*** Kiara ***

  It was a week after her brother’s tenth birthday when she first heard the sirens wail. A loud, shrill, piercing sound, enough to wake even the dead from their slumber. Her mother was at home, and her father and brother were at work and school.

  It all went damn fast. Her mother had her in her arms and pressed her tightly against her chest. Carrying her fully on her left arm and carrying a short sword in her right hand. Maya’s eyes flickered to the sky as they left their family home. Taking a short second at each street corner to make sure it was safe before hurriedly advancing further.

  They were headed to the shelter right next to the school and town hall. Something had entered the town. Something which could not be deterred by a closed door or a stone wall. The siren was clearly indicating that everyone had to get to the shelter and not hide at home.

  Her mother had explained to her all the different signals and what to do in the case of an emergency. They rushed over the town square and reached the shelter, together with so many others. It was loud, it was chaotic. Her grandmother was here. Sitting on the ground surrounded by lines over lines of pure pulsing lines of Mana. Red lines were burning with power all around the shelter. By now, she could faintly sense the power embedded in them. Wild, angry, and dangerous, this was no simple ward or shield. At her granny’s discretion, the power would strike out and incinerate whatever came too close.

  Her mother found her brother and her husband.

  “It’s a group of infant Arachnids,” Sarok said in a labored voice. A sheen of sweat and dust was covering most of his body.

  Petro looked up to their father with starry eyes. Sarok was carrying a heavy sledgehammer. Green blood coated one end of the hammer. A single thin wound was bleeding on his left arm.

  “The teams will go out and do a sweep in a few minutes. Most of them were stopped by the guard, but it was a small swarm, and some got through. Arabikus took a bad slash to his leg when we were surprised at the construction site near the wall. He’s with the healers right now, but I had to carry his heavy ass all the way here.”

  For a single instance, Maya looked annoyed at her husband's choice of words, before she pulled him in close and kissed him passionately for a second.

  “Are you all right? Can you go out like this? Is there no one else to take over for you? If you look after…” Maya began, before Sarok interrupted her.

  “It’s barely a scratch. Nothing noteworthy. I will be fine. Look after the children and make sure they are safe, and also your old and frail mother.” He chuckled, “I will be fine and back before you know it.”

  “I want to go with you!” Petro pleaded. “Please, I can help!”

  Sarok went down on a knee and looked his son dead in the eyes. “I know you can and want to help. Your time will come. I promise. For now, I need you to look after your sister. She can not look after herself yet and needs you. Listen to your mother, and I will be back as fast as I can.”

  They gave each other a short hug. Kiara saw tears in Petro’s eyes, but he tried to show his father a brave front and gave him a curt nod.

  After another quick kiss with his wife, he was gone.

  *** Sarok ***

  Arachnids were not a good matchup for him. He was strong and durable, but those shitty insects were just so god damn fast. It was only thanks to his skill [Skin of Steel] that the one plow he took did not sever his arm completely. Arabikus had had no such luck, and the claw had pierced straight through to his bone.

  The one short moment had been enough for him to bring down his hammer on it. Shattering the brittle external skeleton and pounding it into a green mush, before picking up his buddy and running over to the shelter, where he handed him over to old Sia. Flinching at the scream, which sounded out a few moments later.

  The salve she used to stop bleedings in an emergency was a god damn miracle, but the pain which was currently flaring though Arabikus leg, was nothing he was at envious about.

  After a quick check-in with his family, he arrived at his gathering point. All able-bodied men were part of emergency groups and assigned tasks, and a gathering point. His leader, one of the seasoned guards, was already waiting for them.

  Eight men, all armed with different weapons, but except for the guard and an old hunter, no one here was used to fighting monsters regularly. They were his neighbors, friends, and the men he had seen time and time again on the town square. Most were similar to him in age, but they had recently gotten a new member. It was his first time in a real emergency. He was sweating and exuded an air of nervousness. Timros was a merchant’s son and not at all used to physical labor. Sarok knew nothing of his skills. In his eyes, he was both a liability and someone he had to look out for.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The polished leather armor and the short sword, both better equipment than the usual pitchfork or hand-me-down spear of a grandfather, which were a regular sight.

  Sarok could have afforded something better than his trusted old sledgehammer, but he was used to it. The familiar feel in his hands kept him calm, and it was a good fit for his skills.

  They were assigned a sector of the town to clean up any of the remaining Arachnids that had gotten past the guards. The guard had estimated that ten to twenty had gotten past them and were still loose in the town.

  With the guard and the hunter leading the small group, they slowly worked their way through the town. It was quiet. The air was tense. No one in the group spoke. Everyone’s eyes were monitoring roofs, windows, and alleyways as they slowly walked past them.

  Young Arachnids were ambush predators. They preferred to stay hidden and attack unaware prey in a decisive, lightning-quick attack. They never stopped growing and could vary in size from a chicken to a calf. Anything above the size of a calf was no longer called an Infant Arachnid.

  The old hunter raised his hand. The whole group halted. He pointed to a garden across the street. Sarok saw nothing out of the ordinary, but without any tracking skills, that did not mean much.

  Carefully, they etched their way closer and closer to the house. A small trail of blood led into some bushes, probably a family pet finding its untimely demise. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small window to the cellar being broken.

  The guard gestured for two of them to go around the bushes to cut off any possible escape routes.

  A loud crunch came out of the bushes, accompanied by some wet smacking sounds. It reminded him of a dog crushing a chicken bone between its teeth and tearing into the flesh.

  Suddenly, the sounds stopped. In a flash of movement and some rustling of leaves, a small Arachnid shot out of the bushes.

  Two sharp claws leading the charge aimed at the hunter’s head. Sarok could barely keep track of the movements as the hunter, using a long dagger, and the Arachnid performed their deadly dance. The guard's spear started to glow with a faint aura before striking out and tearing a deep gash into the Arachnid’s carapace near one of its bigger front legs.

  It jumped back and opened its maw and started hissing at them. Lines and lines of teeth lined the inside of its maw, sharp and slightly bent backwards, meant to hold onto its victim and not let go. Two large venomous fangs lined the outside of its upper jaw.

  The shrill sound grew louder and louder. Sarok started to feel disoriented, but raised his hammer for a devastating blow. [Precision Strike] did its job and subtly guided his aim, correcting his swing as the Arachnid started to dodge.

  Even guided by [Precision Strike], he only managed to shatter one of the legs. A pitchfork strike hit one of its many legs and tore it off.

  The guard's spear shot out again and pierced through the carapace of its back, effectively nailing it to the ground. Once it had lost its mobility, the group made fast work of it. The final plow was his hammer, smashing its head into a pulp. Green blood began seeping away into the dry ground.

  Timros stood there shaking. The first time was always though.

  Inside the house, they split up. Four of them went up the stairs and four downstairs. Inside the small rooms of a family home, it would have been senseless to keep the group all together, they would only get in each other's way.

  As Sarok climbed up the stairs, he could already hear the shrill hissing coming up from the cellar. The other group had already found something. He led his part of the group upstairs.

  There wasn’t enough room to dodge on the small stairs, and should they be attacked, he was in the best position to shrug off a surprise attack.

  Upstairs, he found the parents' bedroom and two additional bedrooms for their children. He only pushed the door open, peeking inside and praying not to find any bodies inside.

  It took a toll on someone to find a corpse, especially a dead child. Thankfully, it seemed everything was clear here. They would have to check each room individually, just to make sure nothing hid underneath a bed or inside a cupboard, but at least they hadn’t found several Arachnids or their victims.

  The racket from downstairs was also dying down, and happy voices told him everyone had made it out okay. It was time for them to get done as well.

  Together with Timros, he entered the parents' bedroom.

  Just as he was leaning down to check underneath the bed, he saw an Arachnid the size of a dog sitting on the wall above the door they had just entered through. Its body was tense and ready to pounce on Timros standing under it.

  “Fuck” he cursed and sprang into action, quite literally. His heavy body tackled Timros, tackling him all the way back to the hallway and crashing into the wall. Something broke beneath him.

  Timros screamed.

  Sharp pain ran through his back. [Skin of Steel] was working overtime and pulling heavily on his meager Mana reserves. Numbness was spreading through his body. He could hear his heartbeat throbbing in his ear.

  He threw himself off Timros and onto his back. The Arachnid beneath him, still clawing up his back and trying to pierce its fangs into his flesh. Having dropped his hammer, he rolled over and started punching the Arachnid over and over until it stopped moving.

  Before sagging to the floor. His shirt was torn in like a million places, with bloody scratches all over his chest and back. Nothing life-threatening, but his body burned and felt numb in other places at the same time.

  Timros whined in the corner. He probably broke a rib or something, but he was mostly alright.

  He just sat there, taking a second to breathe and calm his nerves back down.

  “Damn I will never understand, why my wife wanted to become an adventurer” he muttered to himself. “The guys at the tavern will have a good laugh about this one,” shaking his head and looking down at his hands coated in green, slimy blood.

  He was out of commission for the rest of the day. Both he and Timros were brought to the healers. Timros had two broken ribs and a mild concussion, but was otherwise fine. Sarok’s back was scratched up, and one of the poisoned fangs had pierced his skin and made his whole body sluggish.

  The rest of the sweep went without any major incidents.