B2 Chapter 60: Sword and Boar'd

Quintus recruited two other veteran legionnaires to assist with leveling the six auxiliaries before him. Together, the Legionnaires herded them through the forest in search of monsters and whatever wild game they could find.

Their hunt had taken them further south than most patrols. He'd initially intended to level the men on shadow panthers, but the large cats were becoming increasingly scarce around Habersville and the forest around. It wasn't too surprising. With how many of the things the Legion had killed, Quintus wouldn't be surprised if their population was finally dwindling to near extinction—that, or they'd simply fled altogether.

The area they currently found themselves in was a territory of a different type of beast, one slightly less dangerous than the shadow panthers in some ways. Wild boars with massive tusks, two on each side of their squashed snouts, each the length of a man's forearm. The pairs of tusks were close enough together that being gored by them would result in a particularly unpleasant and difficult to heal wound. Well, in the old world at least.

The sheer size and strength of the beasts made them difficult to take down in a one-on-one fight. However, it also made them absolutely shit at anything resembling stealth. So while they did pose a very real threat, it was a threat that one could see—and hear—coming from a mile away. There was no risk of being taken unawares as there was with the panthers.

The one they'd been tracking stood with his head about level with Quintus's shoulder. It was level eight, so comparatively weak. Against a proper [Coordinated Bulwark] reinforced shield wall, it didn't stand a chance. So long as they executed their attack properly. Of course, their spears lacked a cross bar, which could prove to be an issue if anyone had to face down a charge directly. But he was confident in the wall's ability to hold, even when it was composed of green auxiliaries like these.

Quintus silently motioned for his men to move forward and begin circling around the thunderous sound of the beast's hooves. Even though the auxiliaries' skills and levels had reset, that didn't mean they'd lost the countless hours of training the centurions had drilled into them. It simply meant the System would need to catch up and match their actual abilities.

This wasn't exactly the style of training that Quintus would have put men through back at home, of course. But here, learning how to fight a large monster was far more important than knowing how to combat an army of men. For now, at least. They would obviously need to learn both before becoming full Legionnaires. But for now, it would serve to harden them and rid them of their nerves—a good thing, because they were nervous.

Granted, the auxiliaries didn't protest. In fact, a few of them seemed downright excited beneath their fear. For most of them, this was likely the closest they'd gotten to combat. True, they'd provided archery support during previous battles, but it was a far cry from getting up close and personal like this.

Once they'd reached a small clearing among the trees, Quintus signalled for the men to halt. "Here. You four, form a shield wall there. You and you," he said, indicating the last two auxiliaries, "take positions at the flanks and conceal yourselves in the treeline. Ready your spears."

His voice was low, barely audible beneath the rustle of leaves and heavy footsteps of the boar, but carried to his men as easily as if he were speaking directly in their ears. Another benefit of [Voice of Command]. With how much he used the skill, he was very much looking forward to evolving it—hopefully soon.

A rustling in the bushes heralded the appearance of their quarry. A massive snout pushed between the branches like the prow of a boat smashing through a wave head-on. Yet as its front came into view, Quintus realized that it wasn't alone. Two smaller boars with little more than blunted nubs for tusks followed after.

Beady black eyes took in the men arrayed before it. The larger beast snorted, its posture immediately going tense as the two smaller boars came to an almost confused halt. They squealed softly, a high-pitched noise that sounded almost cute compared to the bassy rumble of what must have been their mother.

One of the Legionnaires muttered quietly to Quintus. "This might be bad. I knew a man who happened upon a bear cub in the forest. The idiot tried to kill it, not realizing that the mom was nearby. They hardly had enough of him to bury afterward."

Quintus glanced at his two Legionnaires and nodded. The men understood his intent, moving quickly and quietly through the trees to join the spear-wielding auxiliaries at either flank. He hoped that their assistance wouldn't be necessary. That would ensure that more experience went to the auxiliaries themselves. But it never hurt to be prepared.

Luckily, the stealth proved unwarranted. The boar was firmly fixated on the wall of shields locked together before it. It stamped its cloven feet and dragged them through the dirt a few times, snorting with challenge like a bull about to charge.

The four men held steady, their shields braced against their shoulders and interlocked. Looking at them, Quintus noted a few small inconsistencies in their form that could be improved.

"Blacksmith, brace with your legs. Cobbler, don't lock your sword arm. That's a quick way to get it broken."

As he issued the orders, Quintus felt a brief connection with the men as his [Unity] skill activated. They jolted as if they'd been stung, only to shake themselves and adjust into a more proper formation. To Quintus's eye, they almost looked like real Legionnaires. Almost.

The phenomenon surprised Quintus. He'd felt the skill activate before, of course. It seemed to help passively coordinate the Legion's movements and thinking in a whole variety of ways. But this was the first time it had ever extended to others. Perhaps this was more evidence that the auxiliaries were growing and drawing nearer to joining their own ranks.

It was a hopeful thought. One that was dashed almost immediately.

One of the smaller piglets obliviously began wandering toward the treeline where one of the auxiliaries lay in wait—a former baker, if Quintus remembered correctly. It drew nearer and nearer to the man who, rather than remain still, panicked. He hurled his spear at the approaching piglet. It struck the miniature boar in the side and sank deep into it. It had been a good throw—unfortunately for the baker.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

The piglet squealed in pain and stumbled back toward its mother. The larger monster's head snapped toward the sound of the cry, the shield wall all but forgotten. It locked onto the wide-eyed auxiliary who seemed to just now realize the severity of his mistake. Worse, he'd thrown away his main weapon.

Quintus swore under his breath as the man frantically shrugged the shield off of his back. The Legionnaire Quintus had sent that way broke into a sprint at the same time that the mother boar roared. She began to charge, her hooves sending up clods of earth with every step.

With the speed at which the beast closed the distance, there wasn't much the baker could do except dive aside and attempt to dodge the wild charge. Unfortunately, the idiot's panic paralyzed him. He hunkered down in place behind the shield he'd finally managed to pull free. Setting his feet, he met the charging beast that must have outweighed him by at least ten times.

The Legionnaire reached his side just as the boar made contact. He slammed his spear into the beast's neck as she barreled into the baker. The wound spurted with fresh blood, but it wasn't anywhere near enough to stop the thing's momentum or kill it outright. Instead, the boar continued barreling forward and swept the baker clear off his feet. The man slammed into a tree with a crack that rang through the clearing. Quintus winced at the sound of cracking bone, hoping that it was only ribs that he'd broken and not something more critical.

Quintus himself was already moving forward to join the fight. He restrained himself from sprinting like his instincts demanded, instead falling into a steady march that activated [Warpath]. Instantly, he felt his steps accelerate to many times the speed that he should have been able to move. He flashed across the field almost as fast as the boar had charged, his sword already drawn.

[Swordsmastery] guided his hand as his blade slid into one of the boar's eyes. It howled in rage and pain, thrashing its head about wildly and rearing back. The two pairs of saberlike tusks whizzed as they cut through the air, forcing Quintus to release his sword and step back. He sucked in his gut as one swipe came dangerously close to connecting, then ducked low under the return swipe and jammed his shoulder into the freely-bleeding neck wound his fellow Legionnaire had left earlier. Then, he braced his legs against the ground and lifted.

For a second, he felt like Atlas with the world on his shoulders. His vision went fuzzy with the strain of trying to topple the impossibly large beast. But between its pained thrashing and awkward position, it began to wobble and tip over sideways. It hit the ground with a thunderous crash that shook the earth, followed by aftershocks as it squirmed and writhed. The other two Legionnaires pounced on the fallen opponent, their swords repeatedly plunging into its guts. Its intestines began spilling out as one of them cut the tendons in its back legs to ensure it wouldn't rise again.

It wasn't long before the boar became nothing more than a screaming mass of pain. As its movements grew weaker, Quintus circled around and fished his sword from its eye. Several more stabs found the thing's tiny brain, and it finally went still.

Quintus looked up and flicked the blood off his blade. The five other auxiliaries stood staring back at him, their faces dumbstruck at the display of ruthless violence. Meanwhile, the sixth lay sprawled bonelessly against the splintered tree that he'd been crushed against. A glance revealed that he was still breathing, if only just. The smaller piglets were nowhere to be seen.

"Move, you lazy fuckers!" Quintus roared, nearly apoplectic with rage. "One of your brothers is dying! Who has medical training?!"

His words finally jolted them into action. A couple of them lunged toward their fallen comrade and began doing what they could. Quintus felt nothing but rage at the lethargic response as he and the other Legionnaires got ready to rush the man home. These recruits had a longer way to go than he'd thought.

***

Not more than a few hours later, Quintus shuffled another stack of paper reports about. He gave their contents a cursory skim before shoving them beneath another pile. The entire stack wobbled precariously with the movement.

They'd managed to get the wounded auxiliary back to camp before his weak breathing had ceased altogether. But between failing to earn the men a level and nearly losing one of the unique auxiliaries whose class had changed, Quintus found himself in a rather black mood. It meant that the already unenviable role of desk work was getting under his skin extra at the moment.

A knock sounded at the door. He set down the report he'd been flipping through just in time for a messenger to poke his head in.

"Sir, there seems to be an issue in warehouse three that the centurion on duty thought you might want to be aware of."

Quintus's jaw tightened. "Is it urgent?"

The messenger thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, sir. It can wait."

"Then tell him to write a report like everyone else." Quintus ground out.

The man saluted before shutting the door once more. Once he was alone, Quintus sighed and slumped in his chair. This kind of behavior was unbecoming of a leader. Regardless of his own frustrations, he had no excuse to take it out on his subordinates. But he simply was not cut out for this kind of work.

Even if he did want to do it, he would be the first to admit that he didn't have the same head for numbers and figures that Gaius and Tiberius seemed to. He knew them well enough, to be sure, but he certainly wouldn't want a man like himself in charge of ensuring that inventories were accurate and calculating how much food they would need for the next few months..

Quintus rubbed a tired hand down his face. This wasn't just a case of not wanting to do the work. It was also a matter of what was best for the Legion. He would go over these reports as best he could. But more and more it seemed as though he'd need to delegate these responsibilities better. Hopefully the others would understand. Besides, they'd be far more efficient than he could be.

He picked the latest report back up and began to flip through it once more. It was a list of anomalies that had been found in the surrounding area. Most were small things like unfamiliar flora and fauna or locations like caves that had yet to be explored. But there was one that stood out to him.

According to this, the excavation of the buried colosseum had finally made some headway. It was to the point that they were able to carry out tests regarding its strange capabilities to generate sparring partners and training dummies for the men who entered its confines. The idea that they may be able to leverage it for training was quite promising.

The prospect was positively tantalizing. He had yet to visit the place, but from what he understood it was just like one of the amphitheaters that he'd enjoyed back in real Rome. What's more, it seemed that there were a few matters that required approval before the centurions in charge of the project moved forward with it. He had every excuse to leap up and address their concerns right now.

Quintus forced himself to take a breath. As good as it sounded, he did have responsibilities. He resolved to do at least a little more work here, find the proper men to delegate each category of report to, and get things organized before he allowed himself to leave. After that, though… It only made sense to go where he was most useful.

Who knows? Maybe he'd be able to help them with their testing. After all, they had yet to see what happened when a man entered the arena solo. If it triggered a fight, then he would welcome the challenge. And if he lost… Well, he'd be dead, and he wouldn't have to worry about paperwork anymore.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.