Kael wiped the short sword's blade on the rodent's corpse. Black blood smeared across the fur, soaking in. He surveyed the formation—everyone in position, no serious injuries. A couple of scratches on forearms, a small cut on one girl's cheek. Trifles.

  "Switch!" The man's voice cut through the fading din of battle.

  His line moved forward, passing through the opened ranks of the second line. The girls who'd just held the front fell back, breathing heavily. Sweat glistened on foreheads, hands trembled from strain. Kael paid this no mind—exhaustion was inevitable, but discipline mattered more.

  En route, the warriors kicked aside rodent corpses. The carcasses rolled sideways, thudded against stones, tumbled into heaps at the gorge walls. Black blood smeared across the basalt, making the surface slippery. More than three dozen had accumulated around them—a grey mass of fur and torn flesh.

  There was no time to fuss with loot. They'd collect it afterwards. Right now, holding position mattered more.

  The fog thickened. Grey haze crept in from all sides, obscuring the gorge walls' outlines. Visibility dropped to ten metres.

  Silence pressed on their ears. The crackling of fissures had ceased. The rodents' raspy breathing no longer carried through the veil of smoke. Even the wind had stilled.

  Something had changed.

  Kael tensed, peering into the haze. His fingers gripped the spear haft tighter.

  Stone scraped against stone—quietly, almost inaudibly. To the right, about fifteen metres away. Then to the left. Then directly before the formation.

  "Shields," the man barked.

  The girls raised them instantly. Spears protruded between the rims.

  From the fog crawled a shadow. Low, flattened against the ground, moving smoothly and soundlessly. Not in leaps, like the rodents. In a slow, sliding flow.

  A stone scorpion emerged into the light.

  A carapace the colour of scorched basalt covered its entire body—segmented, with sharp ridges along its back. The size of a calf, but built differently—wide, low-slung, with massive pincers. Each pincer as thick as a human head, covered in serrations and chips. Eight legs scraped the stone with sharp tips, finding purchase in the slightest irregularities. A tail curved over its back—long, protruding above the body, segmented, ending in a stinger the size of a sword. Black slime dripped from the tip, hissing when it touched the basalt, leaving small pits.

  Eyes—multiple small red dots on the front of the head, arranged in two rows. All stared at the formation.

  [Stone Scorpion (905/905)

  Level 14

  Rank: B]

  A second crawled out from the left. A third—from the right. A fourth materialised from the fog directly before the formation's centre.

  They were in no hurry. They surrounded methodically, soundlessly, closing the ring. Pincers opened and closed—unhurriedly, deliberately. Stingers swayed above their backs, dripping venom.

  Fifth, sixth, seventh—scorpions appeared one after another, filling the space around the group. Between rodent corpses, through pools of blood, skirting large chunks of basalt.

  Several creatures slowly crawled from large fissures in the basalt floor, their carapaces scraping against the edges of the cracks. Three more slid down the sheer gorge walls—clinging to the slightest protrusions with sharp leg-tips, moving sideways, heads down, stingers swaying above their backs, leaving wet trails of venom on the stone.

  Kael counted. "Eight. Nine. Ten. Fifteen..."

  He didn't waste time watching new scorpions continue crawling from every crack, from every crevice.

  "Circle!" His voice cut through the thickening fog, echoing off the gorge walls.

  The group reacted instantly—without fuss, without panic, in a practised movement. The formation closed, wheeled, reformed. Everyone took positions shoulder to shoulder, forming an unbroken ring of defence. The second-row fighters stood behind, covering gaps, ready to back up any section of the perimeter.

  The assembled formation presented a solid lock, monolithic, without weak points—no flanks remained, no rear, not a single undefended spot. Every section of the perimeter was covered with shields, armour, weapons. The scorpions could attack from any direction—it made no difference.

  The only one who stood in the very centre of this circular formation was Naila. She performed the function of the group's main healer—her task was to keep all the fighters in view simultaneously, to react instantly to wounds, to poison, to any damage. The girl slowly turned in place, green eyes sliding across her companions' figures, hands already glowing with faint healing radiance—ready to unleash a spell on whoever took the first hit.

  The scorpions moved simultaneously.

  Twenty-five creatures broke from their positions at once, as though responding to an inaudible command. Pincers flew open, stingers rose above their backs, carapaces scraped against stone. The earth trembled beneath the weight of their bodies.

  The first blow struck far to Kael's left. A pincer the size of a head crashed down on a girl's shield with such force she staggered, was pushed into the formation. The spear shaft cracked but held. The second scorpion darted to the right, its stinger piercing the air, aimed at an unprotected neck. A spear intercepted the blow, deflected it aside—the stinger scraped across armour, leaving a smoking scratch.

  "Hold!" The general barked, wheeling towards the nearest creature.

  The scorpion darted towards him sideways, pincers spread like a fan. One aimed for his legs, the second for his chest. Kael knocked the first away with a shaft strike, thrust his spear at the second—the blade rang against carapace, slid off, leaving a thin white scratch. The armour hadn't yielded.

  The stinger crashed down from above. He recoiled, but the blow reached its target—the tip sliced through his armour's shoulder strap, plunged in shallowly, immediately tore back out. Searing pain pierced his arm. Black streaks of venom spread across the wound.

  [You have been poisoned! -6 health/sec

  Duration: 00:15]

  Green light flared behind—Naila was already casting. Warmth spread through his shoulder, the burning subsided.

  The poison's negative effect didn't manage to deal damage a second time.

  To the right, someone cried out. The short-haired girl was thrown upward—a scorpion's pincer had caught her shield, clamped down, wrenched it from her hands. The second pincer darted towards her unprotected stomach. A companion's spear intercepted the blow at the last moment—the shaft splintered in half from the force of the collision.

  Two scorpions pressed on one section of the perimeter simultaneously. One hammered at shields with its pincers, the second crawled over the first, striving to leap over the formation. The stinger rose, aimed at a fighter's face. The girl dropped to her knees, dodging. The stinger pierced the air above her head, slammed into her comrade's shield behind.

  Kael, having armed himself with an axe, cleaved the nearest scorpion's pincer—the blade passed through the joint, severing the limb. Black blood sprayed in a fountain. The creature recoiled but immediately returned, bringing its remaining pincer and stinger into play.

  To the left, another fighter fell. A scorpion had clamped its pincer on her leg, squeezed—a crunch. The girl shrieked, struck her sword against the carapace—sparks showered down, but the armour didn't crack. The stinger crashed down on her back, pierced clean through her armour.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Naila sent a green beam towards the fallen girl, but she still needed time to recover.

  "Close the circle! Axes!" Kael split a stinger in half, shoved the scorpion away with his foot.

  The formation compressed tighter, closing the breach. Three more scorpions rushed into the gap, trying to break through the perimeter. Axes pulled from rings rained down in a hail of blows, hacking through the creatures' carapaces. One scorpion lost a leg, another lost half its tail. But they didn't retreat.

  The third scorpion managed to squeeze inside the circle, dragging a shattered pincer behind. Black blood streamed from its fractured carapace, but the creature was still dangerous—its stinger rose, aimed at the nearest girl. However, its successes ended there. From all sides blows rained down upon it—the girls, enraged by such an unfortunate start to the battle, hacked methodically, furiously, giving it no chance to recover. Axes shattered chitin, creating fresh cracks in the armour. The scorpion collapsed, falling apart in pieces under the hail of blows.

  How long this orderly brawl lasted—none of the participants could say. Time seemed to stretch, transforming into an endless succession of strikes, cries, the clang of metal on carapace. Arms filled with leaden weight, breathing faltered, sweat flooded their eyes. But instinct demanded they continue—to strike, to hack, not to let the creatures get closer.

  When everyone finally began looking around for new targets, their weapons were still raised for the strike. Gazes darted across the stone, seeking movement. But around them lay only hacked carcasses, black blood spreading in dark pools. Not a single scorpion stirred.

  "Ten minutes!" No longer so loud, with hoarseness, Kael pronounced, glancing briefly at the timer in the corner of his vision, where digits methodically counted down the time until the next wave.

  The girls, not waiting for additional instructions, rushed to collect trophies—scattered pieces of scorpions and rodents were sent to inventories with practised haste. Carapaces, stingers, pincers—everything that might prove useful or sellable.

  Having finished collecting, they set about replenishing their Vigour, hastily chewing pies prepared in advance and washing them down—some with water from flasks, some with milk—gulping hurriedly between heavy breaths.

  The next item in their hasty preparation was a thorough check of armour and weapons' condition. Metal plates that had parted under pincer strikes were hastily tightened with straps. Leather pauldrons, cracked by scorpion stingers, were replaced with spares from inventory—fortunately, Kael required them to carry duplicates of all equipment.

  Axes and swords were checked for notches, dulled blades were sharpened with whetstones right on the spot, in haste, with the characteristic screech of metal on stone. No one bothered with spears—their supply was enormous and they were simply replaced with new ones.

  Some things were mended on the spot—straps were tightened, bent buckles straightened. The main thing was to bring everything to battle readiness in a matter of minutes whilst the timer inexorably counted down the remaining time.

  When the final preparations were complete, the girls, at Kael's wordless command, fell into their accustomed two tight rows. Their breathing hadn't quite evened out yet, but the battle stance was already assumed. They stared tensely into the fog, from where the next batch of creatures was to emerge.

  The rodents didn't keep them waiting long—barely had the timer counted the final seconds when from the fog surged a fresh wave of creatures, squealing and scraping claws against the arena's stone surface.

  The scorpions followed almost immediately, as soon as the ashen rodents had been dealt with. Pincers clicked, stingers curved above their backs—but the girls already knew what to expect.

  Having killed the last creature, they were given only five minutes' rest, after which the third wave struck them, the most numerous and dense of all the previous ones. However, the group, now in the rhythm of battle, having developed coordination of movement and an almost intuitive understanding of one another, handled it even more easily and quickly than the very first wave—axes and swords worked precisely, spears flew true to target, and shields rose into position an instant before impact.

  No break or rest followed; instead, the fog thickened to an impenetrable shroud. The stone beneath their feet shuddered—dully, drawn-out, as though something massive had crawled deep beneath the basalt.

  From the fissures in the floor surged roots.

  Not individual shoots—a solid living mass, writhing in a serpentine tangle. As thick as a human arm, covered in bark—either dark brown or black. The tips split into dozens of thin tendrils, each ending in a bony spike. The roots crawled across stone, coiled round fragments of rocks and carcasses, stretched towards the formation slowly but inexorably.

  The first wave reached the perimeter in a matter of seconds. Roots coiled round shields, tried to wrench them from hands. The girls hacked with axes, but the severed pieces continued writhing, clinging to armour with spikes.

  "Fire!" Kael barked.

  The girls in the second row were momentarily confused, but still pulled out torches. Oil-soaked rags flared instantly—flame began dancing merrily across the roots, burning through bark. The creatures shuddered, but the group still had to contend with them.

  They'd barely caught their breath when they noticed fresh ones already crawling from the fissures.

  In total they had to endure fifteen continuous waves of roots. No one emerged unscathed—all received injuries of varying severity—but most importantly, the group hadn't lost a single member irretrievably, which meant they'd keep moving forward.

  Kael leant back against the cliff, closed his eyes. Thirty minutes until the boss. Time was tight, but sufficient.

  The girls sat in clusters—some massaging stiffened fingers, some checking armour straps for the hundredth time. Several people chewed dried meat, washing it down from flasks. Naila went round everyone in turn, applying final healing spells to deep scratches and abrasions.

  "Check elixir supplies," he tossed out without opening his eyes.

  The obedient rustle of inventories. The clink of glass vials.

  "Everything's in order," one of the girls responded.

  The rest nodded.

  The man opened his eyes, pushed away from the wall. He walked round the formation slowly, appraisingly. Armour battered, but holding. Weapons sharpened. Faces weary, but focused.

  "Fifteen minutes," he announced, glancing at the timer. "Formation—semicircle. Rear line stays in reserve, covers Naila. Front line—maintains distance. No one enters melee without command."

  Having finished their preparations, the girls simply lay on the ground. As the time allotted them began running out, they rose and took positions. Shields formed into an even arc, spears protruded between the rims. Naila stood in the centre, behind, hands already glowing green.

  The fog thickened to impenetrable murk. The basalt beneath their feet trembled—dully, drawn-out, as though something enormous had awoken deep underground.

  From the fissure in the floor, that very one which had spawned the main flow of roots all this time, burst a massive shoot. As thick as a log, covered in layers of moss and mushroom growths. It writhed, rose higher, higher—three metres, five, seven. Others followed, dozens of roots breaking through stone, weaving into a single body.

  The form took shape. A torso assembled from intertwined roots and wood fibres. Shoulders, massive, covered with mushroom caps the size of shields. Arms—long, gnarled, ending in bunches of sharp shoots instead of fingers. A head—a shapeless growth from which sprouted mushrooms of every colour: red, yellow, blue, emanating a faint glow.

  [Rootgnaw (23 400/23 400)

  Level 15

  Rank: S]

  The colossus stepped forward. The earth shuddered beneath its weight. The mushrooms on its shoulders opened, releasing clouds of yellowish spores. The fog took on a sickly hue.

  "Hold your breath!" Kael barked, raising his spear.

  The spores blanketed the formation in a thick shroud.

  The air became dense, sticky. The yellowish haze enveloped the formation, settling on armour, shields, exposed patches of skin. Kael held his breath, squeezed his eyes shut—the spores burnt his eyes, penetrated beneath his eyelids.

  The girls followed his example. Shields rose higher, covering faces. Some turned away, hiding their noses in the crook of an elbow.

  The colossus stepped closer. The mushroom caps on its shoulders opened wider, spewing a fresh wave of spores. The cloud thickened, transforming into a yellow-green murk through which the monster's outlines were barely visible.

  One of the girls couldn't hold out—she inhaled sharply, convulsively. Coughed, doubled over. The spores had penetrated her lungs.

  [Spore Poisoning! -18 health/sec

  Duration: 00:30]

  Green light flared behind the formation. Naila knew her tasks perfectly.

  "Hold positions!" Kael's voice cut through the cloud of spores.

  The Rootgnaw raised its arm. The gnarled shoots closed into the semblance of a fist, crashed down on the formation's left flank. The blow struck the shields of three girls at once—wood cracked, metal buckled. One was thrown back, rolling across the stone, knocking down her companion.

  The monster's second arm darted towards the centre. Kael intercepted the blow with his spear—the shaft splintered in half from the force of the collision. He cast aside the fragments, yanked an axe from the loop at his belt, hacked at the roots. The blade bit into wood, stuck fast. The colossus jerked its arm upward—Kael was thrown up, he clutched the axe with both hands, dangled from the haft.

  Roots coiled round his legs, pulled downward. Spikes pierced his armour, punched through leather straps, reached his skin.

  [You have taken damage: -87 health points]

  A green beam struck his back. The wounds closed, but the roots continued squeezing, burrowing deeper.

  "Strike!" Kael barked, dangling from the monster's arm.

  The girls rushed towards him. Axes rained down on the roots in a hail of blows—hacking, shredding, splitting wood into splinters. The colossus shuddered, jerked its arm. Kael tore free, crashed onto the stone, rolled.

  The monster raised its second arm, aimed at the fallen man, but he was already gone—Kael rolled sideways, leapt to his feet, pushing off from the stone with his palm. The man understood the tactic he'd chosen had proved mistaken. The S-rank mushroom colossus wasn't going to fall apart, as similar opponents had done at lower difficulty levels. The familiar trick hadn't worked.

  "Group! Formation one-eleven!" His voice rang out clearly, curtly—an order brooking no objection.

  The girls scattered in a fan, retreating from the opponent. Understanding from the squad's movement that they'd grasped his meaning, Kael turned to his bestial strength.

  The transformation took mere seconds. Bones crunched, lengthened, muscles swelled beneath skin. Armour dissolved. Fur the colour of old bark burst through skin, covered his body in dense pelt. Jaws lengthened, fangs bared. And now at the Rootgnaw already snarled an enormous brown bear—nearly three metres at the shoulder, with paws the size of round shields.

  "Now we'll fight!" The general bared his teeth.