Trent Barlow ended his tale on an unexpected, almost ominous note. But the silence that followed his words was far more disturbing — heavy, like the breath before a thunderstorm. It didn't last long. The ground beneath our feet trembled. Softly at first — like a breath of wind in a stone crypt. But with each second, the shaking grew — dull and deep, like the heartbeat of some forgotten giant awakening below.
Then came the first scream.— They're already here!!!Those words struck like a curse. And with them came a hiss — dry, buzzing, alien. Then, from all directions — screams. At first scattered, then a chorus of terror. Sounds that could not be mistaken for anything else. They woke everyone who had been dozing or faint from waiting on the walls.
Everyone froze. Breaths caught.Then — another shout from the wall.— Faster! We need replacements! We've already lost several! They're crawling up like locusts!— Hundreds! No… thousands!!People stood on the ramparts. Most of them held swords in trembling hands for the first time. They fought desperately. Incompetent, unprepared — their eyes full of fear. They died easily — from a single wrong step, a clumsy swing. They were slaughtered mercilessly.
Around the castle, like a black wave, rose the bodies of the beetles. Thousands. They crawled up the stone walls, slipping, clawing through the surface with their blades. Some leapt from the ground directly onto the ramparts, grabbing onto ledges, clutching stone with scythe-like limbs that had been sharpened for months on rock, digging tunnels like needles through rotten flesh.
Each creature ranged from one to three meters in length. Four hind legs — thin like a mantis's, but incredibly strong. Their bodies glistened with iridescent chitin, antennae trembling in the air like sensitive feelers of death, and from their maws came a growl mixed with the stench of rot and acid. A single breath of that stench — and you'd gag to unconsciousness. Just staying upright and fighting was a feat in itself.
But there was no other choice. Everyone who could hold a weapon — fought. Fought knowing that death hid in every motion.Hundreds of heads flew — human and monstrous alike. Blood mixed with the black slime oozing from the creatures' wounds. Swords sang, but it was a song of blood and hopelessness.
Kang Jun stood beneath the wall. His eyes watched the endless stream of bodies — people being driven onto the ramparts like lambs to slaughter by the knights. Those who refused — fell to their own. Knights killed civilians just to keep order. After three were executed publicly, the rest went — even those barely standing.People understood: better to die trying than be crushed without a fight.
The war had begun. Not a battle — a war for survival in a place that had long lost its light.While others fought, Kang Jun watched the monsters, studying their behavior to learn how best to destroy them.
Each monster had a different hue to its chitin — from pale to dark. And over time, Kang Jun realized: the darker the color, the weaker it was. The brighter — the stronger.As those beneath the wall watched the hellscape unfold above, one of the teams fought for their lives.
The stone blocks of the wall trembled beneath the monsters' limbs. The night was dark, moonless — only the flames of torches and bursts of burning tar painted red splotches across the faces of those who stood to the death.— Hold formation! — shouted Seth, a man with a scar across his face, whom the others called Corporal. He had been put in charge of the eastern sector. His team — five ordinary people. Not soldiers. A former blacksmith named Rend. A young village herder, Lion. A widower from the city — Sivas, who had lost everything. And one more — Tyr, mute, with eyes that never blinked.
They stood shoulder to shoulder on a narrow ledge, each with a wooden shield and a sword that resembled a butcher's cleaver more than a blade.The first beetle appeared like a nightmare born from sleep. It leapt over the wall, clung to the stone, and in moments was upon them. A three-meter bulk with scythe-like legs, a chitin shell scarred from past battles, and a face like something from a madman's warped nightmare.— Take it! — Seth shouted, and all five rushed forward.
Rend struck first — at the face reaching for him. The blade bounced off the chitin like iron. The beetle screeched — a sound that tore the ears — and with a single swipe, split Lion's shield in half. The boy screamed and fell, blood gushing from his shoulder.— Get it from the left! — Sivas circled the creature and thrust his spear into the joint between its limbs. Slime splashed onto his face, and it staggered, nearly falling from the wall.Tyr darted in from the side — surprisingly nimble for such a frail-looking man. He drove a knife into a gill near the beast's mouth, and finally, it wheezed and withdrew. Seth struck its weak spot again — and the monster fell, tearing a chunk of the stone ledge with it.— One! — he rasped. — Hundreds more coming!
From below, more climbed. Out of the darkness — more black backs, gleaming claws. The air stank of pitch, acid, and rot. A dull roar mixed with human screams.The next beetle came up closer. Not one — three. They moved in unison, like one mind. One leapt and landed directly on Lion. The boy's body crumpled under its weight. The crunch of bones — short, concise — broke Sivas's heart.— Back! — Seth struck its abdomen, but the beetle turned and with a flurry of limbs knocked Rend off his feet. He screamed and fell silent — a claw pierced his chest, leaving only a convulsing blot of blood.Sivas roared. Tyr, silently, struck again — into the breathing organ. The beetle staggered back. They killed another.From three, two remained.— No retreat, — Seth rasped, leaning on his sword. — The wall still holds.
Their position was soaked in blood. The stone beneath their feet was slick, but they stood. Sivas breathed hard, her eyes full of tears and fury. Tyr breathed fast, nearly silent. Seth spat out teeth he'd broken on his own shield. And still — they held.More monsters crawled out of the darkness.Torchlight gleamed on the teeth of horror. And the team of five... became three.Three who now defended not just the wall. They defended those behind them. Defended to their last breath.
Kang Jun did not see what happened on the ramparts — but he saw dozens of blood-soaked, broken bodies coming down, and new ones, like lambs again, climbing up. He didn't hear the screams — but he didn't need to. Something was breaking. And something was coming.
Only twenty minutes had passed since the battle began, but already so many faces had changed on the barricades that it was impossible to track who still lived and who had been torn apart. And though he hadn't yet stepped onto the wall — Kang Jun knew: they were dying too fast. Far too fast.With the others, he sat, crushed in a sea of silence, where only the heavy breath and the rustle of gear broke the dark. No one spoke. All understood — when your number was called, there would be no more words.
Every minute dragged like rotten linen, tearing but not breaking. For Kang Jun, these three hours became an eternity. Time itself seemed frozen while death wrote its next list of names.Then — a shout, sharp as a blade to the skull:— Sixth shift! Get to the walls!
He didn't realize at first it was meant for him. Only after the knight's third call did his body awaken. Around him, people rose, dragging themselves like in a trance. Eyes dull. Faces already dead.
They walked to the wall like ants, with mechanical indifference. A shift in hell.Kang Jun climbed past those already on the wall. Their faces — as if from a dream where gods had lost all hope. Tears mixed with dirt. Eyes — empty. Some clutched bloodied pendants. Some stared into nothing. Others whispered prayers.
Strangely — he felt no fear. No panic, no trembling hands. On the contrary — the climb even seemed easy. As if the soul had already accepted its end, and the body merely followed.
The view from below was more terrifying. There, hope still flickered. Here — only reality. Bloody, fiery, torn.
Approaching his post, he saw the team they were replacing. They stood like shadows. Dirt, slime, blood — all melded into a grotesque image of humanity. In their eyes — not fear, not exhaustion. But mad joy. They were allowed to live. They had passed through the fire. Veterans in twenty minutes.
— Quickly into formation! No dawdling! — shouted Trent Barlow, not even glancing at those leaving. — The monsters won't wait while we exchange pleasantries!
He took the center position, and his body lit with a dark-gray aura — like a shroud already waiting for its victim. His sword smoked with energy, like burning coal before a storm.
Kang Jun and Park Son took the rear. Ahead — Trent Barlow, Lars, and Mark. Lars on the right flank, Mark on the left.
The beetles didn't make them wait.The previous team hadn't even fully stepped down before the first one appeared from the darkness. It climbed the edge of the wall, its eyes glowing with poisonous light, its chitin blades — death's sickles — trembling with anticipation.
It didn't live even a second.Trent's sword flashed, and the beetle's head flew off, leaving a bloody trail in the air. The body fell backward — into the pit it had crawled from.
Mark stood with a spear, hands shaking as if ice ran through his veins. His eyes scanned the darkness, searching for the next. Lars and the old man looked like this wasn't their first time.
The battle didn't begin suddenly — it surged like a wave of rot and hatred. One by one, the monsters crawled onto the wall, gnawing at the stone with iron jaws, spewing slime that burned like acid. And then, as if driven by a death instinct, they hurled themselves into combat.
Trent Barlow killed without pause — his sword cut through air and bone with equal ease. A gray halo of aura hummed around him, each strike sending sparks flying as it clashed against chitinous armor. He wasn't a hero — he was a butcher.
Lars moved differently — sharp, harsh, silent. His movements were short, precise. One strike — one death. His blade didn't sing; it hissed, leaving bloody grooves behind.
And Mark... Mark was trembling.
"Hold on," the old man murmured beside him, placing a bony hand on the young man's shoulder. "We're all afraid. But the one who runs is the first to meet death."
Nearby, Kan Jun stood firm. The sword in his hands trembled not from fear, but from tension. He hadn't killed a monster yet, but with every heartbeat, he was preparing to. Something was ripening inside him. Something dark. A readiness to kill in order to live.
And then he emerged from behind the parapet, like a bolt of black lightning.
The bug. Massive. Nearly four meters long. Its carapace gleamed violet, like glass. Shards of metal and bone clung to its limbs. Its antennae quivered with the agony of hatred. Its front limbs — thick as human arms — were curved like scythes and honed to razors. Fresh human blood still dripped from them.
It roared. Black foam burst from its jaws.
Mark stepped back.
"I... I can't," he whispered.
"Stand your ground!" Lars shouted.
But it was too late. The bug lunged.
Everything happened in a second.
Trent dashed forward to intercept, but the bug was faster. Its limb slashed through the air, nearly severing Mark's head. Mark took a step back, slipped on the black slime and fell, and Kan Jun — who stood just behind — poured his Qi into the sword and struck with full force at the bug's legs, slicing one clean off.
The bug screamed and went berserk, thrashing wildly, attacking anything in reach.
The old man didn't react. He only gripped his sword tighter.
He stepped forward.
His eyes were empty — but they glowed with light.
"Kan Jun!" Trent shouted. "Take the flank! Hold the line!"
Without words, without thought, Kan Jun darted to the side, taking Mark's place. Slime ran down his legs, screams filled his ears — but his mind focused on one thing: survive.
The bug lunged again. Trent met its charge but lost balance — his sword slid off the carapace, and he stumbled back. In that moment, the bug turned its head toward Kan Jun.
Their eyes locked.
And then something inside Kan Jun shattered — or perhaps, awakened. He screamed and struck with his sword, throwing all his weight behind it. The blow pierced the armor, leaving a deep gash and stopping the monster for a moment.
"Now!" Kan Jun shouted.
Trent swung his sword, its tip flaring with aura. The aura didn't burn like fire — it devoured the light around it. And when the blade touched the bug's limb — it blackened, crumbled into ash.
The bug shrieked — furious, enraged. But that was enough.
Trent leapt and cleaved its head in two.
Kan Jun gasped for air. Blood. Blood everywhere. His face was smeared with slime, his eyes burned, his lungs were on fire.
But he stood. And that was already a victory.
Even if hundreds more were still to come.