The behemoth ambled toward their formation. The shadows of the forest seemed to bend and twist around its form, undulating in a sickening, unnatural way. They seemed to only grow thicker as the spider approached, casting everything into a strange grayscale dimness.
Quintus called over his shoulder urgently. "Brutus! Torches, now!"
He couldn't risk looking back toward the man, but the sound of a pack hitting the ground suggested that he'd understood. The familiar clack of flint and steel echoed dully through the forest as heat and light blossomed from the center of their formation. Quintus sensed as the man raised his lit torch high, illuminating their surroundings and giving them a better view of the battlefield. It didn't extend nearly as far as it should have, the glow seeming to disappear into the oppressive darkness. But what it did reveal sent a chill down Quintus's spine.
What he'd initially assumed was the massive arachnid's shadow was in fact a veritable carpet of smaller forms. Thousands upon thousands of tiny spiders, all scrambling forward with their queen. Some were the size of ordinary spiders he'd seen back in Rome, while most were as large as his hand. None seemed to be as large as the ones they'd fought previously. But they did move much more quickly.
Quintus glanced down at the gaps in their shield wall. With their size, even this formation wouldn't be enough to keep them out. And if those spiders were also venomous…
The edge of the tide neared their formation. As Brutus's torch flared to life, however, he saw the smallest spiders skitter backwards and away from the flames. Quintus leapt at the possibility.
"More torches!" The Primus Pilus ordered, gripping his gladius more tightly as he eyed the comparatively slow-moving queen marching toward them. He couldn't be certain whether this would work on it, but they needed some way to handle the smaller enemies. Otherwise, they'd be overwhelmed in an instant.
Brutus moved quickly from man to man, retrieving torches from their packs and lighting them with his own. Soon, several Legionnaires held torches instead of their gladiuses, waving them at the approaching swarm to keep them at bay. The tiny black shapes hissed and fanned out to avoid the flirelight's glow. However, the larger ones continued to press forward, climbing up the shields and forcing the sword-wielding Legionnaires to hack and slice at their scuttling forms.
It didn't take long before they were surrounded once again. Half of their formation waved torches at the incoming horde, sending them jumping backwards with quiet hisses. The others held fast against the remaining spiders and swatted at them with brutal efficiency. Their tactics weren't flashy by any means, but they didn't need to be. Not when they worked.
Quintus racked his brain. Though they could manage this situation for the moment, it certainly wouldn't last. Any gap or shortcoming in their formation would allow spiders inside to take down his men one by one. It was only a matter of time. They couldn't escape with the barrier of webs encircling them. Even worse, those torches would burn out eventually and hasten their ends—if the towering juggernaut didn't get to them first.
As if to echo his thoughts, the massive spider took another thunderous step forward. The ground itself cracked beneath its leg like a pickaxe smashing through stone. His wooden shield, reinforced as it was with metal, wouldn't stand a chance. Nor would his body. They would be ground into the earth like fine wheat if they didn't do something.
The Primus Pilus grimaced. Staying on the defensive would guarantee their deaths. That meant they only had one other option.
"Brutus," Quintus called back to the wounded man in their formation's center. "You'll need to defend yourself, soldier. We'll do our best to keep them off of you."
"Yes, sir." The man's voice was filled with the same grim determination that filled Quintus's own. All around him, he felt the men tense. The others knew that the situation was dire. Otherwise, he wouldn't even suggest leaving one of their wounded so exposed. But it might be the only way he could get them out alive.
With a silent prayer to the gods, he called out a flurry of orders. Their circle formation broke apart into pairs of Legionnaires that sprinted forward as one, charging toward the oncoming tide. The spiders scattered in surprise, the smallest ones fleeing the suddenly advancing light as fast as they could. The slower ones shriveled and sizzled as the torchlight engulfed them. But he didn't have time to stop and observe the phenomenon.
Quintus's shield raised high as he ran, warding off the leaping spiders as his sword cut through the tide. At his sides ran two more Legionnaires. The eight remaining men stomped through the swarm and were rewarded with the sounds of crunching carapaces underfoot. Quintus felt a few stinging sensations across his feet as errant fangs or drops of venom slipped between the gaps in his caligae. However, there was no time to inspect the damage or make his steps more careful. They had a monster to kill.
As they trampled their way through, spiders leapt at their torsos and faces. Despite their being inhuman, Quintus could tell that their coordination was breaking down. They were panicking, unprepared for a direct assault. Instead of probing for weaknesses or attacking in formations to overwhelm, they screeched and scrambled, caught between fleeing the firelight and attempting to mass in front of their queen. Their confusion only served to bolster the charging Legionnaires, who pushed them aside with shields or crushed them underfoot.
A sharp cry cut through the sounds of battle. Out of the corner of his eye, Quintus saw one of the torchbearers stumble and fall to one knee. A wave of black chitin rose up, taking advantage of the momentary weakness to overwhelm him. The man disappeared from view in a tangle of legs and fangs.
Quintus could only grimace. There was no way he or his men could stop and help, not without risking the same fate. They had to press on and deal with the threat at hand. Even if it meant taking losses.
"Forward!" He shouted, ensuring that others didn't make the mistake of stopping their advance. The massive spider loomed before them, its ponderous steps bringing it closer to the Legionnaires as it hissed. It slammed a pointed leg down at Quintus, forcing him to dart sideways and dodge. Dirt sprayed out from the impact.
Before it had a chance to lift the limb up again, Quintus spun to slash at it. His blade skittered off the hard chitin of the leg, leaving only a whitish scratch in its wake. Switching his grip, he used the momentum of the attack to carry him toward the beast's rear legs and swing once more, putting his entire weight into a backhanded blow. This time, he remembered to activate [Swordsmanship] and one of his other skills—[Heavy Blow]
His sword struck the leg with a jarring impact, sending painful vibrations up his arm as if he'd slammed it against a solid rock. Only through decades of experience, practice, and training was Quintus able to keep his grip. But as solid as the leg felt, the power behind the blow had been enough.
A crack ripped through the air. Where sword met chitin he saw thin, web-like fractures radiating outward, along with the beginnings of purple ichor leaking out. Quintus's heart soared.
"Damaged leg!" He shouted the information to his comrades over the spider's annoyed squeal. He felt as his intent was conveyed by [Voice of Command]. "Strike here!"
He dodged back toward one of the torchbearers as the spider lifted another leg to strike at him. The pool of light served as an island of refuge among the spiders, his companion struggling to hold back the tide as they continued to swarm in a panicked frenzy. From the corner of his eye, Quintus saw the other two pairs of men advance on the injured limb and begin hacking away.
The spider squealed at him. Evidently, Quintus's attack had been enough to earn its personal attention. He stepped back, hoping to serve as a distraction while the other men worked. Yet instead of attacking him, the massive spider's head darted forward to bite down at the torchbearer at his side.
Qiuntus flung his shield arm up, catching her two massive fangs on his scutum as the other man ducked back. For a brief, horrid moment, he locked eyes with the creature. Its eight baleful orbs glared back, their darkness seeming to extinguish the light around them. Its gaze burned into him with palpable malice.
It took a moment for him to realize that the burning sensation wasn't simply his imagination. Rather, it was coming from his arm. He looked down and saw that the two dark fangs had pierced straight through his shield. One of them had punctured clean through his forearm, protruding from the other side. Sickly yellow venom dripped from its exposed tip.
He bit back a scream of agony as the fang tore free, leaving a sizable hole in his forearm between the two bones. The wound seared with pain, but not as much as he'd feared. It could be ignored for now.
With an effort, he stuffed the sensation of his own sizzling skin into a small box at the back of his mind, keeping his shield up. With a quick, calculated step forward, he lunged and slashed at her fangs. His first strike bit deep, severing the right fang and sending a gush of yellow liquid spilling over his blade. He followed through with the swing, slicing partway through the second fang as well.
The giant spider reared up in agony, squealing and thrashing as Quintus staggered back. Her front legs lifted off the ground, flailing in the air, while the Legionnaires continued to fend off the smaller spiders.
The behemoth's rearing proved to be a fatal mistake. When she lifted onto her hind legs, the full weight of her massive body—what had to be thousands of pounds of flesh and exoskeleton—rested on her damaged limb. Both the leg Quintus had attacked and the one beside it buckled under the strain. He saw his fellow Legionnaires dart away from the massive body as it collapsed sideways. Chipped chitin and fluids sprayed outwards from the wounds as though from a shattered vase full of wine.
As the spider fell, it rolled over, crushing dozens of her own kin beneath her. Her legs floundered in the air for a moment, and Quintus barely needed to warn the men to retreat back from the deadly storm of thrashing limbs. After a moment, it struggled back to its feet, but the damage was done. Two of its legs were now completely useless, snapped off just below the joints and flailing uselessly as it attempted to move. Though losing two legs didn't completely stop the thing, it clearly slowed its already ponderous steps down even further and made its movements awkward.
Quintus was beginning to feel a glimmer of hope. The way these spiders acted wasn't natural—they were far too coordinated, if not exactly the smartest things. There was a decent chance that if they could bring down the queen, the rest of the spiders might flee or have their already tenuous cohesion fall apart entirely. At least, that was what he hoped. If not… well, it wasn't as though they had any option besides killing the massive spider, anyway.
"Advance!" Quintus shouted to the men. They continued to weave around the massive spearlike appendages that slammed into the ground, leaving deep gouges and holes in their wake. This time, he didn't waste his efforts on her legs. He went straight for the spider's freshly defanged face.
The creature reared back, trying to pull out of his reach rather than attempting to retaliate with its single partially-intact fang. But it wasn't fast enough. His blade slashed at the carapace covering its head, the yellow venom coating his blade hissing as it made contact. Evidently, human flesh wasn't the only thing vulnerable to the substance.
Another activation of [Heavy Blow] sent cracks through the queen's head. It skittered backward, trying to escape Quintus's assault as he continued to rain down blow after blow.
In desperation, the beast tried to rear up once more as though to crush him beneath its weight. However, the Legionnaires were ready. The others had positioned themselves at its rear, and as the spider heaved itself upward, they attacked one of its remaining rear legs in unison.
The spindly limb crumpled, sending the spider onto its back with a scream of outrage. This time, it rolled onto its back, unable to fully right itself. It desperately spewed webs from its spinnerets in thick, gloopy masses as though to pull itself away from the conflict. However, it wasn't going to escape so easily.
The Legionnaires climbed atop its abdomen, stabbing their blades into the spider's exposed underbelly over and over. They stayed near its rear to avoid the frantically thrashing limbs that threatened to bisect any unfortunate soul caught in their reach. Quintus remained at the front, hacking over and over at its head. Even as the stamina drain from the skill finally began to make itself more keenly felt, he continued.
The spider's screams of outrage and frustration quickly morphed into something else. They became higher-pitched, more keening and frantic as the ear-splitting sounds rang throughout the forest. As Quintus stared into the dying beast's eyes, he saw something he recognized there. Something he'd seen in many a conquered foe.
It felt fear.
As the Legionnaires continued to swarm the monster as its offspring had swarmed them, its struggles began to weaken. The thrashing of its legs slowed little by little as fresh purple fluids poured down its sides. The supernatural darkness that seemed to envelop it began to flicker and subside until it failed to even push back the torchlight. Soon enough, with one final thrust of Quintus's sword through its head, the beast finally went still.
The clearing went silent. For a brief moment, only the sound of his men's labored breathing filled the air. Then, the skittering of countless spiders rushing away drowned them out. Quintus barely noticed as golden text materialized before him.
[You have successfully defeated an area boss! You have gained experience.]