The Ash Beetle spotted by the vanguard was indeed a stone the size of a hunting hound. But as it humped its back and took flight, it became something far more ancient and ugly.
It unfurled translucent wings that droned with a low-frequency hum, revealing saw-toothed legs and a bloated underbelly. The moment the knights' shields slammed together into a seamless dome, that white belly began pulsing a sickly orange.
Its mandibles unhinged with a wet click, and a pressurized torrent of grey ash erupted straight at the men.
HISSSSSSS!
"Brace! Shields up!" the vanguard captain bellowed over the roar of the spray. "Don't let the heat buckle your grip!"
The iron of the leading shields took the brunt of the onslaught, sizzling instantly and transitioning into a glowing red. The men grunted, boots slipping in the loose silt as their muscles strained to keep the formation locked.
Sensing the beetle's focus was pinned on the metal barrier, Curzio and Ettore pivoted to the flanks in a blur.
