Gizmo launched himself towards the group of adventurers that were about to be squashed to death by the falling armadillo. He wrapped the first two adventurers in his arms, allowing his momentum and newfound mass to bowl the rest of them over. They cried out in shock and pain as they landed awkwardly. A moment later, the armadillo landed, flames shooting out from its body as it hit the deck with a world-shaking thump.

Gizmo taunted the creature immediately, grabbing its attention. He ran at it to put distance between any incoming attacks and the adventurers he’d just saved. The armadillo batted at him with a front paw, slamming him into the low wall that was atop the ramparts. He hit the structure bodily, his thick metal skin making a dull sound as it collided with the hardwood wall.

He internally sighed in relief, knowing he couldn’t stand the anticipation and absence of impending pain any longer. The dull ache in his back, the warm, burning sensation in his front where the flaming paw had hit him, and the knowledge that he was about to be hit again—all of it culminated in such a feeling of content satisfaction that Gizmo instantly reassessed his purpose in life.

Building and crafting was okay, sure, but this? Blocking attacks meant for others, and the sheer ecstasy that ensued? The question of if he would survive, and just how far his limits could be pushed? That was what he truly desired.

As he lay against the wall, watching the Flamadillo approach and waiting for the next attack, something bit him on the arm. He looked to the right to see a gecko attached to his limb, eyes glowing red.

Oh. This gecko on the wall must have been in range of my Taunt. If only there were more, that would be nice…

Another bit his other arm, and his excitement grew. His world went dark as a third bit his head and cut off his vision of the outside world.

Gizmo groaned in satisfaction and thought to himself, Superb, this is what it means to be alive.

***

Captain Blanc watched as Gizmo single handedly saved five-adventurers from grave injury or death, bowling them out of the way of the falling armadillo. His admiration grew for the little robot, and he reflected it was amazing he was only a familiar.

Gizmo had been instrumental in the defense of the western gate through his Engineering alone. He had manned one of his mounted-ballista, unleashing untold death upon the enemy forces. When the enemy had taken out their vision, he had wasted no time at all, jumping off of his ballista—despite being their most effective ranged attacker—and taking up the role of a mobile lamp.

Then, in a moment of dire need, he saved half-a-dozen adventurers before anyone else could even react—a truly courageous feat.

Considering all of this, then, it was even more amazing just how fast all of this admiration and adoration for Gizmo’s efforts melted away before Captain Blanc’s eyes. The little-automaton groaned—in what sounded like sexual pleasure—while being bitten by a handful of geckos, and slapped around by the armadillo atop the wall.

“Should we… save him?” an archer beside Captain Blanc asked, also watching Gizmo hum in delight, a confused look plastered on his face.

The question snapped Captain Blanc out of his stupor.

“Fire! Defend the robot and the wall!”

A volley of arrows and projectiles flew at the creatures, slaying them in quick order. Captain Blanc walked over, using both hands to help the dazed Gizmo out of the pile and onto his feet.

“You right?”

“Yes, thank you. That was quite enjoyable.” Gizmo’s eyes went dull, almost as if he was staring off into space and reminiscing.

Captain Blanc looked at Gizmo with renewed disgust, wiping his hands on his pants as if to remove any lingering taint.

***

The defense of the southern wall consisted of almost entirely townsfolk, with only one party of adventurers sent to the defense. One might assume that this meant the force would be weak—an assumption that would be wrong. The reason only one adventuring party was sent to the gate was that the force of the town’s original inhabitants present were some of the strongest that Valbrand had to offer—the strength of the force was rivaled only by that of the force that guarded the noncombatants in the center of town.

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The creatures that attacked the gate were a mix of both the northern fire-based monsters and the eastern water-based creatures. The numbers were not in great excess by any stretch of the imagination, and the combination of both the engineered defense weaponry and the overwhelming firepower of the defenders meant that in the beginning, the wall had been so easily defended as to be laughable.

Captain Noire had been so confident in their efforts that early on, she’d sent the party of adventurers off to help defend the eastern wall. The rest of the captains had agreed to the plans of those foolish children Honeypot and Orion, but she knew better than to trust whelps that had been in this world less than a month.

With great confidence in her own forces abilities, and little belief in the ability of a single group to defend against most of the eastern attacking force, she sent the party of adventurers and a contingent of the weaker townsfolk on their way, broaching no complaint or excuse.

She knew she had no need for them here, and that was that.

***

Some time later, as the sun was just beginning to rise, a gecko stepped up and on to the top of the wall—its beady eyes taking in the surrounding scene. It stepped over the broken glass of the shattered lights, the thin shards nowhere near sharp enough to pierce the tough skin protecting its feet.

It ran over to inspect something that smelled extremely appetizing, and after sniffing it for a moment, bit down into the lifeless leg of Captain Noire.

The gecko had no qualms about eating already-dead flesh, after all, and was content to scavenge on anything readily available. It was undeterred by the now-cold body, and the vicious-looking dagger sticking out of its meal’s back.

It raised its head at the sound of the gate beneath the deck it stood on being shattered into pieces, but quickly returned to its meal as it heard more of its kind climbing up the walls.

It rushed to eat as much as it could before any of the larger members of its kind came and chased it away from its meal.

***

Orion, Arika, and Shadow ran as fast as they could.

Arika’s leg was almost completely healed, but they still had to slow a little for her to keep up.

Orion had just been realizing that something was wrong when they received the message from Gizmo that the defense force to the west needed help, and after sending his own message to Tash to reinforce the north and to look out for creatures from that direction, they began running toward the western gate.

They’d taken out most of the attacking force before they left, and other than the slowly advancing boss and mini-boss monsters, the smaller creatures had slowed to a trickle. Orion had just begun suspecting that the force previously seen with the snail boss had moved to different gates when the call for help came. He kicked himself for not realizing sooner.

By now, the gastropod was probably burning through the wall—if it hadn’t done so already. Orion looked back, seeing black plumes of smoke billowing from the direction of the north gate, and his fear was reinforced.

More than his own inadequacy, the implications that he drew from the enemy’s movements were even more daunting. They had either planned the hundreds of creatures amassed before the northern gate as a feint, or they had reacted in real-time to the wholesale slaughter of the forces that advanced into the open gates and were met by the maze and volatile potions. Both possibilities suggested a martial cunning that Orion had hoped the enemy wouldn’t possess.

He returned his attention to their destination and noticed that there were also plumes of smoke rising from the direction of the western gate. Swearing, he pulled up his map, focusing his thoughts on the path forward.

He prayed they would make it to the western gate in time.

***

Honeypot exited Stealth, stunning the advancing creature with Chastise before sprinting back behind his reloading teammates as fast as physically possible—he wanted to be as far from the hideous thing he’d just stunned as he could.

The creature was a mix between a sea urchin and a nightmare—it had the requisite spiked-body to be called an urchin, but ran on six very human-like legs.

It was called a Phalanx, which Honeypot didn’t recognize, but was probably a cleverly given name judging by the other names the System had assigned. Being Honeypot, he dared not ask if anyone knew the reference, choosing to keep up his air of mystique and all-knowing capability.

The spines covering the urchin body were almost a meter long, with tips as sharp as any of Honeypot’s blades. The tips secreted a viscous purple liquid wherever they scraped against walls or the bodies of its comrades in careless passing.

Honeypot had been calmly and pleasantly watching the brawl of a handful of the previously seen, less-nightmare-inducing creatures, when the urchin thing had barreled through its quarreling comrades, not caring that it poked pretty much all of them in its passing. The creatures that had been stuck by the spines, even those that were under the influence of his treats—and therefore, out of their minds—still squealed and roared in pain when stabbed by the spines.

The Bomb Squad released their reloaded weapons once more, and three explosions roared through the tunnel and collided with the Phalanx. The blast removed the front-half of its spines. It staggered back a step—or rather, twelve steps, two for each creepy humanoid legs.

Honeypot looked past the staggering creature, seeing that the monsters stung by the urchin were dead or convulsing on the floor. One Aquanine lived, unafflicted by any of their treats or the urchin’s string. It cowered, ears pinned and staring at the monster that had killed, or was in the process of killing, its brethren—showing what Honeypot estimated to be a very healthy level of fear toward the Phalanx.

The smoke cleared, revealing a spherical, black body under the blown-off spines. The thing sported two also human-like, angry looking eyes. It spun around, facing the back of its still-spike-covered body toward them. The six legs shuffled and spun around, all the toes now pointing toward the back of its body, and towards Honeypot and the other adventurers. It ran forward.

Or backward, depending on your perspective, Honeypot reflected.

The adventurers retreated, and Treyu let out what Honeypot thought was a very feminine squeal as the Bomb Squad rushed to reload.