It was less than an hour after the initial assault on Stonewake that another round of alarm bells sounded across the town. Cries of renewed dismay from the citizenry rang through the streets as Legionnaires once more scrambled into position, forcing Tiberius to shout his orders to be heard over the din.

Luckily, they weren’t caught completely unawares. They’d already been sweeping the city for any last bits of resistance, meaning the men were well-prepared for battle. Directing the bulk of his forces to converge on the mines was a small change to make amidst all of that.

As for what the threat actually was… that, Tiberius had yet to confirm. In fact, he wasn’t even sure where the sounds of the bells were coming from. Rather than the bell towers that had warned the town of the coming assault, this alarm almost seemed sourceless in how it spread throughout the area. Not only that, but they also sounded different—a rapid series of shrill impacts, as opposed to the more plodding tone they’d heard during the attack.

How the townsfolk reacted to the alarm didn’t escape his notice, however. If he thought they’d been afraid before, now they looked positively terrified. The Legion had to restrain no small number of them as they attempted to flee, gibbering about monsters from below. He didn’t have time for interrogations, though. Whatever this was, they’d simply have to face it head-on.

“Enemies! Enemies in the deep!”

The sound of Quintus’s amplified cry echoed up, rising from the ground like an ominous specter. Tiberius gritted his teeth. That confirmed his suspicions about where the threat came from—what else could it be, if not the enemy that the System had referenced?

As he and his men rushed through the town, messengers flitted about and flickered their eyes rapidly as information was sent between them at a breakneck pace. According to them, the men had already identified several entrances to the mines—though there were sure to be ventilation shafts and other secret entrances that they’d yet to uncover. Tiberius sent men to cover them all, reserving the bulk of his forces for the entrance Quintus had disappeared into. Best to keep the threat from spreading out if possible.

As they neared the mines, Tiberius could hear the sounds of battle up ahead—as well as an unearthly screeching. Before they even arrived, he felt twin daggers of dread punch into his gut as two more Legionnaires fell to this new threat. This close to the action, however, there was another sensation as well. A slight buzzing in his muscles, a thrill of vigor coursing through him. It was faint, but distinct.

The sensation evoked memories of adrenaline-filled battles as a younger man. But it was different somehow. More tangible in a strange way. Though he certainly didn’t feel as though he could scale walls in a single bound, he might be able to run a bit faster or hit a bit harder.

As fascinating as it was, Tiberius had no time to ponder the feeling at the moment. Not with the grim situation before them.

As he rounded the corner, he got his first look at the threat they were facing—eyeless grey humanoid creatures with claws and mouths full of needlelike teeth. The things skittered out of the mine entrance in droves, swarming forth like a wave of grotesque spiders. A wall of Legionnaires tried to keep them at bay, but it was clear they wouldn’t be enough. They were barely managing to hold on, much less push back against the things.

“Lucius!” Tiberius barked. “Report!”

“[Appraisal] indicates they’re called [Eastern Grey Cave Ghouls] sir,” Lucius called over. “Level eight on average!”

The grey tide pressed against the shield wall and threatened to break it. Worse, the haunting creatures crawled up the sides of the mine entrance and leapt down, attempting to break the wall from behind with attacks or by simply crushing men with the weight of their bodies.

Tiberius felt a tingle af fear course through him as their screeches filled the air, one that he ruthlessly crushed. Still, not all of his men possessed the same fortitude. He noticed shields rattling against each other and beads of sweat forming on pale faces as his Legionnaires faced down the threat. A few even seemed on the verge of stepping back.

The centurions were attempting to rally their forces, beacons of order and confidence studding the shield walls as they engaged. But there was only so much they could do. As good as a centurion was at fighting, there was a reason that there were so few of them. Not every man had the physical or mental fortitude to handle such a post—and no man was infallible.

“Move to reinforce!” Tiberius ordered the men around him, indicating a particular part of the line that was about to be overwhelmed. Half of his personal guard rushed forward to assist. But though the move would provide relief now, it wouldn’t be enough to last. They were already at risk of being pushed back.

Tiberius quickly organized the remaining men, reinforcing the wall ahead of him and setting up additional groups beyond it as backup and support. Given that the creatures were more than willing to climb, there was no guaranteeing that they wouldn’t just rush past his men. Especially with how little regard they seemed to pay to their own survival.

He gritted his teeth as he evaluated the situation. City fighting was disastrous. He always hated it. The narrow choke points could technically be a benefit, sure, especially given how the Legion specialized in fighting while outnumbered. But everything else? The kind of planning required was completely different. The positioning was entirely different, companies of archers or horses were harder to use, and large shield walls were more difficult to place on the terrain. Rather than a clash of large forces, this more closely resembled a desperate scramble of a few men in small groups.

But here, it was worse—ten times worse. The Legion was confined to the streets, while their enemies constantly climbed and launched assaults from above. They seeped through attempts to bottle them up. And though Tiberius had plenty of experience being outnumbered, this was an entirely different order of magnitude than anything he’d ever faced.

He continued calling out commands as the battlefield shifted, his officers and centurions doing their best to keep things together. More and more unearthly screams filled the air, overriding even the cacophony of battle. He could sense the men’s uneasiness rise steadily as the creatures just kept coming. Uncertainty gave way to trepidation which, if he didn’t do something soon, could quickly become panic. And being routed would have disastrous consequences.

“Stand your ground!” Tiberius shouted, imbuing his [Rallying Cry] with all of the unshakable confidence he could muster. “Fear not any enemy that bleeds!”

His words rose above the din, slicing through the ear-splitting cries like a sword through flesh. They seemed to break the spell that had fallen over everyone. All around him, Tiberius saw as men’s backs stiffened and their confidence returned. They pressed forward with renewed vigor, hacking at their enemies.

The rank and file weren’t the only ones. All around the battlefield, he saw centurions and officers taking up their own cries, their effects rippling through the men in similar fashion as their own skills activated. The repeated cries seemed to ward off the fear-inducing shrieks enough to restore morale and order.

Another shout rose up from behind Tiberius—one of alarm. Spinning around, he saw a group of the ghouls leap down from above. They’d slipped behind the defensive line, leaving nothing between them and Tiberius except the squad of guards rushing forward to defend him.

Claws flashed as Tiberius’s guards engaged the monsters. A shield wall began to solidify, but it was shaky at best—not to mention that the men were outnumbered. As the situation deteriorated, his Aquilifer called out positons of friend and foe alike, keeping everyone informed even as he called into existence waves of red and gold light that suffused the men’s shields. Yet even that only did so much. The golden eagle standard wavered as the men battled to hold the line.

Tiberius swore, drawing his own weapon. It seemed that he’d need to take a more direct role in this conflict than usual.

***

“Oh, Marcus!” Margaret called out warmly as they approached. “It’s been too long. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know what this whole light show hullabaloo’s about, would you? Why, it’s got everyone in a right tizzy up and down the whole street—”

“Lovely to see you Margaret, as always,” Marcus returned the greeting with a slightly strained smile. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, however, I’m afraid that time is of the essence. My friend here finds himself desperately in need of some clothes—the plainer the better. Do you happen to have anything on hand?”

“Oooh, looking to go incognito, are we?” The washerwoman’s rheumy eyes sparkled knowingly as she sized up the Legionnaire. “For a strapping young man like you? I might have somethin’. Shirt, pants, or both?”

“Both, if you please,” Augustus replied.

Margaret disappeared into her house, emerging a few moments later with a pair of plain brown trousers and a green shirt with a couple of holes in it. “You can go on and get changed inside. Oh, and don’t worry about returning ’em. I won’t mind it one bit if these get left somewhere.”

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Augustus coughed at the suggestive wink that the old woman sent his way. He hurried inside as the old woman chuckled. “Don’t go touchin’ my things, you hear?”

“Thank you Margaret,” Marcus said, breezing past her comment. “You’re an absolute dear as always. What do I owe you?”

“For you, Marcus? Free of charge.” The woman shot him a toothless smile. “So long as you hound my grandson into stopping by one of these days. Why, he never makes time for his old lady… At this point, I’d even settle for a letter…”

The bard smiled and bowed. “I’m certain I can arrange something of the sort. Once this is all over, of course. In the meantime, I have one more favor to ask…”

He left Margaret with another location for passing Legionnaires to gather at, just in case any found themselves in the area. Securing her cooperation required him to share a few more details about the strange situation Habersville found itself in—details that he was certain would spread up and down the street as gossip as soon as he left. At least, if the woman’s obvious excitement was any indication.

Soon enough, Augustus emerged from the house wearing the baggy clothes atop his armor. Margaret lent him an old ratty cloak to cover the few holes in his shirt before they were on their way once again, now with Augustus clad in a proper disguise.

They spotted the Legion patrol as they rounded a final corner. A group of eight men stood before them, swords and shields at the ready. Their heads maintained a constant swivel as they evaluated the surroundings for threats and checked on the glowing dome high above their heads. Carefully, they made steady progress toward the town’s perimeter.

Fortunately, they were alone. It seemed that the rebels weren’t exactly willing to take on such a large contingent of Legionnaires—not yet, at least. Marcus wasn’t sure how long that would last or whether they had some trick up their sleeve for just this event. Still, he did note a few gazes from the surrounding buildings that ranged from curious to downright suspicious. But now that the Legion was so close, Marcus felt a bit more secure in moving and acting openly.

“Centurion,” Marcus called to announce their presence. Unfortunately, he didn’t know the man in charge here. He had done his best to learn as many names as possible, especially those of the leaders. However, there were a lot of centurions, and he simply hadn’t had the opportunity to meet all of them. Luckily, most of them could recognize him on sight.

The group stopped and tensed slightly before returning to their previous state of alertness. The centurion turned to face him. Despite the fact that both men were relatively short in stature, that didn’t prevent the Legionnaire from attempting to look down on him. Still, even that was a bit less condescending than such gazes had been at the start of all this.

“Bard,” the centurion responded neutrally. “What is it?”

“Well, I figured you could use a hand,” Marcus offered easily as he gestured upward. “Doubtless you’ve noticed the situation we find ourselves in. Perhaps I can provide some insight and assistance?”

The man frowned. “Do you have information to share? If so—” He paused, his eyes flashing with recognition as they landed on Augustus. They narrowed slightly as he took in the Legionnaire’s attire. “Soldier, why are you out of uniform?”

Marcus attempted to answer. “Ah, well, you see—”

The Centurion held out a hand, his eyes flicking to Marcus sternly before returning to Augustus. The bard bit his tongue with some reluctance.

“Sir. It’s dangerous to be a lone Legionnaire in the streets at the moment,” Augustus explained with a salute. “The rebels have taken to ambushing us on sight.”

“I see. And what exactly do they hope to accomplish in doing so?”

“Best to let the bard explain, sir. He has a better grasp of the situation than I.”

Finally, the Centurion returned his attention to Marcus, giving him an expectant look. Marcus stifled a grimace. If he’d simply allowed him to speak the first time…

“Perhaps this explanation is best given as we move,” he suggested. “A more secure location and rallying point would serve us well for the moment. If you have no objections, centurion?”

Thankfully, the man nodded. He seemed to grasp enough of the situation to understand that they needed to move. He ordered his men to remain alert as they marched, following Marcus’s lead as he began to explain everything he’d learned so far. The rebellion, the major players at work, the origins of the dome, and how they were cut off from the outside.

“…I see,” the centurion said simply once he had finished. “And the two men manning the gate? You’re uncertain about their fates?”

Marcus nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. By the time I reached the entrance they were already nowhere to be found. Perhaps they were caught outside of the fortifications when the dome went up?”

“Unlikely,” the centurion said flatly. “They would not abandon their posts lightly. Though I have yet to feel any deaths from them or others in the vicinity.”

“Of course, of course,” he allowed. “I wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing. Perhaps there was some kind of trick or subterfuge involved in luring them away for the barest moment. Perhaps they are simply incapacitated.”

The centurion nodded stoically, mulling over Marcus’s explanation. “This does not sound good. Yet your own plan also seems flawed. You want us to wait on our asses while we gather the other Legionnaires in the city into a singular force? Why not simply go on the offensive? My contubernium is more than capable of holding their own against any amount of those useless guards.”

Marcus extended a placating hand. “While I have no doubts about your abilities, centurion, I do fear that you may be underestimating the opposition. It is not just the guards you need worry about. Might I remind you that these priests have the power of the divine on their side—power that appears quite outsized in its strength given the situation. If they leverage even a small portion of what must have been required for this dome, then they will likely be harder to deal with than you’d suspect.”

“We have handled worse. As you should well know.”

“True, but why take the risk? Especially since it would leave your comrades in danger of being ambushed and attacked. Good Augustus here can attest to that.”

He gestured to the disguised Legionnaire for emphasis, only for Augustus to shift uncomfortably. It seemed that he wasn’t particularly happy to be reminded of his failure. In truth, Marcus knew better than most just how well a single contubernium could manage itself in combat. However, the rebels seemed to be wary of that power as well. They had yet to see a single guard cross their path as they moved. Their foes were clearly avoiding such a large number of Legionnaires, hiding like rats in favor of using guerrilla tactics. It was frustrating, but effective.

The centurion grimaced, but seemed to relent for the moment. “Hm. And the people? You mentioned a split in their sentiment. What kind of response should we expect from the local populace?”

Marcus shrugged. “For the most part, I would expect them to stay out of this. Most people here value stability, regardless of who it comes from. They’d rather keep their heads down rather than attempt any sort of heroics one way or another. However, if pushed… I would expect them to cooperate with whoever’s in front of them. Don’t expect them to lie for you, nor volunteer any extra information without ample prodding. The Legion simply has not earned that level of cooperation yet.”

The centurion frowned. “That’s… disappointing. Yet not unexpected. Fully civilizing people often takes a few generations, regrettably.”

“To be fair, most of the more enthusiastic townsfolk are already working on becoming auxiliaries,” Marcus pointed out, his tone turning conciliatory. “So perhaps even this is to be expected.”

They soon arrived at the location Marcus had decided upon as their rallying point—an empty warehouse. It was one of the Legion’s latest constructions, built in preparation for the extra equipment that they’d soon be making. Conveniently, it also resided near the temple district, where he suspected the priests would be staging their own efforts. While the proximity could be a risk, it would also make any assault or scouting efforts that much simpler.

“…I believe I understand the situation,” the centurion stated with finality. “My men and I will set up a command post here, hidden away from prying eyes, and consider how best to approach this situation. Perhaps we’ll be able to get into contact with our brethren on the outside. In the meantime, you will gather what Legionnaires you can find. I trust your network of informants will prove useful in this endeavor.”

“Of course.” Marcus smiled graciously as the centurion restated the bard’s own plan. He’d chosen to explain away his sense for the Legionnaires’ locations as a benefit of his information gathering skills. So far, the explanation seemed to not raise any suspicions. “In the meantime, can I trust you to keep Myra safe?”

At the mention of her name, Myra looked up indignantly. “Keep me safe? Excuse me, I—”

The Centurion cut her off. “Yes, your companion will be safe with us. You have my word.”

He glanced over at the mayor’s daughter. Her honey-brown eyes narrowed in displeasure at the decision. Marcus simply gave her an apologetic shrug. His entire goal here had been to get her safely out of harm’s way before the rebellion began. Now that the route out of Habersville was blocked, however, keeping her safe among the Legionnaires was about as good as he could manage. Not to mention that he had no desire to take her back out into this mess with him.

“Excellent.” Marcus nodded. “Then I’ll leave her in your care. I’m uncertain that I’ll be able to track down every last man out there, but I’ll certainly try. I’ll prioritize larger groups first, though, to ensure you have the strongest force possible gathered here.”

The centurion nodded. “All right. But you will not travel alone.” He turned over his shoulder. “Octavian! Step forward.”

A young-faced Legionnaire stepped forward, a hint of curly brown hair peeking out from beneath the edges of his helmet. The centurion turned back to Marcus. “These two shall serve as protection and support as you go about your task. I presume that you will have no issues finding a disguise for him as well?”

Marcus thought briefly about rejecting the help. In truth, he could probably move more easily by himself, but having some backup would not necessarily be a bad idea. Especially considering that numbers may themselves act as a deterrent to the rebels. Besides, the guards likely knew his face, meaning he would be a target unless he used a [Glamour] for this entire venture—something he wasn’t sure he’d be able to maintain for that long.

“Alright. I should be able to do that.” He nodded, greeting Octavian with a grin. “Welcome aboard, friend. I hope that you’re prepared to do quite a bit of walking.”

Octavian snorted. “Speak for yourself. You already have sweat beading on your brow from just this. Are you certain you can keep up?”

Marcus grimaced, resisting the urge to wipe at his forehead. He wasn’t certain, of course, but he’d never admit that. “Don’t worry about me. I have my ways.”

The group fell into step together, peeling away from the group and heading deeper into the town. Marcus directed them toward the next largest group of Legionnaires he could sense, making a few adjustments to ensure they’d meet any individuals or pairs on the way. Hopefully, they’d manage to get to them before the guards would.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep