The tension was palpable, an electric hum that ran through the city, charging the atmosphere as the guards and mercenaries took their positions along the defensive lines just beyond the city walls. Kalem found himself among the onlookers who had climbed onto the walls to witness the preparations. Below him, the front lines stood ready, an array of disciplined, battle-hardened soldiers interspersed with mercenaries from varied backgrounds, each equipped with a unique array of weaponry that glittered beneath the late morning sun.
Kalem's eyes followed each group as they assembled. The city guard was lined up front and center, shields locked together, spears bristling forward, a solid wall of defense formed by trained soldiers. Behind them, the archers were stationed in staggered lines, their quivers brimming with arrows. The mercenaries, clad in mismatched armor, each stood apart with weapons suited to their styles—heavy axes, slim rapiers, massive broadswords—all weapons Kalem recognized and had worked on over the months.
Several groups were designated as "bait units," small squads tasked with drawing out the insectoid swarm. These soldiers moved forward, leaving the secure line and venturing into the open fields beyond, an act that required a mix of nerve and skill, as well as the ability to sprint back swiftly before the swarm closed in. Kalem noticed the fluidity of their movements; each of these units was formed of highly trained fighters, their footwork swift and silent, their bodies lean and well-practiced for the inevitable retreat.
He leaned against the stone wall, absorbing the intricacies of each tactical decision. The bait units were a vital piece in the Culling, meant to stir up the insectoids from their burrows and lure them into a position where the city guard could strike. It was a strategy born from generations of practice, a system built to ensure survival, yet beneath its precision lay a hint of desperation.
As the bait units positioned themselves, Kalem's focus shifted to the archer line, where the archers prepared arrows infused with a faint shimmer, magical traces woven into the steel heads. These arrows would release bursts of light or fire upon impact, designed to confuse the creatures and create momentary gaps in the oncoming swarm. Some of the archers murmured words over their bows, invoking spells that would enhance accuracy or strengthen their arms for the extended battle.
Kalem was mesmerized, entranced by the seamless blend of physical prowess and magical techniques these warriors used. For some, the magic flowed as if it were second nature, their enchantments simple but effective. For others, their precision and discipline were honed through hours of practice, and Kalem could see the subtle signs of preparation in the tension of their muscles, the steady control in their breathing.
With a shout from the city guard captain, the bait units moved forward, their steps careful, each member equipped with small shields and light armor to maximize speed. They carried only minimal weaponry—mostly spears or daggers suited for throwing—since their purpose was not to fight directly but to survive long enough to lure the swarm. The stillness of the plains in front of them, the tall grasses rustling slightly under a faint wind, felt ominous as they ventured farther from the city walls.
In the eerie silence, Kalem could almost hear their controlled breaths, each step careful and calculated. Then, in a single, practiced motion, one of the bait soldiers let out a high-pitched call, a mimicry of the cry that insectoids used to communicate. It was a sound both alien and familiar, shrill and piercing, and it cut through the air like a knife.
Moments passed, each one a taut string of tension as every soldier and onlooker waited with bated breath. Kalem's heart pounded in sync with the stillness, his eyes fixed on the fields beyond. Slowly, movement began to stir among the grasses—a ripple of motion spreading as if the earth itself had begun to writhe.
Then, they emerged.
The insectoid swarm poured out from beneath the soil and hidden burrows, their forms a nightmarish blend of jagged carapaces and serrated limbs, eyes glinting in the daylight. Their bodies were a mixture of chitin and pulsing flesh, each the size of a large dog, some even larger, with mandibles that clicked and clattered as they swarmed in a single, focused mass. Kalem couldn't help but feel the chill that ran through him at the sight, the raw instinctual terror of a predator on the move.
With another sharp call, the bait units turned and sprinted back, their movements precise, each one in unison as they led the swarm toward the waiting city guard. The soldiers prepared for the oncoming wave, shields braced, spears leveled, a solid wall against the incoming tide of creatures. The archers were ready, bows drawn taut, each arrow glowing faintly in the dimming light.
As the insectoids closed the distance, the captain's voice rang out. "Archers, loose!"
A storm of arrows filled the sky, arcing over the heads of the guards to rain down upon the swarm. As they hit, bursts of light and fire erupted along the front of the wave, creating brief explosions that tore through the creature's ranks. The flashes disoriented the front lines of the swarm, some stumbling or writhing in confusion as the archers continued their steady assault.
Yet the swarm pressed forward, undeterred, their numbers unrelenting. Kalem could see the determination in the guards' stances as the insectoids collided with their line, each soldier holding steady as the creatures crashed against their shields. The impact was brutal; the creatures' sharp limbs scraped and struck at the metal, while the guards pushed back with calculated force.
Kalem watched in awe as the guards displayed the martial skills he had heard so much about but had never seen in action. They moved as a single unit, each shield covering the man beside him, their spears darting out in synchronized movements to pierce the creatures as they pressed forward. When a soldier's shield wavered, a fellow guard stepped in, holding the line with an unwavering resolve.
To the left of the main formation, the mercenaries took their own positions, their style vastly different from the disciplined city guard. Each mercenary fought in their own unique way, some wielding massive axes that cleaved through multiple creatures at once, while others wielded long, slender rapiers, their movements almost like a dance as they pierced through the creatures' softer spots with incredible precision. One warrior, covered in enchanted tattoos, released bursts of energy with every swing, causing small explosions that threw back groups of insectoids.
Through it all, Kalem felt an unexpected sense of pride and kinship. These were the warriors he had crafted weapons for; each blade, spear, and axe carried the weight of his work. And as the battle raged, he saw the weapons in action, saw how they performed under the press of true combat. His creations were holding their own, striking true, even against the unyielding tide of monstrous foes.
But the swarm kept coming, an endless wave that poured forth from the fields, relentless and ferocious. Kalem's hands gripped the stone ledge of the city wall, his heart pounding as he watched the battle unfold. There was something primal about the scene, a clash of life and death, a brutal ballet of survival that was as terrifying as it was mesmerizing.
And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the battlefield in hues of orange and red, the battle lines held, but barely. The city guard, mercenaries, and bait units fought with all they had, knowing that each passing moment tested not just their skill, but their endurance.
Kalem couldn't pull his gaze away, feeling himself drawn into the pulse of the battle, the rhythm of weapons and bodies colliding, of survival fought and earned in the clash of metal and monstrous chitin. Yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder how long the lines would hold against the relentless tide.