The air hung thick with the metallic tang of fear, a silent testament to the carnage that had preceded this moment. Two guards, their faces etched with a terror that mirrored the grim landscape before them, exchanged a petrified glance. The monstrous silhouette, a hulking, reptilian form, charged from the depths of the makeshift tunnel, its guttural roars echoing against the newly erected walls of Home.

  They had heard the tales, whispers passed from the veterans who had faced this horror before. The stories of the wingless beauty, the pale angel they called Bathilda, and her unnerving strength. They had dismissed them as hyperbole, until they witnessed her handiwork firsthand. The memory of the "mini-Rex," as she so casually named it, being cleaved in twain with a mere flick of her wrist, was seared into their minds, a chilling reminder of her power.

  The charging monster, a compact brute with thick, scaled hide and razor-sharp claws, was a terrifying spectacle. But before it could reach them, Bathilda moved. A casual wave of her arm, a motion so fluid it seemed almost dismissive, and the beast's legs simply… vanished. The creature, robbed of its locomotion, crashed to the ground, its small, pitiful arms flailing uselessly against the unforgiving earth. A guttural thud reverberated through the tunnel as the monster landed face-first, its momentum sending a spray of dirt and gravel into the air.

  The guards remained frozen, their breaths caught in their throats, until Bathilda's voice, a stark contrast to her ethereal appearance, sliced through the tension. "Well!? What are you waiting for? An invitation? Fucking kill it!" Her words, rough and impatient, snapped them out of their paralysis.

  A silent, almost comical exchange passed between the two guards, a shared incredulity at her bluntness. Then, with a newfound resolve born of sheer survival instinct, they charged. They had seen the strategy employed by their predecessors: strike at the vulnerable flanks, avoid the snapping jaws and the powerful, now useless, claws. The legless mini-Rex was now a grotesque, thrashing worm, its ferocity diminished but still dangerous.

  They moved with a practiced rhythm, their blades flashing in the dim light, hacking and slashing at the monster's exposed flesh. Each strike was met with a pained screech, a symphony of agony that slowly faded as the life drained from the beast. They focused on delivering strikes to the soft underbelly, and the thick muscle of the neck. Blood, thick and dark, splattered the ground, staining the earth a morbid crimson.

  The monster's cries, once a terrifying roar, dwindled to a whimper, then silence. The two guards, their faces streaked with sweat and grime, exchanged a triumphant high-five, a release of the tension that had gripped them moments before. The thrill of victory, the surge of adrenaline, and the promise of hard-earned levels washed over them. Even with Bathilda's share of the experience points, her devastating initial attack ensuring she claimed a lion's portion, they still gained a significant boost in power. Over thirty levels each, a reward for their bravery and skill.

  Bathilda, her expression impassive, stretched her limbs, the movement as graceful as a predator awakening from a nap. She watched as the guards, their steps lighter, their spirits lifted, jogged back towards the gate, ready to relinquish their post to the next pair.

  She had transformed this once vulnerable city, Home, into a fortress. The chasm-enclosed livestock and farmland, now protected by sturdy walls, were a testament to her efforts. And the kill zone, the tunnel created by two parallel walls leading from the south gate, was a masterstroke, a funnel of death for the encroaching monsters.

  She had designed it to accommodate even the largest of beasts, but for now, she was cautious, allowing only one monster at a time to enter. The guards, still relatively low-leveled, were not yet ready to face a fully mobile mini-Rex, let alone two. She relied on Hiro to manage the rest, diverting one monster at a time towards the gate, while dealing with the others as he saw fit.

  A flicker of doubt crossed Bathilda's face. "Once the guards have evolved we can see how they handle a mini-rex which still has its legs. Wait a minute... Shit. Do humans evolve? Or upgrade?"

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  She sent a mental thought to Hiro, his voice a whisper in her mind. "I don't know? I hadn't thought about it. On my world we would rank up through our skills. The level of our skills determined what tier we were and who would be more likely to win during combat." His words, though unhelpful in answering her immediate question, offered a glimpse into his past, a life governed by different rules.

  "So not like here then? Where it's all about the person's level." Bathilda sighed, her gaze drifting towards the gate as fresh guards approached, their faces grimly determined. The previous two, their turn complete, passed them with a nod, their expressions a mix of relief and exhilaration.

  The cycle ground on, a monotonous, brutal ballet of survival played out in the perpetual twilight cast by the looming walls of Home. It wasn't a dance Bathilda enjoyed, but one she was now inextricably bound to. The cacophony of clashing steel and guttural roars formed a grim soundtrack to her self-imposed task: transforming a ragtag group of city guards into a formidable defense force.

  "Honestly," she muttered, wiping a smear of viscous monster blood from her cheek, "keeping track of names is proving as challenging as keeping some of them alive." A sea of blank, fear-stricken faces swam behind her. Perhaps a more gradual approach? Two guards, power-leveled, then they could train the others… a cascading effect.

  Her internal monologue was abruptly shattered by Hiro's voice, a crisp, disembodied presence in her mind. "Incoming mini-Rex. Sixty seconds."

  With a sigh, Bathilda shifted her stance, the air around her shimmering with nascent power as the creature charged into view. A swift, precise motion, and a shimmering blade of reality sliced through the lower half of the mini-Rex, cleaving it in two. The two halves slid across the dusty ground, leaving a trail of dark, viscous fluid that stained the earth a morbid crimson. The air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of monster ichor.

  She turned to the two newest recruits, their faces pale and their grips on their spears white-knuckled. "Well?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the lingering tension. "What are you waiting for? Fucking kill it!"

  They flinched, their eyes wide with terror, before clumsily lunging at the fallen creature. Their spears, wielded with more desperation than skill, glanced harmlessly off the thick hide.

  Bathilda watched, a grimace twisting her features. "These guards… they're poor. How have they survived this long?" she mused, conjuring a tall glass of icy tea. Three miniature icebergs, sculpted into fantastical shapes, bobbed within the amber liquid, and a vibrant red straw curved invitingly. She took a slow, deliberate sip, the cool liquid a momentary balm against the frustration simmering within her.

  "It would probably take ten of them, at least, to bring down a mini-Rex. And even then, casualties would be inevitable," she thought, watching their frantic, ineffective attempts to harm the already deceased creature. "It's no wonder they prefer to hide behind the walls of Home."

  She observed their clumsy strikes, their desperate stabs, their futile hacking. The mini-Rex, already bisected, was taking a rather prolonged and unnecessary beating.

  "How long will it take to get them to a level where they can actually defend themselves?" she wondered, her gaze sweeping over the city gate, a looming shadow against the fading light. "Before I arrived, they'd simply retreat inside the walls at the first sign of trouble. Wait for it to leave, or, if it was small enough, swarm it with the entire guard. A hundred men against a single mini-Rex? The inefficiency is staggering."

  She imagined the chaotic scene: a mass of guards, crammed together, their weapons clashing, more likely to injure each other than the monster. The experience gained would be negligible, diluted among so many. And the cost, in terms of injuries and wasted resources, would be exorbitant.

  "No wonder they're clinging to the last scraps of dried meat," she muttered, shaking her head. "They're lucky I showed up when I did."

  With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the guards, sending them stumbling back towards the city gate. "Go on, then. Send the next pair," she said, her voice laced with pity. She remembered being weak. She remembered well.

  As they retreated, Bathilda pondered her predicament. "What did I do to deserve this?" she asked the empty air, then remembered, with a wry chuckle, "Oh, right. I volunteered."

  She took another sip of her iced tea, the sweet, icy liquid a stark contrast to the grim reality surrounding her. "Why am I wasting my time with this though? I'm the Queen of Monsters, for goodness sake. I should be out there, healing the wounded, not babysitting inept guards."

  A sudden thought sparked in her mind. "After today, I'll delegate. That's the answer. A clone for the tedious tasks. I have more important things to do." She gazed at the horizon, a flicker of anticipation in her eyes. "There are people to heal, lives to mend. And that," she said, a hint of steel in her voice, "is where my true calling lies."