Igris raised his massive right hand high, and as he did, the runes on his armor blazed to life, glowing brighter until they shone like molten metal. He struck his gauntleted fist against his chest once, the sound reverberating through the square, then lowered his hand.

The chanting stopped instantly. Silence blanketed the air, broken only by the faint crackle of energy coming from the runes on his armor.

He turned his gaze toward Max, his eyes steady and unwavering. "Today marks the beginning of your path toward the Holy Nectar," Chief Igris declared, his voice carrying not only to Max but to every giant dwarf present. "This ritual is the oath of our people. We swear to lend you our strength and wisdom, and in return, you carry the honor of this village into the den of the Devouring Ants. Remember this, Max. You are not only fighting for yourself, nor only for the opening of your Seven Divine Veins. You are carrying the hopes of every dwarf who has lived and died in this wasteland."

He paused, his gaze sharpening, the runes on his armor dimming as his tone grew quieter yet heavier. "The path ahead is not simple. The ants will not yield, and neither will the other champions who enter the den. Every step will test your body, your will, and your heart. But you have endured what few could survive. Three months of hammering, three months of fire, three months of flesh turned to steel. Now prove that it was not in vain."

The dwarves struck their weapons together once more, the resounding clang echoing like thunder, sealing the ritual.

Chief Igris took a step toward Max. "Prepare yourself. The moment we march, your trial begins."

Max nodded solemnly. He understood that for him this trial might only be another chance to sharpen his strength and to seek the path of the Seven Divine Veins, but for the giant dwarves it was far more. To them, this was the culmination of years of waiting and preparation. For them, it was not only his test but their hope and pride.

"Let us go," Chief Igris said in a voice that carried to every dwarf present. With those words, the column of giant dwarves began to march. Their heavy boots struck the violet stone of the square in a steady rhythm, each step resounding like a war drum.

The warriors in their ancient armor formed ranks behind Igris, carrying their caged insects in silence. Their faces betrayed no fear, only the grim determination of those who had lived all their lives surrounded by danger and who now entrusted their fate to the champion walking among them.

Max walked beside Chief Igris at the very front. His eyes swept over the wasteland beyond the village walls, the endless violet plains stretching far and wide, broken only by jagged rocks and the distant crimson glow of the volcano that always loomed over this land. The air was heavy, as though it carried the weight of unseen predators lurking just out of sight.

"It will be a long journey," Chief Igris said, his tone even but edged with the gravity of what lay ahead. "The den of the Devouring Ants lies far from here. When our ancestors first settled this wasteland, they learned quickly that to live too close to the ants meant ruin. One breach, one swarm, and an entire village would vanish into their jaws. To prevent calamity, our tribe built its homes as far from the dens as possible. That distance has spared us for generations, but it also means every expedition to the den is a march through dangers both seen and unseen."

His gaze turned briefly toward Max. "Every village that dares send a champion makes this same journey, and many have fallen before even setting eyes on the den. It is not only the ants we must contend with. The wasteland itself resists us. The storms, the beasts, the shifting lands… all of it will try to turn us back."

Max listened in silence, his steps steady. He could feel the tension in the dwarves behind them, but it was not fear. It was the calm before a storm, the kind of stillness forged from generations of enduring harshness.

The column of giant dwarves moved steadily across the violet wasteland, their armored forms glinting under the pale glow of the distorted sky. The air here felt heavy, charged with a strange static, as though the land itself carried a grudge against all who dared tread upon it.

Max walked at the head beside Chief Igris, his eyes taking in every detail of the environment.

The wasteland stretched endlessly in all directions, broken by jagged ridges of stone and wide fissures that belched faint plumes of violet mist. The earth beneath their feet was cracked and dry, littered with the remains of creatures long since perished.

In the distance, strange shadows slithered across the terrain, their movements silent but predatory. The atmosphere felt oppressive, as though every step forward brought them deeper into the maw of some great beast waiting to swallow them whole.

It was not long before the first threat appeared. From a crevice to their left, several centipedes burst forth, their segmented bodies glistening with a slick, oily sheen, their mandibles snapping hungrily as they darted toward the marching group. They were larger than horses, their legs clicking against the stone as they moved with frightening speed.

Before Max could act, the dwarves in the front raised their cages. The black insects within stirred for the first time, their needle-shaped bodies twitching violently as if agitated by the presence of their natural prey. A faint vibration filled the air, so sharp and piercing it made the hairs on Max's neck stand.

The effect on the centipedes was immediate. They shrieked in a screeching, metallic cry, recoiling from the group as though the air itself had become poison. Their bodies writhed, their legs clattering frantically against the ground, before they retreated back into the crevice from which they had emerged.

Silence returned just as swiftly, leaving behind only the faint hum of the black insects in their cages before they stilled again.

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