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.

the colony of strange ants, or their stranger spokes...ant. She just ... wasn’t. She was cautious of them, always cautious, but not afraid. Perhaps she was just losing her edge. Or, more likely, grabbing onto whatever piece of debris

they arrive?" Enid asked,

turned to face the leader of the human village and nodded her head respectfully. Enid may never

an hour before the main body of the horde reaches us. Could be a lot less if they decide to pick up the pace as

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

to get our people in position

as they’ll ever be, ma’am," Isaac chipped in, flashing

Morrelia would have suspected him of ulterior motives, as it was she believed he was simply

grunted before she leapt down from the rampart and

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

flat on their backs, many 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

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

how could she hold back? In the past week, every able bodied refugee had been pushed to the edge 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 week, snatching a few hours here and there. She was used to it however, broken sleep like this was standard practice when on a delve. The villagers had no such tolerance and once the training had been declared over, they’d

point regretting it now. You did everything you could, let’s see if it was enough to

drew a

SICK! THERE’S BLOOD TO BE SPILLED AND SURE AS HELL

unfortunate villagers a second time as they responded instantly to her call. Sleep was rubbed out of eyes and limbs were stretched as the men and women she

rampart someone was having a very different

sighed as he watched Morrelia’s