The MOD continued to howl in pain. He staggered backwards, fence gate flapping back and forth, pushing against the flexible metal armor around his body.

Uchronia and Flintlock had turned their attention toward the giant fence blocking their way.

"Great Thorned Leaf! Overbark!" the Potted Sprout yelled.

Her entire body was shrouded in multiple layers of thick bark, and from the top of her bulb head sprouted a ginormous leaf riddled with thorns. She swung that leaf like a club, whacking the barricade with all her might. Dull thuds echoing out with every strike.

Flintlock aimed his musket and fired. The tiny musket ball struck the wood with a sharp crack. Surprisingly—or maybe not—the only thing that broke was the small ball of metal. He continued to reload his gun with great haste, stuffing musket balls down the barrel with his tail and adding gunpowder with his Powder Puff.

Then there was Bion. He was still unconscious with a dent in his bell.

Winal scuttled forward, his mandibles blazing with fire and crackling with lightning.

"Crimson Gold Cleaving Slash!" Alwin yelled in Winal's stead.

Uchronia and Flintlock snapped their heads towards him. The instant they spotted the barreling ant, they instinctively stepped back, clearing a space for him.

Winal's mandibles scraped against the wood.

Flames clawed at the fence, digging their fiery talons along the grain. Lightning arced, lighting up the room in electrifying glory.

Winal's mandibles snapped shut. He had completed the motion and the skill, fire and lightning slowly fading in dying flickers.

The fence stood tall, with nary a scratch on it.

Alwin had hoped something like this wouldn't happen.

Niwla—despite the reduced computation abilities—had already anticipated such a scenario.

Winal was annoyed. This was his moment to shine. To break through the walls separating them from life and death, and he had failed.

"Cheater!" a voice pierced through the disappointment.

All three of them snapped their heads back.

It was the MOD.

He no longer howled or staggered backwards in pain. Now, he marched forward.

The loud, ringing clangs of flexible metal echoed out within the enclosed space. Time was running out. Their time was running out.

"Got any other bright ideas, pardner?" Flintlock asked.

Within their shared mindscape, Winal turned, looking at his other selves—his brothers. Alwin shrugged his squishy little body and turned to face Niwla. The MODOC shook his head.

"I am unable, within the current set of parameters, to determine a suitable plan to get us out of here. The MOD is simply too strong."

Alwin lit up. "That's it!"

"What?" Niwla squawked, more confused than anything. He glanced at Winal, who shrugged his legs.

"This is."

Alwin rolled up to Niwla, whispering into his ear.

"I never even considered that possibility," he said.

"So you're saying I'm smarter than you?"

"No. It's such an insane idea with such a minuscule chance of occurring that I wouldn't even entertain the idea of even conceiving such a thought."

"Is that a yes?"

"The estimations won't be accurate. And I'll require the computational abilities of the MODOC. However, I won't be able to pilot the main body in the meantime."

"Does that mean?"

Niwla sighed, "Yes, Alwin. You can take my form out on a joy ride."

"Winal!" Alwin yelled. "You know what to do."

The ant nodded, returning his focus to the real world.

"Alwin!" Uchronia shouted, continuing to whack at the fence barring their path.

"Keep attacking! Break through! Especially you, Flintlock! Go big. Go really big or go six feet under! And no matter what happens, don't turn back unless I say so!" Alwin shouted in Winal's stead, as the ant marched forward to face the MOD.

"Break through? Break through! In case you haven't realized, class clown. I'm the Minister of Defence. Nothing of mine breaks."

"Except that chainmail."

"Because you cheated!"

"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't."

"Yes, you did!"

"Let me show you how I didn't," Alwin said for Winal. "Fire Blast. Mix. Spirit Hands."

Six Fire Blasts and six Spirit Hands materialized. They spun around each other before combining into six Flaming Spirit Hands. They grabbed Winal's legs. The dark corridor lit up in a brilliant burning blaze as flames were ejected from their wrists, lifting him up into the air. More heat flooded the hallways as Winal was jettisoned straight toward the MOD.

"Crimson Gold Cleaving Slash!"

Fire and lightning—crimson and gold. They poured out of his mandibles in droves as he snapped them shut around the Wooden Fence's frame.

Lightning surged through the metallic armor. Flames warmed the sheet. No matter how much force Winal poured into the bite, his mandibles refused to budge a single inch.

The elements sputtered out as the skill ran its course, leaving Winal staring at the MOD with his mandibles still uselessly clamped around his body.

"C'mon, cheater. Show me how you cheated!" the MOD roared.

"You mean like this? Fire Blast. Mix. Spirit Bomb."

Multiple balls of fire and explosive spheres of Mana flared into existence around Winal. They spun around each other once, then fused. A huge fiery explosion consumed them, which made the enclosed corridor tremble.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

When the smoke cleared, Winal found the MOD completely unscathed. There wasn't even a single scratch or chip in the MOD's armor.

The same couldn't be said about him.

His exoskeleton could block most of the damage, but it wasn't infallible. A continuous onslaught of bombs would only give the MOD what he wanted—a dead ant.

"What? Surprised you couldn't cheat your way out of this?"

"Would you be surprised if I said no?" Alwin asked for Winal.

"Not at all. This is armor made out of Corinium. Armor forged and enchanted by me, for me. Not some second-grade slab of iron Milvus found from some scrap yard."

"Cool. Cool."

"Cool? Just cool? Tell me how you cheated!"

"Cool."

There was a flash of light.

Fire and lightning were extinguished, replaced with a cool chill.

Alwin, in control of the MODOC, had arrived!

When the light dissipated, they were left shrouded in complete darkness. Yet, the only sounds were the rapid shots and heavy thumps battering the wooden barrier. The MOD wasn't screaming in cornea-blinding agony.

"Think I would fall for the same trick twice?" spat the MOD.

"A part of me hoped yes. Another part of me thought no. The last part just said nothing," said Alwin.

"What are you talking about? Just tell me how you cheated!"

"Here, let me make myself clearer."

Alwin leaned forward, only to find himself still travelling downwards. Man, the MODOC's head really was too big.

He flailed his wings about in the darkness until they smacked into something solid and used it to steady himself. It was the MOD—presumably. Then, he brought his beak close to that object and started screaming as loud and as high-pitched as the bird's vocal chords could produce.

"I DID NOT CHEAT! CHEAT I DID NOT! NOT CHEAT! CHEAT NOT! NOT! NOT! NOT!"

The MOD screamed and recoiled back.

"That's it. I've given you chances after chances after chances to tell me how you cheated. That was the last straw. Now, I'm going to forge you into scrap."

Alwin, despite having really good night vision as a MODOC, couldn't see anything in front of him. He could hear that stuff was happening. Between the loud bangs and thumps of Flintlock and Uchronia, there was a low rumbling and tumbling happening in front of him.

"Uchronia! Lights please!" Alwin shouted.

"On it!" she yelled back.

"Glow."

A soft ball of light appeared on her leaf, barely illuminating the area around her, and doing hardly anything near the middle of the hallway where he stood. But it was good enough for him.

He could just make out several Stone Hands hovering above the MOD, each one gripping a forging tool.

Yeah, maybe he shouldn't have done that.

"Say, Mr. MOD. How about I really tell you how I cheated? For real this time. Cross my heart and hope to not die."

The MOD ignored him.

"Uh, hello? Minister, MOD, sir? Ma'am?"

The MOD continued to ignore him as if he couldn't hear him.

"That's because he can't hear you anymore!" shouted Niwla.

Darn, Niwla, and his ability to read his thoughts.

"Will you stop internal monologuing and do something? I need to concentrate if you want me to run the calculations."

Fine. He would stop thinking and start doing.

"Brainfreeze! Withdrawal!" Alwin yelled.

Two different types of blue mists seeped out of his body and surrounded him. Boy, did it feel nice and cool, especially after all of the hard exercise he had been doing.

Now, how did Niwla do that cool flapping directional thingy?

Alwin flapped his wings. But instead of sending all of that cool mist towards the incoming MOD, it just went everywhere—which also included the MOD. That begged the question, why wasn't he screaming and convulsing in pain?

This seemed like a good opportunity to—

"No!" Niwla yelled, cutting his thoughts short. "We can't afford a drop in computational resources."

What a party pooper.

Fine, he'd do it the old-fashioned way.

The MOD wasn't reacting to his mist because of his armor. There! Didn't need any super big brain to figure that out.

It would, however, be nice if he could use it to come up with a better plan than this.

The Stone Hands drifted toward him through the mist, their movement sluggish and slow. The MOD was unaffected. He continued to waddle towards him in that metallic armor of his—menacingly.

Rude. The only menace allowed here was him.

And if he didn't do anything, the MOD would steal that title for himself.

"How much longer, Niwla?" Alwin thought.

"Could be a few seconds or a few minutes! I'm not sure."

"I hope this speeds things up."

Alwin flapped his wings and took to the sky. But between the huge head and not being used to the body, his flying was more like really weird wobbling. He flew all over the place, wingtips scraping against the wall as he struggled to stay airborne.

The moment his flight path happened to go right over the MOD and his Stone Hands, Spirit Bombs materialized, dropping below him.

They struck the floor and exploded, rattling the enclosed corridor. When the smoke cleared, the MOD was unphased, but the Stone Hands by his side had been shattered into powder, dropping their forging tools onto the ground.

"How much longer?" Alwin thought again.

"Same thing."

Alwin looped around once more, depositing another barrage of Spirit Bombs.

More explosions. More rumbling.

"How much—"

"Same answer!"

That was annoying.

Alwin flew in a tight circle before he finally managed to move towards the MOD again. He was just about to drop another couple of Spirit Bombs onto the MOD when something grabbed him, trapping him in place.

Looking up, he saw a fence made out of ceiling. Looking down, a fence made out of floor. They had snapped around him like a giant corridor clamp, pinching him tight.

He squirmed. He twisted. He even tried to do the tango. But no matter how much he wiggled his tush, he couldn't shake free.

The MOD continued to waddle towards him—menacingly! The Stone Hands had reformed themselves and picked up their dropped tools, floating towards him again.

Nope!

He had to get out of here lickety split or he was going to end up lickety splat under those hammers.

There was only one way out of this situation. And it involved things becoming a little squishy.

"No!" Niwla shouted.

Within their mindscape, Alwin turned to face mind Niwla. The MODOC was performing complex calculations in their head, the mindscape they stood in lighting up in patterns of blooming and shifting fractal bursts of color.

"Seriously, Niwla? Can you stop reading my mind and stop messing with my mojo?"

"We need the MODOC form if you want to do this."

Alwin rolled his eyes. Having to babysit a stubborn kid was not worth the effort.

"Just shut up and do something."

If he couldn't change forms to get out of here, then… Yeah, he didn't know either. He was just going to wing it.

"Brainfreeze. Withdrawal."

Blue mist seeped out of his body once more, coating the fences that pinched him tight. It didn't do anything—not even a little creak.

If that didn't work, then what about this?

Spirit Bombs materialized in front of him, dropping to the ground. They exploded and shook the enclosed corridor. Even with his enhanced vision, he could tell that the lower fence didn't even have a scratch on it, or even a little burnt scuff mark from the explosion of Mana.

More and more Spirit Bombs dropped down, exploding on the ground beneath them.

It did little to deter the MOD.

He continued to walk forward—menacingly!

Behind him, the Stone Hands drifted closer once more, tools clutched tight as they floated towards him.

"Niwla!" Alwin thought. "How much longer?"

"Less than a minute… I think."

"You think?"

"Yes, I think! I'm working off extremely large assumptions here. You try coming up with a definitive answer using estimates of an estimates of an estimates."

That was the last time he relied on Niwla. More Spirit Bombs continued to materialize, drop, and explode.

Come on. Come on.

Work.

Plan, please work.

The tongs-wielding Stone Hands gripped his squirming neck, locking him in place. Hammers of different shapes, sizes, and flavors drew back, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

Just before Alwin found out what life was like with his insides being a part of his outsides, the entire corridor burst with light.

Paper-thin tentacles whipped out of nowhere, wrapping around the Stone Hands and freezing them mid-swing.

Alwin looked up and spotted a hole through the wooden fence that Uchronia and Flintlock had been trying their best to bash through. As expected, they hadn't been able to puncture through the MOD's defences.

However, a certain triangle-shaped monster could. And standing next to him was the onion monster known as the MOH.

"Minister!" she yelled. "What is the meaning of this?"

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