The timer on the central pillar shifted, projecting a countdown in searing red numerals: 00:03:00. The fifteen defenders tensed, adrenaline overriding their two hours of intense, focused labor.

  Emmet, positioned on the highest battlement as Lookout, drew a deep breath and activated his Unwoven Sight. Time seemed to melt as his vision extended past the horizon, piercing the heavy, unnatural atmosphere of the dungeon level. He didn't need crude scouts; his perception was the scout. He scanned the vast, black landscape beyond the tower, mentally cataloging shapes, movement, and velocity.

  "Roan, report!" Emmet’s voice, filtered through his mask as Mr. Craft, was a sharp command cutting through the whistling wind.

  Roan, standing centrally, gripped the stone rail. "Status, Lookout?"

  "Three minutes until contact," Mr. Craft reported calmly, his voice echoing from the tower’s height. "First wave is fast and numerous, predominantly Beast-Type—low to mid-tier agility classes. Velocity is high. I have marked their trajectories and probable choke points on the C-Band's mini-map overlay. They're coming from the northwest, a solid line of 400 paces wide. My Sight requires a cooldown now, but that initial report is accurate."

  Roan’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the incredible utility of the ability, which had saved them the need to send out a vulnerable scouting party. "Understood, Mr. Craft. New orders: Beta Team, prioritize disabling shots—legs, joints—to slow the advance for the ballistas! Alpha Team, track the marked choke points. Do not fire until my command. Gamma, prepare the oil vats, but hold the pitch."

  The minute remaining felt like an eternity. As the timer hit zero, the earth trembled.

  The beasts, a rush of feral forms with gleaming claws and low-slung bodies, broke into the Kill Line.

  "Alpha! Fire!" Roan’s command was sharp.

  The ballistas roared, launching massive, specialized bolts that punched through the front ranks, creating devastating gaps. The Beta Team followed with volleys of poisoned darts and armor-piercing arrows. The speed of the wave was impressive, but the coordinated fire proved overwhelming. The tower weapons, optimized for point-gaining, tore the enemy lines apart, dropping them well before they reached the caltrop zone.

  The first wave ended in a silence punctuated only by the drip of oil and the heavy breathing of the defenders. A prompt flashed on their C-Bands: Wave Complete. Point Reward: 2,000 Pts per Raider.

  Roan immediately instructed Adon to collect the necessary points and exchange them for depleted ammunition and new supplies. Their coordinated defense had proven their initial strategy correct.

  The second wave arrived with greater ferocity. The enemies were noticeably bigger and stronger, resembling powerful horned brutes, and their numbers had increased significantly. Yet, the team, now experienced and confident in Roan's leadership, adapted quickly. Nirod and Aklan, the Cult fighters, showcased disciplined use of the tower's heavy crossbows, utilizing their strength to reload quickly. They won the second wave without casualties.

  The third wave saw another jump in difficulty—stronger enemies and overwhelming numbers. The defenders had to push the archer lines to their absolute limit. They were victorious, but fatigue was beginning to set in.

  Roan assessed the remaining supplies and the team’s energy. The prompt signaled an hour’s reprieve. One Hour Until Next Wave.

  "We need more items, better weapons," Roan stated, her voice tight. "The difficulty scales with the reward. We collect points, we purchase better equipment immediately. Mr. Craft, note the new rewards—blueprints for better defensive structures are available now."

  The team agreed: they had to focus their immediate gains on tower defenses. But they made a collective resolution: "If they breach the tower, don't hesitate to use your own strength. It doesn't matter if we gain points then; survival is all that matters. But until that point, maximize gains with the tower weapons."

  The fourth wave was a drastic increase in force. Among the throngs of armored brutes, four colossal Giants lumbered into view, their hides thick as castle walls, impervious to the archers' normal bolts.

  "We don't have the siege weaponry to beat those quickly," Mr. Craft reported, his voice devoid of panic but laced with urgency.

  Just as dismay threatened to settle, Nirod, the bulky man from the cultist group, stepped forward. He was as tall and broad as Jasper, Emmet’s former rival. "There is a Melee Axe available in the shop. I think we can gain points using this."

  Roan instantly purchased two of the heaviest Tower Axes listed.

  Nirod hefted one axe. "I will aggro the big ones on the north side while you cover me!"

  "I’ll take the south," Mr. Craft responded instantly.

  It was an impromptu, desperate strategy: two men going outside the safety of the tower's walls. Mr. Craft’s purpose was twofold: to protect the perimeter and to gauge the true strength of these giants.

  Nirod’s arms swelled, his muscles thickening abnormally, becoming monstrously huge as he charged the first giant, striking the purchased axe into its knee.

  Mr. Craft, meanwhile, moved with the effortless grace of an unwoven string. He was a blur among the chaos, dispatching the giants with casual, precise strikes. He leveraged the weight of the Tower Axe, felling the colossal monsters as if they were children's playthings. The rest of the team, who had already witnessed Mr. Craft’s terrifying power, were no longer surprised, simply awestruck by his efficiency.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The fourth wave ended swiftly under the shock attack. Their gains this time had indeed doubled, sending a rush of triumphant elation through the weary group.

  During the short rest, Roan was firm. "No more melee. We cannot waste energy and strength. Melee is our last recourse. We use our new points—all of them, if necessary—to purchase better defensive weapons." The team, respecting her logic that energy conservation was vital, agreed to double their spending for the next round. The difficulty was rising sharply, but the rewards were keeping pace. They also agreed that the physical items purchased with points would be divided after the tower defense was completed.

  Waves came and went repeatedly over the next twenty hours of continuous fighting. The later waves threw grotesque, acid-spitting Elemental Horrors and thick-shelled Cavalry Beasts at the tower, pushing their defense to its breaking point. Finally, the team was near collapse. Only Mr. Craft and Locks/Tierra, seemingly immune to fatigue, remained fully alert.

  If this goes on, Emmet thought, watching his allies struggle to stay upright, it will be catastrophic for them. They may have enough ammunition, but the people are failing.

  When the prompt showed a two-hour break until the next wave, Emmet turned to the cultist group, pulling them aside.

  "I guess now is not the time to worry about points," Mr. Craft said quietly.

  "I agree," Roan responded, her exhaustion evident only in the slight stiffness of her movements. "Which is why we also think some of the people should quit and exit the dungeon."

  "Well, we came here for the loot, specifically the blueprints," Emmet countered, dropping his voice lower. "We are actually funding a rebellion, so we require all of this." He knew this was the moment to reintroduce himself. "I know you are all members of the Demonic Cult," he stated.

  The cult group visibly stiffened, shock and alarm flickering across their faces.

  Adon, recovering quickly, demanded, "Explain yourself."

  "Well, technically I'm not a member of the cult, but a product of Jeniah, a member who studied the demon vessels," Emmet lied smoothly, tailoring the truth. "She didn't tell me much after their passing, but I promised I would help the cult in her place."

  Emmet reached into his coat and produced a token—an insignia of a crimson sword stuck in a skull. Only cult members would recognize it.

  Adon stared, then inhaled sharply. "The Red Empire? This is a token from the Red Empire! Brother, so this is the secret of your strength." Adon corrected him, "The truth is, we are from the Red Empire, not the demonic cult you speak of. We are here to investigate the tower, as it is near the Rongan Kingdom."

  "Just as I planned," Emmet deduced, playing the part. "I am here to weaken the kingdom and make use of the rebels to kill the monarchy. It seems we can help each other. Isn't it your goal to spy on the kingdom? And the dungeon just happened to be something you needed to investigate to see how it related to the kingdom, right?"

  "That is true," Adon admitted.

  "Then why don't we work together? Let's bring down this kingdom so you can report to the Red Empire, and maybe conquer it after," Emmet pressed, intentionally leading the topic to gain knowledge about the Red Empire. "I have my other teammates, too, who are more powerful than me. We would like to join your cause and offer our aid for the Red Empire. Right now, as we speak, my associates are helping the rebellion and plotting a coup to end the monarchy."

  "That is good, then we will help on that too," Adon agreed, his resolve hardening. "The tower isn't important to us, nor are the rewards this dungeon offers."

  "Then it is settled. After the next wave, you will return with my group and help the coup?" Emmet asked. "I suggest you use up all your points now to purchase items to help them—weapons, blueprints, and whatever stuff that can help bring down the kingdom."

  Adon weighed the proposal. We didn't come here for the dungeon, and it is true we only wanted to spy on the Rongan Kingdom. But his proposal is better; bringing the kingdom down will work faster for the Red Empire.

  "We don't mind helping," Adon said, "but will you be willing to join the Red Empire?"

  Emmet dropped to one knee. "With all my heart, there is nothing else I would want but to join the Red Empire that my creator, Jeniah, served. Me and my unwoven team will gladly become part of the Red Empire."

  Adon nodded to Roan. Roan then produced a small, silver cube, about the size of her palm. "Consume this. This is the only way we can trust you."

  "What is it?" Emmet asked.

  "It's a requirement to join the Red Empire. Anyone who consumes it will be accepted without question," Adon explained.

  Emmet activated his Unwoven Eyes, studying the cube. Inside, suspended in a viscous fluid, was a worm-like entity. This is demonic power, he thought, a parasitic being. He quickly scanned the cultists, realizing the same demonic presence was within each of them. So this is what gave them their enhanced strength. They are humans enhanced by this organism. He carefully studied the demonic energy flow. The energy flows through them, granting abilities, but will it be able to affect me?

  Emmet deduced that as an Unwoven, demonic energy had no true effect on his core being. He made his choice. He removed his mask, took a gamble, and consumed the cube without delay.

  Adon smiled and observed Emmet intently.

  Emmet focused inward, tracking the entity. The worm reacted violently, trying to burrow and latch onto his internal organs. He let the violent parasite burrow, knowing he was immune. He allowed himself to groan and slump for the benefit of his observers, but inwardly, his Unwoven focus tracked the entity. It frantically searched for a connection point, a parasitic anchor, before finally settling near his organs. It formed a cocoon and rested, unable to breach the Unwoven’s resistance. The worm was trapped inside him, completely inert. He had to maintain the act: "My friend Locks will also consume one," Emmet gasped, wiping a bead of sweat—real or feigned—from his temple.

  Locks/Tierra, who had been silently observing the entire exchange, nodded once. With a slight adjustment of his breathing, Emmet used the Unwoven Breath technique to communicate a silent, coded message to her: It is safe. We are immune. I have proven it. Be dramatic! Understanding the absolute authority and certainty in his message, Locks did not hesitate. She took a cube and consumed it, then let out a sharp, ragged gasp, clutching her chest and briefly buckling at the knees to sell the demonic takeover. Emmet’s Unwoven Eyes tracked the worm inside Locks, confirming the same rapid immobilization.

  Adon, now completely satisfied, declared, "With that, our brotherhood is established. You are now officially a member of the Red Empire. We will gladly help the rebels or coup take down the kingdom."

  Emmet stood up, replacing his mask. "I am honored to be an official member. Well then, after this wave, I believe you agree to my terms: all points, blueprints, and remaining rewards go to us—the Red Empire—to fund the rebellion." He smiled beneath his mask. "This is better than I expected."

  -------

  Good sirs and kind ladies, I beg a small favor of thee… If by some miracle you have trudged this far into my humble tale, might I implore you to grant me a scrap of kindness? Please, rate my poor novel and leave an honest review.Your words shall either be the torch that keeps me writing through the dark, or the whisper of the universe telling me to lay down my quill, for I am unworthy. The story is free, my heart poured into every line, and this is all I ask in return.I kneel before you, hat in hand, pleading—pretty please, spare a thought for this desperate author and leave a review…

  <3 JLance

  Good sirs and kind ladies, I beg a small favor of thee… If by some miracle you have trudged this far into my humble tale, might I implore you to grant me a scrap of kindness? Please, rate my poor novel and leave an honest review.Your words shall either be the torch that keeps me writing through the dark, or the whisper of the universe telling me to lay down my quill, for I am unworthy. The story is free, my heart poured into every line, and this is all I ask in return.I kneel before you, hat in hand, pleading—pretty please, spare a thought for this desperate author and leave a review…

  <3 JLance