Formicea
Epilogue: An Unparralleled Being 1

- Teron, the crimson hound -

I'm looking at a spacious cave.

Those of my men who aren't assigned to guard duty seem to be in a somewhat good mood.

They're going about their business and some even whistle a content tune.

Given the circumstances, this is really something.

If someone had ever told me that I would one day end up like this, I probably would've suggested not to look so deep into the glass next time.

After I'd roughed them up, naturally.

Some things shouldn't be foregone, or people just won't stop spouting nonsense.

Yet this... This is real.

Me and my men seriously settled for working for some insect broodmother.

Of course, I put it up to vote.

While some spoke out against this, the majority was fine with the idea.

Probably, because they already got used to them during our campaign with that Lorata lady.

Yet I think the money got them harder.

To be fair, the conditions were really favorable.

Payment so high it's beyond good and evil, private lodgings for the time of the assignment, covering for all expenses encompassing even weapon strain and ammunition.

Not to forget, we only have to fight some stupid monster crabs.

While quite intimidating, and despite my group's reputation, it's rather relieving for a lot of my men if they don't have to kill fellow humans.

Makes the job lighter if you're absolved of a heavy conscience.

I won't lie, they're still very tough opponents, but if you apply the right tactics, they certainly are no insurmountable foes.

Even less so with the right equipment and a proper defensive line, with which you can take them out somewhat safely.

Speaking of which, it's time to proceed with my inspection.

So I search for my local officer and see what he got.

"Radin, how is the line looking?" (T)

"Fairly well. Those crabs are coming less frequently. Only two incursions today. Seems like they finally caught on that all they'll get from us here is a bloody nose. Or whatever a crab has in this regard. Given the circumstances, the men are in a good mood. Some are even grilling the last one." (R)

I look over where the man gestures.

While I'm not sure how good an idea it is to light a fire here, I suppose the men need to vent a bit after having been stuck right at the frontline for weeks.

But it's still a plus on this matter that we're left free hand, to organize ourselves as we please.

Which means I should do just this.

"I don't like it. Double the posts. We got this before. Be prepared for a possible assault and to retreat to the next chokepoint in case they're coming." (T)

If monsters like these crowd together, they can act uncannily coordinated.

I mean, the very place I'm standing in is a testament to this.

The first week was the worst.

When we fortified our positions, there was suddenly a surge of them charging us.

We managed to fend them off, but it cost us.

We lost almost twenty percent of our forces.

Ten due to casualties and the rest to injury, fear, and the harsh environment.

That they came all together like a flood of shell and pincers certainly hit us hard.

It may have been a coincidence, that they were all lured in by our increased activity at the same time, or simply reacted to some kind of territorial signal; however, I don't plan on underestimating those crabs, only because they seem like dumb animals.

"Then what about the next expedition?" (R)

"Send scouts out in advance. If they find anything suspicious, they are to return immediately. Ingrain in them that there's no bonus for playing the bloody hero. Then we'll see whether or not it's safe to send an expedition out there." (T)

I need to make a call for safety here.

In the end, this Chera only cares about two things.

That these passages to her territory are secured and that we enable her workers, those four-legged monstrosities, to harvest some place she calls "the mycelium".

How we make that happen, aside from collapsing the respective tunnels, is left to our devices.

She even sent reinforcement troops of her drones for my free disposal.

With those we have the necessary manpower to keep our little fort here secure.

Currently, we're manning pre-existing structures of some camp.

Apparently, she kept some captured Tarsonans here.

Quite harsh I'd say, but it seems that by now they were all returned.

At least they can't complain that they didn't have a fighting chance.

By now we even got some ballistae here.

Those are making quick process with these oversized crabs.

If anything, I'd wish for some more fortifications.

Whenever those crabs attack, it's the barricades that save our asses.

Maybe it would even be worth it to spend some of our allowance on that purpose.

A good steel barrier would certainly be something.

Nonetheless, in terms of assignments, we really got worse before.

It certainly helps that this Chera is a bit of a dimwit.

Heck, I could probably tell her that humans need cake once a week, and she would seek to provide it.

Sadly, this doesn't go as much for the payment anymore.

This part she already figured out for herself.

"SCRACACKH"

Oh no, that sound has become all too familiar.

"Attack! To your posts everyone!" (T)

Shit, why do I always have to be right?

Just as I assumed, those crabs are attacking in numbers.

Their massive bodies are cluttering the whole tunnel!

I quickly raise a defense.

Spears, made of solid steel, to the front and crossbows with steel bolts behind.

Anything less durable would simply break against those carapaces.

Even two ballistae are being aimed at our chokepoint.

The creatures nonetheless throw themselves against our position, showing reckless abandon uncharacteristic even for territorial monsters.

Some even impale themselves on the spikes of our barricade, the wood splintering under the pressure, while more climb over their bodies.

"SCREEEAAK"

They almost threaten to break through, but then the insects close the gaps.

Even two of those gladiators take part in the fray, each of them a size that makes them a considerable threat even for a whole troop of seasoned warriors.

To think that this princess can create such monstrosities at will.

With their help, we can hold them off for long enough until the ballistae are reloaded and take out another two of them.

This reduces the strain on the front lines, making it easier for the spearmen to deal with them until another shot can be fired.

This commences until there are only corpses in front of the barricade.

It's a very strange feeling to owe one's life to such disconcerting creatures.

"Radin! Report!" (T)

"Two dead, five injured, Sir. Not sure if we can save Grivon's arm." (R)

"Put some of that nurse liquid on it and see if you can get him a healer. We can't afford to lose any more fighters." (T)

Though, it doesn't sound good.

There's no way that man can hold a spearline against those things with only one arm.

We're steadily losing men and can't recruit anyone in this environment.

I still don't think this assignment was a bad idea, but it can't proceed much longer like this.

Ironically, the good conditions I got for us are part of the reason why our numbers are dwindling.

"You want to quit, Cliv?"

"Sure. What good does me money if I die here? I got five of them alone this week by myself! According to our bonus commission that gets me to at least two adamantite slabs. With this much, I can buy myself a farm and live happily ever after in retirement."

I don't blame him.

After all, it's the goal a mercenary is working for.

It's just vexing to hear that we are going to lose another of our best fighters to this.

The front fighters are getting an extra bonus for their increased risk if they manage to bring down their foe.

Also, Cliv often enough volunteered for a scouting shift.

I guess he was aiming for high risk, high reward, so he could quit earlier.

Yet if things proceed like this, next month we'll already have more than enough veterans join him in retirement.

As I said, I don't blame them, Tarsona is probably even a good place to settle down.

Even with those insects taking over, or maybe exactly for this reason, it should become a relatively safe country to live in.

Yet to think that the strongest mercenary group would be brought down by generous overpayment.

"Sir, I got reports coming! The attacks didn't just commence here, but at all the other locations as well. It seems the barricades were severely damaged. In some areas, they even completely broke them." (R)

Shit, not good.

Without the barricades, the next attack will take its toll.

"Give up on the forward positions. Have the men retreat to the narrower tunnels and block them with whatever they have. If nothing else works, just pile up some dirt with sharp wood sticking out." (T)

"Sir, this will at most be a stopgap measure, and I doubt that our employer will like it very much if we give up territory." (R)

"Let this be my concern. You just have to make my orders happen." (T)

"At your command, Sir." (R)

Alright, seems like I have no choice but to talk to my client.

As much as I'd like to avoid it.

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