Fortunately, it didn't take long to make his way from the bell tower to the closest other entrance that led down and was far enough away from the pipe. And it took even less time to get down and run into the guards.
There were many of them, around a hundred men to be exact. Most were dressed in heavily armored gambesons with extra protection around their hands and feet. As helmets, they had something that the locals here dubbed a kettle hat. To Akhratan, it just looked like an iron straw hat with a smaller rim.
For weapons, they were armed with triangle shields and steel swords, not the low-quality piece of garbage that Akhratan was forced to defend himself with. He also spotted a couple of crossbowmen in the rear.
Then there was their captain. The white-mustached man was covered in shiny full plate armor with a strange triangle helmet. He didn't carry a shield, as at this point, he hardly needed one. However, his face was protected by a visor resembling a human face. While on his hip rested a particularly terrifying-looking longsword.
The moment the guard captain spotted Akhratan, he seemed less than pleased.
"Were you the one who rang the bell?" the man asked.
"Monsters," said Akhratan, pointing in the direction from which he came.
"They are trying to get through the waste pipe,"
The guard captain looked in that direction before turning towards his men. "Let's go."
He then turned towards Akhratan. "Lead the way!"
Unfortunately, some had objections to this decision.
"Captain, are you actually going to believe the words of some foreigner?" one of the guards asked.
The other men seemed to share his sentiment and started to protest.
"SILENCE!!!" The guard captain yelled.
Immediately the whole group did just that.
"It wouldn't hurt to investigate, just to be sure," the captain explained once they got quiet. "And if he's lying..."
He then took a few steps towards Akhratan and leaned closer. "We'll make sure that he'll regret it."
The mercenary eyed the man's aggressive body language and then the sword on his hip, but remained unfazed.
"This way, Sir," Akhratan said and began marching in the direction from which he came. The other troops, though unwillingly, followed.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the waste pipe. No one was there, but everyone could hear a crowd of voices coming from it as well as someone furiously bashing something made out of metal. Unfortunately Akhratan knew what it was.
Metal bars covered both ends of the pipe, making sure that nothing larger than a rat could go through it. It seemed that whatever lay on the other side of this entrance was trying to break through it.
Before the captain could order any response, there was a loud sound of something being smashed open. It was then followed by even louder, head-splitting cheers, and then something coming out in droves, and Gods, were they ugly. Like, really unimaginably ugly.
Frankly, Akhratan had seen many visually unappealing things during his life as a gladiator. Most of which just happened to be his fellow gladiators because they were often "employed" in the coliseum by their families who, in return, were given something in return. Usually food.
The rule of thumb was that if you were a poor peasant with six or more children who could barely support themselves, you obviously wouldn't give away your most favored child, who could take care of you when you were old.
No, of course not. Obviously, you'd trade the child with whom you wouldn't have an issue parting, which often happened to be the least visually appealing of your offspring.
Due to this, Akhratan had seen a lot of "uglies" in his life. However, he had to admit that all of them, even the most inbred and malformed ones, were attractive compared to what his eyes currently had the great displeasure of looking at.
These things just looked wrong. They had the same curved horns and red skin as the ball-like creatures that had almost killed him, but that was where the similarities ended. They were all malformed. Some had limbs that were either too big or too small compared to the rest of their bodies, while others had bones or organ pieces sticking out from their skin without it somehow killing them. There were even some that lacked parts of their body, like limbs or eyes.
Nevertheless, these abominations were only large enough to reach the defenders' knees and seemed to be armed with whatever junk they found outside. Yet, they were pouring out of that pipe like water, meaning there were probably more of those things than there were guards in this street, which could lead to them easily being overwhelmed.
Another issue was that, unlike Akhratan, the other guards seemed to be more visibly shaken by their appearance, which was confirmed by their comments upon seeing them.
"What are those things?"
"They are horrendous!"
"Dear Goddess, please protect our souls!"
"CALM DOWN!" ordered the captain, although Akhratan could hear an edge to his voice as well.
"Shield-bearers with me on the front line. Crossbowmen, find a higher point and give us cover fire. Foreigner,"
That was meant for Akhratan, who faced the man.
"You stay on the front line with us, and if you're not secretly behind this attack and survive, I'll put in a good word for you with our lord, got that?"
Akhratan nodded.
"And someone, run and get reinforcements. We won't hold out for long."
As soon as those words were said, the army of abominations started their attack.
The guards formed a hastily made shield wall while the crossbowmen hurried to find a vantage point. Akhratan tightened his grip on the sword and frowned. This was going to be a tough one.
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And right he was. The moment these creatures made contact with the defenders, it was a death sentence for the humans. They stabbed tirelessly at the beings who, despite being smaller, showed neither pain nor fear. That made the crossbows practically useless because if it wasn't a killing shot, the creature would just ignore it and continue its assault.
It hardly helped that the crossbowmen's strategy was to shoot in a random direction and hope for the best.
As time went on the abominations just kept attacking without while walking over the dead bodies of their kin, forming a relative pile between each side and intentionally or not giving themselves the high ground, making it harder for the defenders to hold them off.
Meanwhile the air was filled with the acidic smell of the monsters blood as the soldiers grew more tired by the second.
Akhratan, during that time, did everything he could to help.
Since he didn't have a big enough shield to join the wall, he stayed in the second line, assisting whenever he saw that a guard might be overwhelmed by those things and helped him push them back.
It was tiring work, but one that Akhratan was used to. After all, in the arena, he was often on the side with the largest disadvantage. However, despite how much he tried to assist, their formation had to eventually break. And of course it started with the loss of leadership.
The captain had been on the front line all this time, which meant being in front of the shield bearers. Due to his armor, the man didn't have to worry about guarding himself and could swing his sword with reckless abandon. It was an inspiring sight and likely the only reason why their little group held out as long as it did in the first place.
However, Akhratan, more than anyone here, knew that the man couldn't keep this up forever. He was obviously past his prime.
Besides continuously fighting without stopping while wearing armor this heavy would be a challenge even for a man twice as young as him.
Finally, either the captain did a swing that was too wide or he became too tired to move his arms, either way the result was the same. The swarm found its opportunity and engulfed him.
It was always morbidly fascinating to see the moment when hope died. The exact second when the fight for survival was interrupted by a doomed thought concerning their own mortality. When a person no longer believed that they could make it out alive.
To Akhratan, it was as if time had stopped. He knew that any second these men would start running for their lives, and then they would die. He, on the other hand, could probably make it out alive, especially if he took a head start.
With the guards being torn to shreds, the mercenary would have a few valuable seconds to get away.
However, instead of doing that, Akhratan did the opposite. He flipped himself over the frozen guards and yelled from the bottom of his lungs.
"DON'T SURRENDER! KEEP FIGHTING UNTIL REINFORCEMENTS ARRIVE!"
Then, with a buckler in one hand and a sword in the other, he met the creatures.
For the remainder of the time, he was death. The ex-gladiator slashed, bashed, stabbed, and kicked whatever was in front of him without stopping, meanwhile being able not to get hurt or overrun.
Frankly, this was how he imagined hell to be. Just a constant never-ending battle with no meaning or goal.
Fortunately, unlike the underworld, this fight had meaning.
Seeing a single man keeping their defensive line somehow invigorated the guards, and they quickly joined him. Shields again met the wall of flesh, and even the crossbowmen, who had long since run out of bolts, pulled out their shortswords and joined the fray.
Frankly, Akhratan had no idea how long the remainder of the battle lasted. It felt like forever, but in reality, it was more like a few minutes. Still, even a few minutes of constant combat where a man didn't have time to properly breathe would wear anyone down, as it did him.
However, when it seemed that hope might be lost a second time, the sound of metal-clad feet could be heard from behind, followed by a voice yelling, "those are our boys. Quick, assist them!"
Soon, that was followed by a thunderous charge as heavily armored men rushed past Akhratan, and he was pulled back, as were the other first responders.
The mercenary was held by both hands, as he was in a state where everything was his enemy, so he was more likely to believe that one of the creatures had gotten him from behind than that their reinforcements finally arriving.
Only when he spotted the face of the guard who had gotten him into this mess did the ex-gladiator calm down.
"Goddess, am I happy that I hired you. Otherwise, I would've had to deal with this myself," the man joked.
Akhratan didn't give him much attention. Instead, he focused on the front of the fighting where their reinforcements were currently "duking it out" with the enemy.
In fact, he was ready to join in as soon as possible if things turned bad again. However, that didn't seem to be necessary.
The reinforcements consisted of around a thousand men, and while the creatures were fearless, they were also quite dumb.
As a result, after a while of intense sword-swinging and men replacing each other on the front lines, the attackers were vanquished.
There was a moment of silence before someone shouted, "we did it!" And then everyone cheered.
It was louder than even the fighting itself had been, but even that was nothing compared to what followed.
"THE CAPTAIN, HE'S ALIVE!"
This declaration made everyone turn their heads, and they saw their old captain, unconscious and covered in purple monster guts, but nevertheless still breathing. The soldiers were perplexed.
"By the Goddess! It's a miracle!"
"How is he kicking, though?"
"It's all thanks to the black mercenary. He rushed in the moment the captain fell and started fighting the bastards. They were probably too distracted to finish him off."
Suddenly, Akhratan felt heads turning his way. Meanwhile the guards kept talking.
"He was also the one who informed us of these blasted things in the first place. Without him, there is no telling how many common folk would've died."
"Many blessings upon you, stranger! You're a true Godsend!"
"I now feel kind of bad for hiring him so cheap...."
Then, before Akhratan knew it, he was hoisted in the air as the men here cheered his name... or what they thought was his name.
Frankly, as a gladiator and a notable one at that, Akhratan had heard his name cheered many times. However, this time it felt somewhat different.
Before, in the arena, he felt no emotions when he heard the praises of the people in the stands or even when they chanted his name in reverence.
In fact, often than not, he despised these people because they would've cheered in the same way if he was being torn to pieces.
However now, the ex-gladiator didn't mind the praise he received.
Suddenly, without warning, a loud roar erupted throughout the entire city, followed by a crash.
The cheering stopped, and all the guards silently looked around.
Akhratan used this opportunity to free himself from the men that had lifted him up and also started to scan the area.
After a second or so, they heard a new sound. It was almost as if something far too big was trying to squeeze through something smaller than itself.
And of course that sound was coming from the pipe.
Quickly, Akhratan made his way towards the front of the pack and turned towards the terrified guards who looked like they wanted to be anywhere in the world but here.
"DON'T PANIC," he yelled. "AS LONG AS WE WORK TOGETHER, WE CAN FACE WHATEVER IS GOING TO COME THROUGH THAT ENTRANCE!"
That seemed to calm the guards, who, though terrified, were grateful that there was at least someone who was level-headed and ready to take the lead.
Meanwhile, Akhratan had other concerns. He saw two men who were carrying the incapacitated captain and knew that there were others who were most likely injured as well.
"You two," he said to the two guards, who were startled. "Take the captain away. But don't use the main street. Go through one of the smaller ones. Whatever will be coming most likely will also be big."
They nodded and were quick to get away.
"EVERYONE ELSE WHO IS INJURED, GET AWAY AS FAST AS YOU CAN. LET SOMEONE TAKE YOU AND USE THE SIDE ROADS. THE MAIN ONE IS GOING TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FIGHTING WILL HAPPEN," he yelled as loud as he could.
However, that was going to be Akhratan's final order.
The previous sound repeated itself a few times as whatever was inside the pipe got stuck.
They could hear muffled roars and then another loud roar that was so loud that it made everyone's bones shake. Afterwards, there was just pure silence.
Akhratan hoped that it meant that whatever was inside there was just as stupid as those ball things and had gotten itself stuck in there. Unfortunately, Akhratan's luck concerning weak opponents had run out.
What followed was a massive crash and a cloud of dust rising as the unknown entity broke through the pipe and the city's wall itself to get free.
The mercenary coughed due to the newly formed dust cloud before looking straight and freezing.
Through the dust a dark shadow was getting up before facing them.
Whatever that thing was, it was huge.