POV : WALLS PROTECTING THE EMPIRE
Two new recruits stood together, their nerves as tight as a coiled spring. The air around them swirled with anticipation, and both could feel the weight of the upcoming mission pressing on their shoulders.
“Do you think this will be safe?” the first recruit asked, his voice trembling just enough to betray the anxiety he tried so hard to hide. His heart pounded like a Mini Cooper on a bumpy road in his chest as doubt crept in.
“Safe?” The second recruit let out a short, almost bitter laugh, shaking his head as he adjusted the straps of his armor. “Nowhere in the wasteland is safe, man. You know that.”
The first recruit swallowed hard, eyes darting nervously around as if looking for something—anything—that might offer reassurance. “Yeah, but... I mean, you know what I mean.” His voice grew smaller. “What if something goes wrong?”
The second recruit sighed, but softened his tone. He could see the fear in his partner’s eyes, the way his hands clenched the handle of his weapon like it was a lifeline. “Look, we’re in a squadron of fifty. Besides me and you, there’s maybe eight other newbies. The rest? Veterans. They’ve seen this all before, survived it too. So, yeah,” he paused, a small smile forming, “I think we’re pretty safe.”
The first recruit took a deep breath, the knot in his stomach loosening ever so slightly. He straightened his back, trying to push away the nagging fear. ‘I can do this,‘ he told himself. ‘I’m one of the ten selected for this. I’m not just any recruit.‘ He could almost taste the excitement now. He was wearing the new 1.5 level bone armor, the kind that glistened just right under the sun, making him feel like a warrior from an ancient epic. ‘Glory, adventure, victory.‘ He allowed the thoughts to wash over him, each one a little louder than the last.
“Think we’ll get some action today?” he asked, trying to sound casual as his excitement started bubbling up.
“Action? In the wasteland?” The second recruit grinned, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the only thing you can count on out here. Just stay sharp and follow the vets' lead, okay? We’ll be fine.”
A nervous chuckle escaped the first recruit, though his heart still raced. “Yeah, yeah. Just... don’t leave me behind if things get messy, alright?”
“Don’t worry,” the second recruit smirked, giving him a playful nudge. “I’ll make sure you don’t trip over yourself.”
The first recruit shot him a quick, grateful smile, feeling the camaraderie between them grow stronger. Before he could respond, the second recruit nodded toward the front where their commanding officer barked out orders.
“Looks like it’s time to head out,” the second recruit said, his voice suddenly more serious.
The first recruit’s stomach did another flip, but this time it wasn’t just fear—it was adrenaline. His grip on his weapon tightened, and he felt the thrill of what lay ahead.
“Let’s do this,” he muttered to himself, stepping forward into the unknown, a mix of dread and excitement swirling inside him.
Their sergeant, a seasoned warrior with months of wasteland experience, called out in a loud, commanding voice, “Alright, everyone, form up! We’re heading into the wasteland. We’ll be teleporting to the edges near the old Faith settlement. From there, our mission is to escort adventurers and keep a lookout for the skeleton horde.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
He paused, scanning the group with sharp eyes before continuing. “Remember, we’ve got three goals. Goal one, keep the horde moving toward the walls and away from Fort Bone. Fire your flares when we say so, and only drop demon wards on command. Got it? No early birds out there. Goal two, keep everyone alive. I don’t want to see you dead, dying, or wounded. Goal three, keep your eyes peeled. If the skeletons start coming our way, we don’t engage. Let them come to us.”
The recruits nodded, some nervously, others with the determination of eager warriors. The sergeant’s words echoed in their minds as the squadron prepared for departure. The wasteland awaited.
‘‘‘‘
The army marched in a steady, disciplined formation as they reached the towering walls of the empire. Around them, adventurers swarmed in excitement, gathering in loose groups of five or ten. The thrill of adventure and the promise of bounty money had everyone excited. After all, there was a hefty reward waiting for the first to spot the skeletal horde. Some of the more eager adventurers couldn't contain their excitement, while the veterans, having seen this before, kept a cooler head, focused more on staying alive than chasing glory.
"Why the rush?" one of the adventurers asked, glancing around nervously as the mass of adventurers bustled toward the open gates.
"Come on, bud. We’re moving out! I don’t want to be last—I want that bounty!" his companion urged, already starting to jog ahead.
Groups surged forward from the walls, splitting off in different directions like tributaries of a river. The army, more organized than the adventurers, divided into two distinct units, both heading toward the last reported location of the horde. The terrain ahead was unforgiving, a mix of broken hills and dead plains, but they were prepared. Every hour, they stopped to set up cheap, rickety watchtowers purchased from the vending machines scattered around the empire.
These towers were laughably described in the vending machines as "Cheap ass watchtowers. You're lucky these things last more than a day. But hey, they're cheap. Three coins each." They were only 20 feet tall, barely higher than some of the mutant creatures lurking out in the wasteland. Thin, hastily constructed, and brittle-looking, they swayed slightly in the wind, almost daring anyone to test their durability.
Inside each one, two nervous soldiers sat watch, their eyes scanning the horizon. Their task was simple: spot the skeletal horde and fire a flare. Red flare for trouble, green flare for all clear. Every couple of hours, a flare would go up, more often green than red, indicating routine engagements with small clusters of skeletons, but nothing that resembled the massive force they were hunting.
As the day stretched on, the army fanned out across the wasteland, creeping further like oil spreading over water. What started as a focused push became a clumsy mess. Adventurers, now scattered and disorganized, darted wildly in every direction, some even tripping over their own feet in their desperate rush toward the nearest fight. They collided with small groups of skeletons, striking them down with quick, ragged motions. Green flares shot into the sky with every minor victory, lighting up the dull horizon. But the one flare that everyone craved—the red one, the signal that the horde had been found—never came.
At last, one group of adventurers, their faces pale with exhaustion but their resolve unbroken, stumbled upon the rear of the horde. Their bodies ached, their breaths were shallow, but they had hit the jackpot!
The skeletal army had slowed to a crawl, trapped in a violent struggle. A herd of mutated rhinoceroses, massive and grotesque, had charged the horde, defending their territory with savage force. The beasts' thick, scarred hides glistened with radiation burns, their wild eyes full of fury. With each brutal swing of their twisted horns, skeletons shattered into fragments, bones scattering across the wasteland like dust. The adventurers stood frozen, awe and terror twisting in their chests as the monstrous creatures fought relentlessly, refusing to give an inch of ground.
The adventurers stopped dead in their tracks, their breath catching in their throats. This was it. They had found the horde.
"Fire the flare!" one of them shouted.
A set of three red flares shot into the sky, burning bright against the gray wasteland horizon. The signal was clear—the horde had been found, and now the real battle would begin.