Chrysalis

In the distance, a rising tide of fangs, claws and flesh approached. When Morrelia squinted, she could make out the individual forms of the monsters as they undulated across the land and between the trees. There didn’t seem to be an end to the horde. They spread. Like water pooling over the floor from a spilled cup, until they filled the space in front of her.

It wouldn’t be long until they lapped up against the fortifications the villagers had erected and the battle would begin in earnest.

"I’m still not certain we shoulda put ourselves so close to our ’neighbours’," Isaac muttered.

Morrelia rolled her eyes.

"You spent several days with their leader and came home just fine. Do you really think they’re going to eat us?"

The former guard shifted uncomfortably.

"I’m jus’ sayin’ we might want to on our guard once the fightin’ is done. Maybe we look appetising at that point."

"If we live to see the end of this battle, there’ll be tens of thousands of dead monsters right over there. I don’t think they’ll need to turn on us for food," Morrelia pointed out before turning her back on the man.

Despite his experience in the field with Anthony, he still had difficulty overcoming his instincts to distrust monsters.

Not that he’s entirely wrong about that.

She was cautious of them, always cautious, but not afraid. Perhaps she was just losing her edge. Or,

they arrive?" Enid asked, walking up behind

Enid may never have been a soldier,

an hour before the main body of the horde reaches us. Could be a lot less if

frowned as she looked over the edge of the dirt wall at the monsters. Morrelia choked back a laugh as she watched the older woman. Enid looked as if she were staring at dog that had spread mud on her carpet rather than a slavering mass of Dungeon monsters the likes of which the surface hadn’t seen in

we’ll have to get our people in position

ma’am," Isaac chipped in,

charm offensive the moment he’d met Enid. If the age difference were any less severe, Morrelia would have suspected him of ulterior motives, as it was she believed he was simply accustomed to greasing

grunted before she leapt down from the rampart and jogged toward the shaded area the villagers

heightened by the plethora of weapons that graced her form. Her bow, dual blades, knives strapped to her forearms and sheathed in her boots. Morrelia was ready for

of them asleep, resting in the shade spread by nearby trees. Looking at their tired faces, Morrelia mentally kicked herself. She had to continuously remind herself that she wasn’t dealing with professional soldiers, trainees or mercenaries, but determined village people. They were farmers, traders and craftspeople. Most of

Legion they were willing. When she beat them down, they stood up. When she drilled them to exhaustion, they wanted

of their tolerance and then a little further. Constant practice in the village, constant delves into the Dungeon, had brought everyone to the edge. Morrelia herself had barely slept in the past

could, let’s see if it was enough

drew a deep

TO GET UP YOU USELESS SACKS OF SICK! THERE’S BLOOD TO BE SPILLED AND SURE AS HELL IT ISN’T GOING TO SPILL ITSELF!" She

earthworks and the distant trees, returning to thunder in the ears of the unfortunate villagers a second time as they responded instantly to her call. Sleep was

did she know that on the rampart someone was having a very

drill instructor to shame," Isaac sighed as he watched Morrelia’s distant