The alarm went off like a banshee with a drum set.
Which was, technically, accurate. We gave a goblin a drum and told her to scream when danger came. Two birds, one horrific sound.
We gave her a job. She gave us trauma in stereo.
I sat up so fast I cracked my head on the stone overhang.
[Dungeon Monster Wave Incoming (ETA: 15 Minutes)]
[Estimated Threat: Moderate. Composition: Mixed lesser-class beasts. Mutation Detected.]
Of course. Because sleeping peacefully was for species with less terrifying neighbors.
I bolted outside.
Ashring was already in motion.
The square filled with squads snapping into formation. Shields locked. Spears braced. Mossmarch golems lumbered into position like trained siege beasts.
Bitterstack was yelling. Embergleam had her healer kits open. Splitjaw already had a scout report in one hand and a sword in the other.
The goblins had even built makeshift horns.
It sounded like someone was strangling a moose through a bucket, but it worked.
"Positions now!" I barked, leaping up the central tower. Quicktongue scrambled after me, a relay board strapped to her back.
Below, my people moved.
Ironjaw Squad lined the forward trench — shields raised, mosscrete reinforced.
Ashfang slipped into flanking tunnels, eyes gleaming. Golems flanked the second line — hurling stones into the dark.
And I didn't have to scream. I didn't have to wave my claws or beg for focus.
They knew.
They moved.
We were really doing this.
I tightened my grip on the railing.
Fifteen minutes. One bad breath. One worse plan.
Let's go.
The first wave came in like a fever dream.
Mosscats with red-glowing eyes. Shardbeetles clattering and clashing their razor legs. One tunnel crawler erupted like a horror-story accordion.
Ironjaw took the hit and didn't break.
Ashfang hit the sides. Quick, brutal, coordinated.
A crawler burst through the top edge — but a golem intercepted it with a flying rock and a roar that startled the moss off the wall.
I grinned.
"Good golem."
We really should name that one.
Preferably something unkillable.
For five minutes, it worked.
Then the real problems hit.
A mutated spikeback came rolling in — literally. It crushed two barricades before Ironjaw pinned it.
A dire scarab slammed into Kindlebranch's medics, forcing Embergleam to grab a scalpel and start fighting dirty.
I turned to Quicktongue. "Signal fallback and regroup. Zone E. Ashfang to rotate in—"
Then the system pinged.
[Morale Drop Detected. Flank Weakening.]
No.
No no no—
A roar cut through the field.
A shardbeetle, warped and snarling, had tunneled under the outer line.
It emerged behind the medics.
The same place Scribble was patching bandages.
The scarab turned toward him—
I didn't think.
I didn't plan.
I moved.
The relic blazed to life in my hand, flames snaking up my arm, not burning, just claiming me.
The world narrowed to a tunnel — me, the kid, the monster.
I hit the ground between them in a skid that cracked the stone.
The shardbeetle lunged.
I swung.
The blade carved a burning arc through the air.
Contact.
The creature's armored face cracked, crumpled, then exploded into a mist of burning ichor.
The wave of heat knocked dust and moss off the ceiling.
System ping:
[Hidden Effect Activated: Sovereign's Will.]
[Morale boost to all allied units: +20%.]
[Resistance to Fear effects: +30%.]
[Minor Healing Acceleration Applied.]
Across the battlefield, something changed.
Kobolds who had been staggering rose taller.
Golems who hesitated stomped forward like battering rams.
Even the goblins stopped screaming long enough to charge back into the fray.
Splitjaw, halfway across the trench, saw me. Grunted approval.
Of course he did.
He was probably waiting for me to start glowing dramatically.
The shardbeetle's corpse sizzled behind me.
The kid stared up at me, wide-eyed, dirt smeared across his snout.
He croaked out a shaky, "Sovereign..."
I patted his head once — awkward, fast — then turned back to the fight.
"Ashfang! Collapse the eastern flank and bait the second crawler toward the pit traps!"
"Ironjaw, reinforce sector D! Don't let them group up!"
"Mossmarch, suppress fire on the backline with boulder shots! Now!"
Quicktongue relayed faster than I could finish barking.
And for once, for once, everything clicked.
Commands flew.
Squads moved.
The monsters, sensing the shift, tried to push harder — but it was too late.
The tide turned.
Half an hour later, the battlefield was ours.
Dead mosscats littered the trenches.
Shardbeetle shells cracked and burned.
Tunnel crawlers fled into broken tunnels, leaving behind wounded screeches.
The wounded were few.
None dead.
Ashring stood.
I slumped against a moss pole, breathing hard, relic humming against my hip like it was pleased.
Splitjaw stomped over, bloody but grinning.
"Took you long enough," he said, voice low.
"Hey," I wheezed. "Dramatic timing's important."
He snorted.
Which, coming from him, was basically applause.
System ping:
[Monster Wave Repelled.]
[Settlement Stability Increased.]
[Morale Boost Applied for 48 hours.]
[Incoming Raid Countdown: 15 Days Remaining.]
[Warning: Minor Anomalous Mana Activity Detected Beyond Dungeon Border.]
I froze.
Mana activity... outside?
That wasn't part of the monster wave.
That was something else.
Above me, the dungeon ceiling rumbled softly.
Far beyond what we could see, something stirred.
Watching.
Waiting.
"...That's not ominous at all," I muttered.
Splitjaw just cracked his knuckles.
"Let them come."