The first Mantid kill came from one of the Knights.

> A level 25 Mantid has died. +1 Endurance.

Yes! If I was correct, the System would award me for some Mantid kills. I was sure it wasn't just me guessing their numbers. It was also the knowledge that their scythes are envenomed.

The Knights proved their adaptability and ability to learn as they made much less mistakes while the Mantids fought exactly the same way. They rotated the front and back rows more often. They must've trained for this with the porters because the moment the front-row knight shouted “change!” The pikes all came poking at the Mantid on that side. From above, perfectly covering the retreat and change.

They also moved in a way that left more openings for me to shoot than none. Because the press of bodies, the constant shifting and moving would've left me none. Not that I could complain. I got Attribute Points for every kill I didn't take part in or a meager handful of Experience points when I did. I was basically earning a passive income from all these kills I didn't take part in.

With our efficiency, the inevitable happened. Mantid corpses started to pile. But without any noncombatants to drag the carcasses to the back, they could clog the tunnel and hinder our side's effectiveness. It couldn't be helped. The former porters were more useful as pikemen anyway. We needed to use every person and monster available. The Mantids were disposable and replaceable. Our men weren't. And especially the woman, I couldn't dream of wasting Kara's life in this shithole. We would only win with all of them killed. The Dungeon won if we either died or retreated back to the surface.

“Sleepy, William, fetch!” I ordered. It wasn't entirely safe since they could bite the poisoned scythes but my bonds were smart. The two moved between the porters and dragged the dead Mantids back. If they couldn't do it, I would stow my bow and do it myself.

I counted thirty-six Mantid kills before someone got wounded. A Mantid scythe slipped underneath a vambrace, popping a few mail links and poking a Knight's sword arm. The second-row knight pulled his companion back and moved to take his place as the pikemen (it doesn't make sense to call them porters anymore) focused on harassing the Mantid back.

The potions started to see some use. The fight raged on. Corpses piled on one side of the tunnel next to the stairs.

Climbing the stairs wouldn't automatically mean safety. Monsters could and did chase people between levels. But we would have the higher ground.

*

*

The end was in sight; the swarm was thinning and the chittering was no longer a maddening cacophony.

The knights took fewer wounds than before. The porters had all reported they were around level twenty and twenty-two; since we didn't have an experience share feature, awards were based on collaboration for each kill. They stopped earning double Experience from the prestige feature because they regained all their levels. After that, I engaged with more frequency, to gain my own share of the Experience. It wouldn't do to let the guys I trained outlevel me. While I didn't gain a level, the PP Attributes more than made up for that.

The last three Mantids fell almost at the same time. The sudden silence was exhilarating but the stench of sweat and dead bugs wasn't. Nobody complained. We were all happy we were victorious. But the pikemen were shouting and hooting, hugging each other and cheering.

I had to focus to keep from grinning. My Parallel Progression granted me sixty Attribute points before the System refused to give me any more. Counting both types of notifications, the Parallel Progression and the kill awards, the swarm had eighty-five Mantids.

Kara, from her expression, was assaulted by mixed feelings. She did nothing during the whole fight. Except not. She did a very important task. If she went to the front to engage the Mantids, one of the Knights would stay behind to act as Hector's bodyguard. This knight would be kept fresh in case he needed to cover the lordling’s retreat.

Since a Knight's fighting prowess was higher than Kara by a huge margin, keeping her there instead of a more experienced and powerful warrior was a net positive for us. Especially for me as the idea of seeing Kara getting hurt made my blood boil for some reason. I loathed to admit but the biggest benefit was to leave Hector out of everything. But now, he had free reign.

“We will carry the corpses upstairs and burn them in the boss room,” Hector declared. “We will push for the second floor boss room. Unless we find more Mantids, which I doubt, we have to push forward.”

“Yes, sir!” The knights shouted.

The pikemen and I did the hard labor while the knights rested and tended their wounds. Moving this many corpses up the stairs proved to be hard, backbreaking work. One the former porter team was more than capable of doing without my help. I was actually holding them back. Each of them could carry six or seven dead Mantids in one go.

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I stayed upstairs to guard the room. While we never saw a single Gibbermouth get close to the boss room, it could happen. Aside that, someone had to stay with the pile of Mantid corpses to keep the Dungeon from absorbing them back.

With two trips, the pikemen moved all the corpses. The stairs were a waterfall of bug blood. Moving up and down them was a slipping hazard.

I doused the corpses and set them on fire. The smoke drifted into the dust room, sucked by the artificial wind that kept the dust suspended there.

After several hours, the bug ashes were left behind. Goodbye, first floor. I would only see you on the way out.

Going down the stairs was slow. I wasn't joking when I said it was slippery as fuck.

While I burned the corpses and wobbled my way down in an Herculean task to keep my trousers clean, the pikemen became true Pikemen. Level twenty awarded them a subclass and that one was what made the most sense. They got a Skill specialized in fighting as a unit and dealing damage with pikes. It granted combat bonuses to fight as a group, commonly known in Guild jargon as pack tactics.

Wolf monsters were notorious users of this feature. The more wolves you had, the tougher and stronger they became. The fight against the Mantids would probably end in a TPK if the monsters had pack tactics.

Now, the Pikemen were a true force multiplier. If only we had armor for them. It couldn't be helped. At least they had weapons.

*

*

The alcoves in the mossy (and now sooty) tunnel were a constant source of stress. While I didn't hear anything but our steps and voices, it always had a chance of an ambush.

The constant tension and fear mired our mental health. Raiding Dungeons were a war of attrition fought on many fronts, just like one on the surface. Logistics, positioning, strength, and morale all played their part.

When we saw the antechamber to the boss room, people shouted and hooted. This one had a giant iron-framed door.

I moved to the front with my bonds. I had to first scout the room and see if I could peek at the boss. Visibility was good - for a hole in the ground - and the room was way smaller than the dust room. In just a few minutes, I had checked a wide path between the tunnel mouth and the boss door. I couldn't see anything because the door couldn't be moved with my strength alone.

But our Pikemen were as strong as a pair of normal oxen, each. Once they put their backs to it, the door scraped the floor as it swung inward.

I tugged on the rope tied to their waists and kept them from falling inside the boss room. That would trigger a battle and most likely move the doors shut automatically.

The door opened and all we saw on the other side was an emerald-green grass patch under a bright light. It was almost as if we were above-ground again. The men's eyes went as wide as a gnome prostitute’s butt. Fizzlewhisper’s saying, not mine. Gnomes did have wide hips and shoulders, both men and women.

If things didn't change in the next few seconds, we were dead. The following events happened in quick succession.

My blood went cold as I recognized this grass. “Get away from the grass!”

I knew what it was, a very dangerous monster. The grass swayed. The boss fight had already started.

“Boss fight! Don't go into the room! Draw your weapons and cut the grass! Form up and hold the line! Slashing attacks only!”

The Knights all had their weapons in their hands already. The Pikemen had to put their wheelbarrows down and get their pikes from the bundle. I stowed Scout’s Oath and drew my sword.

“Where is the boss?” Hector asked.

Tendrils made out of grass roots full of leaves rose from the ground.

“The grass is the boss! Constrictor, razor leaves! Don't let it wrap anybody! Incoming!”

A dozen tendrils shot at us. The knights blocked some with their shields. These got the shield entangled. Next, they swung and cut the roots, severing the tendril which snapped back at once.

I dodged and slashed another one. Kara sliced a root meant for Hector. The Pikemen were too far back.

The middle of the room rumbled. Twice the number of tendrils rose while the ones already in the air snaked and readied themselves to attack again.

“Kept cutting!” I shouted.

“Move away from the door!” Hector ordered.

The Knights obeyed. It was a sensible decision if one had no idea what they were facing. Against this monster? It was idiotic!

“No! Move back! We must give it as many targets as po–”

Too late. Eight tendrils shot at me and the rest flared out the door. I cut four of them but the others caught me. The outer leather layer of my brigandine was instantly sheared away, revealing the metal plates beneath it.

They made snapping sounds like a whip, the only warning it gave before striking. Or as it struck. I heard dozens of tales on how this monster ruined entire Adventuring parties. But never as a Dungeon boss. This was another level of horror.

The remaining roots wrapped around my arms and one leg. Sleepy leaped on the latter one and bit down on it, shaking his head and shearing the root. William moved in front of me and stood his ground.

The monster pulled back. Double the roots from before started to raise. I lurched forward as my arms were dragged with a violent force, making me drop my sword. Only William in front of me kept me from being forcibly moved into the boss room. The squirming roots kept sawing at the armor plates, slowly drawing lines along the metal.

“Help!” I shouted. I couldn't get any weapon to save myself; my arms were fully stretched ahead as I struggled against the pull. William pushed me away from the door. Worse, the razor leaves ground my HP like a colony of hornets stung an intruder. Death by a thousand cuts.

Kara let Hector on his own and rushed to help. Cutting the stretched immobile vines was trivial but it exposed her to the next salvo.

“Come back you fucking cowards!” I cursed in my desperation. “We need to split the attacks!”

Four of the pikemen ran to stand by my side. The knights looked at Hector, waiting for orders. The fucking idiot, their commander, had told them to stand back.

I dropped into a crouch and picked my blade. I also drew a knife in my left.

“We need to cut as many vines as possible, every time!” I tried to explain. “Hector, learn to fight with your damn offhand arm already, dammit!”

All the wrong things to say.