I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord

It started with a tremor. Then a rumble.

By the time Darin scrambled up the nearest slope for a better view, it was already far, far too late for early warnings.

The mountain range to the east, jagged and twisted like a crown of broken teeth, was moving.

No, not the mountains.

Something was pouring down them. From within them.

Thousands of ant-like monsters the size of warhorses flowed out of massive tunnels torn into the cliffside, flooding out like a living black tide. Their chitin glistened like wet obsidian in the moonlight, and their mandibles snapped like iron shears.

Darin's mouth went dry.

"...Well. That's not great."

But even worse, far, far worse, loomed above.

Higher up, clinging to the mountainside like sentries carved from nightmare, were colossal ants, each the size of a house. Their massive, plated heads turned in unison, alien eyes glinting like dull rubies. Just waiting.

And then the ground exploded beneath his feet.

"DOWN!" Darin dove as a swarm of smaller ants erupted from beneath the slope, tunneling straight into the middle of camp. Screams and shouts filled the air as tents were torn apart, wards flared and popped like lightning, and steel met chitin.

Vincent was already there, a blur of motion, sword flashing, laughing like a lunatic.

"You want dinner? EAT STEEL, YOU SIX-LEGGED LOSERS!"

Not far off, Alvin skewered an ant clean through the abdomen with his weapon turned halberd, flicking it aside and immediately pivoting into a spin that knocked a second ant's legs clean off.

Cultists, despite the chaos, were already engaged—barefoot, half-asleep, some still chanting prayers mid-fight, but unnervingly effective. The sleepless ones, especially, moved like berserkers, bloodied robes flapping as they hacked at invaders with sickles, knives, and pure insanity.

Meanwhile grumble darted through the fray with a low growl, vanishing and reappearing atop ants like a teleporting nightmare, tearing out eyes and vanishing again. Steve—well, Steve was normally breathing fire now, wildly. Mostly at the ground. Some of it was working.

"Regroup!" Darin shouted, even as the ground shook again. "Everyone to me! Pull back to the center line!"

He waved his warhammer overhead, catching the firelight. Some mercenaries nearby turned immediately, falling in behind him. Retired soldiers barked orders of their own, forming makeshift ranks.

He spotted the Sorceress calmly walking toward him, robes immaculate, staff alight with a cold blue glow.

"Okay," Darin said, panting. "I'm gonna need you to explain, what the hell are these things?"

The Sorceress didn't even blink.

"Subterranean war ants. Rare. Catastrophic. Highly organized. These are no mere beasts, they're a colony species that thrives underground. You're witnessing the surface-level defense force."

Darin blinked. "That's… that's the defense force?"

She nodded, eyes tracking the massive ants along the mountain. "And those are sentinels. Guards. Possibly royal caste."

"Okay, I don't like the word 'royal' when used with ants. Or 'caste.' Or any of this, really!"

"Their emergence means their food supply underground has collapsed," she said. "They don't surface often—only during population blooms or famine. Or both."

"And I'm guessing we're not lucky enough to be the former."

"No," she said simply.

Then came the familiar voice in Darin's head, dry, unimpressed, and exasperated.

"Well. I was wondering when these would show up again."

Darin's eye twitched. "You know these things?"

"Know them? Darin, these were the bane of entire surface kingdoms back in the golden age. We used to call them 'Black Marchers.' Cities fell when their colonies rose."

Darin ducked as a fireball roared overhead and exploded into an advancing wave of ants.

"You're saying we're up against civilization-destroyers?"

"Yes, but only if we stand still and let them eat us. Now shut up and listen—those ants? They're stronger than most things in the forest. Their warriors can go toe to toe with Stage Three aura knights. They have 'mages,' if you can believe it. Spitcasters, chemical melters, things that burn and melt and blind."

Darin made a strangled sound.

"But here's the key. They're coordinated. They follow hive orders. If we get out fast—we survive. If not? They'll dig, eat, and grow. These aren't just monsters. They're a nation beneath your feet."

Darin swore violently under his breath.

Another wave of clicking mandibles closed in, and then—

WHUMMMMM.

A ward pulse rippled across the battlefield as the Sorceress extended both hands, sending blue sigils into the air. The invading ants slowed as arcane shockwaves blasted outward in controlled bursts.

Darin raised his hammer and turned toward the rear.

"Form a corridor! Get our wounded to the back! Witches and wizards, fall in on me—we move in thirty seconds!"

As if summoned, the fedora-wearing old scout appeared through the chaos, calmly slicing an ant's head off with one smooth motion.

"Hell of a night," he muttered, joining Darin's side.

"You're late," Darin said.

"I was picking off scouts. They've got diggers all over. This wasn't a random surge. We walked into a pressure valve."

Wizards and witches arrived in ragged groups, battered but burning with magic. Together with Darin, the Sorceress, and the scout, they rallied the company's core.

Around the camp perimeter, the real battle raged. Cultists fought with eerie, zealous precision. Mercs shouted formations. Retired soldiers, grizzled and battle-worn, planted shields and drove blades into exposed underbellies.

Some of the ants fought back with more than just teeth. One fired a stream of boiling green acid, narrowly missing a squad of mercenaries and melting through a row of supply crates.

"That's your mage class," the Overlord grunted. "Chemical caster. They've got sacs in their thorax that mix volatile spit."

"Yeah, thanks, I'm watching it happen!"

Vincent and Alvin, of course, were back-to-back near the front, laughing maniacally.

"Two more and I beat your record!"

"Yeah? Count the one I sliced in half AND melted, loser!"

"I'm not counting your assist kills!"

Darin didn't have time for this. He turned to the assembled group.

"This isn't a battle. It's an evacuation. We're moving out of this forest tonight."

"Through the dark?" someone shouted.

Darin raised his warhammer. "Through whatever's not covered in giant bug mandibles!"

A flare went up from the far side of camp. Another breach.

The Sorceress flicked her staff, flaring protective wards to hold the eastern line.

"They're trying to cut us off," she said. "Divide and encircle."

Darin ground his teeth. "We have to move before they finish their trap."

"If you don't want to be buried and eaten, yes," the Overlord agreed. "The longer you stay, the more come. You're near a nest, Darin. And if the Queen arrives..."

The voice didn't need to finish the sentence.

A shrill scream echoed from deeper in the forest—something huge moving beneath the earth. The trees quivered. Even the ants around them paused, as if listening.

A ripple of unease passed through the company.

Darin pointed west. "Break west! All units form up! Move in staggered wedges and KEEP MOVING!"

The orders echoed down the line. Formation shifted, and slowly, like a great machine waking, they began to withdraw.

Chariots rolled. horses were pulled from their tethers. Packs were tossed onto shoulders. Fire spells lit the trees in a blazing wall behind them.

The ants pressed. Clawed. Dug. Swarmed.

But the thousand-strong company pressed harder.

Through the chaos, Darin caught sight of the giant sentinels along the mountain edge again.

Still unmoving.

He didn't know what that meant.

But he didn't want to find out.

"Move fast, Darin. The ground beneath you is not your ally."

As the first rays of pre-dawn filtered through the dying canopy above, Darin raised his voice one last time.

"Get us out of this forest!"

And the company moved—into the dark, fire at their backs, mandibles snapping at their heels, and war in the soil beneath their feet.