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    Kaius sat in the common room of the inn that had been chosen as a command centre. Everyone was there, from the city and guild leadership to the elites. Yet another meeting. They’d taken to having them every morning — a stubborn ritual to herald surviving yet another night of the Tyrant’s attacks.

    Seven days. Seven gods-cursed days.

    That’s how long it had been. How long they’d been trapped in an endless cycle of fending off maddened beasts. It was doing his damned head in.

    He’d been so bloody sure that the Tyrant would have attacked by now. Maybe not on the second day, or even the third, but seven? Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there wasn’t a reason behind the Tyrant pulling back its forces right before securing a major breachhead, every damn day. For all he knew, it was insane!

    It couldn’t be. The damn thing was too calculated — too bloody good at finding just the right mix of threats to occupy his team and the other elites. Even when he’d managed to convince the others that he and his team should stick together, it just threw more at them.

    Kaius clenched his jaw, thinking of the massive, shaggy-furred beast that they’d dealt with last night. The thing had been infested with some sort of fly. It had taken them a better part of an hour to take the thing down — its parasites hadn’t taken kindly to their attack on their home.

    He leaned on the wide table in front of him, doing his best to ignore the way his gambeson stuck to his skin. He’d been wearing it for five days straight at this point, and even with cleaning enchantments the battlegrime had grown thick.

    It was a sensation he was used to, but it would never be one he enjoyed.

    Across from him Fyfen, the governor’s chamberlain, droned on about logistics. The man was detailed to a point, but his message was simple. They were losing too many men, and eating too much food.

    It didn’t take a ledger to figure that out, it was obvious enough just looking out the window.

    Kaius forced himself to focus. He might have been tired, but this was important. This was where the direction of the defence was decided — he had a duty to keep himself abreast.

    The air was thick like treacle, mired in confusion and suspicion. They should have been overrun. That much was obvious.

    Against an army of beasts that vastly out levelled most of the city, it was the only natural result. Somehow, they had held on. Or, perhaps, the death of the city had been drawn out in a display of dominance and cruelty.

    The Tyrant was a wily thing. Every time it commanded a push, it had some new surprise for them. Some collection of undeniable threats that forced every real power in the city to react. Then, just as the walls started to buckle, as good men and women lay down their lives in droves, it pulled back — giving them time to lick their wounds.

    Fyfen sighed, running his hands through his greasy hair. His green doublet, once shining and bright, was stained brown. Dirt and dried blood, no doubt.

    “We’re at our limit. Our forces are exhausted and stretched thin. Every push we lose more, and greater numbers are injured. With the state of our medical camps and alchemical supplies, we’re going to take more losses. It’ll all start crumbling from there.”

    The captain of the guard scowled, his jaw covered in thick grey stubble. “Surely not. My men have never gained so many levels — that strength has to mean something.”

    “It’s not enough. There’s too many beasts, and the average discrepancy is still too great. The walls help, but the second we suffer a true breach…” Fyfen trailed off.

    Kaius grit his teeth, unable to disagree. Even for him, the last few days had been beneficial. Skill levels had come in droves, and everyone on his team was nearing their next class skill evolution.

    Not that it helped against a damn army.

    Even his Refinement had barely changed anything. His Authority was sturdier — sturdy enough that he could comfortably overwhelm his teammates’ influence when they’d had the opportunity to test it. That was hardly a decisive factor. Sure, he’d noticed the difference in his individual fights, but a single fight wouldn’t change the tide of the siege.

    Not yet, at least. He’d hoped that his advancement would prompt the Tyrant to action, given its fascination with essence, but he hadn’t been so lucky. Not even his teammates reaching the cusp of their own refinements had tempted it.

    If only the Tyrant would show its blasted face!

    “It’s testing us, it has to be,” he muttered.

    Hanrick shook his head. “How can we be sure? We face a slow death. I don’t fancy pinning everything on supposition.”

    “The boy’s right, it’s the only thing that makes sense. We must remember this thing came with the phase change — by the system’s own words it is a challenge. It’s been seeing if we can endure, I’m sure of it.” Rieker insisted.

    “You’ve been saying that for days!” Hanrick yelled, leaning forward to slam his fist on the table. “We have seen nothing but fighting and death! You heard Fyfen, we’re on the edge of a total rout! We must prepare to tunnel for safety. We have the earth mages, it’s our only chance!”

    “And then like foxes, they will follow and feast on our innards. A tunnel is suicide.” Porkchop growled.

    “Then what would you suggest? More waiting, in the vain hope that the Tyrant will offer itself to you?”

    “Yes,” Ro replied, butting in. “Even if we are wrong, trying to hold the walls is our best bet. If we are right, something will change soon — so far it has always backed off at the last moment. It has tested the rank and file, but it hasn’t pushed our elites to the limit — not truly.”


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    A low grumble spread through the room, and Kaius watched the guard captain’s jaw clench. The man was going to say something.

    He suppressed the urge to sigh, hoping their discussion would end soon. Better the weight of his sword in hand, and the sting of wounds on his skin than more of this.

    ….

    The boundless night shone through a gap in the trees, subtle starlight gleaming on Her carapace. Huddled low under the boughs of a tree, She paid it no more attention than the thousands of other sights that crossed through Her lidless eyes.

    Sight beyond sight, knowledge beyond knowledge. The smallest of the bounties that the highest of powers had granted Her.

    All around Her, the agents of Her duty wandered. Directed to Purpose, their alms were welcome. Bone crunched, coming with a rush of sweet power.

    Her mandibles quivered with joy, beautifully melded carapace and scales grinding sonorously as needle-fangs were bared. Such joy, to see her sacred duty enacted! It had always been clear that it would bring Her a wholeness otherwise unfathomable, but to experience it in truth!

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