The shiny black carapace of the spider hurtled toward Quintus, its eight spindly legs glimmering ever so faintly in the darkness. He planted his feet and pulled mightily at his shield, maneuvering the rectangular scutum between them. However, the chitinous mass didn't bounce off like he'd expected. Instead, the tips of its legs clung to the surface, skittering noisily as it crawled up his shield and began to crest its top.
At this distance, the monster's features were impossible to miss. A constellation of inky black orbs studded its small head, its eyes staring soullessly into his own. A pair of needle-like fangs the size of knives protruded from beneath them. Leaves and twigs adhered to its bulbous abdomen, camouflage that would've made the dark shape even more difficult to see among the foliage.
Quintus suppressed a shiver as the thing raised its fangs in a soft hiss. He stabbed his gladius through the spider's face without hesitation. The blade made a sickening crunch as it punched through its armored head. As the beast thrashed in its death throes, he flipped it sideways, ripping his sword free. Greenish purple ichor from its insides ran down his blade, mixing with a yellowish venom that hissed and burbled.
He didn't have time to inspect his blade for damage, though. With a flick of his wrist, he sprayed the toxic concoction off the tip of his sword at the partially-severed web still attached to his shield, finally managing to cut through it as another spider scuttled toward his feet. As it neared, he slammed the bottom of his shield down toward it, cracking several of its legs.
"Orbem formate!" Quintus shouted.
The other eight men moved into a circle formation. Without even needing to look, he stepped back and slid his shield into a gap left perfectly open for him. As one, they stepped forward and away from the trees as much as they could. More webs shot toward them from the darkness, impacting shields from every side. A few shouts rang out as a couple of poorly-secured helmets were carried into the trees. But their formation didn't budge. The combination of their shields being locked together and the [Shield Wall] skill allowed them to weather the assault together even better than Quintus had alone.
Moving in a circle formation was challenging—it required the majority of the men to move sideways or backwards—but they were well-trained for the task. Navigating through the dark over gnarled tree roots was far simpler than some of the training they'd endured. Still, the movements felt even easier than Quintus had expected, as though the Legionnaires themselves shared an even deeper understanding of each others' intent than ever before. Perhaps this was what Gaius had been talking about when he explained the [Group Tactics] skill at work.
Quintus didn't remain idle, though. He called out orders with [Voice of Command], coordinating their movements as the spiders continued to try and pull them apart. Their blades sawed at the thick strands of webbing even as their formation remained immovable. However, that wasn't enough to keep them safe.
Eventually, the spiders decided to change tactics. They swarmed down the trees in a wave of black and green and brown, making it seem as though the forest itself intended to swallow them up.
"Be ready!" Quintus warned his men. With another order, the shield wall dropped closer to the ground to prevent the creatures from biting at their legs. Though his men had greaves to protect their legs, he didn't have any desire to test their durability against those fangs, much less the hissing venom that filled them.
As they braced for the coming swarm, a long-forgotten memory suddenly flashed through Quintus's mind. It was of an anthill from his childhood—as he'd watched the processions of ants filing to and from their home, a rather large caterpillar happened across their path, its wriggling form ignoring them as it meandered about its own path. A single ant happened across the giant, attacking it, before being joined by an endless stream of others. In astonishingly little time, the insects had overwhelmed the caterpillar in a tide of squirming black bodies and dragged it back to their nest.
These weren't ants, though; they were spiders. Giant spiders. And he was the damned caterpillar.
In a flash, the spiders were upon them. Chitinous bodies flooded over every inch of ground as they made contact with the Legionnaires, seeking any gap in their formation. The size of the monsters worked against them as their bodies and legs proved far too thick to squeeze through the shield wall's miniscule cracks.
Unfortunately, that didn't stop the assault. The spiders simply swarmed up their shields as though they were flat ground, the sounds of countless legs filling the air with a deafening clatter. Bodies quickly made their way over the top of the scutums, only to be met with two feet of solid steel.
Quintus felt his vision narrow. He activated his [Swordsmanship] skill—an individual one he'd decided to test out himself—and felt it guide his blade in and out of spider after spider. The world beyond their circle faded away in the heat of combat. He lost track of time, focused only on the steady breathing of the men around him and the blood pounding in his ears.
Occasionally, one of the scouts would call out in warning as a group of spiders attempted to drop down on them from above. The sneaky bastards pulled their attention from the tide of bodies in front of them, requiring a few Legionnaires to swipe upwards and deal with them as their comrades attempted to pick up the slack. The spiders didn't always go down in one hit, either. Several times, Quintus's own sword skittered off a carapace harmlessly, even with the skill assisting his grip. It was bound to happen—he wasn't always in the perfect position to strike. But every miss threatened to push them closer to being overwhelmed.
He sliced and batted at the spiders over and over, refusing to allow them over his shield. His grip remained steady, never slipping, even as pulpy ichor coated his weapon and soaked the ground. Even as the fighting dragged on, Quintus felt as invigorated as ever, the rush of battle buoying him and keeping the exhaustion at bay. Not even the deeper, all-encompassing tiredness that he'd been told to expect from excessive skill use seemed to affect him.
Suddenly, there was a lull in the tide. He looked for the next spider to stab, yet found none. Quintus almost relaxed, breathing in to call for a status report, before he heard a cry of agony from behind him.
Without breaking his shield's position in the wall, Quintus whipped around. Somehow, a spider had made its way into the center of their circle. Twin fangs pierced into the back of Brutus's calf, embedded deep in his flesh.
In his panic, Brutus flailed with his sword and shield both, breaking formation as he tried to dislodge and stab at the creature latched onto him. As he struggled, two more spiders pounced on him from the gap in the shield wall.
Quintus swore under his breath. He kept his shield in place, shifting his stance and stepping sideways in order to reach over and help Brutus. His gladius sliced through the abdomen of the spider clinging to his comrade's leg in a spray of greenish purple as the other men slashed at the incoming threats. Another shout rose up, sending Quintus's head snapping up. Another group of spiders hurtled down toward the injured Brutus.
Quintus yelled an order, and the shield wall tightened up, closing the gap Brutus had left as he thrashed on the ground. A rictus of pain marred his features. Despite the situation, the Legionnaire managed to bring his shield between himself and the falling spiders and take down a couple with frenzied slashes. But as he tried to regain his feet, he stumbled.
Quintus grimaced. The mangled piece of meat that was Brutus's calf hissed and popped unsettlingly as it hung uselessly beneath him. His breathing was erratic, and sweat poured down from beneath his helmet. Quintus could feel the panic radiating off him.
"Brutus!" Quintus snapped, drawing his attention. "Stand ready, soldier! Guard our backs from above!"
The command seemed to jar Brutus back into the present. Their eyes briefly met as the man struggled to push himself up once more, leaning on his shield for support. Brutus roared in defiance as he took another few swipes at falling spiders, coming to balance on his one good leg. Their corpses fell to the ground around them, their remaining legs curling into themselves as he kept his head on a swivel toward the treetops above.
Quintus didn't have time to ensure the man was holding it together, though. Another wave of spiders crashed into their shield wall, hissing and chittering as they tried to overwhelm the Legionnaires.
Turning his attention forward, Quintus resumed the fight. He didn't need to check over his shoulder to know that Brutus was still alive and holding his own. His shouts of pain and triumph joined the deafening crash of shields and blades against chitin. Even without that, the Primus Pilus could somehow sense the man swatting spiders out of the air as they leaped down from the trees, desperate to breach the formation however they could.
The skirmish stretched on, the ground around them gradually becoming a carpet of twisted, broken bodies. It wasn't long before hundreds of spider corpses littered the area, forming piles that their kin had to climb over before assaulting their formation. Yet despite it all, the Legionnaires held firm. Their gladiuses hacked and slashed away at the seemingly endless tide until their arms began to protest. But finally, after who knew how long, the tide finally ceased.
The Legionnaires surveyed the silent forest warily, expecting yet another assault or ambush attempt. But after a full minute of tense waiting, no such threat materialized.
Quintus let out a long breath, his eyes continuing to dart about the clearing. "Status report."
"My leg," Brutus managed through clenched teeth. "It— damn it all, it feels like Vulcan himself's poured hot metal inside it."
Two other men reported injuries as well, though none as serious as Brutus's. The Primus Pilus nodded as the reports came in. "Tend to the wounded as best you can, but keep your eyes peeled. Stand ready to form up at any moment. I will not have us caught off guard and take more injuries."
The men chorused their agreement as they moved to act. Quintus moved from man to man as they rested, every face tensely keeping watch even as they tended to the wounds. The other two wounded had numb arms or shoulders. Still, they'd managed to pry the spiders off quickly enough to prevent large amounts of venom from entering their systems. The rest of the squad bore scratches and minor punctures from the spiders' legs as the creatures clambered over them.
He helped them wash out bites and bandage what they could. The treatments got most of the men back on their feet, but he remained concerned about Brutus. The man couldn't feel anything besides pain in his entire leg now, and he was clearly wobbling on his feet. Despite the sickly pallor to his skin though, he was breathing steadily and had yet to lose consciousness.
Unfortunately, there wasn't too much they could do about it out here. Their wounds were bandaged well enough to last for now, but they'd need to return to camp in order to receive better treatment. If there was anything that could be done for the man, of course.
"All right," Quintus said once they'd done what they could. "We regroup and return to camp. We'll need to report on what we've found here. If there are more of these spiders lurking about, then warning the other contuberniums is imperative."
He ordered them into a formation with Brutus protected in the center, the scouts ranging only slightly ahead. They left the darkened clearing the way they'd come. But as they retraced their path, they found it blocked by webs. Thick, goopy ropes as wide as his finger, not simply threads like they'd encountered on the way in.
Quintus stepped forward and slashed at the barrier with his sword, focusing every bit of his twenty years of soldiering into the blow. He activated his skill, his blade slicing down in a clean arc. But instead of cleaving through, his sword bounced off of the white strands, leaving only a small nick in its wake.
"What in the…" one of his men muttered behind him. "When did they put up this shit?"
Quintus frowned, inspecting his gladius. It had sustained a number of small nicks during the battle, but this blow didn't seem to have damaged it further. "We'll find another path. We press on."
They moved sideways along the edge of the clearing, searching for an opening. But only a few feet further into the trees, they encountered another stretch of dense webs blocking their path. They continued moving, but every few feet brought another barrier. It didn't take long to realize that the entire clearing had been sectioned off. They were well and truly trapped.
Quintus looked up, scanning the canopy. It seemed as though their foes had planned for this ambush more thoroughly than expected. Still, there was no sign of additional spiders anywhere in sight. Had they truly finished off the last of them? Or had they simply covered their own retreat?
Before Quintus had a chance to address his men again, a heavy thud shook the trees around them. The men tensed, snapping back into formation. Another thud came, then another. The sound of chitin scraping against chitin filled the air—a now-familiar noise. But this time, the sound was accompanied by a deeper, more ominous one. One far too close for comfort.
As one, the Legionnaires turned toward its source. There, just at the opposite edge of the clearing, something shifted. A massive shape, large enough that Quintus suspected his mind was playing tricks on him. But the shout of warning from one of his scouts quickly laid that idea to rest.
"Incoming! Pluto's beard, that thing's the size of a house!"
A few seconds later, a tree crashed down, the reverberation shaking the ground beneath them once again. As the creature stepped closer, Quintus finally saw it clearly for himself. Its enormous black, bulbous body gleamed in the faint streams of choked sunlight filtering down from the canopy, towering well above him in height. With each step, its chitinous legs—each thicker around than Quintus's torso—slammed into the earth, sending rocks and dirt spraying in all directions. Two more trees toppled as it forced its way into the clearing, displacing everything in its path.
The giant spider opened its maw to reveal sword-sized fangs dripping with yellow venom. A deep, strangled hiss filled Quintus's ears, the sound seeming to reverberate in his head. Then, it took another lumbering step toward them.