Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part Two]

CHAPTER 236: The Monster Wave

Neville turned slightly, eyes stern. "This isn't about fear. Your duty isn't to fight. It's to survive. Your life isn't yours alone, Your Highness. The kingdom needs you. The people need you."

Reneal's grip tightened around the hilt of his weapon, his knuckles pale. "But I—"

"No buts, Your Highness." Neville raised his blade, his free hand behind his back, eyes locked on the danger ahead. "Let me handle this. If you fall here, everything we've done is for nothing."

Reneal hesitated, knees trembling, then gave a reluctant nod. "Alright... but if it comes to it, I won't run."

Neville offered the faintest smirk. "Let's hope it doesn't," he said, then his eyes widened in shock as the sky began to darken.

The civilians and the soldiers looked on in trepidation.

"As to what happens during a Dungeon Break," Thalia continued, her lips pulling to a taut line. "Mana from the dungeon surges upward into the atmosphere like an inferno, rapidly heating the surrounding air.

The sky darkens, and a thunderstorm forms—an observable reaction to the sudden shift in atmospheric energy. These storm systems rotate around what's known as a «Mana Field»—a zone that stabilizes ambient mana and creates a hospitable environment for dungeon monsters on the surface.

Once the field is established, the dungeon begins to expel its inhabitants in successive waves in what is called a «Monster Wave». Each floor's monsters instinctively flee upward to avoid predators from the deeper layers, all while fearing the apex predator that reigns at the bottom. The result is a mass exodus onto the surface, widely regarded as one of the most catastrophic natural events in existence."

The ground trembled.

It started as a low hum, almost like a growl from the bowels of the earth. Pebbles quivered. Plates of stone cracked beneath people's feet. The barricades rattled. Horses neighed in panic, stomping and rearing their heads as the earth beneath them began to pulse.

Then came the roar.

Not of one voice, but dozens—no, hundreds of beasts. Screeches, howls, guttural snarls, and piercing shrieks all merged into a monstrous chorus of death.

The sky turned a deep indigo as dark clouds spiraled into a vortex overhead, like a divine curse cast upon the earth. Blue lightning carved jagged veins across the heavens, illuminating the encroaching doom.

A chilling gust swept over the people as the monstrous horde crested the ridge, moving like a black tide.

"Monsters!" someone shouted.

Fear rippled through the crowd—slaves, demi-humans, and civilians alike—each drawn to the same inescapable truth: they were trapped, their fates sealed.

Panic swelled. Screams erupted. People scrambled to break through the barricades, clawing at the wood and stone. But the soldiers, clad in iron and duty, held their shields tight, refusing to break formation.

Then the monsters pounced.

It was carnage.

A winged beast swooped down and tore through three people in a single pass. A hulking, boar-headed juggernaut gored through a crowd, flinging blood into the air like a fountain. People were dragged backwards and ripped apart. Limbs and entrails flailed wildly beneath the monsters' claws. It was no longer a retreat. It was a slaughter.

Rooted in a corner was Neville, his saber poised. His stance was firm and his expression unshaken. He raised the blade and cleaved through a reptilian fiend that lunged too close.

"Back! All of you, stay behind me!" Neville commanded several mothers and children, his voice a blend of steel and thunder.

Behind him, Reneal could hardly breathe. The prince's heart pounded against his ribs as he watched the man who had raised him, protected him, and trained him—now fending off an army alone.

Neville's movements were fierce, cutting monsters down in a whirlwind of slashes. But no matter how many he struck down, more came.

Suddenly, claws slashed across his shoulder. Reneal screamed. A tusk jabbed into his side. Blood sprayed from gashes across his chest and legs, but he never faltered. His movements were sharp and precise, honed by decades of swordsmanship.

But age was a double-edged sword. At sixty-eight, Neville was no longer the man he once was. His body strained to keep up with the punishing pace of battle. Still, he held the line—he had to. He couldn't let the monsters break through. He couldn't let the prince be harmed.

"You're too old for this," Reneal whispered in anguish, eyes wide with dread. "Please stop—just come back!"

But Neville roared, pushing himself forward and lopping off the head of a snarling troll. He staggered, knees buckling beneath the weight of blood loss and fatigue.

His face was pale, breaths ragged. The last monster in his immediate path collapsed. Neville stood alone in triumph, body trembling, blade hanging at his side.

Reneal exhaled in shaky relief, a smile tugging at his lips.

But before it could fully form—

SHLICK!

There was a sickening crunch.

Neville's body lurched.