Her Majesty’s Swarm - Volume 1 - Chapter 8

The Battle of the Aryl River 

I stood at the top of a hill with Sérignan at my side, overlooking our surroundings. Before us was a large river. I had already known it would be here, but seeing it filled me with anxiety. 

In the game, rivers were considered nigh-impassable terrain. There was no direct way of crossing one under normal circumstances. Most factions, including the Arachnea, had very few units capable of swimming. Some aquatic factions could cross rivers, yes, and the Gregoria faction could produce Sea Serpents capable of swimming, but they were in the minority. 

Whatever the case, though, the Swarm couldn’t swim across. The fastest way to the opposite side would be over a bridge, but the Swarms I had sent ahead on recon had reported that all the bridges in the area were tightly guarded. 

I could try to muster an attack and push through, but our enemy was adapting to us and had employed a number of mages and ballistas. Mages in particular were a real nuisance. 

The Arachnea didn’t have a unit that matched up well against spellcasters, so I couldn’t think of a good way to get past them. They were weak to melee combat, which meant the enemy would likely send loads of footmen our way to keep us from reaching them. 

If I could just unlock more units, I could use Swarms capable of ranged attacks, but I had nothing of the sort at the moment. There was no point in bemoaning what I lacked, but the fact remained that having more ranged units would have made everything go smoother. 

Without them, I’d have to push through a heavily defended bridge with sheer numbers. It was the strategy that required the least amount of thought, and it was also the least refined. Naturally, it would cause our side a great number of casualties, and I didn’t want to subject my cute little babies to that. 

It was time to put on my thinking cap and come up with another tactic. 

“Worker Swarm.” 

“What is it, Your Majesty?” One of the Worker Swarms turned toward me and tilted its head. 

“We need a way to cross the river. Can you make it happen?” 

“With enough time, it can be done.” 

“I’ll make sure you have plenty of time. I want you to prepare us a path to cross the river a little ways upstream from here. Understood?” 

“By your will, Your Majesty.” Immediately, it began walking upstream with its fellow Worker Swarms in tow. 

The more of them working together, the faster the construction process would go. For the time being, twenty Worker Swarms could handle the job. 

“All remaining Worker Swarms, begin building siege weapons. I need four Bone Trebuchets.” 

Siege weapons required gold to unlock, so I could only make the most basic ones. A Bone Trebuchet was, as its name implied, a contraption that launched the bones of the dead. It was capable of firing long distances but dealt little damage. However, it would be more than enough to harass the enemy. 

“Ripper Swarms, begin your charge.” 

Once the Bone Trebuchets were complete and had begun firing bones at the enemy, I ordered the Ripper Swarms to advance. They would flood the bridge and crash into the soldiers like a mighty tidal wave. 

During the conquest of the loess mountain range, we’d caught the enemy off guard and managed to power our way through. But this time the enemy was cautious and well-prepared, and the river prevented me from using Digger Swarms. It was a difficult position, and thus I needed my Ripper Swarms to work extra hard. Even if it meant rushing to their deaths. 

I had mourned the death of a single unit, and now I would be responsible for many, many more. This world must truly hate us... and me especially so. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have forced me to make such cold, pragmatic choices. 

“Ballistas, fire!” cried out the enemy commander. 

Thick bolts were fired in quick succession and ran through a number of Ripper Swarms. Their brethren merely stepped over their corpses, rushing to meet the enemy. Since they were all linked by the collective consciousness, they didn’t fear death. They strode forward, leaving a mountain of corpses behind them, like living, breathing meat grinders. 

I couldn’t help but feel bad for the ones that’d fallen, but it was a necessary sacrifice. 

“Prepare your spell attacks!” 

Those despicable mages again. As they chanted their spells, fireballs rained down on the bridge, setting it aflame and burning the Ripper Swarms alive. But even so, their rush didn’t stop. My lovelies were earnest. Ripper Swarms would chase their foes to the depths of hell, not stopping until their fangs reached flesh. They were endlessly faithful and believed in me with all they had. 

My precious, adorable insects. 

The enemy had 50,000 men, while we numbered 150,000. If this battle lasted much longer, they would be the first to fall, but I didn’t want to win if it meant reducing my Swarms to lifeless husks. My current strategy was an absolutely brain-dead one, and I was far too concerned for my Swarms’ well-being. 

As that thought crossed my mind, the sixth formation of Ripper Swarms reached the other side of the bridge. They swung their scythes, lopping off the heads of the heavy infantry, severing their limbs, and bisecting them at the torsos. 

“Heavy infantry! Fight back!” 

The enemy had about a thousand heavy infantry, and the rest were just pikemen. If the Ripper Swarms could just break through the heavies, the rest would be easy pickings. 

“Rrngh!” 

But the heavy infantry were tough nuts to crack. Maluk had apparently learned from its previous failures and had equipped their men with heavy weapons, like claymores and halberds, that were effective against the Swarms. The Ripper Swarms weren’t exactly losing, but whenever they missed, they had their fangs chipped off, their scythes broken, or their heads crushed in. 

“Pesky humans,” I muttered to myself as I watched the battle unfold. 

“Your Majesty, the enemy is trying to sink the bridge,” said Sérignan. 

I’d already noticed that before she said it, though, thanks to the collective. The enemy was firing explosive spells and catapulting rocks at the stone bridge. They had drawn more than enough Swarms in, so they intended to topple the bridge and cut off our aisle of retreat, then finish them off. It was a simple, predictable maneuver. Apparently, they still thought we were nothing but a group of unintelligent monsters. 

“Let them sink it, if they wish. The others have already finished.” 

You see, our own bridge had just been completed. 

Without anyone noticing, the Worker Swarms had built a bridge upstream. It was made from stones and bonded together with the Swarms’ sticky saliva. All Ripper Swarms not engaged in battle were already using that bridge to cross over to the other bank. 

This way of building a bridge was actually possible even in the game. 

“The enemy has landed on our side!” 

“What the hell?! They made a bridge?!” 

This reckless attack on their bridge was simply a diversion. I wanted to fool them into thinking we couldn’t produce a bridge of our own so they would focus their efforts on holding back this assault. I felt bad for the Ripper Swarms that had lost their lives in the endeavor, but it had all worked out. 

When getting past an obstacle, you should always do so as far away from your enemy as possible. Inspired by that tried-and-true strategy, I took a gamble and ordered my Swarms to form a bridge over the Aryl River. Now, tens of thousands of Ripper Swarms had crossed the river untouched by the enemy and were closing in on them. 

The Kingdom’s soldiers could only flinch in the face of our attack. It was all too apparent how panicked the enemy was, which was awfully amusing to watch. Now we just had to stomp them out. 

But the real party was just getting started. 

“Lord Stroganoff, sir! The enemy has already crossed to our side of the river! Roughly seventy thousand enemy troops are marching on us! What do we do?!” 

“Good God! They’re not just bloodthirsty monsters...? You’re telling me those things can strategize?! Well, I can assure you we won’t be outwitted by an army of dumb, ugly brutes!” 

Duke Stefan Stroganoff, the man in charge of protecting the central bridge, was gradually losing his nerve. All around him, Ripper Swarms were ruthlessly attacking his men. Initially, he had thought they were just some heretofore unknown monsters, perhaps a species that had mutated, randomly attacking people in droves to feed. This mutation was responsible for the creatures’ insane strength, and they were only able to defeat the soldiers because of their numbers and this unnatural power. 

However, that theory had been proven wrong. Their enemy was actively employing battle tactics right before his eyes. They were not mindless monsters, but creatures with intelligence matching that of mankind. The attack on the bridge was no doubt a diversion. His men had grown complacent while successfully dealing with the advance forces, but before they knew it, the enemy had built a bridge and launched a pincer attack from the other side. It was a blunder they could not recover from. 

Had Stefan won this battle, he would have been a national hero and finally married the beautiful—albeit young—Princess Elizabeta. Marrying a member of the royal family meant more than earning the commoners’ blessings; he would have also obtained a social status above and beyond that of all other nobles. All his dreams and aspirations had crumpled under the weight of a single bridge built by giant insects. His brilliant future had been snatched away in their grotesque claws. 

“We still have one more trick up our sleeve. Knights of Saint Julia, onward!” Stefan barked as he faced the incoming enemies. 

An order of knights less than a thousand strong heeded his call, rising to meet a force of 70,000 Ripper Swarms. 

“I’m counting on you!” 

“We’ll handle this, Lord Stroganoff!” replied the captain of the knights. “Servant of the God of Light who resides in the heavens, I beseech you to descend before us, Angel Mayaliel!” 

The holy order’s trump card was their angel. It was a different angel than Agaphiel, the one Sérignan had faced in the forest. This one was clad in armor and held a shining longsword. The only aspect the angels shared beyond their breed was the blinding light that emanated from their bodies. 

“Children of man. Do you seek salvation?” Mayaliel asked. 

“We do! We are fighting for our very survival! If we cannot rid ourselves of these vile monsters, the Kingdom of Maluk will fall! Hundreds upon thousands of citizens will be massacred! Please, lend us your aid!” 

“Very well. I will assist you. These beings certainly are vile beyond compare. By my duty as an angel, I will strike them down!” 

With that said, Mayaliel flew up and then dove toward the rows of the Ripper Swarms. Swinging her blade, she cut through hundreds of Ripper Swarms in one fell swoop. The Ripper Swarms, capable of shrugging off most attacks, were dropping like flies. 

The same thing had happened last time, when the Swarm fought Agaphiel. They couldn’t hope to match her. Mayaliel’s sword was as powerful as Agaphiel’s rays of light. It cut through the Ripper Swarms’ sturdy exoskeletons like a knife slicing through hot butter, eliminating them by the dozens every second. 

The Ripper Swarms lunged at Mayaliel like wild animals, but their fangs and scythes had no effect. Angels were special beings either protected by some mysterious power or simply gifted with bottomless stamina. They were the worst possible match for the Arachnea. 

Additionally, angels were immune to almost all types of attacks, making them very tricky opponents. The only record of an angel’s defeat was during an attempted invasion by the Empire of Nyrnal, and exactly how they did it was still unclear. 

“Is that all you foul beasts can manage?! Then you shall perish here!” 

But just as Mayaliel prepared to sweep away the next group of Swarms... 

“Haaah!” 

Someone soared out from the Ripper Swarms’ flank and attacked her. Their motions were far too fast and fluid to belong to any of the Ripper Swarms. It was only natural, of course, because the one coming at Mayaliel was none other than Sérignan. 

“Another gnat appears!” Sérignan spat as she brought her sword down on Mayaliel, who was completely caught off guard. “By the will of our queen, you will become rust upon my blade!” 

“That’s a corrupted holy sword! You damnable creature... Are you a fallen paladin?!” 

“My background is of no importance! I am but Her Majesty’s blade and shield!” Sérignan did not falter, launching another attack at the angel. 

“So be it! I will strike you down with all my might!” 

Mayaliel spread her wings and soared into the air, then plunged toward Sérignan with her longsword at the ready. 

“Ngh!” 

Mayaliel’s powerful dive-bombing attack knocked Sérignan to the ground. 

“I will not fall! I am Her Majesty’s knight! No matter what may come!” 

Sérignan rose to her feet and jumped again, swinging at Mayaliel. 

“Your efforts are wasted, vile one!” Mayaliel evaded the slash and smoothly moved in for a counterattack. 

Her knee sank into Sérignan’s stomach. Sérignan fell, moaning in pain, and barely managed to land on her feet. Her role as the queen’s knight was the core of her fighting spirit; this was what made Sérignan an individual and set her apart from the rest of the collective. 

“I can still fight! I am Her Majesty’s knight, and nothing you do will change that!” 

Sérignan quickly fixed her stance and shifted to the next attack. Except this time, she wasn’t simply trying to swing her sword at the angel. 

“Rngh! Threads?!” 

Sérignan shot adhesive threads from her tail, coiling them around Mayaliel and her longsword and yanking her forward. Unable to maintain her posture, Mayaliel fell toward Sérignan. At the same time, Sérignan began her charge. This tactic turned the tide of the battle in an instant. 

“Take this!” 

Sérignan’s corrupted sword cut into Mayaliel’s body, and a scream erupted from the angel’s mouth. 

“And this!” 

As if relishing the torture, Sérignan marred her opponent with blow after blow, slashing Mayaliel’s shoulders, stabbing her stomach, and lacerating her legs. 

“There’s far more where that came from! You will suffer until death claims you, you miserable gnat!” 

“Cease, you coward! Stop this at once!” 

The threads completely restricted Mayaliel’s movements, and the sword was repeatedly sinking into her flesh. The angel couldn’t budge in the face of Sérignan’s overwhelming loyalty and the strength it granted her. Mayaliel could only curse as she received the knight’s sadistic abuse. 

“Damn you... Damn you! Do not think this is enough to fell an angel!” 

At that moment, Mayaliel forcibly tore off the threads and lunged at Sérignan. 

“Taste my blade, vile one!” 

“No, you shall perish!” 

Sérignan and Mayaliel clashed, each holding a blade in hand. 

“Hack!” 

Mayaliel’s neck was cut clean through; without a doubt, it was a fatal wound. The angel did not bleed from the cut, but instead burst into particles of light—much like Agaphiel had before her—and disappeared from this world. 

“The sublime Mayaliel was defeated?! It can’t be!” 

“Impossible! An angel can’t be slain!” 

Upon seeing Mayaliel vanish, the Maluk soldiers reached new heights of terror. Their angels were supposed to be all-powerful, incontestable holy beings who reigned over all. The soldiers simply hadn’t believed Mayaliel could be defeated in battle. 

But they had forgotten that the Knights of Saint Augustine, who could also summon an angel, had already been conquered with ease. Obviously, they had no way of knowing the true power the Bloody Knight Swarm Sérignan possessed. After all, how could the Kingdom’s men have imagined that this one creature had the latent ability to even bring down a god? 

“Foolish humans! You will all kneel before our queen!” Sérignan proclaimed with a wave of her sword. 

“It’s all over! We’re done for!” 

“Don’t run, you idiot! We fight to the last man standing!” 

Their chain of command was already in shambles. Soldiers were attempting to desert their posts left and right, and the non-commissioned officers cut each one of them down for their treason. For the soldiers, this battlefield was one where both friends and foes could come for their lives. 

“Erm, you there! You can speak our language, right?” Stefan said, addressing Sérignan. “Can we not negotiate? Depending on your conditions, we could surrender to your army.” 

He was probing to see if it was possible for them to surrender. It was a preferable fate to slaughter, and it would allow him and his soldiers to survive another day. 

Yes, Stefan wanted to live. He wanted to make it out of this atrocious battle, marry the beautiful Elizabeta, and get to know her down to her deepest depths. 

“Nonsense,” Sérignan scoffed at him. “We are the Arachnea, the Swarm that will cover the world. Your people have harmed our queen’s friends, killed our comrades, and planned to kill many more of our kind. And yet now you speak of surrender?” 

She pointed her blade at Stefan. 

“Pick up your sword. If you call yourself a warrior, fight to the bitter end. We will crush your efforts, leaving only despair.” 

“Urgh! No choice, then! Men, ready your weapons and get back in there! Mages, fire your spells at full power! Heavy infantry and pikemen, form a circle around the mages!” 

The soldiers did as he said, and soon a thick cluster of fireballs rained down upon the Arachnea, setting a great number of Ripper Swarms on fire. 

“Keep moving! In Her Majesty’s name!” cried Sérignan. 

“In Her Majesty’s name!” echoed the Swarm. 

Sérignan and the Ripper Swarms rushed through the great showers of fire, closing in on Stefan’s army. The Ripper Swarms, which were the fastest units in the game, made contact with the military’s formation within moments. The heavy infantry’s heads were sliced off with their scythes and the pikemen were quickly punctured through the chest with their fangs. Soon the Swarms had eaten entirely through the enemy’s living wall. 

It was a massacre. 

With their protectors gone, the mages were torn to pieces. Afterward, the Swarm turned course and reduced the few remaining soldiers to mincemeat. 

“It’s over.” 

By the time Sérignan made that proclamation, every single soldier had been eliminated. Their commander, the one called Stefan, was dead. His eviscerated body was mixed with the ravaged remains of the other soldiers, shredded beyond recognition. His limbs had been plucked off as though he were a child’s toy, and his face had caved in from taking a scythe to the head. 

“Good job, Sérignan.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Now we can all cross the river.” 

By the time everything was over, the Arachnea’s queen, who had been commanding the battle from afar through the collective consciousness, arrived to thank her troops. 

“You’ve all done well. This was a difficult battle, but we have emerged victorious. Nothing stands in our way any longer. Next, we’ll regroup with the units from the north and south and march on Siglia. That will spell the end of this country.” 

“Glory to our queen!” 

“Glory to our queen!” 

All the Swarms present bent down and genuflected at once. Their unified posture made it ever more apparent that they had indeed won. 

“Still, Sérignan, you have this habit of talking too much. You’ll end up biting your tongue if you chatter too much during battle. Just focus on killing the mooks in front of you.” 

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” 

And so the battle of the Aryl River ended in victory for the Arachnea. The Kingdom of Maluk was now in a very precarious position. It had lost all its natural defenses, and its remaining defensive lines had been forced to retreat to the capital.