"Nihil!" the voice shouted from the top of the wall, echoing through the streets below.
"I see it." another voice responded, “Spearhead.”
Panic arose in the central market as the bells tolled, with the interior guards trying their best to keep people calm as they ran in any number of directions. No-faced armoured figures ran through the streets from the central military building and towards the front gates. A loud buzzing was heard from the top of the wall as a sickly green glow spread through the air and the mist, contrasting against the inky black sky.
Outside the gates, around a hundred feet away, lay a slowly approaching spearhead. It dragged its two feet across the ground as it glided slowly forward, its countless eyes across its segmented body looking in countless directions. Casting one's eyes to its head would tell you half why it was named as such; its head was composed of spindly, rose-gold needles, jutting out of its pulsating, skinless neck and stretching about a foot high. Its torso was constructed of about four parts, each connected with some metallic stringy substance, as they almost floated apart from each other without any support, along with the rest of the limbs in a similar sense.
The gates were slid apart and held slightly ajar as two figures were rushed outside to stand guard before the gates were quickly closed again. These two armoured men stood firmly, their backs to the gates and their boots shaking in the mud, as they faced their oncoming demise. One of them seemed to start praying to his deity of choice before the harrowing creature ahead stopped in its tracks. One of the two men drew their bow, an arrow seemingly made of a deep-blue fire pushing on the string, and released it. As it flew through the air, it seemed like it was about to hit a perfect shot, until it was very quickly extinguished.
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A sound like the screeching and stretching of steel rang out, before a loud sort of popping noise. The rose-gold needles that poked from the Spearhead's neck had suddenly extended and raced through the air like a branch growing faster than the eye could keep up with. Stretching frantically in random directions, like the hysterical and frenzied tentacles of a panicked octopus, they ran straight down the middle of the arrow that was fired, and very quickly reached the two men, piercing both of their heads simultaneously, passing straight through their helmets and skulls and into the gate behind them, though not piercing it. As their bodies immediately gave way and fell limp, only supported by the shining branches that their blood now covered, a black mould—blacker than the darkest nights, but with a slight fringe of yellow around the freshest parts—started to spread across them, starting from the point of impact.
After a few seconds of stillness, the branches suddenly started to fade away, crumbling into dust that scattered in the wind, as the bodies fell limp to the floor. With that, more short needles quickly emerged from the spearhead's neck once again, beckoning whoever lay behind the wall to try again.
The two fallen men were sent outside the gates only to buy time. With the spearhead now continuing its approach, one hooded figure stood atop the wall, holding a book that emitted a sickly green light from its pages. The figure took a heavy breath before ripping a page seemingly made of light—a brilliant white light, with the sickly green now gone—and tossing it down over the wall. It fluttered about in the wind for a moment before making the atmosphere itself shatter like glass and then launching towards the spearhead. It had no time to react before the page beamed right through it and faded away into a puff of white fire behind it, completely smashing several of its body sections to pieces as it collapsed to the floor like a bundle of rocks.
The bells stopped ringing, but people around the town were urged to evacuate and get away from the wall, towards the river, raging from the storm. The other reason for the spearhead’s name was soon to be revealed.
