Kael stepped to the mouth of the middle tunnel, his katana resting lightly in his hand. The clicking sounds of the approaching termites echoed through the stone, a growing cacophony that filled the air with tension. He took a steady breath and closed his eyes.
“Lexa,” he said calmly. “It’s time we go into battlemode.”
The soft, mechanical voice responded in his ear. “Establishing link to cybernetic visual assistance eye. Connection formed. Ready to engage threats at your command, Captain.”
Kael’s grip on his katana tightened, his focus sharpening. “Indicate optimal striking zones for armor penetration.”
“Target weak points identified. Indicators active.”
The visual overlay in Kael’s field of vision flickered to life, faint markers appearing across the oncoming wave of mutated termites. Each marker highlighted vulnerable joints, exposed segments, and chinks in their chitinous armor. He opened his eyes, the faintest violet shimmer flashing in his pupils before fading as quickly as it appeared.
Kael inhaled deeply, his body relaxing as he entered the Zone. It was a state of absolute concentration, where the noise of the world fell away and time seemed to stretch. His breathing slowed, his senses heightened. Every motion of the oncoming swarm was clear, every weak point a path for his blade. For that brief moment, he existed in a place of pure focus, where thought and action became one.
Then they were upon him.
Kael moved with precision, his katana flowing in a seamless arc. He stepped into the swarm, each motion calculated and deliberate. His first strike severed the legs of the lead termite at the knees, its body collapsing to the ground in a spray of dark ichor. Without pause, he redirected his blade upward, slicing through the exposed neck of the next creature, its head snapping back with a sickening crack.
His movements were fluid, uninterrupted by hesitation. A slight twist of his wrist guided the blade into the vulnerable underbelly of a third termite, splitting it open as it lunged. Pivoting on his heel, Kael’s katana swept through the fragile joints of two more creatures, dropping them mid-charge. The final termite reared back, its mandibles snapping wildly, but Kael’s blade was faster. With a precise thrust, he struck the delicate segment connecting its thorax to its abdomen, leaving it twitching helplessly on the ground.
Six mutated foes lay scattered on the ground, their twisted forms twitching and leaking dark ichor. Kael released the breath he’d been holding, the motion as smooth and deliberate as his strikes. He sheathed his katana with a practiced flick, the sound of the blade sliding into place cutting through the momentary silence.
----------------------------------------
From the first wagon behind him, Berry and Alma sat frozen at the reins. Alma’s wide eyes remained fixed on Kael, her fingers gripping the leather straps tightly. Berry’s mouth hung slightly open, his thoughts scrambling to make sense of what he had just witnessed. It wasn’t the speed or power that left him speechless—it was the precision, the almost surgical way Kael had dismantled the swarm. Each movement had been deliberate, every strike targeted for maximum effect.
Berry finally found his voice, though it was barely above a whisper. “That… wasn’t human.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Kael turned sharply, his commanding voice snapping both of them from their stunned silence. “We advance! Winning against an endless number of these creatures is not our objective. We force the way through!”
His words spurred the convoy into motion. The wagons creaked forward as the drivers urged the animals to move, and the villagers clung to their sides, fear etched into their faces. Alma blinked and adjusted her grip on the reins, her awe replaced by focus as she guided the first wagon carefully behind Kael. Beside her, Berry shook his head slightly, still processing the sheer efficiency of what he had just seen.
Kael didn’t linger. He turned back toward the tunnel, his cybernetic eye scanning the darkness for signs of the next wave.
----------------------------------------
At the left tunnel, Sir Drennor led his group with commanding precision. His greatsword cleaved through the first wave of termites with devastating power, each swing dismantling a creature as it charged. Behind him, the villagers, armed with spears and whatever they could find, worked in unison with the knights to form a strong defensive line.
“Good work!” Drennor called, stepping forward to crush another termite with a downward swing. “Keep pressing them back!”
The right tunnel saw Felix leading his group with equal determination. His shield intercepted every attack that came his way, each blow absorbed with practiced precision. The villagers rallied behind him, their fear giving way to determination as they followed his lead.
“We’ve got this!” Felix shouted, driving his blade into the exposed joint of a termite’s thorax. “Hold the line!”
At first, it seemed the defenders might succeed in holding their ground. Termites fell one by one, their twisted forms littering the tunnel floors. The attackers’ numbers dwindled, and the villagers’ confidence grew.
----------------------------------------
Then, more termites emerged from the shadows.
The clicking of mandibles grew louder, and from the darkness, another wave surged forward, larger and more aggressive than the first. The defenders’ lines wavered as the sheer number of creatures began to overwhelm them.
“They’re multiplying!” a villager shouted, panic creeping into his voice.
“Hold steady!” Felix bellowed, slamming his shield into an oncoming termite and pushing it back. But even as he struck down one creature, two more took its place.
On the left, Drennor cut down another wave, his greatsword glinting in the dim light as it cleaved through chitin and ichor. But even his strength couldn’t stem the tide. “Fall back!” he commanded, his voice ringing out. “To the main tunnel! We regroup there!”
Felix heard the call and echoed it. “Back to the middle! Stay together!”
----------------------------------------
As the two groups retreated, termites poured into the main tunnel, their numbers pressing the defenders closer together. The convoy had moved ahead, leaving just enough space for the fighters to regroup.
“Form up!” Drennor shouted. “Anyone with a shield, to the front! Shields up!”
The defenders moved quickly, their discipline holding firm under pressure. Felix took position in the center of the shield wall, his own shield raised high as others joined him to form an unbroken line. The villagers and knights worked together, locking their shields tightly to create a protective barrier across the tunnel.
“Brace yourselves!” Felix called, his voice steady despite the chaos.
The termites charged the wall, their bodies slamming against the shields with enough force to rattle the defenders. The line held firm, the fighters behind the wall thrusting with spears to eliminate any creatures that came too close. Drennor moved along the line, his greatsword striking down termites that managed to climb the wall or skitter along the ceiling.
“Above!” someone shouted, pointing as a termite scrambled across the roof of the tunnel. Drennor reacted instantly, his blade slicing through the creature and sending its twitching body crashing to the ground.
The defenders moved in unison, their steps measured as they began to retreat slowly. “Keep moving!” Drennor commanded. “Step back, one line at a time! Hold the wall!”
The shield bearers shifted backward in sync, maintaining the wall’s integrity as they covered the retreat. Those without shields struck at any termites that managed to breach the formation, their spears and weapons darting out with precision.