I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord

The ground pulsed.

A steady, rhythmic thudding underfoot, it was faint, but growing stronger, which matched the beat of Darin's hammering heart as he sprinted through the chaos of the battlefield.

Dust and acidic smoke hung low over the land like a choking fog. Screeches and clangs rang across the treeline. Glimpses of cultists impaling drones with otherworldly force, Stage Two knights dashing between firewalls, and Grumble launching out of a tunnel with an ant spine in his mouth flashed in Darin's peripheral vision as he led the charge westward.

They were pushing through, bit by bloodied bit.

A small miracle.

He ducked under a swinging mandible, swung wide with his warhammer, and knocked a scout ant flying through the air like a croquet ball.

"Ha!" he barked. "I think I'm getting the hang of th—"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," came the familiar dry voice in his head.

Darin groaned mid-sprint. "Come on, can I not have a moment?"

"No," the Overlord said flatly. "You got beat half to death by Duke Varian a month ago. Don't pretend you can square up with ant warriors. You're not there yet."

"I've improved."

"Barely," the Overlord snapped. "Your swings can't even reliably crack drone carapace. Without me nudging your body mid-dodge or fixing your grip mid-strike, you'd have already lost a leg."

Darin gritted his teeth. "So what, you're just here to criticize?"

"I'm here to keep your squishy self alive long enough to actually be worth reincarnating." A pause. "Also, don't wander too far from the formation. If you die, I'll be trapped in this half-developed head of yours forever."

"Touching."

"I'm adorable."

Despite the snark, Darin heeded the warning and pulled back slightly, joining up with a pair of Stage Two mercs as they hacked through another wave of small ants. The main push was working. Slowly, surely, they were punching through the enemy lines. It was brutal, but organized.

Until the sound changed.

No screeches this time. No clicking or hissing.

Just heavy thuds.

Darin turned to see them coming from the tree line.

They weren't like the others.

The Warrior Ants had arrived.

Twice the size of the scouts. Bulky, armored with segmented plates as thick as castle walls. Their eyes gleamed with unnatural clarity. Their mandibles, long, serrated, twitching, looked like they could slice a knight clean in half.

One dropped down from a tree and impaled a Stage One merc before he could scream.

Another tore through a frontline squad like they were paper dolls.

"STAGE THREES, FORWARD!" Darin bellowed. "HIT 'EM HARD!"

The commanding aura knights, mercs and retired soldiers charged in from all angles, swords igniting, fists glowing with burning ki, enchanted greatswords whistling through the air. Pairs and trios swarmed each warrior ant, fighting with relentless coordination.

It was chaos.

But it was working.

Until the sky shimmered red.

A spiraling tornado of flame erupted from the heart of the formation.

The Sorceress stood on the rear ridge, one hand outstretched, cloak flapping in the wind as she channeled a spell that churned the forest air into a spinning inferno. It howled with deadly beauty, sweeping up three advancing warrior ants and melting through their chitin with the shriek of burning resin.

The wave of fire roared forward—unstoppable.

Until it wasn't.

A pulse.

Barely visible.

Just a ripple through the air, like heat off a forge.

And her spell, just snuffed.

The tornado collapsed mid-spin. Fire vanished into smoke. The air went still.

The Sorceress staggered backward a step.

"No..." she whispered.

Darin turned sharply, instinct prickling. "What was that?!"

The Sorceress didn't answer immediately. Her eyes were locked on something just beyond the tree line. Then her hands flew up in a blur of practiced motion, arcane glyphs blazing around her.

She cast another spell, a large needle of concentrated ice meant to punch through the thickest walls.

It vanished mid-flight.

Countered.

"I said don't go out too far," the Overlord muttered. "Because she's here now."

"She?" Darin asked.

"The Queen."

And then, through the haze—the Queen Ant stepped into view.

She was enormous. Taller than any tree, her body gilded with shimmering plates the color of molten bronze. Six curved horns arced out from her thorax like a crown. Her eyes were alien, calculating, burning with a soft golden light.

She didn't attack.

She didn't move.

She simply stared.

But as she did, Darin could feel it, her will stretching out like webbing, brushing over the battlefield.

Control.

Suppression.

And suddenly, every spell cast near her, died. Dispelled without effort.

The Sorceress gritted her teeth, magic still dancing around her like stormlight.

"She's not just waiting anymore," she growled.

"She's casting."

Another glyph lit up in the air, a strike spell with two-layers of failsafes.

Canceled. Instantly.

Then the Queen flicked a clawed foreleg toward the Sorceress, and launched her own counterspell.

The Sorceress batted it away with a layered defense rune, but the impact sent her sliding three meters back, boots carving twin ruts into the dirt.

Darin ran to her, deflecting an ant drone with his hammer as he moved. "Are you—?"

"I'm fine!" she hissed. "But this is bad."

"You don't say?"

"She's a spellkiller. Her dispels are coordinated—layered and reactive. She's not just a brute caster."

"She's a tactician," the Overlord added. "And she has the advantage."

Darin glanced around. His men were still holding the line against the warriors, while both alvin and vincent are holding the back line with steve and grumble, but barely. Every step forward was now soaked in blood and ichor. Even the cultists, still screaming their mad praise, had slowed.

They were close to breaking through.

But the Queen?

She wasn't going to let them go easily.

The Sorceress gasped, her fingers trembling slightly. "I can't keep this up. I'm running low. I've been holding the wards for hours, casting nonstop…"

Darin looked at her, then looked up at the towering silhouette of the Queen.

Then he looked toward the mountain, where the Royal Guards still stood.

And he understood what the next few minutes meant.

Survive, or die in this forest.