The tunnels stretched in all directions. They were not carved or built. They were a natural labyrinth. Intersections had no signs. Rooms had no furniture. Yet, the place showed signs of habitation.
“What the heck?” Kat said.
“What is it?” the blue lady asked.
“It looks obvious to me,” Lawrence said.
“It is obvious,” Ferg said. “Look.”
She stepped to one side. Ahead of them stood a rectangular opening in the wall. In the opening stood a brown rectangle of no particular shade, unadorned. It had a brass knob set in the side. No lock. No painting, no fresco, nothing inlaid. It was the plainest thing any of them had ever seen.
Captain Ferg reached out. She grasped the knob. She held up three fingers. Everyone readied their weapons. She lowered her fingers one at a time. At zero, she wrenched open the door.
“Aha,” somebody yelled.
Absolute silenced greeted.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Oh my gods.”
“Dead gods.”
“Silk and string.”
“Holy cow.”
The room beyond had a row of cubicles separated by aluminum panels. The chairs inside were made of white porcelain with plastic seats. Next to the cubicles sat a row of porcelain basins with copper spickets, over which sat the clearest mirrors.
Following this discovery was a minor stampede as the women in the party fought to be the first in line.
“Why is there always a line?” someone complained.
The line of women stretched out the door. Opposing the door stood another, identical door. This too had no ornamentation. Knowing what to expect, Lawrence opened it while Hyene and several male demons stood guard. Lawrence saw a row of porcelain urinals next to a row of cubicles. Otherwise, the bathroom was identical. The stampede to be the first demon to try the facilities was also identical.
Lawrence stepped aside. However, he watched with undisguised interest. He had heard varying reports on demon physiology. It appeared the male demons could not use the urinals, nor could most of them use the toilets. If a demon had implanted a digestion and excretory system, then yes. But most demons lived on ectoplasm supplemented with literal emotions--agony wine, for example, flavored with a bit of spawn-meat. They did not produce waste.
Not producing waste was no excuse. Every demon took the opportunity to ape mortality. It meant the people who could poop had to wait.
Captain Ferg tapped her foot. Josephine scowled. Lawrence, used to weeks of hard living in Blood Well’s fortress, found a quiet spot around the corner. His minor act of defecation caused two things to happen. First was the sudden suffusion of strong stink. Second was the sound of sonorous waves slamming onto sand. Lawrence used an advertising pamphlet dispersed by Thug Swarm to wipe.
Ignoring the crashing of waves on the beach, he went around the bend. He walked into the now-empty bathroom to wash his hands.
“What is that smell?” someone complained.
“Oh, it stinks,” someone else plugged their nose.
Lawrence pretended not to notice. He washed his hands twice. He rejoined the group near the center.
“All right, everyone,” Captain Ferg said. “Torches up. Let’s move.”
The group moved in a different direction to the stink. The crashing waves accompanied them, despite the ocean not existing. The nearest body of water large enough to produce waves was a world away. The demons kept looking around for the source of the noise. It seemed to come from everywhere. Lawrence looked for speakers set into the walls, but found nothing.
The demon in front, a fiend with the Axe Warrior Job, screamed. Spikes shot out from the floor. Two went through his feet and a third impaled him through the groin. Following this came a chorus of dismayed shouts while everyone processed.
“Who has [Trap Detection]?” Ferg shouted. When an imp raised their hand, she pointed at them. “You. Get up here.”
The imp flitted over the heads of the bigger demons. It hovered in the air, unwilling to get within impalement distance of the ground.
“You’re our new frontman,” Ferg said. “Watch for traps.”
“But ma’am—”
“Call me ‘sir,’ imp.”
“Sorry sir. Yessir. Roger sir.” The imp looked back and forth. “I don’t wanna.”
“Don’t be a coward.” Ferg looked where the imp looked: at some horizontal slits in both walls. She moved away. “I’m right behind you.”
The demon had a panicked expression. True to its species, it took any opportunity to get ahead with a leader. Also true to its species, Wisdom was not a defining trait. The one had enough smarts to go around the floor trap, because the body lay on it. Before anyone moved, the trap reactivated.
Spikes pierced the corpse and then retracted. Retraction jostled the corpse, like pulling meat off a skewer. By some unseen mechanism, the trap reactivated. As the sound of waves crashed around them, the trap kept activating. Over time, the body turned into a shapeless mush of guts. Even its weapon, a little one-handed crossbow, got pulverized.
The trap finally stopped. The imp gulped. It fluttered around the trap, keeping well above impalement height. A little way down the hall, another trap activated. This time the spikes descended from the ceiling. They impaled the imp in non-vital places. It screamed. When the spikes retracted, the imp fell. One of its wings was torn. It struggled to stand.
“Can’t. Walk,” the imp panted.
“Looks like his spine is broken,” one of the fiends observed.
“Have to. Carry. Me,” the imp said, desperate.
Ferg looked unamused. The demons looked at each other.
“All right, people,” Ferg said. “Who wants to play football?”
No hands rose. Lawrence stepped forward.
“You want play?” Ferg looked at him.
“You mean pretend the imp is a football and carry him along?”
“Yeah.”
“No.” Lawrence knelt behind the imp. “Got a better idea.”
He picked up the imp. His mouth unhinged. The imp’s eyes widened.
“Lawrence?” Ferg sounded confused. “What are you?”
She trailed off as Lawrence bit through the demon’s neck. Bone crunched. Hot ichor ran. The latter tasted nasty. Lawrence closed his eyes as information flooded his brain. He chewed a bit and swallowed.
“I’ve got the Skill,” Lawrence said. “Trap Detection. It’s level one, but it’ll get better.”
He threw the remains of the imp aside. Standing, he wiped his mouth. Ferg gaped. Her brow knitted. Her eyes widened. She looked horrified and disgusted and unnerved and disturbed and perhaps even afraid.
“What?” Lawrence said. He turned around. Everyone had similar expressions.
“How did you do that?” the blue lady whispered. She said louder, “What did you do?”
“Uhm, Cannibalism Empowerment.” Lawrence crossed his arms. “I can steal skills by eating people, but I need to contribute to their death. It isn’t enough to just take a bite. They have to die.”
“Is that how you survived getting swallowed?” the blue lady asked.
“Pretty much.” Lawrence avoided looking in anyone’s eyes. “I gained a bunch of Taboo when I did. Rending Teeth ‘n stuff. Every time I feed, I get like plus ten power and health.”
“All those spiders we killed. . .”
“Yeah, you guys killed like a hundred, at the least.” Lawrence started to smile.”
“So you gained, what?” Ferg said. “A hundred points of strength and a thousand hit points?”
“No, uh, you killed a hundred spiders, at least. Not ‘a hundred spiders exact.’ The actual number was, um.” Lawrence opened his Status. He did the math.
“We killed hundreds of spiders,” a demon said. “An entire nest poured out of the tunnels. You could not have eaten a single bite from each and every one. It is impossible.”
“Yeah, I stopped worrying about efficiency ‘n stuff when I saw how many. I just concentrated on eating. Funny thing about Cannibalism Empowerment, I had two versions of it. One from my species, the other from the Class.”
“The Program is a Job System,” someone corrected.
“Right, but doing actions the System considers abominable grant Horror Classes,” Lawrence said. “I have the Savage Cursed Eater Class, which is a consolidation of like three different classes.”
“How can you have Cannibalism Empowerment from your species?” Ferg asked. “I don’t and I’m full human. Unless. . . it’s from your demon parent?”
“I guess you could say that.” Lawrence looked away from her. “The point is, the Skills consolidated. Regular empowerment? Ten Power, twenty-five HP, twenty-five Taboo.”
“Yours is thirty,” the blue lady nodded wisely. Several demons did. “It would account for your stats.”
“Uh, no. Ten power, fifty Vigor, fifty Taboo. Health is calculated Vigor times ten plus Power. Fifty times five is 250, plus power. You guys killed hundreds, maybe thousands of spiders, but I didn’t eat all of them.”
“What are your stats?” Ferg asked.
“I stopped counting around fifty spiders. I ate a lot more. My total health is over ten thousand.”
Multiple people blinked.
“It was high before. I gain a lot from eating people.” Lawrence adjusted his poncho. “My power is around 1,800.”
Multiple demons stared. Lawrence mentally clicked a notification he’d been ignoring.
Perk Obtained Name: Legendary Power Description A being whose physical might is the stuff of legends. Requirement Achieve 1000 PWR Effect Increase base muscle mass by 10%. Melee physical damage ignores 20% of a target's defenses. Perk obtained Name Legendary Vigor Description A being whose physical health borders on god-like. Requirement Achieve 1000 VIG Effect Complete disease immunity. 75% resistance to poisons. Perk obtained Name Legendary Tab--
Lawrence dismissed the window. “So, I just got a perk. Legendary Power. I guess that means I’m super strong.”
“You’re the new tank,” Ferg said. “And our trap detector. Mister Agh, please get out in front. If something happens, we need to make sure our trap detector survives.”
“Yes, captain.” A fiend saluted. The fiend marched to the front. “Trap human. Where are the traps?”
Lawrence pointed them out. The Skill highlighted the obvious ones. Lawrence guided the demon as they went along. They did not find any guild halls or shops. There were no safe spaces. But the bathrooms were everywhere. It seemed to Lawrence they found one every quarter mile.
Lawrence was glad the bathrooms were clean. He wanted to know who made them, but—the fiend screamed. Spinning blades erupted from the wall. His head rolled across the floor. Lawrence blanched.
“I didn’t see it,” Lawrence said after jumping backward. “I didn’t see it. Oh, hey, my skill leveled up. I can see it now.”
Trap Detection Level 2 (+3 PER)
Trap Detection – Lvl. 2 (+3 PER)
“Why didn’t you see it before?” a demon demanded.
“I dunno.” Lawrence threw up his hands. “The skill highlights traps, but not every time. I’ve been looking for the non-highlighted ones. I guessed I missed one.”
“You guess?” the beast shouted. “He was my friend. And now he’s dead.”
“Break it up,” Ferg shouted. She forced herself between them. “Enough. He’s doing the best he can. You heard him. The skill is level one and he’s catching traps the skill is missing. Lawrence, you’re doing good but please try to do better.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Call me sir.”
“Yes sir.” Lawrence shifted his attention to the floor. He pointed. “Look. There are footprints in the dust. See?”
“So what?” the beast asked.
“See how they don’t walk in a straight line? They’re on the walls and ceiling too. The spiders know where the traps are. They walk to avoid them. Therefore, step exactly where I step. I, or the spiders. Most of the traps aren’t hard to spot, either.”
Lawrence gestured at a row of feeler-things hanging from the wall. Ferg squinted. The beast squinted.
“I can’t see anything.”
"Me neither."
“Follow me.” Lawrence followed the footprints. He made a wide berth around the feeler-things. He went around a grate in the floor. The stench of something foul emanated from it. Lawrence led the group down another long hallway. For a long time, no one spoke.
He slowed. He raised his fist.
“What is it?” Ferg asked. From the moment she spoke, a sound like dead leaves scraping together rushed down the tunnel.
“Back,” Lawrence bellowed. “Back. Get back. Run.”
“What is it?” the blue lady shouted.
“I dunno,” Lawrence replied.
“[Light],” one of the mages levelled their wand. A ball of light soared the length of the hallway. A wall of spiders pushed toward them. The spiders filled the tunnel floor to ceiling. Giant spiders crushed the smaller ones beneath their feet.
“Oh bloody hell,” Ferg said. “Mages. Fire spells. Barrier spells. Everyone, shield wall.”
Fireballs hit the wall of spiders. Body parts flew. Traps activated. Still, the spiders advanced. Lawrence pressed himself against the wall. Spells and projectiles flew. Walls of light, fire, glass, and stone erupted from the ground at varying heights. Still, the spiders advanced.
Live spiders trampled over their dying brethren. One giant spider, large enough to fill the entire hallway by itself, fell. Its body exploded into a swarm of little spiders.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“We need to fall back,” Ferg shouted. “Retreat.”
“This way,” Lawrence bellowed. He ran down a tunnel that wasn’t there five seconds ago. The sound of waves filled it. He did not see any traps. “Follow me.”
“Follow the kid,” Ferg screamed. A horde of pounding feet followed Lawrence.
Lawrence charged down the hall. A few spike or blade traps mounted high on the walls took out the flying demons. The walls disappeared without warning while the path stretched. The hallway turned into a vast cavern. The path became a bridge over empty blackness. As he ran, Lawrence saw pillars with flat, mushroom-like tops next to the path.
“Go, go, go,” Ferg shouted. Turning, she dropped to one knee. She drew a glowing shotgun from an invisible sling. She fired every chambered shell into the horde. More demons stopped to fire. Ferg got up and ran. So the pattern continued. The demons and their mercenaries leapfrogged to safety while slowing the advancing wall of doom.
“Another wall of doom,” Lawrence bellowed.
“[Light].” A ball of light illuminated an army of demon, mutated spiders camped out on a ridge at the bridge’s end. A dark doorway lay past. The lintel had been carved in the shape of a spider’s mandibles. The dead mage shouted, “Boss room up ahead.”
“We can’t get past,” a demon shouted. “Human, you fool. You’ve killed us.”
“Not yet.” Lawrence increased speed. He leaped with all his might. He overshot his target by a fair distance—twenty feet—and slammed into a pillar’s edge. Lawrence scrabbled for something, anything. He got his arms under himself and pulled himself up.
“Jump,” Ferg ordered. “Follow him. Get off the road. Jump on the pillars. Jump on the pillars.”
The demons leaped to safety. Ferg stopped at the edge. Lawrence saw her hesitate. Kat snatched her up before jumping. Both women landed on a pillar. Some of the damned mages refused or did not listen. The spiders ate them. There would be no reforming. Most of the mercenaries jumped. The swarm roared past. A river of spiders charged across the bridge. At the opposing side, the two armies collided. The wall of doom stopped. The spiders calmed.
“Are we safe?” someone called. Everyone stood on pillars. Most people had lost their torches in the mad dash for life. “Where’s the kid?”
“Huh?” Lawrence stopped examining his status. It seemed some Perks could be gotten more than once. As with mutations, they had new effects. “I’m here.” He waved his lantern.
“Good thinking, kid. Check your weapons,” Ferg said, reloading. She raised her voice. “Everyone. Check your gear. Reload your guns. Sharpen your swords.”
Next to her, Kat stretched. The adventurers moved to obey. On the bridge, the swarm of spiders ran over the sides and down the support columns. They disappeared into the darkness. On the cliff, the waiting spiders shuffled.
One by one, the spiders disappeared. They crawled up the ceiling. They went over the edge. They scurried down holes in the walls. Before anyone finished consolidating their magazines, the spiders left.
“They’re gone,” the blue lady said. She jumped from her column.
“No, wait,” Ferg protested. Too late, as Larissa landed on the bridge. The blue woman drew her axe. Grasping it with both hands, she pulled the handle. The one-handed axe telescoped out to a halberd. She readied the weapon.
The sound of lapping waves emanated from everywhere. Several pairs of lanterns came to life along the bridge. Together, they created an illuminated path straight to the boss room.
“Larissa,” Ferg ordered. “Wait.”
Larissa tossed Ferg a dismissive look. The demoness approached the cliff, wary. When no spider attacked, she peered through the great doorway. She did not enter.
“I see the boss,” Larissa said. “It’s the big spider. Lawrence. Come here.”
Lawrence backed up to the edge of his column.
“Lawrence,” Ferg interrupted. When he looked at her, her glare intensified. She shook her head.
Lawrence took a second to think. He realized it was a power play. Both women used him as their pawn. Lawrence did not know how it made him feel. Demon and human. Lacking a Lily, he looked at Josephine. He could not read her expression. Ferg glared. Larissa did not look away from the opening. Everyone watched.
Lawrence took a deep breath. Running, he leaped across the gap between the pillar and the cliff. It was a long jump. Dozens of yards. Lawrence’s enhanced Power allowed him to kick off the stone like a rocket. He didn’t fly, but he soared.
He landed on the cliff. He didn’t stick the landing. He fell, ungraceful. He rolled to a stop.
“Ouch.” He groaned. He got up. He took some health damage in the fall, but his immense health regeneration fixed it in no time. He stood next to Larissa. He peered inside.
“Tell me.” Larissa’s fingers landed light on his shoulder. She said quiet, “What do you see?”
“Honestly, I don’t see anything,” he whispered.
“You’re armed, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Lawrence said. “My sword, my guns, a whip, this new claw-thing I got. Why?”
“What’s your health at?”
“Over ten thousand. Yours?”
“Less than a hundred.”
“Wow.”
“What’s your next highest?”
“Taboo, Power, and Vigor. In that order. It’s plus ten Power, plus fifty each to Vigor and Taboo each time I feed. Right now my Taboo is over five thousand, closer to eight. Vigor is over twelve-hundred. Power is just over two thousand. I qualified for four Legendary Stat Perks. Power, Vigor, and Taboo.”
“Those are three stats.” Larissa collapsed her halberd. She generated a ball of hellfire.
“I got Taboo twice. The first threshold was a thousand. All forbidden practices and Skills are increased by 20%. But there’s now a Divine Mark on my head. Holy Jobs can claim a bounty if they kill me. And I will be shunned by the pious.”
“If the first Perk made you an fugitive, I cannot imagine what the second gave.” Larissa hung the axe from a carabineer on her belt.
“I learned the name of a Color Job. If I summon him, I’ll get offered a deal. The effect bonus goes up another twenty percent. And I’m now the target of a Divine Crusade.”
“You’re saying mortal religious types will start a war to kill you?”
“Pretty much. I don’t think it’s a full-blown nations-are-involved-world-war-thing. More like a holy order of knights are gearing up to invade Hell.”
“In the future, if you survive, you may wish to stay away from the Fourth Ring. The Christians have a mountain-fortress there. Outremer. They are the Last Crusaders.”
“Duly noted.”
He realized he didn’t feel Larissa’s hand on his shoulder. He looked sideways but she wasn’t there. Then he felt two hands on his back. He knew then he needed to grind his Wisdom stat. Larissa shoved him forward.
Lawrence stumbled through the open door. Steel bars slid down from the ceiling. They slammed into holes in the floor. The gaps between were too small to fit through.
“You’ve killed me,” Lawrence told her.
“If your mouth Skills are what you said, you should be able to bite through the steel.” Larissa rapped a knuckle against the old metal. “Right?”
Lawrence scratched the rust with his finger. Under the flakes, the steel shone. Old, yes, but strong. Lawrence faced the dungeon boss.
It was a giant spider. She looked like a black widow drider. Angular, overlapping plates of black chitin covered her body. She had two extra legs near her mouth. The spider had a head with eight eyes and mandibles. Rising from behind the head was an alluring woman’s torso. She had white hair and four arms. Two arms carried bolas. One arm carried a spear, and the other a net. Overall, she was the size of a small cottage.
“I am the goddess known as the Spider Matron. And this,” she swept two arms at the thousands of spiders covering every conceivable surface. “Is my empire. The Alizarin Arachnologist has blessed me with many children.”
“I am honored to be in your presence, Great One.” Lawrence sank to one knee. He bowed his head. “I would seek an audience with your highness.”
“What gift have you brought me, mortal child?” The matron lifted her chin.
Lawrence chose his words with care.
“Your Grace.” Lawrence put away his weapon. He drew the black leather whip he’d taken off a drone. “I bring you two gifts. A weapon, and a story.”
“Tell me this story,” the matron said. “You may approach.”
“I came to this country from a distant land.” Lawrence rose. He approached a third of the distance between them, then prostrated himself. He rose again, approached another third, and prostrated. He kowtowed a third time. He stopped a respectful distance from the Matron’s ‘throne.’ He was close enough she could still kill him.
“I came seeking knowledge and power. I am spinner in my home. A great one, though my skill is only average here. I came seeking an apprenticeship from a great teacher. I found it at the feet of a beautiful woman. Her name is Josephine.” Lawrence hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s back there. I don’t think she’s a demon. I haven’t seen her eat any iliaster since I’ve known her. But she owns her own company. And she’s a witch, just like my mom.”
“You were raised by witches?” the matron said.
“Yes, ma’am. My mother was a compassionate witch, for a demon. I learned a lot, but my studies stagnated. After completing my apprenticeship, I decided to become something else.”
“Because warlocks are weaker than witches?”
“Yes ma’am.” Lawrence fiddled with a tassel on his poncho. “I wanted to become a wizard, but I encountered. . . some complications.”
“You completed your apprenticeship, yes?” the drider’s eyes narrowed. “What was your craft?”
“I knitted yarn,” Lawrence said without thinking. He realized too late it was a test. No matter. “I knitted my poncho. I had a familiar. A llama named Cosmic Creepers. He had Berserk Llama Syndrome, which means he thought all people were llamas. He tried to dominate everyone he met. The animal doctors said to put him down. I bought him. Took care of him. Bonded with him. He gave his life for me.”
Lawrence had to pause. He swallowed. He cast his mind back to the days after. He’d been in a trance. He had the wool. He had used the emotion-gathering techniques Mom taught.
“Yarn and protectiveness.” Lawrence dropped his gaze to the drider’s spider face at its hips. “Llamas are guard animals. They’ll bond with any type of herd animal in their field. Cosmic Creepers bonded with me. He neck-wrestled me, and I let him pin me down. He proved he was the alpha in our relationship. Thus, when a predator attacked, a giant crow demon with two heads, Cosmic defended his beta. He defended his herd.”
Lawrence’s vision blurred. He sniffed.
“Protection. Love.” He spoke in monotone. “That’s what I used. I was in a trance the whole time. After he died, I took his yarn. I cleaned it, carded it, spun it. I knitted it. I made this.”
He hugged the poncho. It smelled musty. It needed cleaning.
“He must have loved you greatly,” the matron said. “Very well. I believe you. Tell me about this weapon. How did you come to find it? What is it?”
“It’s a whip.” Lawrence wiped his face. He held up the slave driver’s whip. He’d cleaned the handle earlier. It still looked ugly. “The witch, Josephine, she never told me her craft. But she uses a whip. A beautiful dark one with a leather rose set into the pommel. She trained me to use my whip. She’s a specialist in it.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Because it is symbolic of this place.” Lawrence offered it, hilt first. “Because it is the perfect weapon for a beautiful creature like your majesty. A tool to ensnare, to disarm, to trap or trip. A weapon to attack and a device for dominance. It can be easily made from a spider’s silk, and it can be made to fit any length desired.
“It is, in short, the perfect weapon for yourself.”
“And why would you disarm yourself?” the creature asked. It still took the whip.
“As much as I like whips, I like them more as tools than weapons.” Lawrence slipped both hands under his poncho. He equipped the Jade Claw and his small shield.
“Why did you come here?” the creature’s eyes glowed. She had sixteen. Eight on her spider head, eight on her humanoid head. Lawrence felt a push in his head. His eyes moved on their own, as the woman forced her to look at her face. Lawrence gulped.
“Long story short? I am looking for someone with the Spider Aspect mutation chain. I am a Faustian. I tried. . . borrowing. . . the Skill I wanted from a spider eaten by an ice worm. I couldn’t get it. It’s part of their physiology, which means the spider breed of demon is a distinct species. I’m a half-beast. You can’t mix physiologies. I’m looking for someone with the original spider mutation Chain. I want the ability to spin silk.”
“I see.” The creature looked him up and down. “As it so happens, I have the mutation of which you speak.”
“You do?” Lawrence lifted his chin.
“I would invoke the Law of Hospitality. None would harm you in my domain.” The spider matron rose to her full height.
“Your Grace is kind. I must accept.” Lawrence bowed.
“Unfortunately, I did not say I invoked the Law. I said I would, as in, I wished to.” The matron smiled. She had a mouth full of sharp teeth. “I cannot give you the mutation. Nor can I allow a Faustian to bind me and steal it. It has been so long since food has come to me willingly.”
Lawrence gulped. He drew his hands out from under the poncho. The creature did not react.
“I will feast well on your flesh. Thank you for the story, child. I will treasure it forever.” Her legs scythed.
Lawrence jumped out of the way. He clenched his fist. The next time a leg swiped at him, he slashed.
“Stupid human,” the creature shrieked as she lost part of her leg. She tossed a bola at him. Lawrence ducked.
The bola wrapped around his knees. He wobbled. The whip crashed into his chest, knocking him down. Lawrence found little comfort the creature had no experience with it. She wielded it like a rope with a weight at the end, which was the exact opposite of how one was supposed to swing.
Lawrence rolled sideways. A leg spiked into the ground. It retracted. It plunged down again. Lawrence rolled the other way. It spiked into the ground where his chest had been. He slashed with his claws, but failed to do more than cut the limb. The leg retracted.
The spider woman’s hip-face spat a glob of webbing. It landed on him like a net. Its corners stuck to the floor. Lawrence was pinned. He struggled to cut it, but the claw was not sharp enough. He opened his mouth.
Much art has been made of people getting webbed up by spiders. Those thoughts were far from his mind. The spider’s forward leg lifted. She took careful aim. Lawrence had nowhere to go. The leg descended. He screamed.
It hurt like hell. He stared at the smooth black chitin protruding from his belly. Lawrence saw his health draining. All the fight went out of him. It was over. Given his level compared to the behemoth, it should be.
The leg pulled out of him with a wet squelch. Lawrence screamed. He felt cold air in places he did not know he could feel. Blood flooded over the ground. The spider matron put her foot down off to the side. She raised her spear with both hands.
“In another life,” she said. “You could have been my consort.”
Lawrence wanted to tell her she had attacked first. He had been ready to surrender. He had not wanted to fight.
“Goodbye,” she said.
“Charge,” a female voice bellowed.
The spider matron reared as a ball of greenish-black flames hit her. The fire exploded over her chest. A giant with stone skin swung a lucerne. The raven’s beak bit deep into the spider’s side. The matron backpedaled.
“Get the kid up,” Ferg ordered. “Heals. Now.”
“[Greater Heal].”
“[Potion of Organ Regeneration].” A red bottle arced through the air. “[Remote Detonation].”
Light coated Lawrence’s body. The pain dulled. Following this, a vial of colorful liquid arced through the air. The thrower’s aim was off. It was going to miss. Then it exploded in the air over him. Bits of glass showered him, but the webs kept it from entering his body. The liquid soaked into the silk, which then soaked into him. Lawrence’s organs, spine, and skin regenerated.
Lawrence pushed the webbing up enough he could brush the glass off. A strong hand peeled back the layers. Someone grabbed the back of his shirt. They hauled him upright. They dumped another potion over him.
“You’re all right,” Ferg said. She gripped his shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. You’ve done dungeon crawls before right?”
“Online,” Lawrence panted. “But I’m familiar with the concept.”
“We’ll keep the mobs down. You get in the boss’s grill. Get its attention and keep it. We’ll do the rest.”
“Copy.”
Lawrence charged. He ran past the swinging giant to block a scything leg with his shield. He felt the full weight of the boss on him, but his body did not crumble. On the contrary, the weight felt good. The floor under his boots did not agree. Cracks spiderwebbed.
The lucerne windmilled over his head. The giant knocked the leg away. Lawrence moved forward.
“Rawr,” the spider’s hip-face screamed.
Lawrence slashed the biggest eye. The spider screamed. It rammed through a wall. Stones crashed to the floor. The spider fled into a black hole filled with silver.
“It’s running,” Larissa shouted.
“After it,” Ferg ordered. “Don’t let up.”
Lawrence charged into the hole.
“[Potion of Featherfall]. [Remote Detonation].” A potion splashed against his back. Lawrence’s feet left the ground. He didn’t fall like a feather. Rather it was more like dropping from ten feet. Webs slowed his descent. Lawrence and the giant hit them as they fell.
He didn’t know how far he fell. The dungeon wall just ended. Beyond it lay a sort of crack in the mountains, a vast chasm splitting the ring like an upside-down valley. Humungous ropes formed from silk hung between the walls. Trapped in them were all manner of debris tossed around by the Maelstrom.
All around them, black winds howled. Storm clouds filled the valley. The wind tossed building-sized boulders around like pinecones in a tornado. The webs caught it all. Upon them, the spiders built their city. Lawrence saw millions of spiders working.
The matron fell. Without spell or enchantment, she used trailing lines of silk to slow her fall. Lawrence spread his arms and legs. He felt himself slow. He lifted his legs. He pulled his arms in and clenched his abs. He shot forward and down.
Lawrence reached out with his claw. He buried it in the matron’s abdomen.
“Why won’t you die?” she screamed. She twisted around to attack him. The wind and the fall made it difficult.
Lawrence clung to her back. He drew the claw down in a stripe along her almost spherical abdomen. He felt pieces of the hard exoskeleton break. Demonic ichor ran from the wound. Lawrence peeled the outer layers of armor aside. Trying not to vomit, he unhinged his jaw. He buried his face in the blood.
In spiders, the heart was stored in the abdomen. It was right along the top where Lawrence crouched. Of course, a drider’s anatomy had two hearts. Lawrence doubted this was a real drider. In the end, it didn’t matter.
He feasted on the spider matron’s lifeblood, straight from the proverbial tap. She lost her grip on the silk strands. She felt the rest of the way straight down. She hit the ‘ground’ with a splat. Her lower body burst like a rotten fruit. Millions of baby spiders poured from the abdomen. Lawrence landed somewhere off to the side.
He jumped up. He brushed the black widows off before they could bite. He shook out his poncho and hood. The garment needed mending. It had a gaping hole in the back. The front panels had been rent. Blood and ichor stained the whole thing.
The spider matron screamed. She gestured as if she wanted to say something. Perhaps she had a bit of dialogue to explain why she fled to this place. A summoning circle sixty feet wide, inlaid with gold and precious gems. Thick ropes of silk anchored it to the surrounding rocks. Those in turn were anchored to the valley wall by yet more ropes.
This platform dangled as the lowest point in Tempest. Lawrence saw the entire Ring stretched out above them. He saw how the under-valley silk kept the Ring from breaking into sections. The silk anchored the mountains’ roots together. The spider city surely connected to the silkways above the ring. Otherwise they could not maintain them.
It fascinated Lawrence how much Tempest relied on spidersilk. And how few demons knew it. Too few of them understood they lived on a precarious collection of outcroppings held together by glorified duct tape and knotted rope.
“You.” The spider matron leveled her spear. All around her, the infant spiders devoured her dying lower body.
“You don’t have the Skill,” Lawrence said. “I’m disappointed.”
“Chain of the Spider Aspect doesn’t exist anymore.” The matron threw her spear. Lawrence ducked—it missed him by a mile. “We have the breed.”
“I know.” Lawrence raised his fist. “Any last words?”
“You’ll never see the false sun again,” the matron croaked. She raised the whip and her last bola. “When I die, my children will kill you.”
Lawrence heard crashing waves. He looked around. He saw no water. Instead, humanoid skeletons littered the circle. He saw a scrap of leather and paper tucked under the hand of one. He bent to pick it up. It had once been a journal. He stuffed it in his pocket.
“We’ll see.” Lawrence looked up for the giant. He saw a falling shape with a beaked warhammer land on a rock. Hundreds of spiders dogpiled it. Lawrence turned his attention to the boss. She still lived.
Lawrence moved forward. He kept his shield raised. The boss swung the whip. She did better this time, but still poor. The last six inches did not break the sound barrier, as they should. Lawrence raised his arm. He let the whip wrap around himself. He grasped it with his hand and pulled.
The matron did not let go. She whirled the bola over her head before tossing it. Lawrence kept it from hitting him in the head. He bit through the silk threads tying his legs together. He pulled on the whip and took a step forward. He leaned his head down and wrapped the whip around it, taking another step.
The matron dropped the whip. She swiped the air with her nails. Like most demons, she had basic claws. Lawrence grabbed one of her arms. He tried slicing through her neck, but she had chitin armor everywhere. In the end, Lawrence pinned her arms in a hug. He ignored the army of black widow babies swarming over him as he lowered his jaw to her neck.
+10 PWR. +50 HP. +50 TAB. Skill stolen Spider Physiology. ERROR: Cannot acquire more than one demon physiology. Skill stolen Armored Carapace (Chitin) Skills consolidated Armored Carapace 1 and Armored Carapace 1 = Armored Carapace 2 (Chitin). +40 base ARM. (+2 VIG, +2 AGI, -2 PWR per lvl.) Stats stolen 10% of highest Stat (SKL) added to your own. 100 SKL added.
Lawrence gorged himself on spider flesh. His resources refilled. He ignored the poison bites. Legendary Vigor reduced the poison’s effect by three-quarters. His eating skills kept his health topped off. The worst thing were the many legs crawling all over him.
Lawrence stepped away from the corpse. His Jade Claw had awakened. Clenching his fist summoned a green, three-toed dragon claw. The claw shimmered like a hologram. It covered his fist and arm like a sleeve. When he punched, the claw raked the air.
Lawrence pulled out the old journal. The text was legible. Much of it was a record of the cultists attempts to locate a suitable place for their spell. Once they uncovered the dungeon, they set about performing their great ritual. The first ritual occurred in the first summoning room. It was a success, but not to the degree desired.
The cultists came under siege. Not by an enemy company. The attackers were simple bandits. The cultists retreated deeper into the caves. They discovered a section of floating rocks. In the Maelstrom, the upside-down valley was a constant whirlpool going up and down. There was no structure to any of it.
The second ritual changed everything. As Lawrence suspected, it was incomplete. He had a hunch he knew what went wrong. Not enough power. Not enough skill. Call it whatever, the cultists were too weak for the entity they were summoning. Lawrence deduced how to fix it. He pulled out a can of paint. He began spraying.