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Chapter 53: Closing the Gap
🕑 Added 2025-04-09 04:29:23 +0000 UTCChapter 53: Closing the Gap
Augustus walked through Habersville, exuding confidence even as his eyes scanned his surroundings with caution. The ill-fated rebellion had been put down quickly and efficiently, and Legionnaires filled the streets in the aftermath just to ensure that no one else even considered such foolishness again. Still, it never hurt to be careful.
After the dome had shattered, Gaius had wasted no time in mobilizing the Legion to regain control of the area. Augustus and the others trapped inside had already neutralized most of the genuine agitators in their assault, but there were more than a few groups that had remained patrolling the streets. A few other leaders, such as the former mayor and other high-ranking priests, had been rooted out of their hiding places and summarily captured.
The rebels weren't killed—well, most of them at least. Some had been lucky enough to be struck down during their resistance. But those that still lived were being held so that Gaius could make a proper example of them. And seeing how quickly they'd retaken the town, that would not take long at all.
But right now, he was afforded a small break. So in the brief interlude between things settling down and him being assigned new orders, he'd decided to pay a quick visit to the class stone to adjust his skills.
Only a few of them, of course—the group skills weren't his to decide, and the officers had declared that three of each man's individual skills needed to directly relate to one's combat abilities or camp duties. But those last two? Those were free for any man to experiment with, provided they reported back any promising results to their superiors.
Unfortunately, Augustus had bet on the wrong gladiator with his. Despite the fervent insistence of that dreamer Caeso, the [Breathing] skill he'd picked up was simply not working out for him. He'd leveled it up to ten or so, but after that it had ceased advancing rather quickly—which felt bizarre, given the speed at which many of his other skills developed. It made him truly doubt Caeso's claim of having leveled it to a hundred, not to mention the supposed "energy" he supposedly had begun to feel flow through him.
Augustus had never felt any such thing. Not even after trying the cross-legged meditation that Caeso and some of his fellow fanatics seemed to swear by. It just made him feel silly. No, he was done with that nonsense—it was time to try out other, more practical skills.
He was considering picking up a taunt skill, as those were always appreciated. That one had certainly proved its usefulness many times over. But there were also quality-of-life skills worth considering. He had heard rumors going around that [Leatherworking] and [Blacksmithing] were excellent skills for maintaining armor and making sure one's caligae fit like a dream. Or perhaps he'd pick up [Cooking]. He did miss the simple pleasures of a good meal—not that he'd ever dare to insult the cooking of his tent-mate.
Imaginations of well-spiced stews and perfectly seared meats had him salivating as he walked. He was well used to the trail rations and breads that made up the bulk of a Legionnaire's usual diet. But that didn't mean he lacked an appreciation for the finer things. Besides, there was only so much shadow panther one could eat before it became tiresome. If there was anything he could do to spice things up—literally or figuratively—then it might be worth the investment.
The town's square was relatively empty when he arrived. Augustus was used to it being packed with Legionnaires scrolling through the miles-long lists of skills, even after regulations had been issued to alleviate the worst of the traffic. Of course, there were published lists of the Legion's available skills, but there were only so many copies to go around. Besides, no one wanted to deal with the unwieldy scrolls and stacks of wax tablets when the magical System interface was an option.
And so, while order had yet to be fully restored, Augustus took advantage. Surely no one would object to him using the stone in his downtime, not right now.
Taking a deep breath, he reached out and touched the glassy black surface of the monolith—
—Only to be immediately blinded.
He cried out in pain as the light seared his eyes, stumbling backward. Shouts of alarm and rapid footfalls sounded in the distance, suggesting he wasn't the only one to see the spectacle. When Augustus finally blinked away the spots in his vision, he saw that the town square was no longer as empty as it had been. Now, it was packed with Legionnaires, their postures tense and gladii drawn. Their forms shimmered with a golden glow that was already dissipating as he noticed it.
A centurion stepped forward from the crowd. "Soldier, what was that? What did you do?"
"Uh..." Augustus stammered intelligently. So much for being inconspicuous about using the class stone. "I don't know, sir. I was just using the class stone and…"
The centurion's eyes flicked to the monolith—which had once more faded to its usual black—then to the Legionnaires around them. "False alarm. Return to your posts."
The soldiers sheathed their swords and began to disperse as the centurion approached. He nodded to the stone. "Touch it again and tell me what you see."
Augustus grimaced, this time shielding his eyes as he reached out. But the searing light failed to appear. This time, he found himself greeted with a simple message.
[Congratulations on reaching level 2! Stat increases have been applied. You have new free stat points to assign.]
***
The door to the supply room rattled on its hinges as ghouls scratched and clawed at it from outside. The thick wood did little to muffle their shrieks, the chilling sounds reverberating through the enclosed space and seeming to amplify them. Yet that wasn't the worst of it.
"Cassius, I swear to all the gods," one of the Legionnaires groaned. "If you don't shut up I'm going to shove one of those explosives right down your throat."
Quintus sighed as the singing Legionnaire continued to serenade them—albeit far more hoarsely than when he'd begun. "He can't. He has a responsibility to neutralize the effect of those damned shrieks."
"Well he can at least pick a different song! He's been singing the same one for hours!"
Quintus shook his head. In truth, they were all getting more than a little tired of the incessant music. But there wasn't much anyone could do about it, Not given their current circumstances.
He resisted the desire to take his helmet off and wipe the sweat from his head. For the moment, his men were handling themselves well, taking turns at defending the door by stabbing outward through its faceplate. Yet he'd seen too many men die from taking their helmets off only to be caught by surprise. So on it stayed, even as he leaned against the wall to catch his breath.
This situation wasn't tenable. They had to do something—not just for their own sakes, but for their brothers above. They needed assistance. Even though Quintus didn't know the actual situation up there, he was still continuing to feel the icy chill of death after death as time went on. He counted at least fifty in the past hour alone—less than before, but certainly enough to know that the battle was not yet over. And if the monsters hadn't yet dug through the cave-in that they'd triggered, those numbers were sure to increase sooner rather than later.
He turned his head to look at his comrades where they sprawled beside him, desperately squeezing in what rest they could. The constant fighting and skill use had finally begun to take its toll on everyone. The longer they waited, the higher the risk of losing this battle of attrition.
Quintus gritted his teeth in frustration. He felt useless. Trapped and useless. Yet what could they do? They stood little chance of making it out of this room, much less pushing back the tide enough to make any tangible difference. Especially not in their current states.
He looked to the Legionnaire manning the faceplate. His movements had grown sluggish, as though his limbs were made of lead. Past the door, the screeches and battering intensified as the creatures seemed to sense his weakness.
The Primus Pilus hauled himself to his feet and drew his blade. "Prepare to switch, soldier!"
The Legionnaire panted and managed a nod. Quintus stepped forward and prepared to relieve him. But before he could, a blinding light filled the room.
His men shouted in alarm at the sudden brightness. When it lessened enough for them to see once more, a glimmer of gold emanated from each and every Legionnaire. Then that, too, faded to nothing.
Instantly, Quintus felt his posture straighten. A surge of strength flooded through him, filling his muscles with liquid fire and sharpening his senses. The stinging pains of cuts and lacerations across his body seemed to fade into little more than tingling. His ears popped as their still-healing interiors seemed to repair themselves in an instant—causing him to wince at the renewed volume of the ghouls' screams.
He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before looking around. The Legionnaire he'd been moving to relieve was recovering from his own surprise, returning to his attacks with renewed vigor. Even some of the more injured and exhausted Legionnaires were on their feet.
"What in the blazes was that?" One of them asked.
"A blessing from Jupiter?" Another offered. "It would certainly explain the light show."
"...Perhaps," Quintus hedged, taking an experimental swing with his sword. It felt more effortless than before, not to mention the added power behind it. "Or perhaps there's something else at play."'
He had his own suspicions about what had just transpired. Of course, he had no way of confirming them at the moment—which meant he didn't know if this strength was permanent or temporary. Either way, he had no intention of letting it go to waste.
Quintus snapped out a command. "Get ready. We make a push for the cave-in—this time, we'll finish the job."
His men nodded resolutely, scrambling to organize themselves. Before, such a suggestion would have sounded impossible. But now… well, Quintus himself not only felt refreshed, but five years younger.
Once they'd formed up, Quintus gave the signal to breach the door. The Legionnaires charged back into the tunnel, catching the ghouls off-guard with their ferocity and strength. Their formation cleaved through the screeching monsters like a stylus through clay, even despite the numbers they faced.
Their momentum and confidence carried their wall all the way down the path until the cave-in came into view. As Quintus had expected, the hole had widened in their absence. A handful of creatures could now squeeze through at a time, the increased flow contributing to the resistance they'd encountered on the way here.
The men continued to march forward in lockstep, their arms moving in rhythmic motions. Quintus bared his teeth in a rictus grin as they slaughtered their way to the gap. Their line bent into an L shape as his men divided their attention—most stopping monsters from coming back down the tunnel toward them, while the others killed the few coming through the breach.
As their position solidified, they moved to the next phase. A few of the men facing the breach pulled out of the formation and unslung pickaxes from their backs. As their brethren moved forward to stem the trickle of ghouls with shield and sword, the others began hammering away at boulders to the sides of the tunnel. The harsh sound of metal pinging against stone joined the cacophony of battle that threatened to deafen all of them.
They'd used the last of the explosives in their previous assault. However, the impacts had left plenty of loose rocks and dirt that was on the cusp of falling into the space. With a little bit of prodding, they might be able to collapse that part of the tunnel and finish the job—or even pile bits of boulder in front of the breach by hand, if it came down to that.
As streams of dirt and rocks began to shift and trickle down in front of the gap, Quintus turned his attention up the tunnel, facing down the ghouls that had doubled back to attack them. They seemed to sense that the men were up to something and had no intention of letting them succeed.
Time lost its meaning as his sword glided through one beast after another, his skills and the surge of power that still filled his muscles making the motions feel effortless. Skin and bone parted like water before his strikes even without empowering them with [Heavy Blow].
Something whizzed by his ear. One of the ghouls crawling along the ceiling fell limply to the ground as a rock smashed into it, the speed of the projectile crushing its head like an overripe melon. A flurry of additional whizzes followed close behind, filling the air as they hurtled forward to find their targets with unerring accuracy. A few of the stones even seemed to shimmer and split into multiple copies in midair.
Quintus didn't have to look to see the source of the projectiles. The sling experts continued ruthlessly peppering their foes from behind the wall. They were far more able to take down the enemies that crawled out of reach of their swords, especially now that this boost allowed them to practically double their rate of fire—though every once in a while, Quintus could feel a rock plink harmlessly off his helmet as it rebounded.
Glancing over, Quintus saw one of the men hefting an impressively-sized boulder above his head larger than seemed possible for one man to lift. With a grunt of exertion, the Legionnaire heaved it into place in front of the gap, shrinking it further.
The assault continued as the men worked to steadily close the breach. The creatures pushing through resisted their efforts, shouldering aside smaller rocks and clawing away dirt. However, the Legion was winning. Slowly but surely, their plan was working.
A deep rumble sounded from behind. Rather than stopping as expected, though, it continued to grow in volume and intensity with every passing second. Just as he realized what it was, Quintus's [Battlefield Intuition] screamed at him to move.
"All men, push up the tunnel! Now!"
Quintus screamed out the order just as the ceiling began to collapse above them. His men reacted admirably, bolting toward the advancing shield wall to escape the falling rocks and dirt that threatened to bury them all. Unfortunately, their work and the cave-in had quickie reduced the tunnel's width to far narrower than it had been.
He raised his shield to secure an avenue for retreat for his men as they ran past. The avalanche quickly progressed from a scattering of small stones plinking off of his scutum to what must have been the entire ceiling falling atop his head. The sheer weight of it all forced him to one knee, even as strong as he currently felt. Yet still, he persevere. He refused to move until the last of his men was through.
The last Legionnaire darted toward him, ducking low as he prepared to rush beneath Quintus's shaking shield. But even as he neared the edge of the Primus Pilus's improvised shelter, another boulder tumbled down from above—this one on a collision course with the man's head.
Time seemed to slow down for Quintus. He dug deep, one hand flashing for the sword at his waist as the other nearly buckled under the weight atop his shield. It slid out of his sheath and toward the falling rock. Not to bisect it—he suspected that even his current strength wouldn't allow for that. All he needed to do was redirect it.
[Swordsmastery] guided his hand, angling the blade in alignment with his intent. Quintus's arm jarred as metal met stone. The boulder turned aside, its trajectory altered just enough to skim the helm of the running Legionnaire before impacting the ground with a solid thud.
Quintus's blade slid smoothly back into its sheath. The final man sprinted past just as his arm threatened to give out. The centurion quickly rolled backwards, allowing the section of ceiling to finally collapse in his wake. The rubble crushed a clawed hand just as the ghouls began to pursue. As the rumbling finally quieted, so did the shrieks from beyond.
There was no time to celebrate, however. Just because the gap had been sealed didn't mean they were safe. Ghouls still continued to assault their position from further up the tunnel, and the sounds of incessant scratching suggested that the newly trapped ones hadn't given up, either.
"Reinforce the shield wall!" Quintus ordered. "Stabilize our position!"
The men who had been using pickaxes were already on it. The cave in behind them was by no means a permanent solution to their problem. Given enough time, the ghouls may be able to dig out. But it would do for now. So long as they could stem the tide for a while, they'd be able to engineer something more robust to keep these creatures from ever seeing the light of day again.
Eventually, the screams and sounds of battle began to subside, then stopped altogether. Quintus stabbed outward one more time to fell the last of the ghouls before lowering his shield. All around, his men panted with exertion, their brows beading with sweat.
He surveyed the troops. "Is everyone all right?"
"Fine, now that Cassius has shut up."
"Hey," came a hoarse croak. "Well maybe if you had picked a more useful skill than [Firestarting], then you could pick the music—ack!"
The man devolved into a coughing fit as Quintus smiled approvingly. Aside from a few shallow cuts and scratches, everyone seemed to have made it through unscathed. Which meant… they had done it. They had sealed the breach and even lived to tell about it.
His attention turned up the tunnel. They'd done what they could. Now, it was up to their brethren on the surface.
Comments
Aboszor
Oh the TEASE with the damn status screen! I hope we can see it in the next chap.
