B4 Chapter 32: Living Ammunition
B4 Chapter 32: Living Ammunition
Quintus sized up the furred humanoid before him. The fact that the other monsters responded to its strange barking calls so readily meant he'd been right. This was a commander of the army, if not the commander. And foreign though it was, its tawny stature and general lack of muscle suggested it wasn't meant to be a combatant.
Unfortunately for them, the enemy knew that as well. Upon seeing their approach, the commander began backpedaling to put some distance between itself and the Legionnaires.
"Cover me!" Quintus roared, his windblade slashing through all who barred his path. His Legionnaires wasted no time. Those on the flanks of their formation began a series of precisely timed taunts and targeted attacks, drawing the beasts to predetermined points around them as though diverting water from a stream. Men threw skill-enhanced flurries of caltrops and other hazards out onto the ground to keep the way clear.
A path opened up before them---before Quintus. A golden glow suffused him as layers upon layers of empowering skills bolstered his abilities. His legs pumped as he sprinted forward, leaping over the various terrain hazards that continued to spring forth from the sand itself. A force of fast-moving lizards and birds darted in from the right, only to be mowed down by rifle fire.
Unlike this commander, he had a different role to play. His Legion didn't need a Legatus who stayed safely out of harm's way. Not right now. They needed a champion.
His [Sword Saint's Blade] danced, tearing through the enemy like the desert wind itself had come to life. He heard the men behind him growing a little more distant as he outpaced them, yet continuing to clear his path as much as they could. Sand sank away as crevasses appeared to either side and the ground fell away before his enemies. Scorpions screeched as spears pierced their thick carapaces, then fell silent in the resulting explosions.
"Below!"
Quintus was already leaping into the air. He felt the warning from the scout even before the man voiced it aloud. The ground fell away where his foot had been about to land, a worm's yawning mouth replacing the sand. It surged upward to try to swallow Quintus whole.
He kicked off the edge of its mouth, hardly wasting a backwards glance at the worm. His focus was the still-retreating commander. He drew his spear from his back, hurling it toward the creature as it ran. Yet he didn't have time to see it land before [Tactician's Awareness] screamed a second warning at him.
Quintus instinctively raised his shield to defend as he turned. The worm remained in place, its many-toothed mouth angled toward him. But rather than trying to swallow him again, this one began spitting out small, round forms like some grotesque cannon.
He angled his shield to deflect them, using the impacts to send him further toward his goal. He expected a series of solid thuds to shoot him forward, but instead felt something far softer. More fleshy. Worse, they stuck to his shield like thick globs of mucus.
His skill continued to scream as the globs began to move. Pairs of beady eyes peeked out from around the shield, dragging oddly gelatinous bodies behind them. Those bodies began to rapidly glow and heat before his eyes.
Quintus's eyes went wide as he hurled his shield away. It exploded, splinters peppering his face as it shattered. The shockwave sent him tumbling off course through the air. Swarms of mirage birds dove to take advantage of his momentary disorientation, aiming for his vitals.
A wide net wrapped around him. He abruptly felt his momentum shift as he was dragged to the ground, away from the flying foes that quickly began to come under fire. Quintus felt the net disappear as he rolled back into the formation of Legionnaires.
"Legatus, sir! Are you all right?" The grizzled scout who had saved him asked. A newer recruit, one who had been a [Trapper] before joining, he recalled.
"Fine." He quickly rose to scan the battlefield. The enemy commander was limping, bleeding heavily from its side, but still moving away. In moments it would disappear over a nearby dune. "Be ready to form up. They may have more of those."
His words were quickly proven true as a trio of worms erupted from the sand ahead of them. They all angled their mouths toward the formation of Legionnaires and began spewing a steady stream of the gelatinous creatures, whose bodies began to glow as soon as they emerged. Every last Legionnaire immediately closed ranks and locked their shields together to brace for impact. Quintus was forced to duck back behind them, his own shield lying in splinters across the sand.
A series of rapid explosions shook the ground. Sand filled the air in a dense cloud that made seeing impossible, and Quintus felt a precipitous drop in his stamina as the [Coordinated Bulwark] weathered the attacks. But their formation held. Moments later, the sand cleared enough to reveal the fresh pits carved out of the surrounding dunes.
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He gritted his teeth. Defending against that had taken far too much out of them. They couldn't afford to be hit by more assaults like it. Not only would it doom them, but their brethren at the outpost as well. He'd managed to injure the commander, but it wasn't enough. He needed to be certain it was dead.
Every moment they waited was more distance put between themselves and their foe. Quintus called for the men to advance, hurrying them forward as quickly as possible as his mind whirled. Given his last attempt, he didn't think that he'd be able to make the approach alone. But together they were simply too slow. How, then? How could they catch up?
"Incoming! Below!"
Another warning rose from the scouts. The rumbling of the ground intensified to herald the arrival of more worms. Despite his own [Sure Footing], Quintus knew the ground wasn't stable enough here to keep them from breaching beneath their feet. And if they began spitting out more of those explosive creatures...
An idea struck him. A stupid idea, but he didn't have time to be picky. He waited for the right moment and roared, flaring every leadership skill he had to imbue the command with meaning.
"Shields down!"
Even with everything, he still felt a flicker of confusion from the men. But it only lasted a brief moment. Their disbelief turned to resolve as they swung their shields down, hopping atop them and locking them together. He focused his entire attention on [Unity], insisting that this wasn't a mass of disjointed shields, but a single impenetrable formation. He felt the [Coordinated Bulwark] respond as it snapped into place, solidifying the wall despite its obvious issues. Meanwhile, the hordes of scorpions, lizards, and boars charged in from all sides.
They barely had time to move before the impact came. A dozen worms erupted from the ground below---at least, they tried to. The resulting blow sent the entire formation of Legionnaires shooting skyward as though they stood on a single solid platform. Quintus grabbed the shoulder of the nearest man to make sure he wasn't flung off, striking at the airborne enemies to clear them away.
It shouldn't have worked. But it did. For a moment, Quintus allowed himself to appreciate this prank formation his centurions had inflicted on the trainees. He'd have to seriously consider whether some of their other "innovations" deserved similar reconsideration.
They continued to climb, the secondary explosions from the worm's living projectiles sending them even higher at the cost of stamina. Quintus scanned the ground as they rose further into the air. He spotted his target then, hiding behind a dune with his staff held high. Its head was lifted to gape at the Legionnaires with open amazement.
Quintus pointed at the target. "Attack!"
And so they did. Spears, bullets, and even a few caltrops began to rain down upon the enemy commander's position as though from a deadly cloud. The projectiles weren't launched with quite as much force as usual, given the awkwardness of their current situation. But gravity was more than happy to assist on that front.
The staff-wielding creature began running anew, leaving a trail of blood as it began to stumble away anew. The monsters around it fell one by one beneath the renewed assault. Quintus launched himself from the mass of men, running on air toward the newly exposed commander once more. More worms and birds rose to meet him, but with this much altitude, they would be too late.
He kicked off the air one more time to launch himself down at the commander. It screeched, turning to stab toward Quintus with its staff. The tip nearly blinded him as he was hit with a sudden compulsion to stop. There was no need to go this far. They were too greatly outnumbered, and he was just putting himself---and his men---at more risk. This was foolish. In fact, if he stopped now, then perhaps they could find mercy...
The thoughts felt so foreign that he nearly retched. He bit his cheek, focusing on the pain and his identity amidst the onslaught of slimy wrongness that tried to overwhelm him. It slid off him like rancid oil. He was no coward. He was a Legatus. A true Roman Legionnaire. And this miscreant that dared to try and manipulate him, the one who had killed so many of his brothers, would die. Those were the truths that anchored him.
Quintus landed on the commander's shoulders with both feet, plunging both his gladius and the invisible windblade in its back all the way to the hilt. But he didn't stop. He continued stabbing, opening deep wounds across its sandy fur. The creature spasmed, made one final coughing bark, then fell forward into the sand.
He felt the mental assault fade with the light of its staff. Quintus lopped its head off with one smooth motion out of an abundance of caution. He turned, readying both blades in preparation for more attacks. He was greeted instead with the sight of his men crashing into the earth. A fountain of sand filled the sky around them, covering both themselves and the enemies unfortunate enough to remain nearby.
Quintus quickly darted across the dunes to rejoin his men, feeling a slight tiredness seep into his bones. They had used a lot of stamina in this assault. Between that and the defense at the outpost, they'd been going at full tilt for quite a while. He could only hope that their success would finally give them a reprieve.
The enemies didn't break ranks and flee outright, unfortunately. They continued to swarm their position, albeit with far less coordination than before. Better yet, the tentative alliances that had once bound them together seemed to have disappeared with the death of their commander. It wasn't long before the different species fought each other more than the Legionnaires themselves. Quintus even saw one of the worms detonate as it rose out of the ground, sending chunks of flesh in every direction like a terrible firework.
But before long, the forces began to dissipate. Reinforcements no longer came, and those creatures not actively involved in the battle fled to hide amidst the dunes once more. Quintus and his group panted, looking around for more threats and finding only sand.
Finally, he lowered his weapons. He looked across the dunes, finding the outpost still standing, then at the men that had accompanied him on this foolish mission.
"Legionnaires!" He shouted as they kept their eyes peeled. "We have succeeded!"
A shout of victory rose from the group. They still kept their eyes on the dunes, refusing to let down their guard. Quintus was proud of that.
"We'll have a time for speeches when we return." He grinned. "And then... I believe I owe you all a drink."
They cheered even louder.