The monster was relentless in chasing them down, no matter how they fled. And as soon as the spell took effect, they would no longer be able to run, only slaughter would await them. Though there was no visible change the moment the spell began to function, everyone watching could see it. The bodies of the soldiers sagged to the ground as if pressed down by a mountain. Those who were still able to keep their feet did so only by exerting extreme effort, their faces going red with the strain. The soldiers’ eyes were wild and filled with terror. What could possibly have prepared them for this?
There was no way they could resist what was to come.
The queen snapped back to alertness and turned to her stunned Guards.
“Aim your strikes at the enemy, but do not close the distance! Be sure to stay the hell out of that spell!” she ordered.
Loyal and disciplined, her Royal Guard leapt into action, their weapons raining strike after strike down on the trapped foes and those who continued to run, desperate to avoid becoming sealed in that zone.
The townspeople watched the spectacle unfold with rapt amazement, their eyes afire with deep emotions. They could not participate, as none had mastered the advanced weapon skill required to strike from a distance. But they could watch and silently praise.
As her force became battered by wave after wave of sword light, Corrin’s expression grew ugly. She could not believe her eyes. How could one piss weak ant, legendary for being the weakest individual monster in the Dungeon, be devastating the highly trained soldiers she brought with such efforts? How long had it taken her to weave this plot together? The months of preparation, the incredible effort needed to talk Andron into getting off their fat arses. It was disappearing before her eyes!
She turned to the Andron ambassador. “What the hell is happening, Regix? Your soldiers are worthless! Didn’t you promise me the best?”
The ambassador was pale faced and shaking. He was a diplomat, not a warrior! He’d never seen such bloodshed and violence. Watching his soldiers being torn apart rocked his mind. He could barely think, let alone speak.
The trembling Andronian continued to struggle to speak, and Corrin nearly screamed in frustration.
It had been so perfect. She had been so close. Wealth! A stupid amount of wealth! It was all slipping from her grasp in this moment and that feeling drove her berserk. If it wasn’t for that stupid monster! She’d played the queen like a damn fiddle, but this idiotic monster ruined everything!
Suddenly, her heart froze in her chest. Dread swept over her like a cold blanket and sweat erupted from her forehead. Turning slowly, she looked down at the monster to find it looking directly at her. The smooth dark glittering carapace, the cold lidless eyes, and the dripping jaws that glowed fiercely with purple light. No emotion or feeling emanated from that creature. In Corrin’s eyes, it was nothing less than an emotionless machine of death.
Corrin’s mind turned as if her thoughts drifted through molasses. When had those mandibles begun to glow?
The mandibles flared with light, and she flinched back, but it was no use.
How to describe it?
The floor simply wasn’t the floor anymore. Her feet slid along the ground as if it were suddenly a wall and she fell directly toward the monster. A scream rose and stuck in her throat as fear paralysed her mind. The only thing she could see was those mandibles as everything faded away. They grew larger and larger in her eyes as they opened wide.
Then they closed, and she knew no more.
47. The Queen’s Circumstances, Part 3
Queen Verita surveyed the field of carnage that polluted her throne room in disgust. That it had come to this. Foreign soldiers slaughtered before the throne, the most officious and historical location in her young kingdom, by a Dungeon monster. Her ancestors would shake their heads in despair if they knew of this farce.
Brusquely she ordered her Guards to clean the room and do something about the dead and escort the townsfolk out of the room. Then she ordered two soldiers to seize the ambassador and bring him before her. The Andronian was still frozen with terror on the dais, shaking in fear as his eyes stared vacantly at the broken bodies of the men and women he brought here to fight.
When Corrin had been pulled through the air to her death, he’d been so terrified his legs lost all their strength, causing him to collapse onto his knees. As the two Queen’s Guard hauled him up by his armpits, they sneered in contempt as they noticed the damp patch on the front of the ambassador’s trousers.
The queen thought for a moment before signalling another of her Guard to attend her.
The soldier saluted smartly. “Take the head of Corrin and put it on a spike at the castle gate. That should take the wind out of any mercenary scum who want to try and continue their rebellion.”
The soldiers saluted again. “At once, your majesty.”
The Guard picked his way through the remains toward the fallen Mercenary Union president to complete his grisly task. Soon, he walked briskly out of the hall carrying a red stained cloth wrapped around a roundish object.
When the mercenaries battling desperately to push through the gate and into the castle recognised the head being held up high on the tip of a spear, they were filled with equal parts rage and despair. They knew they would never grasp the profits they’d been promised to secure their support for this uprising now. Many mercs decided on the spot to flee the country as fast as their legs could carry them. If they were quick enough, they may be able to avoid arrest. After all, they could ply their trade anywhere the Dungeon was, which was everywhere.
The news that the queen had taken back control of the castle spread through the city like wildfire. The citizens cheered and poured into the streets to celebrate. Many were glad to have their benevolent ruler secure again on her throne. Though many others were simply glad the fighting had come to an end and peace could once again return to their lives. After weeks of fighting, death and destruction, they wanted to get on with rebuilding and forget any of this had ever happened.
Inside the castle, Ambassador Regix was dragged before Queen Verita by her Guards. When he was unresponsive, a soldier slapped the man viciously until he was able to come back to himself.
“It’s a shame we had to speak under these circumstances, Ambassador,” Verita said.
Regix spluttered, trying to draw himself up and regain some of his dignity. His efforts proved fruitless whilst he was being held upright by two callous soldiers who gripped him so tight, he was sure to bruise the next day.
“You can’t treat me like this, Verita!” he spat. “Do you think Andron will stand for this?”
His gumption rendered Verita momentarily speechless. “You know,” she bit back, “I find myself not caring a whit what Andron will or will not stand for. As far as I’m concerned, your pox filled nation of rats can jump in the Dungeon so they can live amongst their own kind!”
Regix gaped at her. “You dare!”
Verita glanced at one of her Guards and gave him a subtle nod. The soldier immediately stepped forward to deliver another powerful slap to the ambassador, drawing blood.
After letting him recover, the queen resumed speaking. “I do. You’re going to scurry back to your nest, rat. When you get there, I want you to tell them that I’m coming. I’m going to march into Andron and burn it to the ground for what you’ve done here.”
The quivering ambassador recoiled before Verita’s fury. Unable to muster a response, he could only hang his head as the Guards dragged him out of the castle. They would throw him on a horse and send him on his way back to his own land within the hour.