Uno

My cameras were observing the delicate balance between the two armies. A solemn atmosphere. Vicious gazes.

On the one side humans closely guarded their impromptu outpost. A rather large squad of the shielded spearmen and supporting troops were deployed outside. Their aim seemed to both provoke and intercept anyone stupid enough to attack without a plan. A passive strategy of waiting for the enemy move.

Then again, as an outnumbered side, there wasn’t much more they could do.

On the palisade behind them, numerous mages and archers stood at the ready. I zoomed in, only to see pale, sweaty expressions all over. The morale wasn’t high. The commanders who were pacing a few steps behind the soldiers didn’t look any better, but under all this panic and strained nerves, there was something else. A sense of purpose. A wild hope.

These people had a plan, a chance to survive. Their faces told me as much. Between the static spearmen, some teams of adventurers slowly moved from one place to another, easily recognizable by mismatched armor and use of strange weapons. Their faces looked full of fear and tension too, but some enjoyed the atmosphere, the excitement. Crazy ones, adrenaline junkies - that was what they were called, right?

But nothing was happening.

Nobody made the first move.

Yet.

I tuned back to the monsters, like a bored teenager switching TV channels.

At first glance, they were a chaotic blob of different races and languages - more and less barbaric depending on their species. There was no sense of purpose, no leaders, no nothing.

Just wild, crazy, hungry horde.

And yet after a few minutes of observation, I noticed that I was wrong. There were some rules pertaining to their behavior. Like how the bigger and stronger monsters were concentrated in the middle of their group. They were also the ones with fewer deformities and wearing way better equipment - mostly made from metal, which contrasted with stone, wood, and leather common amongst the rest of the horde.

It also seemed like there was a clear structure, with the smaller, mostly less intelligent goblins, kobolds (or even lizardmen and orcs) being both a vanguard and scouts for the more important and powerful beings.

It was a simple, tribal structure, but hey - it worked.

Especially because (as I saw) the defiant monsters were devoured by the leaders.

Amongst the giants, trolls, and ogres camping in the middle, a small group of many different beings caught my attention. They seemed to be heterogeneous, comprised of many different races. While largest of them were giants it was not uncommon to see a naga, orc or even a goblin walk by, undisturbed by the other, theoretically stronger beings.

The one thing they had in common were staves - or more like sticks with human skulls embedded on them. Each of these, let’s call them tribal shamans radiated an aura of magic. But no mystical shit - a literal, colorful aura that could be seen with a naked eye. Blue, red, yellow, green and so on.

Even the biggest of the other monsters seemed to avoid them, leaving a rather large stretch of no-man-land in the middle of the horde. Their appearance also seemed to rouse the humans.

In a bad way.

“Nobody said that they will have mages!” Shouted a large armored man towards the commander of the defense, red-haired mage called Charles. “We’re screwed! Totally screwed! They’re going to take my Nadia's head and mount it on the spike!” He mumbled while shaking.

“This was always one of the predicted outcomes. We will survive nonetheless.” The noble answered calmly, looking down on the man from his platform located on the palisade.

“Lies!” The warrior yelled back, ignorant to the gazes of pity that the surrounding soldiers showered him with. “You and your noble friends are going to hide in the dungeon, while we bleed and fight for you!” He screamed even louder. “Let us down there too!”

“That’s an interesting thing you said, considering that I am standing right here and it is you who wants to whimper and hide!”

“Are you saying I’m a coward?!”

“Worse.” The red-haired man smirked. “A dead coward.”

“Huh?”

“Flamebolt!” He chanted quickly and threw a fiery projectile right into the man’s chest. It lodged deeply, burning flesh and filling the air with his screams. “And once more, for good measure. Firebolt.” The second one seemed to be more accurate than the first, entering through the already dying man eye, while killing him instantly.

The soldiers stood around, shocked, not knowing how to react, while the adventurers murmured angrily. The situation was volatile, but Charles immediately grabbed the chance to defuse it.

“Do you see how the cowardice ends?” He asked while pointing at half-burned body. “We need to be strong, we need to be courageous and we need to act according to plan! Understood?!”

“Sir, yes SIR!” The soldiers saluted, while the adventurers grudgingly bowed. The people who had been in the party with the departed especially had to stifle their anger. Somehow they managed to do it, but not before sending a few furious glances up to the noble.

“Now, get back to your posts and prepare for a fight! Remember, do not lay down your life thoughtlessly! We have a way out and it will come true if each of us will fulfill our duties!”

The commotion ended and the only people left were Charles and some of his adjutants.

“Make sure somebody cleans up this waste.” He said to nobody in particular. “I need a moment.” The surrounding people looked at each other, confused. “A moment alone.” He repeated. “Adam, stay please.” He added as the old butler was ready to leave with the others.

With a small bow, the silver-haired servant stood behind his master’s back.

“Do you think I was too harsh?” Charles asked while staring at the horde.

“We willingly burdened you with this task. There are no bad decisions now. Only more and less costly, sir.”

“I see.” The mage glanced at his soldiers, once again ready to fight. “I want the friends of this man to not survive the battle. One way or another.” His red eyes searched the orderly ranks. “This should subdue any notions of disrespecting the nobility.”

“It shall be done.” The butler only smiled, then bowed to Charles and left. A solemn sigh escaped the man’s lips. Only I was here to hear it though.

It was time to switch the channel - there were four cameras left, giving me a sufficient view of the battlefield.

A flat plain, with only a few of the silvery tree stumps, was surrounding the oval outpost. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago this place was a jungle. Now, in the middle of this devastation was a palisade and a shallow trench, filled with sharpened sticks. The only road towards the gate was blocked by a large contingent of soldiers and adventurers. They stood guard quietly while waiting for their enemy move. Some of the mages and archers joined them as support, but these were mostly comrades of the vanguard adventurers.

Behind them, on a specially prepared platforms archers and uniformly clothed mages waited in anticipation. The said mages were mostly using violet robes, with a few exceptions of red, yellow and light-blue garbs. I couldn’t see any civilians, which was pretty obvious in the hindsight, considering that pretty much all of them were hidden in the newly excavated area.

The air tensed even more as the horde started to move.

It was a sudden, primal action - the kobolds and goblins ran ahead, their small figures and primitive weapons looking comical if not for inhuman faces, sharp teeth, and common deformities. There weren’t any recognizable words in the shouts they produced and I watched as the whole lot of them clashed with human warriors.

Soldiers armed with shields and spears stood their line, barely hampered by their senseless wailing. From behind them, adventurer teams were slipping in and out, leaving a bloody trail behind them. An interesting combination, because as far as I knew (spying on the sentients being my new hobby) a common soldier was a level one, two or maybe three being. And yet they stood their ground against an army a few times bigger.

The little beasts were outmatched, but they didn’t break. They bit the humans on the ankles, tried to spit in their eyes or just cut any part of their clothing that was not armored. It was even a bit adorable if not for their full of madness single-mindedness. It reminded me how my dungeon creatures tended to throw their life away to please me.

After a few minutes of harassment, most of this wave’s monsters were dispatched and a loud, deep sound resounded in the background. Not that I thought about it was also here before, when the goblins charged, yet this time I managed to identify the source. It was a horn from some large beast, mounted on a stable platform and used by a giant clad in wooden armor. Well, calling it an armor might’ve been an overstatement since it was simply a large door held by some ropes. Anyway - it signaled something, but I wasn’t sure what.

The little goblins and kobolds knew, though. They shrieked in shrill voices while gesticulating towards the human defensive line.

Some of the men spewed curses in response, others simply prayed.

The second wave of creatures emerged from the horde, this time reinforced with groups of orcs, lizardmen, and satyrs. Unlike their predecessors, these medium-sized monsters were using leather armor and had weapons other than clubs at their disposal. They were still crude and rusted - probably scavenged from the fallen, but a jump in quality was clearly visible.

Unlike before there was a commotion. People on the walls were preparing, counting arrows, gathering their thoughts, getting into positions.

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The horde advanced, many monsters growling and shouting with excitement. They crossed an invisible line, and so an order was given.

“Fire!”

A cloud of arrows flew through the air first, skewering many of the enemies.

The line wavered, but it was still not enough - the ones pushing from the back forced the remaining creatures to advance.

Then the spells arrived.

The fireballs burned the advancing monsters to the crisp, the ice flowers froze them into abstract forms and the earthen spikes broke them apart. Violet energy similar to lightning fell from the sky only to burn and cut and maim, stopping the enemies in their tracks.

I observed this magical hurricane in awe.

For a moment it seemed like sheer power the humans produced would be enough to keep their enemies at bay… Then the horn sounded again and more medium and small-sized monsters arrived on the battlefield. Some hesitated, some tried to run when arriving at the death zone, but in the end, their sheer bulk was enough to push through…

But it wasn’t enough to avoid falling into another trap - the earth they were standing gave in and broke under their weight, a hundred monsters falling to their deaths. Onto sharpened sticks below. A large trench was uncovered, the one that humans were digging earlier. I was wondering where it had disappeared to.

Sounds of pain and exertion followed as the smaller monsters were squashed by the larger ones, while all of them received some concussions, bruises, and cuts. The unlucky ones were killed instantly. The hole was wide enough to block the whole approach and a few meters deep, ending in a rocky, flat surface which reminded me of something.

Human warriors cheered loudly seeing another wave of the invaders meet their doom, some of them even shooting arrows and magic towards the helpless monsters.

They were yelled at for wasting ammunition.

A wise decision as the horde grew even more restless and another horn sounded in the air.

More monsters were coming.

Hearing the echo those imprisoned in the ditch grew frantic, frightfully grabbing loose dirt and stones, trying to claw their way out.

The spearmen weren’t having any of that - their sharp weapons poked the eyes and skin, instantly forcing orcs to tumble back down. The lizardmen were a bit better off, their natural armor allowing them to easier endure the abuse. Still, an accurate hit was enough to blind any of the advancing braves. More importantly, those standing watch over their makeshift moat knew that they couldn’t allow a single monster to gain ground on the other side.

The desperate struggle continued, while the horn sounded a different note.

Like before small goblins and kobolds advanced, same with orcs and other brutes, but the ones flanking their advance were nagas and centaurs. Half-humans, half-horses and half-humans half-snakes. How fitting for the sentients to meet their end at their cousin's hands.

The centaurs accelerated immediately, their long legs giving them an advantage. Barely any of them wore furs, but each had a spear or another long weapon. Their speech was incoherent and each of the advancing warriors bore a sign of disease - broken skin, unseeing eye, an infected wound. With a brave leap, they jumped over the dry moat and landed amid the defenders. Most of them were slaughtered in a brutal battle, but some managed to hold their ground long enough for the reinforcements to arrive.

The nagas used their serpentine movements to easily scale moat walls while dual-wielding their sharp swords, spears, and axes. The upper part of their bodies looked human-like, but anybody seeing their eyes would say otherwise. Those were naga men, with naked chests and bald heads. Their advance was calm, silent and felt inevitable, as they slithered with practiced movements, each of them trying to cut the legs of their opponent, only to finish them by a bite from their unnaturally widening jaws.

This battle seemed to turn against humans, something I wasn’t too worried about. After all, as an observer, I was sure to weather any incursions from the horde. I even welcomed it, especially these shamans with their skull-like accessories.

A notion of neutrality that was overturned a few seconds later.

“Do, it mage!” Charles snapped at his second-in-command, violet-robed elder in a strange helmet.

“Yes, yes… so impatient.” The man in question murmured. He raised his hand upwards and the rest of the similarly clothed wizards followed his example. In a second he started to murmur, violent energy collecting on his palm. The rest of the surrounding people also chanted, their spheres seemingly significantly smaller, but looking no less dangerous.

Thirty seconds passed, the air humming with concentrated power.

And then...

“Disintegrate.” He breathed out exhaustedly.

“““Arcane Lance””” The rest followed with a slightly different spell.

A while later the old man’s spell flew towards one part of the moat, while the combined Arcane Lances moved to the other.

The difference was that the Disintegration just left a trail of the monsters-turned-ash, until it impacted the ground, tearing a large chunk out of it, while the Arcane Lances on the other hand simply cut through the enemies, puncturing anything on their way, until exploding…

And also tearing a large chunk out of the ground.

There was no pain, no fear.

Just a sound of the escaping mana… similar to the kettle with boiling water.

It was then when I understood.

These fuckers were drilling holes in my dungeon!

A moment later I lost the direct control over the cameras and my network, the severed cables no longer sending the data towards my core.

I gasped.

The loss of sight was always painful.

Thankfully the cables, the network were just crutches - I could still search the first level manually.

And so I did.

There were two large holes, two breaches - one located in the Twisted Tunnels, other in the Conservatory.

The latter was more important, as it pretty much severed my ability to influence the walls, to shape them. It could start to crumble at any moment now!

What was worse the humans were evacuating downstairs, filthy cowards!

“Move, move, move!” Shouted the sergeants, while pushing their men down the stairs in an orderly fashion.

“Adventurers last, soldiers later, mages first, remember your training!” People shouted, fear nearly visible in the air.

“Keep them away!”

“They’re not moving!”

“Good, use that time wisely!”

“Run!”

“Orderly, Belle’s tits! Orderly I said, fuckers!”

“Master Vincent!” Charles, the red-haired noble yelled.

“Yes?” With a small smile the absent-minded old man… no - a terrifying mage - answered his question. He was still observing the aftermath of his work.

“Are you sure the monsters will focus on these holes?”

“Yes, but not exclusively. The biggest, like giants, will wander off in time, the medium and large abominations will flock to the new entrances like moths to the flame. The small creatures… who knows.” His brow scrunched. “Also we didn’t foresee the arrival of the shamans. They’re the bad news, those ones.”

“Any weaknesses?” The younger man asked brusquely.

“No. Not that I know much about them, anyway. Not my venue or research. Not to mention each of them is different.” Their discussion had been interrupted by the arriving messenger.

“Sir! Most of our forces are already in the shelter, we’re awaiting your arrival.”

“Let’s go then.” The man nodded and violet-robed mage followed his footsteps. A small whisper escaped Charles’ lips. “Finish them.” A faint shadow behind him nodded in confirmation.

I ignored the rest of their conversation.

After all, there were more important things to take care of.

Like an invasion on my doorstep.

Only a few minutes had passed since the explosion and both my monsters and those outside were confused. But confusion didn’t mean inaction.

Four of the already hurt orcs were in a bad position earlier, squashed under bodies of their companions, slowly choking to death. That was until the explosion threw them down into a weird hole, their grunts echoing in the cavernous tunnels.

Sensing that the dead flesh of their companions disappeared (my doing, by the way) they stood up, their primitive weapons readied. A second or two passed in silence until their ears started to hear again and a strange sound repeated in the background.

Clang.

CLang.

CLAng.

CLANg

CLANG…

It was getting closer.

The monsters huddled together, their breaths growing quicker and quicker. With widened eyes they stared at the closest corridor, none of them wanting to advance.

And then Decapitator found them.

My thirsty walls were once again splashed with warm blood.

The group that had fallen into the Conservatory was a bit luckier, the only enemy here being my plants.

That is until one of them stepped on a Fiery Dandelion, one of my more acidic creations. It spewed the corrosive material all around, just like it was designed to do, killing and hurting the intruders in the process.

My Lebirs or Jailer Jonathan didn’t even have a chance to shine.

I was sure that no matter how many enemies would come my creations would stand tall. It was a certainty that I was going to regret in the coming hours...

According to my cameras, most of the monsters had indeed crowded towards the newly opened entrances. Some moved to the “old” one and bashed down hatch covering it. They were currently fighting it out with the sentients.

The rest was funneled towards the second floor.

Yes, my monsters fought valiantly, Lebirs and even Fail-Smith mounting a resistance every few centimeters. Backing out when another enemy fell.

But the space to retreat was limited.

In the end, they gave their lives trying to bleed the enemy dry.

My traps and plants also worked wonders, taking many with them. The spears, the pitfalls, acidic plants, Strangleroots…

Decapitator managed to turn the walls bright red before it was overwhelmed. In the process of said battle, it also collapsed my tunnels, now without a fresh surge of mana to reinforce them. This in turn divided the enemy forces cleanly, forcing those in the east to focus on humans, while the rest attacked me.

My monsters still respawned, since the system didn’t recognize the invaders as sentients, but the appearing creations were immediately getting torn to shreds.

But not Jailer Jonathan.

Or Decapitator.

Or Enhanced Bile-brain Golem.

These three fought their own battles, especially the last one - a hulking brute stuck in a room where any bleeding would trigger a bloodlust effect. He was a show-stopper for the steady trickle of enemies trying to conquer my lower level.

But none of them managed to return.

All my creations, undead and what not were on high alert - and the once calm Central Pond Room now looked more like a surface of Moon, than a jungle, with all the craters covering every free centimeter of space. Every few minutes a large explosion echoed, adding to the grunts and screams of the invaders.

I managed to time my Lebir Exploders production in such a way that they appeared when another group beat the Floor Boss.

The resulted explosion pretty much always decimated the incoming monsters, feeding me enough energy to keep producing more Exploders. And more Lebirs.

The Ratlings had their hands full too, fighting a guerilla war in their tunnels, murdering any goblins, kobolds or other small monsters inside and getting murdered in return. It was a brutal campaign, with claw against claw and teeth against teeth. A war of attrition.

Not once or twice I saw a rat perish while still strangling the neck of his enemy. The unreasonable violence continued as my creations threw themselves senselessly at the advancing horde.

They weren’t stopping, but neither was I.

At least the giants, trolls, ogres and other large creatures seemed bored senselessly after only a few days of observing the slaughter (since they were too big to fit into my corridors and join in the fun). They just up and left, without a word, leaving a clutch of shamans and a veritable sea of monsters behind - still waiting to ravage my dungeon.

The situation stabilized.

For me at least. The days passed and the humans were on their last legs. Constantly charging monsters, a lack of sleep, the tension of their families waiting just behind a corner combined into a veritable powderkeg. It was only a question of time until somebody broke.

And then a few more days passed again.

The sentients were screaming at each other and I hoped to taste all that goodness hidden in my halls… Especially their mages...

But the fucking elves arrived as reinforcements.

Couldn’t catch a break, could I?