Martin did not rush forward just because he had been given the lead. Before moving, he crouched near the slick cave floor and dragged the edge of his shield across the wet stone, listening to the dull scrape beneath the water. There was no loose gravel, no hidden crack waiting under the mist, and the ground near him was stable enough to hold a formation.

Only then did he look toward the other tanks.

"How far can you see through the mist?"

"Twenty meters if nothing moves," one of Party Seventeen’s tanks answered.

"Thirty if the egg light catches armor," another added.

Martin followed their gazes toward the pale-blue glow deeper in the cave, then nodded. "Then don’t stare into the mist. Watch where the light bends. Anything crossing that glow will show itself before it reaches you."

The tanks exchanged quick looks. It was simple advice, but it gave them something solid to focus on, and Martin saw their shoulders settle as they adjusted their shields.

"Shield skills?" he asked.

"Taunt, Guard Wall, Shield Bash."

"Taunt and Iron Step."

"Taunt, Anchor Stance, short stun."

Martin took in each answer and matched it to the lane ahead. Taunts could pull enemies into the wrong step. Guard Wall could close a gap. Anchor Stance could hold a body in place long enough for the ranged players to break it.

For the casters and archers behind them, he had one simple question.

"Is your range over thirty meters?"

A few bows lifted, and two mages raised their hands. Someone from Party Eighteen answered first.

"Thirty-five."

"Forty if the target is marked."

"Then don’t waste shots on the ants unless I ping them," Martin said. "Aim for arms, legs, and casting hands. If I mark a player, keep them where I put them."

The easy chatter behind him faded. Even the players who had not liked taking orders from a level eleven tank now had something specific to do, and that alone made them quieter.

Martin moved past his fellow tanks and took the front. The mist opened in layers before his eyes, and his vision spread ahead of him as if he were using a wallhack.

Players, monsters, environment. Those were all his cards.

And now he knew which ones he could play.

—

Deeper inside the cave, one of the first and smallest nests of the Dark Aquatic Ants opened wide.

Despite being called small, the nest was large enough to hold at least three family homes. Eggs filled the hollow chamber in uneven clusters, half-buried in cold water that lapped softly against the stone.

Each egg was blue, with dark veins pulsing from top to bottom. The shallow lake around them flickered with an ominous glow strong enough to pierce the dense mist and paint the cave walls in shifting blue light.

That glow was the only reason players could farm here.

Whenever an ant crawled through the haze, its shell caught the blue shine first. Its curved back emerged before its legs did, slick with water and covered in dark plates that looked almost metallic beneath the egg light. Then its mandibles appeared, opening and closing with sharp clicks that carried farther than footsteps.

The players moved the moment they heard that sound. A tank slammed his shield into the wet stone and shouted a taunt before the ant could charge the back line, forcing the monster’s head to snap toward him. Hooked legs skittered across the soaked floor as the ant lunged, and its mandibles struck the shield hard enough to shove the tank half a step back.

Two swordsmen were already moving along its sides.

Steel flashed through the mist as one blade cut into a leg joint and another struck beneath the shell, where the plates separated near the abdomen. The ant twisted, spraying cold water as it tried to turn, only for a mage’s spell to burst against its head and drive it back into the tank’s shield.

"Hold it there!"

"I’ve got the right legs!"

"Burning after the next taunt!"

From a distance, the fight looked chaotic, but the party had a rhythm. Taunts dragged the ants into bad angles, shields stopped the first bite, melee players carved at the legs before the monsters could regain speed, and ranged players waited for the blue glow to reveal exposed joints before loosing arrows through the mist.

Each ant was about half the size of an adult man, heavy enough to crush a player beneath its body and fast enough to punish anyone who slipped. Their legs struck low and often, scraping ankles, hooking behind knees, and dragging careless players toward the cold water around the eggs.

A ranger stepped too close to the lake’s edge, and an ant’s front leg swept toward him.

"Back!"

A shield bash smashed into the monster’s head before the hooked limb could drag him down. The ranger stumbled away, cursed, and fired an arrow into the ant’s eye while the tank kept its head turned.

That was how players survived here. They stayed close enough to support one another, but not so close that one mistake could spill into another party’s fight. No one chased too far, no one crossed another formation’s lane, and no one stepped between another party and its prey, because a single wrong movement could send an ant crashing into the wrong back line and turn a clean hunt into a wipe.

That was why an unspoken rule had formed.

Do not bother each other. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

None of them realized that four parties from Night Espresso had come here without any intention of playing by the book.

A pair of dark eyes cut through the mist.

They’re juggling monster aggro with high damage whenever their tank’s taunt is on cooldown. Effective method. But it gives us even more chances to strike.

A few breaths later, Martin used the Vanguard option to ping a location for a tank from Party Seventeen.

The mark appeared at the edge of the pale blue glow, not directly in front of the enemy party, but slightly to the right of their ranger. The angle mattered. From there, the tank would not need to win a duel or hold the whole lane. He only needed to make one player take one bad step.