"HOLD THE LONE, you sons of bitches!"
A grizzly command pulsed over the tense, defensive formation. Rows of unpolished armor and scuffed-up weapons stood tall. Despite the lack of military uniformity, the haphazard defenses held their positions with the help of seven watch towers offering ranged support.
That booming voice came from a daunting, burly man atop the centermost watch tower. He rubbed his knuckles over his banged-up chestplate as he spat tobacco over the tower's edge.
To his sides, archers and crossbowmen stared into the gaping cave entrance barely 100 meters away from the semicircle of watch towers.
"The first bastard to take a step back joins the cowardly crawlers as dungeon feed!"
With perfect timing, the leading man forcefully boosted morale as the hissing cries of the cave grew louder.
Then, under the watch of hundreds of armed mercenaries, the first monstrous figure emerged from the vast cliffside cavern.
Its pointed, elongated head was all the more eye-catching as it cried out in fury. With its belly to the ground and long tail wagging in the wind, the night blue lizard stormed out of the cave without sparing the nervous defenders a single glance. Neon blue claws tore into the ground with every step. Drool fell from neon blue teeth with each hissing cry.
"Don't shit yourselves just yet!"
The commanding warrior showed no fear as he raised his hand.
"Kill every fucking thing in sight! Your bitch mother could be riding that Scitter Lizard for all I care, don't fucking hesitate! Kill everything!"
A symphony of arrows fired at their conductor's orders, raining down from all three floors of the seven encircling towers.
At the same time, the men on the ground raised their shields and weapons. Not a single warrior dared step back, no matter how terrifying that oversized lizard was. Their position was shitty. And there was nothing they could do about it, except struggle to be among the survivors at the end of the dungeon surge.
Of course, the Scitter Lizard easily sensed the sounds of battle.
Its sideways eyelids blinked over pale blue eyes and bright yellow pupils as more than a hundred arrows shot through the air. At the same time, its three-meter-long frame bolted toward the humans that dared to bar its path.
"Stop it, you fuckers!" the uncaring commander berated his unwilling troops, trying to nip all early hesitations in the bud.
"If I have to come down there save you from the weak first wave, then I'll bury your asses myself!"
Again, no one stepped back. But many of the less experienced warriors didn't dare to raise their weapons either. They were too startled by the huge lizard's speed.
Five seconds.
It took five seconds for the Scitter Lizard to cross the seventy-meter gap between the cave entrance and the defensive line. Nearly half of the troops on the ground were stunned by a mix of surprise and fear. Until…
Th-plop.
The three-meter lizard collapsed to the ground, barely ten meters from the first defenders, riddled by over a dozen arrows piercing its back. But only half of the arrows managed to pierce thick, night blue scales and draw blood.
"Keep your heads and arms up, you weak-willed bastards! I won't remind your asses twice!"
To the startlement of the less experienced warriors, they realized that the monster cries were still growing louder despite the lizard's death.
One blinking stare was all it took for any newbie mercenaries to realize the true fear of a dungeon surge. Some rookies soiled themselves, and a few had already lost hope as they finally spotted another dozen Scitter Lizards already out of the cave.
Veteran mercenaries, on the other hand, either held their breath or banged their weapons and shields together. Anything to keep their nerves in check and avoid tunnel vision.
After hearing of the terror from survivors or surviving themselves, they would never again underestimate the relentless horror of a surge.
All the while, the sound of bows loosing arrows also grew louder.
Once more, those dozen Scitter Lizards fell dead roughly ten meters from the defenders at the very front. And, like before, even more lizards were already halfway across the battlefield as the cruel battle was past the point of no return.
"NOW! Launch the bait!"
That order offered a faint relief to every warrior on the ground as they followed orders without batting an eye.
"NO!"
"P-please, don't!"
"Anything but this!"
"Just kill me, please!"
Shivering screams wailed as shoddy trebuchets were readied and loaded. But those pleas for mercy were instantly forgotten as the catapult was fired.
As if rehearsed, the rain of arrows suddenly stopped. All in order to keep their live bait from being ruined.
The next wave of Scitter Lizards hesitated at the suspicious pause of the piercing rain.
At least, that was till they licked their lips at the free meals falling from the sky with a clatter of chains and cries for mercy.
But the catapult delivery service had only just begun.
Since there was no need for precise aim, trebuchets could hastily launch living, breathing bait as quickly as the well-trained operators could prep the counterweights and pull a lever.
In ten seconds, more than two dozen meals had been delivered to their starving customers.
"NOOO!!"
"WHY?! Why MEEEE!!"
"AAAGGHHHHH!!"
"PLEASE! Someone! Anyone! Please kill me!"
An orchestra of suffering rang loud as the emerging Skitter Lizards tore into their living meals. The louder the meal wailed, the more satisfied the scaled clientele became.
However, to the dismay of the defenders, a lucky few were silenced by a bad landing and died on impact. Which only earned a few sniffs and some testing nibbles from picky customers.
"Those fucking crawlers… How dare they die so peacefully?"
The broad-shouldered commander clicked his tongue before raising his hand with authority. "READY YOURSELVES! And don't stop till we're out of fresh bait! The true surge is about to begin!"
A brief relief faded into existence as all mercenaries, whether on the towers or on the ground, gripped their weapons with a boost of confidence.
So far, everything was going as the higher-ups had planned.
And with the help of the live bait, not only were the monsters distracted, but they also lost some of their hungry savagery.
All the while, the cries of failed-escapee crawlers rang through the air. Despite the wishes of the bait themselves, such shouts were the best infomercial to an all-expenses-paid dungeon buffet. As Scitter Lizards raced out of the dungeon, they never spared the armored defenders a glance. Now, the three-meter lizards were too busy fighting each other for the loudest, most appealing prey.
But the burly commander kept his focus with a deep breath. He held the air in his lungs in anticipation. Till a particularly shrill hiss was barely heard through the cacophony of grizzly eaters and crying prey.
"... Here it comes. ARCHERS! Await my order!"
The bowmen of the watch towers gripped their next arrow, ready to draw on command.
Warriors on the ground braced their legs, both glad that things were playing out as expected and fearful of what should come next.
… One long moment later, more screams of pain rang out from within the cave.
Just seconds after Scitter Lizard stopped coming out of the dungeon's entrance, human silhouettes emerged.
Bloodied, broken, and battered, more than a dozen scrambled out of the cave. Some crawled with missing legs. Others crutched out with the support of the crooked and damaged weapons. A rare few sprinted into the daylight, thanking the gods for only losing an arm or two.
Atop the central tower, the commander spat tobacco through a disgusted frown.
"Even more crawlers trying to escape fate… fucking pathetic."
Of course, all momentary hopes of the fleeing crawlers were swiftly swallowed by the lick-lipping Scitter Lizards.
But witnessing that scene didn't ease the commander's frown one bit.
"... LOAD!"
That sharp command nocked arrows onto every assortment of bows and crossbows at hand, including the huge ballista built into the core frame of each watch tower.
Meanwhile, the frontline defenders heard a short yet stabbing hiss from the depths of the dungeon.
For most of the rookies who managed to keep their bladders in check thus far, it was the trigger for instant failure. For the veteran mercenaries, it made their blood run still as their hearts froze in anxious anticipation of the imminent terror.
Across the span of the battle, that lone moment drew longer than the hours of early morning defense preparations.
Then, it's sillhouette finally appeared.
"Three and five! … FIRE!"
The commander's roar launched every arrow in sync and halted the catapult delivery service at the same time.
Towers number three and five trembled violently as the tree-sized ballista bolts rocketed away.
All this before anyone could see the beast turn from a silhouette into the terror most mercenaries wished was a lie made up by the scouting party.
At the same time, the Scitter Lizards dropped all food as they shared an ear-piercing, high-pitched cry. But their target wasn't the mob of armored prey blocking them. The Scitter Lizards didn't even pay attention to the new rain of arrows.
The crowd of three-meter lizards was too busy trying to intimidate the newest arrival with pack mentality, hiding any instinctual fears as best the beasts could.
THOOM! THOOM!
Dust plumed and the ground was torn asunder as the huge monster effortlessly sidestepped and ducked the massive ballista bolts, like a morning jogger avoiding a spider on the sidewalk.
Then, before most people could realize what had just happened…
HIIISSSSS!!!
A brain-churning hiss erupted and swept over the entire battlefield. The warriors at the very front, whether a veteran or a rookie, desperately slapped their hands over their ears. Keeping their weapons or shields didn't matter.
In that moment, all that mattered was staying alive and keeping their minds from shattering under that unbelievable pressure.
Even the ferocious Scitter Lizards shirked and shivered under that hissing roar.
"SIX! FIRE!"
A third, massive bolt was shot off under the commander's blaring roar.
Luckily, evenly spaced watch towers were far enough from the monster at the cave's entrance. If not, the bowmen and ballista operators would be too shook up to properly load and aim down range.
Again, the lizard-like monster whipped its long neck to the side, ducking the third ballista bolt. All while taking in a deep breath to recover from its long, brutal roar.
"DON'T STOP!" bellowed the commander.
"Struggle and survive! Or give up and throw yourself on the catapult to join the cowardly crawlers! Those are your ONLY fucking options!"
A competing fear wormed its way into the mercenaries' hearts at that moment. And with hearts racing at non-threatening speeds, blinking eyes noted the finer details approaching monstrosity.
Black scales guarded the monster's hulking, four-legged frame. A tail longer than its three-meter neck swayed steadily in anticipation of its next battle. Most notably, as the monster's fangs quivered into a thin, excited grin, its neck scales opened into a serpentine hood. Dots of blues and greys formed eye-like patterns on each side of its head. A sign that the towering monster would take this battle seriously.
Next, clashing hisses and screeches ensued as the massive beast bumrushed the gathered Scitter Lizards.
"KEEP FIRING! While the damned lizards keep the Striding Cobra busy!"
Whilst passing orders, the burly commander pounded his chestplate, over and over. Making a steady, repeating beat.
A drum followed that beat on each tower. It offered the perfect rhythm to follow as every variety of bow or crossbow began firing in a cycle, beginning a seemingly endless deluge of arrows over the battlefield. To the extent that quiver runners sprinted about their assigned towers to keep up the supply.
The warriors on the ground utilized those syncopated drum beats as well.
Veteran mercenaries stayed on the balls of their feet. A slight, side-to-side sway kept their footing fresh and their minds alert. Preparing themselves to face either the Striding Cobra or the surviving Scitter Lizards, as well as whichever straggling beasts have yet to emerge from the dungeon surge.
Venom flew as more than four dozen well-fed lizards scattered and surrounded the Striding Cobra. But evasive tactics wouldn't stop the abominable cobra from spitting more black-blue venom like a ceaseless sprinkler.
As for the few morsels of bait that were discarded and left barely breathing, they thought it couldn't get any worse.
That was until the venom discarded in every which way eventually found new, non-dodging targets. And, for better or worse, the few survivors were far too weak to scream and howl in pain. Leaving them with only one way to die. For their bloodied, crippled bodies to be overtaken by the muscle-clenching poison with a slow but guaranteed lethality if not treated urgently.
However, the condition of the live bait was the furthest thing from people's minds.
What mattered most at that moment was praying to Father Earth and Mother Heaven for support and protection. Even the outcasts and criminals of dungeon settlements would offer heartfelt prayers when suddenly confronted by such a monstrous threat of Eternal Death.
And those prayers quickly grew more desperate with the commander's next order.
"SHIELDS UP! LAUNCH BAIT! More beast bastards incoming!"
While the trebuchets immediately delivered the next batch of monster feed, the warriors banged their weapons and shields together to steady their nerves. With all eyes firmly turned back to the dungeon's entrance and the emerging silhouettes.
The most anxious people of all were the captured crawlers that failed to escape the dungeon the night before.
Crawlers know the dungeon better than anyone else. Any crawler that fails to study the dungeon and adapt is nothing more than walking monster food. Before any mercenaries had formed the scouting party, the crawlers were the first to discover the signs of dungeon surge.
And it was the sudden spike in attempted crawler escapes that led to an immediate investigation for a dungeon surge.
Now, already shackled and propelling through the air, the best outcome the failed escapees could hope for was a swift death from the endless volley of arrows.
But only half of those prayers were answered.
Sadly, that left the surviving half to pay close attention to the new waves of monsters, praying for beasts that won't play with their food.
In less than three seconds, not only the crawlers but most everyone present felt all hope yanked from their clutches like a flimsy bag pulled into stormy skies by buffeting winds.
"ALL BALLISTAE! FIRE!!!"
All seven towers shook as they fired away and scrambled to reload their most powerful ballistae. All for one of the new threats to evade the incoming bolts out of reflex. The second emerging monster, however, failed to evade every shot.
Hiss!?! HIIISSSSSSS!!!??
One monster hissed in pain while the other loosed a body-numbing hiss, giving the mercenaries an all-too-familiar feeling.
"St-St-Stride-St-Striding…"
"HOLD THE LINE!!"
A tinge of concern finally appeared on the commander's face. But his voice and resolve held strong, keeping his orders firm.
"FIGHT TO SURVIVE! Struggle long enough, and you'll find yourself among the survivors! HOLD THE FUCKING LINE!!"
Most warriors regained their willpower under their commander's blunt but motivating words.
Still, there was no way for everyone to feel fine after experiencing that blood-stopping roar yet again. Even if the ballistae managed to stop one of those battle-shifting roars, some mercenaries on the front line were incapable of recovering from back-to-back brain-churning hisses.
And that was without counting the added pressure of witnessing the emergence of two more Striding Cobras to the defenders' unraveling morale.
The pressure was so great, most mercenaries failed to notice the wounded Scitter Lizards that the Striding Cobras had chased out of the cave. Not till everyone at the front was forced to raise their shields, no matter how shaky their grip was.
"WE'RE OUT OF BAIT!!"
A shout shot out of the backline, catching the commander's ear with the bad news.
"Shit… Hurry, find–!"
"NEW DELIVERY!!!"
Amidst the the ever worsening battlefield, the burly commander finally cracked a small smile. He briefly looked back to see cart after cart of chained-up bait, freshly delivered from the surrounding nations.
"Ha! I guess the gods still haven't given up on our scummy settlement. DISTRIBUTE AND LOAD ALL BAIT!! Before the front line collapses!"
Utter despair swiftly grabbed the confused men as their carts were dispersed and sent towards empty trebuchets.
"W-what bait is he on about?"
One shackled man hesitantly questioned. That sparked the flood of inquiries among the shackled exiles.
"What the hell are those things?!"
"Is that the dungeon?"
"How the fuck are we supposed to fight those… things!?!"
Of course, the busy mercenaries were extra ignorant at the moment. They were much too preoccupied with the horrors of battle and their urgent need for fresh bait to stabilize the front lines.
In seconds, the first pieces of bait were dragged out of the carts and loaded into the trebuchets.
Before anyone from the fresh delivery could verbalize what was happening, the lever was pulled and that round of bait was hurled into the air.
Fwhishhh.
Stunned silence tried to get ahold of the shackled exiles, but the mercenaries were already choosing who to volunteer next.
"Y-you can't do this–!?"
SMACK!
"Can it, crawler! This is your fault and no one else's!" One of the catapult operators slapped the complaint right out of the man's mouth.
A different man on the same cart yelled in rebuke, "We're not monster bait! We're only sentenced to life in the dungeon–"
"Yeah, that's why we're sending you there in the safest way possible," spat the catapult operator.
"THAT THING is the safest way possible?!"
"Course it is!" the operator replied without hesitation.
"Are you blind or something? Can't you see all those fucking monsters? We're in the middle of a dungeon surge, so taking a ride on this baby is the fastest way to get you to the dungeon while keeping your armed escorts safe."
"HUUUHHHH?!?" A collective groan overtook the cart of exiles.
But they all went quiet as the second piece of bait was "safely delivered" right before their eyes.
Fwhishhh.
Barely a second later, the chatty catapult operative yanked the next volunteer out of the cart.
"W-w-what the fuck!?"
"This ain't it! This ain't how it works!"
"I-I'm innocent! I swear it! I-I only did it for my family–"
Fwhishhh.
"Then I'll give you special treatment, Mr. Innocent." A cold, satisfied smirk flashed over the operator's face as he pushed the third volunteer back into the cart. "I'll send you off next, and I'll even undo your ankle shackles. All so Mr. Innocent will be able to hit the ground running in your new life as dungeon feed."
Instantly, that seemingly soft and innocent, middle-aged man flipped his script.
"W-WAIT! I'm not! I'm not innocent–"
But all complaints were met with a yank of the chain or a fist to the head. All while the catapult operator smiled deeper and deeper.
"See! That's what makes you crawlers!" the operator bragged as the third piece of bait was loaded into the trebuchet.
"You guys are the worst of the worst! The lowest of the low! So far down the food chain that your homelands ship you to our dungeons at their expense. All so that your futile struggles to live might keep the monsters at bay just one second longer."
As the operator gripped the launching lever, his glib smirk twisted into a cruel grin.
"So what if I'm a bribe-loving soldier, never allowed to go back home. At least I'm not some rapist, terrorist, murder-loving scum, like you crawlers!"
Fwishhh.
"Alright! Looks like… you're next, Mr. Brave Face."
The cart stayed quiet as the operator pointed to the man in the back corner, with his elbow propped atop the cart's edge, seemingly in deep thought.
Utterly ignoring both the catapult operator and the dire atmosphere of the battlefield.
"HEY!" Burning mad, the operator rushed to the back of the cart. "You're next, you fucker! I don't know how they let you keep those shiny new shoes, but that won't save you–"
Suddenly, to the amazement of the entire cart, the man slapped a hand over the operator's mouth while freely hopping out of the cart.
"Yay. Woo. I can't wait for such a fun ride… There's your banter. Now let's just get this fucking over with."
The operator slapped the man's hand aside. Only after that did the operator realize that his young-looking volunteer was a two-meter mass of nothing but toned, flexible muscles.
"H-how dare you–"
"You still want to keep chatting? Are you not afraid of delaying your commander's orders?"
Again, the fourth volunteer ignored the operator's sleazy antics. He hopped with his shackled ankles and wrists all the way to the trebuchet, bouncing into the uncomfortable seat with crossed legs and arms.
"... What's taking you so long? Do I gotta pull the lever myself?"
Shaken, the operator did his best to brush off the crawler's suspiciously peculiar behavior.
"Shut the fuck up! I'm in charge here! You'll only get launched when I say so! … I said LOOK AT ME!"
Exhaling, the twenty-year-old crawler rolled his eyes and mockingly threw up his shackled hands.
"Oh no! Whatever shall I do? There's no way I'll manage to survive, not with all those monsters and these chains!
"... Was that good enough for you? Will you stop wasting my time, or would you rather swap me places–"
Fwhishhh.
"FUCK YOU, CRAWLER MOTHERFUCKER…!"
The operator's parting curse trailed behind the airborne crawler. But the twenty-year-old exile had already forgotten the operator's face.
He was far too preoccupied with more interesting thoughts.
"Hmmm… How the fuck did shit escalate this quickly?"