The walkway trembled beneath them, first with a shudder, then again more violently. Trulda dropped to her knees, peering over the edge. The path was only half a meter above the swamp's murky surface. A disturbance in the water, like a wave, was moving toward them from about a hundred paces away.

Weylan followed her gaze but quickly turned away and looked for a closer opponent. Whatever was approaching was still too distant to be, causing the walkway to shake. Kneeling on the opposite side, he looked down. The moss below had been torn open in circular patterns. Whatever was causing the tremors was directly beneath them, just under the surface.

Skorr scanned the water and asked, "Selvara, can you hit something underground with your spells?"

She shook her head. "No, I need a line of sight or touch. Any electricity spells would just dissipate in the swamp. Even if the creature is just below the surface, the spell would barely tickle it."

Weylan's eyes followed the shifting patterns in the water. The disturbance was veering slightly off the raised path. "Move!" he shouted, urging the group forward just in time. Mud and moss exploded upward in a fountain, and from it, a huge creature shot into the air. The shraal had taken a running start below the swamp's surface and now launched itself onto the walkway.

An enormous alligator-like beast, eight steps long with a pair of muscular arms in addition to its four legs, landed heavily on the groaning wooden path. The edge of the walkway splintered under its weight as its arms flailed, trying to maintain balance. Dagger-like claws dug into the wood as it hoisted its hind legs onto the platform, using its tail for support.

Ulmenglanz hissed, "That's a shraal. I heard of those. They should serve and protect nature, not attack villagers. What did those imbecile fools do to enrage a shraal?”

Weylan, eyes still fixed on the beast, asked, "Can you calm it down? Talk to it, maybe?"

The dryad shook her head. "I'm no longer a cleric. My god has been banished from this world. It's not a plant monster or creature allied with dryads. It won't listen to me any more than it would to you. And I sense a deep, seething rage."

Weylan smirked slightly. "You mean the foaming mouth, red eyes, and growling aren't enough of a clue?"

Ulmenglanz shot him an irritated glance but kept her focus on the shraal. She pulled the longbow from her shoulder, the one she’d bought just before their journey. At least she’d invested some of her last gold to buy one of the basic enchanted bows. Its string was waterproof, and it could stay permanently strung, always ready to shoot.

For a brief moment, he considered using his sling but quickly dismissed the idea. A simple stone wouldn't do much against the shraal's thick, leathery hide.

The other battle on the platform had quieted as the fighters, including the female knight on the platform, stopped poking at the bog and kept glancing over at the newcomers. When the shraal appeared, the arcane knight pulled her spear from the mud, revealing it to be far longer than it had appeared—at least six paces. She backed up a few steps to get a running start, then sprinted toward the edge of the walkway. As she leaped, golden runes flared to life on her red-painted boots, and flames burst from the soles, propelling her into the air. A nearby farmer, armed only with a bucket instead of a weapon, hurried over and doused the spot where the fire had scorched the wood.

At the peak of her jump, the knight hurled her spear in what should have been a dramatic, decisive strike. But instead, the spear landed with a thunk in the bog, a full pace behind the shraal.

The knight soared over the group and landed between them and the shraal on the walkway. Runes on her gloves and boots flashed as she absorbed the impact, coming to a halt in a classic hero's landing—one knee on the ground, one hand braced against the wood, the other raised triumphantly, eyes locked on her in a concentric circle as the armor's magic dispersed the force of her landing.

The monster pulled itself fully up. As soon as its hind legs were on the wooden walkway, it charged at its new opponent with startling speed. Ulmenglanz let an arrow fly, but it missed its mark.

The knight rose just in time to meet the shraal’s attack. Claws raked down from both sides. She dodged the left strike and blocked the right with her forearm, sparks flying as the claws scraped against her armor. The knight leaned into the attack and advanced, swinging her fists. A right hook connected with the shraal’s snout, causing it to flinch. She followed up with a left punch, but the shraal’s mouth snapped open in a flash, catching her arm in its jaws.

Even this did not seem to harm the knight, who remained unphased. The shraal’s claws, struggling to reach her so close to its face, scraped harmlessly across her back. Undeterred, she pummeled the shraal’s head with her free hand. After three powerful blows, the creature released her, dazed. It toppled to the side of the walkway. Unnaturally quickly, it sank into the ground as if it were made of water.

The knight kept her gaze on the water, watching for any further movement. When the ripples finally subsided, she sighed and pushed up the golden faceplate of the otherwise primarily red helmet. The visible amount of hair was white, and her face wrinkled with age. Mostly laugh lines that had deepened with time as she smiled warmly at the group. "I’ve been dealing with these critters for two weeks now. They can’t hurt me, and if I rough them up enough, they eventually leave."

Weylan blinked, surprised by her appearance—he had expected someone much younger. He nodded gratefully. "Thanks. That could have gone south real fast."

The knight chuckled. "The first day, that beast dragged me into the swamp and drowned me. Not a pleasant way to go, I can tell you. Walking back from the spawn point in Mulnirsheim to here doesn't get any more interesting when you do it several times."

Weylan shook his head and gestured to the others. "We’re locals. No respawns for us."

To his surprise, Trulda stepped forward and extended her hand. "Except for me. Hello, Iron Ma'am. I'm Trulda." She hesitated and then added a little more quietly, "Perm."

The older knight shook her hand firmly. "Ah, the nice young lady from the Adventurers' Guild. What a pleasant surprise. Has the guild finally decided to take care of the quest here?"

Trulda sighed. "Not exactly. That's why we're here. Only we were expecting something smaller."

The knight nodded. "Same here. The quest got upgraded as soon as I arrived. I could’ve abandoned it without penalty, but then who would protect the village? I tried pulling a Seven Samurai, but I’m the only one here with any real fighting skill, and the villagers are just farmers and craftsmen. They’ve managed pikes at best. I’m up to Layman IX with the spear skill now, but these beasts break my spear after one hit. We’re running low on supplies—no proper wood for the shafts, no metal for the heads. And the creatures don’t exactly play fair. They scatter as soon as I get into position.” She glanced at the swamp thoughtfully. “Maybe I should’ve put some starting points into combat abilities instead of maxing out Jump and Dodge.”

Skorr, noticing movement in the bog, spoke quickly. "We can discuss this further in the village. Those platform houses look sturdier than this rickety walkway."

The knight agreed, flipping down her visor and motioning for them to follow. Without further incident, they reached a large platform with the only two-story building in sight—an octagonal hut made of sturdy tree trunks.

"Upstairs is the village storehouse; downstairs is the meeting hall and the village chief's home."

Weylan grinned involuntarily: "So he has to clean his living room every time he calls a meeting?"

A nearby villager chuckled. "You got it. Once we've sorted out our current problems, I'll apply to move my living room to a third floor."

As if rehearsed, every villager within earshot chorused, "Denied."

The man sighed dramatically. "See what I have to deal with?" He extended his hand. "I am the village elder. My name is Tom. Welcome to my humble abode."

He shook hands with everyone as they passed into the building, then organized the guards before following them inside. Iron Ma'am was the last to enter, and the room became a bit cramped. Villagers and visitors leaned against the walls and sat on the stairs to the upper floor.

They all exchanged glances for a moment before Trulda tapped Iron Ma'am on the shoulder. "Tell me, didn’t I give you this quest over three weeks ago? It was supposed to be a three-day mission—one day to travel, one day to slay the monsters, and one day to return.” She grinned: “Did you get lost?”

Iron Ma'am removed her helmet and placed it on a small table. She pulled the only chair toward her and sank into it heavily. Weylan glanced around, but when none of the villagers objected, he assumed it was all right. After all, she was the oldest person in the room.

"Kiddo... I came straight here. My nephew, who knows all about games like this, told me exactly what I needed. I learned the navigation skill when I created my character and got myself a map on the first day. So I wouldn’t get lost. I asked for a quest no one had wanted since that’s a good way to do some good in this world. I talked to the villagers, scouted the situation, and then set out to hunt down the monster that was threatening them. Then, I got a message from Nemesis that the quest had been upgraded because the monster nest had grown. Presumably, this means the monsters have leveled up as well. I didn’t want to let that stop me, of course."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Trulda raised her hand as if in class. When everyone just stared at her in confusion, she quickly lowered it and asked, "What level is the quest now?"

"When I first got it, it was a level 5 quest. Then, it was upgraded to level 8 when I got here. As of this morning, it's level 9."

Weylan noticed a red glow on his forehead out of the corners of his eyes and quickly accessed the quest menu. The quiet conversations in the room ceased as everyone turned to look at the red glow in the gloomy room. Unaware of the attention, Weylan focused entirely on the information that appeared before him. Some of the warnings were highlighted in bold, grabbing his attention. He cursed, "Golgoroth's stinking breath!"

Trulda eyed him with concern. "What is it?"

"The quest revolves around a monster spawner. A nest that appeared here at the start of the quest. There's a log of the quest events so far. Unfortunately, it starts with the note that it will no longer be updated, as I am now involved myself. Let's see..." His eyes scanned the quest log, and then he summarized its contents: "A newly grown female shraal settled here and built a nest. The original quest was to kill it and destroy the nest with its eggs. Pretty straightforward. There were more than enough revenants to handle it. But no one bothered. The quest was recommended for groups of at least five heroes as an easy beginner quest. While no one was dealing with it, the female shraal consumed the eggs of a neighboring nest of giant leeches that no one had taken care of either. It absorbed the magical power from the leeches and grew. Then, the male shraal returned to share the territory, as there was plenty of food. That’s when the quest was upgraded. Shortly after that, someone finally showed up—a single heroine. Iron Ma'am was clearly warned that this quest was too high level for her. But she refused to abandon it."

Trulda looked at the knight in disbelief. "You really intended to do this quest alone? I thought you were looking for companions first."

The female knight shrugged, a gesture visible even through her flexible armor. "No one I asked wanted to trek this far into the swamp when there were easier quests closer by. So, I went alone. I was raised to believe that if someone needs to do something, you better do it yourself."

The village elder bowed deeply: “And we're eternally grateful for your help."

Iron Ma'am waved him off. "Don't mention it."

"No, really," the elder insisted. "When no one arrived after two weeks, we even started rehearsing the song."

Weylan winced.

Trulda raised an eyebrow. "What song?"

Weylan shook his head. "Just an old superstition. I doubt it ever helps."

The elder nodded thoughtfully. "It's only sung in the most desperate of times, when no help seems to be coming, and the need is dire."

Trulda’s curiosity deepened. "What song are you talking about?"

Iron Ma'am's eyes lit up. "Someone did whistle a familiar tune when I arrived." She paused and turned to the village elder. "Was it something a revenant bard taught the locals during the last plague?"

The man nodded, and one of the villagers, a burly man with a thick beard, cleared his throat. In a deep, rumbling voice, he began to sing the first line: "Where have all the good men gone..."

Trulda doubled over, making a strangled, wheezing sound. The man stopped singing, somewhat disappointed by the reaction.

Weylan looked around frantically, expecting an attack, until he realized she was just laughing. Iron Ma'am joined in, barely able to stay on her seat.

After they calmed down, they looked at each other and sang the chorus together: "I need a hero!"

Then, they both burst into laughter again.

Once they recovered, Iron Ma'am apologized sincerely to the village elder, and they returned to more serious matters.

Trulda wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "I’d really like to hear the full song, maybe after we won. But now, dame knight, how did it go so far? Not well, it seems."

Ulmenglanz interjected, "Shepherd, can you figure out why the shraal is attacking people? They usually don't do that unless someone’s encroaching on their territory or threatening their nest."

Weylan inwardly cringed at the term "shepherd" but let it slide, focusing again on the quest description. "Let me check... There's some additional lore... Nope. Since I'm now involved, I can’t access it. But you're right. Something must have agitated the creature. I just don't think it matters much now. I doubt we can solve this diplomatically."

The knight snorted in amusement. "I already tried talking and even bribing it with a cow. It didn’t understand a word. The next day, it came back and attacked some villagers. I tried leaping onto it from the footbridge and jumped on top of it, but my short sword couldn't pierce its scales. I slipped, fell into the bog, and nearly drowned until the villagers pulled me out with a rope."

The villagers nodded proudly. The knight smiled at them and continued, "Next, I tried a spear. The monster dodged, but I still managed to hit it, though not with full force. The spear only injured its shoulder and then broke off. That time, I drowned in the swamp."

Weylan stared at her, open-mouthed. "That doesn't bother you?"

"I logged out before it got too bad. I respawned in Mulnirsheim after a day of play. I tried finding adventurers to help, but everyone was busy. After a few hours, I gave up, bought a steel lance, and came back."

"I don’t see a lance," Weylan noted.

"It’s in the swamp somewhere. The monster never got close enough to the jetty when I was there. These things have a strong hunting instinct. I tried training the villagers, but to make a noticeable improvement in such a short time, I'd need some teaching skill or something. We've just been muddling through since then."

She bowed her head and wiped dirt from her armor, drawing the newcomers' attention to it. The armor was covered in claw marks—some just scratches on the paint, others deeply gouged into the metal.

Skorr rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This won’t be easy... What level are you, if I may ask?"

"Arcane Knight, level 2."

Weylan couldn’t hide his astonishment. "You’ve been fighting such powerful monsters for so long, and you're still only level 2?"

The knight removed her iron boots as she replied, "Only? My nephew bought me a starting level of 5. I haven't defeated any of these monsters yet, but I've respawned three times. Since I haven’t killed anything or fulfilled any quest conditions, I haven’t earned any XP yet."

Trulda looked at her in disbelief. "And you still kept coming back?"

"No one else wanted to protect the village. I couldn’t defeat the monsters, but I could keep them from killing villagers. At least until now. The village elders think the quest upgrade is a sign that the shraal eggs are about to hatch."

The village elder agreed. "The parents are now searching for food even more aggressively. When the young start hunting, they’ll expand their territory and likely attack other villages. We’re the largest village nearby, and we barely manage to fend off the adults. Shraal pairs don’t separate as long as there’s enough food. They support each other. Shraal young will split up to seek new territories."

Iron Ma'am punched the wall in frustration. "I’ve caught the female in a snare trap twice, but the male broke the rope long before we could finish her off. And when I finally speared the male, the female attacked me."

As she removed her second boot, a villager helped her take off the plate armor on her legs. Underneath, undergarments were revealed, which didn't seem to bother Iron Ma'am.

"We need a new plan," she declared.

Weylan rubbed his chin. "There are more of us now. We can handle two beasts at once."

Skorr shook his head. "Weren't you just with us? One of them nearly wiped the floor with us. We should get reinforcements, like a dozen spearmen."

Ulmenglanz held her hand over a vase of wilted flowers, and the leaves regained their color. Without looking away from the flowers, she suggested, "Archers. Spears have too short a range. We could try taking it down from a rooftop."

Trulda looked out the window. "That might work, but we'd need a decoy." She looked around, thinking. "If only we had someone who could come back after getting eaten."

Weylan protested, "I can do this without getting caught. Now that I know what’s coming, I’m sure I can evade it."

"One, maybe, but both?" Trulda countered.

Iron Ma'am leaned back, and a villager placed a stool for her to rest her feet on. "Won’t work. The Krigesti desert warriors are on the move. The city guard and soldiers are no longer allowed to leave the city. Adventurers with ranged weapons also have plenty of other quests to choose from."

Trulda rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Could we build siege weapons? Like a ballista or a spear thrower?"

Skorr perked up. "Can you do that?"

"Me? No."

The village chief dismissed the idea. "We don’t even have a bow maker. Ulrecht can craft decent arrows, but that’s it. We don’t have a smithy, and most of our tools are bought from town."

Trulda wasn’t ready to give up. "Could we build a trap?"

Weylan stepped outside and surveyed the surroundings. "Pitfall traps won’t work in the swamp. The trees here are willows, not elastic enough for traps. Big enough traps would be on a similar complexity level to war machines. We'd need a blacksmith, spring steel..." He noticed everyone staring at him in surprise. "What?"

Skorr was the first to speak. "Are shepherds trained in trap making?"

"No, but... my other class has the appropriate skill."

"Any ideas on what might work?" Skorr pressed.

"Not in open terrain. If we could lure the shraal into a cave... Maybe we could drop a wooden cage?"

The village chief dismissed that too. "We can’t build anything sturdy enough for an angry shraal. They can chew through whole trees. We’d need iron bars."

The discussion continued but eventually hit a dead end. The village chief pulled out a map of the village and spread it on the floor. Everyone gathered around it, staring down in despair. Trulda suddenly looked up. "What about poison? We could bait it with something poisonous."

The village leader shook his head. "Shraals are immune to all plant poisons I know of. Even if we had any. At best, we have herbs that cause vomiting in large doses."

Weylan consulted his Poison Lore skill. "They're too big for that. The necessary dose would depend on their body weight. Besides, monsters are generally resistant to poisons unless it's their specific weakness."

Silence fell over the group again until Weylan suddenly spoke up. He pointed to a spot on the map. "There are some trees close together here, forming a narrow passage. I think I saw some bushes between them earlier."

The village chief nodded. "There’s a rock there, almost at the surface of the water."

Weylan rubbed his hands together. "Perfect. How about this: We lure the shraals with a food trail to this narrow spot between the trees. We attach ropes to a giant spear and tie it to trees here, here, and here on two trees opposite each other. Use another rope to pull the spear back into the treetops. When the shraal is in position, someone cuts the rope, and the spear impales it."

Skorr considered the plan. "A good hit might injure the beast, but not enough to kill it. A single thrust won't kill a monster that size." He raised his index finger as Weylan lowered his head in disappointment "...but, if we add strong barbs, it might hold the shraal long enough for us to finish it off. We’ll need access routes here and here. I’ll hide on the left, and if the armored lady wants to join us..."

Iron Ma'am grinned. "Of course, I’m in. Plus, a few villagers with spears they can throw from the trees. Not at our shraal, but at its mate. It won't sit idle. We might not get both in the ambush, but it's better odds of success than my previous plans."

The village chief straightened, about to speak, but the arcane knight cut him off with a smile. "It’s alright. You don’t have to defend me. I’m not a strategist and have no experience with such things. My plans were therefore structured accordingly... quite simple."

They spent the next while discussing the details before the villagers dispersed to gather supplies. Without a forge, crafting a suitable spearhead was challenging. They sharpened a long pole into a flat point by planing down the wood, then drilled holes for angled barbs and hardened the point over a fire.

Other villagers cleared the battleground and built platforms in the trees. Weylan, lacking technical expertise, mostly observed and offered help where he could.

As the construction neared completion, Skorr patted Weylan on the shoulder. "Solid plan. Nothing can go wrong."

Weylan winced. "Did you have to jinx it?"