always thought you looked like a nerd. Now... now you look like a badass nerd."

He moved to clasp Miebaka’s shoulder but was stopped by the cold press of a katana sheath.

"Be serious," Miebaka muttered.

"We waited because this is your kind of terrain."

Timothy exhaled.

"Fair enough. Fill me in?"

Miebaka nodded and gestured toward the glowing gate.

"C-ranked insect-type gate. Scouts from the association reported clusters of venomous and corrosive insects. We figured your affinity might help if you really can talk to bugs."

Timothy turned to the three others nearby, faces he recognized from a previous kingpin raid: the assassin with a hidden face, the nature-wielder who bent flora to her will, and the fire-user he’d dubbed the "salamander lady."

He offered a polite,

"Nice to meet you all again."

Miebaka cut him off before the conversation could build.

"Short debrief," he said, eyes on his phone.

Rain began to drizzle, the storm edging closer.

"The gate’s unrestricted for now. Lots of swarming creatures inside, non-lethal but dangerous. Our objective is to retrieve samples and corpses. The rest is left to our discretion."

"Any questions?" he asked, glancing at the team.

Timothy raised his hand.

Miebaka ignored it.

Still, Timothy spoke.

"Shouldn’t we at least introduce ourselves properly? For coordination’s sake?"

Miebaka sighed.

"The redhead is Helen. The kid is Prisca. The quiet one’s Nonso. You know their specialties. Let’s move."

Helen narrowed her eyes at being called a redhead but said nothing.

Prisca looked barely conscious.

The assassin remained invisible, already doing his job.

They approached the gate.

It shimmered open, revealing a downward slope into a cavern.

Unlike many gates that screamed "danger," this one almost looked welcoming, its entrance shaped like the gaping mandibles of some enormous insect.

Timothy slowed his steps, eyes scanning the entrance with curiosity.

Was this a World Shard? He waited for a notification, but none came.

He frowned and followed the others inside.

"Stay alert," Miebaka ordered.

"Avoid anything unfamiliar."

The team slipped into formation: ranged fighters in front, mid-range in the middle, and melee at the rear.

Inefficient for most, but this group had its rhythm.

The two women-led, and Miebaka brought up the rear.

The assassin had already disappeared, ghosting ahead.

Timothy, unfamiliar with their precise dynamic, fell in behind Miebaka.

The slope dipped sharply.

Despite the underground setting, the cave was faintly lit by Mana crystals embedded in the walls pulsed with dim light, casting eerie reflections across their path.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

Timothy had grown sharp enough to recognize the signs, when a dungeon lacked light along its walls, it wasn’t an oversight; it was a tactical advantage.

Whether through design or instinct, such conditions favored the inhabitants, which often meant they possessed at least a rudimentary intelligence.

Hunters, on the other hand, should know by now that every dungeon is inherently slanted against them.

Uncertainty was part of the terrain; the only certainty was the need for constant vigilance.

The deeper they moved into the dungeon, the more Timothy noticed the details.

The walls were slick with moss and glistened faintly under streaks of phosphorescent sap.

At a glance, the cavern seemed oddly tranquil: clusters of pale fungi clung to damp crevices, and bone-white blossoms drooped from high ledges like fragile ornaments.

He inhaled deeply and instantly regretted it.

The air was heavy with the rot of decomposing insects and the musky odor of wet soil.

It confirmed the obvious: this place was a nest.

Though they hadn’t yet encountered any active threats, the abundance of torn cocoons and cracked eggs suggested that whatever had hatched could easily grow to the size of a finger or worse.

And if they moved in swarms, the size wouldn’t matter.

The two female casters led the group, stepping carefully over the slick terrain and avoiding puddles of strange, viscous liquid.

Timothy, however, released Gray, his termite Companion from its perch on his back.

The decision proved fortuitous.

The moment Gray touched the ground, its antennae twitched erratically.

Miebaka noticed and raised an eyebrow.

Timothy’s eyes narrowed.

He scanned the area, his senses extending in every direction like invisible threads.

Within seconds, his perception stitched together a three-dimensional mental map within a few meters.

Still, no clear threat revealed itself.

Miebaka debated ignoring the behavior but recalled the exact reason Timothy had been brought along.

He couldn’t afford to overlook signs, however subtle.

"What did it sense?" Miebaka asked, voice low and cautious.

The team stopped in sync, aware that something was off.

The air seemed to thicken with tension.

Timothy hesitated, then replied flatly,

"Danger."

The others surveyed the surroundings aside from the occasional rank odor, nothing seemed immediately threatening.

Still, Timothy wasn’t reassured.

He summoned the rest of his termite scouts, mentally instructing them to remain vigilant.

"Are you sure it’s not sensing danger to itself?" Helen asked. "Could it be directed only at you?"

It was a fair question.

Timothy considered it was the threat personal? He focused, trying to deepen the bond with Gray, hoping for clearer communication.

Yet all he could feel was instinct raw, primal caution.

The kind felt in the presence of predators, or the violation of sacred territory.

It wasn’t directed at the team, it was directed at him.

"I think..." he said quietly, standing and peering into the depths of the tunnel,

"I think bringing me here might have been a mistake."

Before Miebaka could respond, a high-pitched screech echoed through the cavern, bouncing along the stone corridors until it reached them.

Everyone froze, they had been discovered.

Then, from the shadows, Nonso emerged silent as ever, his face still obscured beneath his hood.

"I suggest we prepare for combat," the assassin said calmly, two gleaming daggers appearing in his hands.

"Vibrations," Helen muttered, her eyes narrowing.

The ground quivered, faintly at first, then with increasing violence.

Prisca, who had seemed half-asleep earlier, finally stirred, her grip tightening around her staff as the tremors grew stronger.

Miebaka unsheathed his katana.

The blade was long and gleamed faintly with a polished, lethal edge.

He gripped it with both hands, muscles tensed.

No one spoke.

They simply waited.

And then, as the swarm finally emerged, writhing, skittering, a black tide of clawed legs and glistening shells, Helen stepped forward.

She inhaled sharply, her chest expanding with unnatural force.

Then, with a fierce exhale, a column of fire erupted from her mouth, surging down the tunnel like a blazing river.

The flames roared across the stone and engulfed the oncoming horde.

She hadn’t needed to see them.

She had known, they were already dead.

Prisca the only other female and mage there immediately came forth and got her staff on the ground as a wall of vines rose up and block the insects.

Timothy stood amazed at their strengths and teamwork ... For now