Septimio had led them along a parallel route, ascending the mountain. It was a long but humanly passable path, with fresh though icy air and crystal-clear water flowing in small streams—cold yet drinkable and completely pristine. The route finally brought them to a cavern that towered above the creatures' nest. A constant current of air flowed from the entrance, preventing the human scent from reaching the Orci.
Caius Ulfangar, ever alert, raised a hand to stop the group.
"Lower the torches," he ordered quietly, his guttural accent marking every word. "The Orci see well in the dark, but they're not like bats. They need some light, just as we do."
The men obeyed, and the torches' flames were extinguished, plunging the cavern into a dim twilight. From their elevated position, the group could see the Orci nest below. A bonfire burned at its center, illuminating about ten creatures moving around. Some were devouring rabbits and other vermin, while others simply lounged about, grunting and laughing among themselves.
Septimio pointed to those who were eating, his green eyes shining in the darkness.
"These are the drones, the asexual ones," he explained in a whisper. "They're like worker ants. We must find the queen. She is the one who lays the eggs, in the mud mixed with the viscera and blood of her victims."
The mayor, Marco Hernico Caese, frowned, trying to absorb the information.
"What does the queen look like?" he asked softly, his hand resting on the pommel of his gladius.
Septimio did not take his eyes off the nest.
"Pale, large, muscular," he replied. "Similar to a strong two-meter-tall man, but with a reptilian tail ending in an ovipositor. She is a deadly weapon if she manages to reach you, but they are almost blind. They depend on the drones to guide and protect them."
Caius Ulfangar, who had been listening silently, nodded.
"Then the strategy is clear," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "We eliminate the drones first, then deal with the queen. Without her, the nest collapses."
Antonio, who had been listening intently, swallowed hard. Although he still felt fear, the determination in Caius's voice and Septimio's calm kept him firm. He gripped his butcher's knife and nodded silently, ready to follow orders.
Septimio looked each man in the eye, his green eyes glowing with an almost supernatural light.
"Remember," he said softly, "do not underestimate the queen. She is slow but lethal. Keep silent, move quickly, and do not let the drones raise the alarm."
The group nodded in silence, and one by one, they began to descend toward the nest, moving like shadows in the dark. The Orci bonfire shone like a beacon in the gloom, and the air reeked of decay and blood. Septimio led the way, dagger in hand and his eyes scanning every movement. Caius followed closely, his bow at the ready and his expression serene. Antonio, though still trembling, advanced with determination, feeling that for the first time he was part of something greater than himself.
And deep within the nest, the queen waited—blind yet aware, her reptilian tail moving slowly as if she knew danger was approaching.
The hunters dispersed silently, moving like shadows among the rocks. They drew their bows with deadly precision, and in a matter of seconds, arrows flew, whistling through the air before embedding themselves in the bodies of the drones. One by one, the creatures fell without a sound, their grotesque figures collapsing to the ground.
Antonio, crouched behind a rock, closely observed one of the fallen drones. It was thin, with an elongated nose and pointed ears—what he would call a goblin. But beside it lay another, completely different, with a nose resembling that of a pig and a more robust build.
"It's incredible," he murmured to himself, "that both belong to the same species."
Suddenly, another Orci appeared out of nowhere. This one looked more human, but with fangs protruding from its lower jaw and feline eyes that glimmered in the twilight. Instinctively, Antonio leapt toward it and grabbed it by the neck. The strength of a terrified peasant, used to dealing with rebellious sheep, was enough to snap the demon's neck, whose only weapon seemed to be fear.
When Antonio released his grip, he was surprised to feel how fragile the Orci's body was.
"How fragile!" he whispered, almost in disbelief.
"I told you so," said Caius as he moved past him while stringing his bow. "They're weaker than they seem."
Caius's arrow sped through the air, whistling before embedding itself in a dark hiding place. From the shadows came a guttural growl, and a huge figure rose. It was the queen—a behemoth over two meters tall, with pupil-less eyes and a reptilian tail that moved slowly. Her pale, muscular skin shone under the dim light of the bonfire, and in her hands she wielded an enormous mace, so large it seemed impossible to lift.
The peasants recoiled at the sight, intimidated by her imposing presence. But Septimio showed no fear. Instead, his face twisted into an expression of frenetic joy, as if combat were his natural element. The veins in his neck tensed, and his green eyes shone with an almost supernatural clarity as he analyzed the creature with deadly precision.
"Arrows!" Septimio shouted, his voice echoing in the cavern. "Aim for the muscles! She's slow, but strong!"
The shafts flew, embedding in the queen's muscles. Although she was an imposing creature, her flesh was as mortal as that of a man, subject to the pain and limits of a physical body. Each arrow that sank into her skin made her growl in fury, yet also weakened her.
"Do not fear!" Septimio cried, dodging a blow from the mace that made the ground tremble. "Fear is her only weapon! Without it, she is nothing more than a big target!"
The queen, blind and disoriented, spun around, trying to locate her attackers. But the hunters were too fast, too precise. Arrow after arrow pierced her body until finally, with a pained groan, the creature fell to her knees. Her mace slipped from her grasp, thudding against the ground with a resounding crash that echoed throughout the cavern.
Septimio advanced, dagger in hand, and with a quick, precise movement, ended the queen's life. The creature collapsed to the ground, its body motionless, and an unsettling silence filled the cavern.
"Like Caesar on the Ides of March," Septimio murmured, gazing at the lifeless body of the queen. "Even the mightiest fall when their fear is stripped away."
Antonio, still panting from exertion, looked at Septimio with a mixture of admiration and astonishment. He had faced an Orci with his own hands and survived. For the first time, he felt not like a mere peasant, but like a warrior.
Caius approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Good work, boy," he said with a crooked smile. "Now you know what it feels like to kill a demon."
Antonio nodded, feeling the fear transform into something else—confidence, perhaps even pride. The group gathered around the queen's body, knowing that although the battle had ended, the memory of what they had faced would stay with them forever.
Septimio ordered the search for the mud nest—a repulsive place filled with congealed blood, decomposing flesh, and writhing larvae. The stench was unbearable, a mixture of decay and death that made several of the men cover their noses and mouths. Septimio, however, approached without hesitation, his green eyes scanning the nest with a mix of curiosity and disgust.
"When they are young, they are more like lizards, with tails," Septimio said as he crouched and pulled one of the creatures from the nest. It was a grotesque larva, with gleaming scales and nodules that throbbed as if alive. The creature shrieked like a baby—a sharp, piercing sound that echoed in the cavern.
The mayor, Marco Hernico Caese, covered his face, horrified by the sight of the thing.
"By all the gods!" he exclaimed, averting his gaze. "What... what is that?"
Septimio did not answer immediately. Instead, he gripped the larva's head tightly until its skull cracked with a crunching sound. The creature's eyes popped out, and its body ceased to move.
"They are fragile," Septimio said, tossing the corpse to the ground. "When they aren't bred by a Dark Lord, they are nothing but weak beasts."
Then, addressing his men, he added:
"Burn everything. Leave nothing alive."
The hunters obeyed, preparing a pyre with dry branches and bits of wood found in the cavern. The flames grew rapidly, consuming the mud nest and the larvae still writhing within. The heat of the fire contrasted with the cold of the cavern, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.
As the pyre blazed, the mayor approached Septimio, his face still pale from the horror of what he had seen.
"What is happening, Septimio?" he asked, his voice trembling yet urgent. "What are these things? Where do they come from?"
Septimio looked at him, his green eyes flickering with a mix of emotions: anger, nostalgia, and deep sadness.
"Decades ago," he began, his voice deep and weighted, "the Ninth Legion was transported to a world different from this one. A world of darkness and chaos. There, we fought against the armies of darkness, and those soldiers…" He paused, gesturing toward the remains of the nest, "were these things—the Orci. When we returned to this world, some of them followed us. I thought we had left them behind, that those battles were over. But it seems I was mistaken."
The mayor looked at him in disbelief, trying to process what he had just heard.
"Are you saying that these creatures… are remnants of a war in another world?" he whispered.
Septimio nodded but said no more. He was agitated, as if the fight had awakened something in him that had lain dormant for years. But he was also frustrated at having to face once more the monsters he believed he had left behind.
"Yes," he finally said, his voice laced with bitterness. "I thought I had left those struggles behind. But it seems that the past always finds a way to haunt us."
As the flames consumed the nest, Septimio fell silent, watching the fire with a somber expression. The men around him looked on with a mixture of respect and fear, knowing that although they had won this battle, the war against darkness was far from over.
The next morning, the sun peeked out from the cave's exit, illuminating the mountainous landscape with a cold, golden light. The air was crisp and cutting, but the group had little time to enjoy the sunrise. There, among the shadows of the rocks, stood Gaius Rufinus Dracius, his tall, slender figure emerging from the mist like a specter. His gray cloak billowed gently in the wind, and his penetrating, cold gray eyes scrutinized the newcomers.
"Septimio," said Gaius, his voice deep and urgent, "Lord Darío has taken control of the town. He has killed some inhabitants, accused a woman of witchcraft, and burned her at the stake. Now he has taken the mayor's daughter prisoner and plans to subject her to a witchcraft trial."
The mayor, Marco Hernico Caese, paled upon hearing Gaius's words. His face, usually serene and full of authority, broke into a mixture of horror and anger.
"Lucia?" he asked, his voice trembling. "What have they done to my daughter?"
Gaius did not answer immediately, but his silence was enough to confirm the mayor's worst fears. Marco stepped forward, his hand trembling as it sought the pommel of his gladius.
"No!" he shouted, his voice filled with desperation and fury. "I will not allow her harm! We must return at once!"
Instead of restraining him, Septimio approached the mayor with a somber yet resolute expression.
"I won't stop you, Marco," Septimio said, his voice firm and determined. "The time has come to free ourselves from those barbarians who settle in Rome with authority that is not theirs. Law and order belong to the city and its sacred elected institutions—not to some unknown Eastern god."
The mayor looked at him, surprised by the vehemence in Septimio's voice, but also grateful for his support.
"What do you propose?" Marco asked, his voice still trembling but filled with hope.
Septimio turned to the group, his green eyes shining with intense light.
"We return to the town," he declared, his voice resounding with authority, "but not as fugitives. We go as soldiers. Gaius, you and your hunters will deal with Darío's guards. Marco, you and your men will free Lucia and the other prisoners. I will take care of Darío."
The men nodded silently, their faces full of determination. Gaius adjusted his bow and daggers, while Marco gripped the pommel of his gladius tightly. Septimio, for his part, unsheathed Caladhel—the sword of healing—which glowed faintly in the dawn light.
"We will show no mercy," Septimio said, his voice filled with contained fury. "They are not worthy of our compassion."
With those words, the group began descending the mountain, their long shadows stretching over the rocky ground. The sun, now fully visible on the horizon, lit their path but also seemed to foretell the coming battle. Septimio walked at the front, his face serene but resolute, knowing that this was not only a fight for the town, but for the very soul of Rome.