He didn't get much sleep that night. Not only because the sky refused to turn dark, that floating fleshy moon kept glowing like fluorescent nightlights, but also because the giant undead ant beside him snored loud enough to rattle the nearby rocks.
The creatureâs snores were gravelly and uneven, like some ancient train huffing its last steam. Very loud.
Every twitch of its colossal legs made Abraham jump. Heâd flinched so often that he was starting to suspect his nervous system had turned into some kind of hyperactive alarm bell.
The undead ant, still nameless and apparently with no concept of personal space, had curled around Abraham like a living fortress. Its enormous mandibles rested atop a jagged boulder, and its fiery eyes seemed to glow with a gentle, otherworldly warmth.
Abraham wasnât sure if the ant was protecting him or just trying to keep warm, but either way, it was strangely comforting.
He stared up at the alien sky, the stars twinkling like distant sparks of magic, and wondered how his life had ended up like this. Most of his path had involved in avoiding danger as much as he could. Now here he was, stuck with an undead ant the size of a car, and somehow responsible for it.
Like babysitting a gigantic baby.
Then the morning came, or at least the closest approximation, since one section of the moon finally dipped behind the mountain, letting the faintest light creep over the horizon.
Abraham stretched and promptly tripped over a rock, landing face-first in the dirt.
The antâs mandibles snapped open with a soft click, its eye flames brightening as if flashing a neon sign: [Warning: Clumsy human detected.]
He waved weakly from the ground. âIâm fine! Just testing gravity again. Come to think of it," he staggered. "I didn't know if this world's gravity is the same like my world's.â
The ant wasnât impressed.
Abraham sat up, rubbing his dirty face. His stomach growled with a sound so desperate it might have been mistaken for a dying beast or a beggar beside the street.
âOh right,â he muttered. âFood. Something people usually eat to keep not dying all the time.â
There was no sign of civilization nearby. No taverns, no forest berry bushes, not even a suspicious mushroom stall run by a shady old lady. Just "Barren" dirt, scattered bones, wilted plants, and rocks that probably would complain if you stepped on them wrong.
The ant tapped the ground impatiently with one leg.
âWhat? You got a hidden pantry in there or something?â Abraham joked, wobbling closer.
Without a word, the ant began digging furiously, faster than any mole heâd ever seen, which was none, actually. Within moments, it uncovered a writhing pile of thick, spiky grubs. The grubs pulsed faintly with a ghostly blue glow.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
âYouâve got to be kidding me,â Abraham said, eyeing the grotesque worms.
The ant nudged one of the grubby things toward him.
Abraham stared. The grub wiggled threateningly, like it was plotting revenge on his taste buds.
âI miss toast.â
He gulped, and bit into the grub.
It screamed.
He screamed.
The taste was a horrible mix of battery acid, mint, and dirt.
He gagged but swallowed anyway.
âOkay,â he gasped, âIâm fine. Totally fine. Who needs taste buds anyway?â
The ant clicked happily, clearly enjoying his suffering.
âGreat. I suffer, you click. What a perfect ambiguous symbiosis.â
Suddenly, the same exact masculine voice rang inside his head.
'It's full of protein. You need to adapt as soon as possible. Your not gonna die just eating those.'
'Instead of food poisoning, you'll got the skill to survive instead. You can now passively detect corpses within a 30-meter radius. Because thatâs perfectly normal.'
âCorpse radar,â Abraham said, dryly. âWhat could possibly go wrong?â He continue munching the grub like his life depends on it. Which is actually true to some degree.
"Just why did I not get notification windows like those MCes of Isekai genre? Respectfully, 'that' is concerning."
Just then, a faint hum filled the air. The antâs mandibles snapped open in alert.
Abraham turned toward the ridge. Three strange shapes scurried into view; small, fast-moving, and decidedly not undead.
Beastlings.
Monsters; like any other blabla-lings he found in some novel he read most of the time, but humanoid.
They looked like a cross between a coyote, centipede and human in the same time. Strange and terrifying. Their mouths were vertical slits filled with needle-sharp teeth, and their eyes glowed red like molten embers.
One snarled aggressively.
âUh... hey?â Abraham said weakly.
The ant snapped to full attention.
The beastlings charged.
Abraham raised a trembling hand. Instinct, or terror, he didn't know which one, and his palm lit up. Ghostly glyphs spiraled outward.
Some foreign words suddenly thrown in his skull like a boulder of alien language thesaurus.
He shouted those words.
A jagged spear of bone shot up from the ground, impaling the lead beastling through the chest.
It screeched and collapsed.
The other two paused, unsure.
The undead ant charged forward, mandibles clamping down on one and cracking it like a brittle twig.
The last beastling turned to flee, only to be skewered by another bone spike from Abrahamâs rapidly twitching fingers.
The dust settled. Three corpses littered the ground.
Abraham looked down at his hands, shaking.
âI think Iâm more scared of myself than them.â
The ant returned, one beastling leg dangling from its jaws.
âDonât chew with your mouth full,â Abraham muttered. âIâm getting a weird craving for calcium.â
Then the voice ringing again.
'Corpses detected. Raise Minions? I recommend you to do it.'
He hesitated, heart pounding.
Then, with a shaky breath.
âi don't even know who -or what- you are. But yes. Your suggestions seems good.â
The corpses twitched and rose, their broken bodies stitched with glowing bone spikes.
The first beastling dragged its broken neck, the second shuffled on three legs, and the third, now a hideous patchwork of bones, gave a crooked little wave.
Abraham waved back, slowly.
âThis is officially the weirdest day of my life.â
The undead ant clicked proudly.
Abraham sighed. âLooks like Iâm a monster shepherd now. Maybe I should write a mission statement. Or a mission board would be convenient.â
Far above, something similar to the sun blinked slowly.
Adventure, along with some digestive trauma along the way, awaited.
***