The battlefield. The only place in the world where murder is a virtue.

Waves of soldiers clashing like lightning in a storm. Attacking, defending. A violent dance where the old songs of glory and loyalty are forgotten, giving rise to painful groans and anguished cries from young hearts soon to be silenced.

Twisted faces frozen in a last plea. Corpses covering the floor, enemies and allies, now together as equals on this putrid carpet before the scavengers.

A soldier drags himself away from the fight. Six skinny legs shake in desperate spasms, the twitching muscles too weak to support their own weight. He opens his mouth, tries calling for help, but the only sound he manages to produce is a vacillating wheeze.

There is little a termite can do when its soft little body is trapped between the powerful jaws of an ant. His abdomen is slashed open, dragging behind him like a useless piece of meat, still beating against the soil in an instinctive but futile attempt to stay alive.

A few steps away from the moribund, the enemy to deliver the killing blow also suffers. Pheromones emit distress calls, the ant cries for her sisters, snapping her jaws in frantic clicks, but no one dares to rescue her. Legs and antennae are immobilized, glued together by a substance as viscous as dripping tree sap. Her body a mere obstacle in the path of the army.

Colonial wars like this can last for hours or even days. Hundreds of soldiers ready to kill and die in the name of their queens. Led not by captains and generals, but by complex chemical signals that turn individuals into a single superorganism. Minds and bodies perfectly synchronized.

At dawn, the survivors disperse. Fallen comrades are left behind without hesitation. Some are still alive, but too wounded to be of any use to the colony.

Beasts covered in feathers and scales approach with curious looks and hungry mouths. Their long, thin tongues sweep the ground, washing the battlefield clean of its sins. The final outcome of the war is of little concern to them, and any traces of it are entirely eradicated. Ant or termite, both taste the same when swallowed whole.

As suddenly as they came, the beasts leave. The spoils are not enough to satisfy their hunger. They sniff around for more, but their noses can only catch irritating dust particles. The air is getting hotter and drier every day, and there are no clouds over the horizon.

With short vocalizations, they flock together and run beyond what was once their territory. Even if the path is dangerous and the future uncertain, it is still better to try their luck on unknown frontiers than to fight for scraps in a dead land.

One day, they too will perish. They will be erased and forgotten to make way for new creatures. Life will keep repeating its cycle as long as it still exists on this earth.

But the air is getting hotter and drier every day, and there are no clouds over the horizon…