Chapter 13 – New Foe

There was nothing that Henderson could do other than leap back in complete and utter surprise. If he’d been given a little warning that the bull beetle was standing right there, ready to go toe-to-toe with him in his wolf form, then he might’ve thought about doing something other than diving away in fear for his life.

But he probably still would’ve tried to escape the moment he saw those two mammoth mandibles clacking their way towards him.

Henderson had narrowly escaped the first attack - one that could very well have been the last too - thanks to his quadruped reflexes, but one of the level one goblins who’d strayed a little too close to the beetle wasn’t so lucky. The creature had been caught between the sharpened pincers of the bull beetle, and with a seemingly very small amount of effort, the goblin was cut cleanly in two, with both halves of its body falling lifelessly to the ground.

Everyone stared at the two halves of the goblin on the ground, with the deep red, almost black blood pooling around it in silence. It was as if complete shock of the event had overruled everything within the universe for a moment.

And then all hell broke loose.

The remaining five goblins scattered immediately. They knew from what had just happened that they were no match for such an insect, and they had no qualms about getting out of the way as quickly as they could.

The dire wolves, too, began to encircle the area that would become the battlefield, acting very much like a pack.

It was the hobs though, the creatures who despised fear, who stood ready and pulled their jagged and rusty blades, just out of reach of the beetle.

"Get out of the way!" Henderson internally screamed. He wished more than anything in that moment to have the ability to speak his commands, but all that left his canine mouth was a deep growl.

The hobs thankfully had already gained a little experience in fighting these beetles, and they’d also seen Henderson fight the first one so they knew what they needed to do: stay out of the way of the front of the beetle and aim their attacks at the weak points in its armour.

The problem was, with the size of this thing just as tall as the hobs themselves, getting into a position where they could actually do proper damage wasn’t going to be an easy feat. Especially as the creature threw its head around with its deadly mandibles so that nobody could even get close to it.

Henderson was left in two minds. He could do what he could to help his little army in the upcoming fight, or he could join the wolf pack in creating a circle where the battle could take place, leaving the fighting to the others. In the end, he took the view that the bull beetle was only level three, so his group of eight hobs - two of which were level two - should really be able to do this without him. It would also be a good chance for them all to fight as a cohesive unit and perhaps gain some experience by the time it was over.

What held him back, though, was the thought that they might not all make it through this alive. Not actually being able to speak or give orders meant that if he did join the fight, he’d be no more help than any of the other wolves.

The beetle made the first move as it charged directly at the hobs, who were standing shoulder to shoulder and Henderson winced at the thought of losing any of the hobs purely due to their desire to win at all costs. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when the group of hobs split at the centre, with the six inner-most hobs diving immediately out of the way in perfect synchronicity, while the two outer hobs lunged at the beetle as it passed them.

The two hobs who’d made their moves tried to leap onto the beetle’s back, but this one was much larger than the others had been, and when the hobs realised they wouldn’t make it, they both tried to dig their blades into its carapace to give themselves a foothold. Against the thick armour of the beetle though, blades simply scraped off the creature’s hardened shell, and the hobs fell to the ground without hitting their mark.

The beetle finished its charge a moment after it realised it had completely missed the hobs and whipped its body round faster than it had any business moving.

It had taken a split second to peer at the wolves and the goblins who’d returned to watch the fight, but a tiny amount of intelligence within its eyes told Henderson that it knew what the deal was here: the fight was between beetle and hob, and if that rule was broken, it would be swamped. At least this way it would have a fighting chance.

The hobs quickly reformed into their line once more, and the beetle prepared to charge again. It seemed like madness for the creature to want to try the same thing over again and expect a different result, but nevertheless the beetle charged, and the hobs separated.

This time, though, the beetle showed its superior intelligence; it did not simply keep going through the scattering hobs. This time it swung its head and its huge pincers to the side, sending half the hobs flying through the air.

Henderson analysed his hobs and was thankful that none of them had been killed instantly like the goblin had. The mandibles were deadly to those caught between them, but this time they acted more like tusks.

The hobs had been hurt, winded even, but they weren’t dead. And only four of them had been sent flying.

The four hobs who hadn’t been hit quickly made their own move, stepping back into range of the giant insect and lashing out at it with their blades. They aimed for the joints in the creature’s legs, at the knees and where they joined the body before the tough carapace protected them.

A few strikes later, and it was clear that the beetle had weaknesses, just like the others.

Scurrying its feet as quickly as it could, the beetle spun on the spot.

It was only by some small miracle that the beetle was so long as it stood on all six of its legs that it didn’t turn to face a hob, able to sever it entirely in half just like it had the goblin.

In reality, the bull beetle was obviously only good for one thing. Well, two things, if its solid exterior was counted. The main thing this creature was good at was charging, and pretty much only straight forwards, against a singular enemy.

The mandibles, as the beetle turned, pushed the hobs around like they were rocks in the sand; they had no way to oppose the force that moved them and as a result, they seemed to score deep gouges in the mud. The hobs kept attacking as best they could with their inadequate weapons, but Henderson could see without a doubt that they couldn’t make so much as a scratch on the beetle where its pincers or carapace sat.

The one good thing for the hobs though, was that while they were close to the beetle and to the side of its head, they weren’t actually in any danger. Henderson couldn’t help but feel that instead of trying to prevent the movement, the hobs could’ve moved in and gained an advantageous position, but again there was nothing he could do.

One hob was in a good position at least, and as the beetle kept turning like a dog going for its own tail, the lucky hob slid up towards the beetle’s body and eventually came close enough to begin striking out at the insect’s fore leg.

At first the attacks were futile, as they all had been, and Henderson watched on in anticipation hoping for at least one lucky strike.

And then the hob found its mark.

With the old, tattered blade finally finding a gap to exploit at the segmented joint of the bull beetle’s front leg, a spray of sticky ichor burst forth as the creature’s armour was bypassed and steel met the soft flesh protected within.

The leg wasn’t severed as one would’ve hoped in this situation; rather, the beetle buckled, immediately removing its weight from one-sixth of its supporting appendages.

It abruptly stopped turning.

Henderson’s stomach lurched as he watched. The hobs on the outside of the long mandible had been pushing back with such ferocity that as soon as the momentum dropped, they almost fell to the ground in surprise. But of the hobs hadn’t been quick enough to stop.

Having put all its effort into pushing back against the beetle, when the insect gave up on its desire to turn, the hob found itself without a solid object to push against and toppled over the mandible, landing on his back and on the ground before the beetle, between its devastating pincers.

The beetle knew something had happened and paused for a moment before turning its attention down towards the ground where the hob had landed. It was only because of this fraction of a second of hesitation that the hob managed to roll to the side to avoid the colossal smash that impacted the ground where he had just been.

It was almost comical for Henderson to watch the hob roll from side to side as the bull beetle tried its best to skewer or smash him into the ground. It was only by some miracle that the beetle was unable to close its shearing pincers around the hob, owing to the hob being both on the ground and too close to the insect.

The rest of the hobs were doing what they could to damage the beetle, though aside from making their way around to the creature’s legs and cutting into them as best they could with their inadequate weaponry, their efforts were still having little effect.

But they were having some effect.

As the beetle's legs were being systematically chopped away, the bull eventually began to slow down, moving less and less until it ultimately had no choice but to try to end this fight before it finally fell. Its HP hadn’t really been dropping by more than a point or two here and there, but that was just a testament to how resilient the creature truly was. It was only through sheer luck that the group of hobs had found themselves in a position where they couldn’t technically be harmed unless something untoward happened. But it was also clear that the tide of battle could turn in an instant against such a creature that could land singular killing blows if given the opportunity.

The bull beetle, sensing that it had to do something soon or it would die, decided to change tactics.

Rearing up on its hind four legs, the space between it and the fallen hob became large enough for the insect to see its wriggling foe properly, and also to deliver the killing blow by clamping its pincers down on either side of the hob’s person.

Henderson sharply inhaled.

But then something happened that he hadn’t been expecting.

From the trees above, a small level-two goblin dropped onto the bull beetle’s back, and Henderson recognised it as the goblin he’d artificially levelled up back at the castle.

The little creature looked unsteady as he tried to remain balanced on top of the beetle, but he nevertheless managed to retrieve his little knife from the rope around his waist and immediately plunged it into the small gap between the beetle’s carapace and armoured head. If the beetle hadn’t reared up like it had, Henderson doubted the gap would’ve been so easy to land a hit on.

But the goblin had landed his blow, and it was exactly what Henderson’s little army needed.

Henderson watched as the beetle’s HP fell by a good chunk, and then again and again as the goblin managed to repeatedly raise his little knife and plunge it into the bull beetle’s unprotected neck.

It didn’t take long before the insect could take no more, and as its Health Points reduced to nothing, it fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Henderson exhaled as his army prevailed, and it had only cost him the life of a single goblin. Yes, that meant that his castle now had only a full complement of twenty-one creatures, three of which were level two, and one was now level three, but in reality, it could’ve been so much worse.

And then Henderson immediately berated himself for the thought, because just as he was allowing himself to calm down, a thunderous sound fell upon the group from out in the clearing.

Leaving the dead bull beetle where it had fallen, Henderson quickly moved to the edge of the trees again and peered out at what was making all the noise, which was loud enough that the ground beneath his feet was shaking.

The sight made his heart race.

Out in the clearing and not too far away, a stampede was headed their way. But it wasn’t just the beetles that were rallying; at the front of the herd now charging in their direction, was a level-fifteen bull beetle, three times the size of the one they’d managed to kill and on its back sat a small yet muscular goblin, which Henderson could see was level fifteen also.

The goblin had a large, feathered headdress atop his head and held a long staff in one hand, with a small - probably goblin - skull attached to its tip.

This goblin was a shaman, and clearly one that Henderson had no chance of standing toe-to-toe with, even alongside his little army.