“Ohhhh fuuuuuck meee,” Cam murmured as we stood at attention before the approaching tide of arachnids.

Oh fuck me indeed. Lechia had turned 94 Orc bodies into about 800 4-pound spiders. Not only that, but… “Right, about the arachne, don’t comment on their looks out loud,” I whispered to him.

The near-thousand spiders formed a mob around us, staying a few feet back thanks to the araneous braces. Among the sea of smaller spiders, however, were several classically-shaped arachne (human waist-up, spider below that, y’know) of no less than 4 types. (And they’re all girls, because who even needs guys for anything these days?)

6 normals, standing 5-ish feet tall and filling the spider-person role quite well. 3 brutes (tarantulas), standing an easy 7-feet, covered in those sharp hairs like their mother, and they have some big-ass fangs. 8 jumpers, no taller than 4 feet and very compact. And, lastly, 6 weavers, resembling the normals, but with all their leg thickness exchanged for dat assbdomen. However, they were all prepubescent. This means no skin, no head-hair, and no booba. Only carapace and the tarantula hairs.

Cam bit his lip and said nothing as Lechia followed in the wake of her new swarm. “Children, bear witness to your new leaders. Heed their wisdom on the hunt, carry out their wills, and spare not a single foe until the depths are scoured,” she ordered with her arms outstretched.

Her many children erupted in a fit of stomping, beating their hard-shelled toes against the floor with a unity that shook even the lowest levels of the dungeon. Once that subsided, she looked to Cam with a strangely positive expression.

“Oh Stick Bug! Catch!” she said, removing a hairpin and throwing it to him with the sheath on. “I enjoy you alive, so… have fun! Don’t lose it, if you know what’s good for you.”

He caught the full-sized sword and looked at it, likely feeling that artifact thrum. Top-10-in-the-world sword and all. Then, Cam looked at me, a bit lost.

“Izgud?” he asked, seeing me already offering my stat card to copy over the item description. He started reading immediately, so I moved on to the next thing.

I pointed to…

I…

I have to tell you the stats or you’ll never forgive me, don't I? Fine, but this is the actual last literary RPG moment.

* The Gossamer Needle (Wandblade)

* Thrust ***** Slash **** Bash *

* Block ** Parry **** Riposte *****

* Weight * Handling ***** Durability N/A (indestructible)

* Ignores 75% of target’s armor value

* Deals additional +50% venom damage, ignores resistances

* On hit (thrust): Inflicts 1 stack of empress’ venom (20 charges)

* Special Attack: Can create and throw strands of adamantine web (5 charges)

* Special Ability: Advanced web manipulation (per spell: Weaver’s hymn)

* Regenerates 20% of max stacks per day, or 100% instantly if stabbed into a corpse that has been internally liquefied by empress’ venom

* Required skill level: Grandmaster (One-handed), Master (Wands)

* Soulbound (lesser) feature currently deactivated.

* Requires attunement unless given freely. Will attempt to murder the user if taken forcefully.

And for those wondering, Cam could use it without having the requisite skill levels. He just wouldn’t get the full experience. It was still one of those missions that gives you one of the best weapons in the game, then takes it away at the end to make you want to whip out your credit card… no, I’m not salty about it, what makes you say that? Moving on.

I pointed to 1 brute, 3 normals, 4 jumpers, and a weaver. “You, you, you, you… you, you, you… you and you, are coming with me.” Then I slipped Cam a vial. “Y’know the carrot and the stick? Well, here’s your carrot.”

He nodded as I held up my identical vial. “ONE BOTTLE OF HAIR DYE WILL GO TO THE BEST TEAM PLAYER!” I shouted. “Keep one another safe and out of danger, focus on your survival first, then the wellbeing of your sisters immediately after that. Individual glory is overrated and will not be rewarded. Move out!”

I pointed down the hall and started at a jog. My 9 arachne followed closely behind, with a few hundred juvenile giant spiders trailing. Behind me, Cam was assembling his team and surely cooking up his own equally-motivating pitch on who will earn the carrot. Lechia, meanwhile, was taking 4 of the weavers for… interior decorating duty.

As we charged down the maze of halls, I left a trail of breadcrumb illusions, sticking with the classic floating, glowy dotted line. You know, the kind you immediately stray from to check literally every other room first. We made it to my web wall, which I tore down and set loose a tide of vicious, hungry spiders on… two orcs. I never actually saw them, mind you, I only witnessed two body-shaped piles of arachnid and came back to a pair of stripped skeletons later.

We arrived at the only stairs between floors 1 and B1, so I halted the formation and laid out our crude battle plan.

“Alright, the plan is: We big ones keep the enemies busy until the swarm gets them. Fight defensive; focus on not getting hit. Get one good jab and let the venom work its magic if you have to.” I indicated the brute. “You will lead the frontal force. Engage the enemies head-on and fight to stall, more than kill.”

I thought a moment, trying to come up with the naming scheme of the day. “You’re Smith.” I selected 2 normals. “Fuji, and Goldie, you’re with Smith.” Then I selected a jumper and the weaver naming them (respectively): “Red, and Lady, stick with Smith. Lady, you’re more fragile, so make web nets to throw, and silk bandages. Red, I want you to hang back and look for foes that are going around the side or ready to ambush your friends. If that happens, you stop them before they can hurt someone.”

Then, I indicated the remaining normal and 3 jumpers. “Sonya, Pippin, Rose, Tango, you’re all with me. We are the flank group, and we are going to do to our enemies exactly what I told Red to prevent from happening to us. We go around, and we take opponents down from the side. Still, we’re mainly going to keep our foes engaged until the kids can swarm them. Got it? Any questions?”

The young lasses looked between each other, then Smith pumped her fists. “Kill!” she cried.

“Kill!” the rest echoed with equal fervor.

“I’ll take that as a no,” I conceded, applying some buffs to Smith. “Onward!”

……

There are a few good ways to put it. No plan survives contact with the enemy, everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face… however lke, that’s what happened. I kept a tight leash on my gang, but Smith was a little too aggressive, which rubbed off on Fuji and Goldie. I told them off politely, but they didn’t learn… not that way, at least.

It was only a matter of time, and that time came in room #9. A contingent of 7 orcs fought back. I was leading a flank when it happened, so I got the story from Lady after the fact.

“Two came around Smith. So angry, so fast. I net one, but other got through. Stomped little ones, charged angrily! I feared for life, but Red, she strike! Mauled him, knocked him down! But her neck...”

Lady averted her gaze to the floor as I took in the sight of Red, limply laying atop the corpse of an orc, Her fangs lodged in a lung each, she remained upright solely by the spear impaled in her neck, pinned against the base of her skull. My lip rose to a grimace as the little spiders were already intent on eating the remains of both.

“OFF!” I barked, sending the swarm scattering away. “Smith, come here, NOW!”

She stepped over, leaving behind a half-eaten corpse and wearing a thin veil of defiance. “You interrupt my meal? Red fell doing as you told, it is not my–”

Swiftly, I scraped my wrist against the araneous brace, causing a harsh, chalkboardy shriek. Then, I acquired Smith’s neck amid her frozen moment, pulling her to face me.

“It is your fault. You charged, leaving her behind to protect Lady. You moved ahead of the swarm and had to fight for longer to achieve victory, allowing two to flank and cause that. Look at it.”

Smith refused, so I forced her head to face the scene. She took it in for about 3 seconds before turning away. “I’m going to eat my kill.”

I yanked her back as she tried to step away. “You want to eat what you killed?” I asked, then very forcefully pointed to Red.

“No, I won’t–”

“Here’s your choice, Smith. You eat who you got killed, or I take you up to Lechia and tell her you failed.”

There was an audible gasp from the other 7 as Smith froze for a time. Then, she hung her head and nodded, proceeding to the remains of her fallen sister. I ushered the rest away to give her a modicum of privacy for such an undertaking. When she returned, she was silent. Brutal as the lesson was, it was still better than what their mother would have done.

From then on, Smith lost her aggression. Instead, she became an excellent defender, occupying as many as 3 opponents at once without suffering anything more than a scratch. She was aided by the spear that felled Red, which I mandated that she carry until naught a monster remained. I filled the gap in the frontal force with Tango, and we moved on.

……

It was a well-oiled machine after that. Making an example of Smith had firmly cemented me as a leader in their eyes. My intelligence, firmness, and terrifying presence were unquestionable to them. Formations were held, monsters were felled, and no more casualties were had. Some legs were lost, but those do, in fact, grow back.

We were clearing the right halves of each floor, leaving the rest for Cam and company. Every monster was quickly devoured.; they took that in shifts. One effect I appreciated was how the others noticed Smith’s spear usage and my swordplay, which inevitably led them to collect their own weapons from the fallen. Fuji even asked how to use a shield! I was genuinely proud of her.

The fallen slipped from our minds as we focused on the task at hand. Well, they did. For them, it was their first day on Nassur, and basically D-Day at the same time. For me, it was just another Tuesday (disclaimer, not actually Tuesday). My mind was wandering, imagining the arachne picking up their new weapons and holding them over their heads shouting ‘for me!’ and then maybe bringing a pouch of gold to me, crying ‘for the overlord!’. Heck, the one good theme from those all-too-short games was playing in my head.

Nothing lasts forever though. Our momentum slowed as the fiery drive to scour the dungeon drew out over hours, fading with each battle. The swarm at our backs was gradually diminishing, as each floor demanded 20 spiders to remain behind for security. The dead were uneaten, as all had their fill hours prior. As we neared completion of another floor, I checked an actual watch, seeing it was 7pm.

“Alright! Just…” I glanced at the map. “Two more rooms until we’re done for today. Fight on! For the first bedtime!”

I didn’t really know what sort of reaction I would get for such an oddly-specific war cry, but ‘RHAAAAAAA!’ was certainly good enough. We pushed forward and cleared a nest of mason monitors before webbing up the stairs to the next level. With only about 40% of the dungeon left to clear, the next day would be easy.

We started the climb back to the surface, up 5 flights of stairs, through a maze of halls, and around Cam’s group as he was mopping up B5. I passed the news to pack it in and let him finish his half. We made it not only back to the main room, but out of the dungeon into a… silken fortress of sorts. There were walls, a roof, and spaces set aside in the massive silken carnival tent. What caught my attention was the little ring of trees with a campfire in the middle and the carriage next to it, with my horses chilling as well. I disbanded the troops and headed that way.

As I drew near, I spotted the pair of web hammocks which lacked the distinct glimmer of the actual glue that makes them sticky. I have never and will never fall for that one. My first stop was the carriage, which took me past Pyroshir.

“How was the romp in the fields?” I asked in passing.

“Good,” he croaked in response.

I looked over as I dug through my luggage for some dinnerware. “Are you alright?”

He lowered his head to the floor. “Yeah… nah. I thought homegirl was in the mood, but she kicked me in the balls.”

Finding what I wanted, I hopped down. “Yeah, it might be a good thing to hash out, the difference between you and normal horses. Breeding season, mating habits… internal body temperature…”

Pyroshir reared his head. “What’s that last one got to do with it?”

“Well, you’re shaped like a horse, so y’dick stays inside your body most of the time. Just… think about it.”

His mouth fell open for a moment. “Shiiieeeet. Didn’t think o’ that. Easy to forget that everyone up here’s burn-happy pussies.”

“Literally,“ I snickered, lifting a riding saddle. “Now, speaking of your balls, I think I’ll need you to walk that kick off. I need some river water”

“Awwwww.”

……

The nearby river was not much to the naked eye, but in lands like the Pillar Downs, it was not to be trifled with. So much as touching the water would likely aggro either a hippo or croc derivative monster, or maybe a tentacle-y abomination. The advanced intel Pyroshir gave me was the 2nd idea. Crocs. He said they had a rainbow sheen, so… slipscale caimans was my educated guess. Big, hostile, and have an affinity for bouncing spells off them. Sounds about right for the local threat level.

I resorted to an old mobility tactic: Go downstream, cast sausage, dispel sausage, go upstream. Worked like a charm. We gathered a big gang of hungry, gnashing caimans, and ran off without ever letting them get close. The only interesting part was that Pyroshir smelled nothing; considering that he doesn’t eat food and therefore doesn’t have any favorites, that tracks.

Following a quick glance up and down the water, I hopped off and filled a 2-quart jug with 5 gallons of water because fuck physics, we prefer convenience. Only weighed 1lb too. I put the watertight lid on it and was about to start back to base, but then I had an idea. Well, it was an old concept. How do you keep the angry spider queen happy in the morning when she hasn’t smoked or drank anything all night? Breakfast in bed. I’d just… not had a lot of chances to put it into practice, thankfully.

So we doubled back to the angry zone. I zeroed in on a caiman and chucked a catch orb at it. Perfect shot, 10/10 throw from half-court. Didn’t do shit. Neither did the 2nd or 3rd. After that, I hit ‘fuck it’ and bust out the drone rather than weaken it enough to stuff it in an orb. I zapped up 2, since the more the merrier, right? Then I just had to pick through the grass for my damn catch orbs. Sometimes… I wished they would glow.

“Da hell wazzat thing o’ yours anyway?” Pyroshir asked as I located orb #2.

“Useful is what it was. Otherwise, I’m not entirely sure. It’s a hush-hush prototype, so don’t go blabbing about it.” I paused a moment to look up at him. “Besides, you’re supposed to be watching for problems.”

He kicked the ground. “I can multitask.”

……

I rode back in to see Cam and Co around the fire. I dismounted and entered with an authoritative tone.

Stolen story; please report.

“Any of you had dinner yet?” They looked at me and shook their heads. “Go, shoo, now. Come back when you’re fed.”

“I’m not hungry!” whined a normal.

I crouched by her side. “Oh? You don’t want a slab of nice, juicy meat? Fresh from the dead, less than an hour old? Still bleeding?”

She gulped, then stood up and marched off. Indeed, the rest also followed. Young arachne are like that. You put an idea in their head and they just go. There was an outlier, however. A jumper was clinging to Cam’s arm like it was a teddy bear.

“You too. Go, dinnertime,” I ordered as I started to pour the jug into an E-D camp kettle through a filtration tube.

“Nyo! Want Cammie!” she protested.

I watched the kettle fill closer to its 1-gallon capacity as I answered. “Good girls get to hug ‘Cammie’, and good girls are the ones who make sure they eat their dinner. Back me up here, Cam.”

He carefully reached over and brushed her smooth head. “You should, Stitch. You’ll feel better after you eat, and I’ll be right here.”

“Nyoooo.”

His spine seemed to materialize as he pried her off. “I insist. Go eat something and come back after, or I’ll use the ‘hummy thing’.”

She pouted masterfully, but hopped off and sulked her way towards the smell of dead stuff. Cam sighed.

“I was almost getting to like them.”

I stuck the kettle on some coals. “Color me surprised. How’d you manage?”

“I, uhh… focused on their shoulders and above. Speaking of,” he started, checking over his shoulder and lowering his voice, “why do they look all buggy? The encyclopedia says human skin and real hair.”

I returned from fetching our sealed dinners and passed Cam his. “Well, the long and the short of it is this little puberty ritual called the ‘fleshweaving’. They wrap their bodies in silk from the waist-up and a little magic turns it into skin. Not hair though, each strand is a thread of silk painstakingly poked into the scalp by hand. That’s why they like hair dye, by the way, since silk-white sticks out in the shadows. It’s really rare to meet arachne in the wild that have not undergone the fleshweaving.”

He frowned for a moment as he contemplated. “Huh, that sounds pretty sick.”

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ metal,” Pyroshir added.

I popped the seal and smelled the yellow curry as it materialized in the bowl. “I guess it’s pretty cool, yeah. Eat up, we have a little after-work shindig to set up.”

……

Cam and I set down the trunk of doom (not™) and popped our backs. He sniffed once and scrunched his nose.

“I’d ask what the secret ingredient is, but I don’t have to. That’s strong coffee, dude.”

“Strong enough to put Lechia to sleep in 8-10 cups. One or two will be a nice little boozy thing for the working ladies,” I replied as I opened the lid and untied the first sack.

He shoved a handful of roasted beans into a neat little hand-cranked coffee grinder. “What’s the morality of giving an alcohol equivalent to one-day-olds, though?”

“I dunno, probably halfway between acceptable, and hatching some kids to send them off into combat 5 minutes after they come into the world?”

He grimaced. “Fair.”

……

Ding-ding-ding “Coffee, coffee! Getcha coffee right here!” I hollered, ringing an obnoxious bell.

I didn’t need to repeat myself. The stampede commenced, only to be halted by me, myself, and I. Much as they disliked the holdup, I simply insisted on fang corks. Life pro-tip: If you’re going to get a bunch of creatures with sharp objects on their bodies drunk, try to make them ‘safe’ first. For arachne, fang corks do the trick; that’s why I brought a box of them on the trip.

With our esteemed guests rendered—for the most part—safe, I ushered them over to the fire, passing out a cup each and filling ‘em with good old black coffee. Some heeded my advice to let it cool, the rest asked for a few drops of healing potion in their drink for ‘no reason’. I refilled the kettle, causing most to rejoice and declare that the drink had ‘little effect’. That sentiment had melted by the time the next gallon was boiling.

Drunk arachne are… a hoot. If you think it’s funny to see a guy stumble around like balance was an abstract concept, wait until you see a spider-person doing the exact same when they literally have 8 legs. I don’t even understand the physics of it, but they somehow manage to end up on their backs and unable to get up. Bloody turtles the lot of ‘em.

One exception did remain, however. The same jumper insisted on clinging to Cam, and barely finished half a cup before cutting herself off (a remarkably responsible decision, for a one-day-old). He was fairly receptive to the physical affection, and I honestly expected her to call him ‘daddy’ or ‘big brother’, but hey, she was pretty quiet, and it’s not an anime. Yet.

Stories were flying about, and only of a single subject: Battle. It was… their only experience, after all. Tool usage was spreading like a disease thanks to Smith, who was in a much better state after unwinding with a cup or two. Cam, meanwhile, was mostly introspective. He was hit by the big sad after losing 2 arachne of his own, though by his account, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t his fault. Not that it helps much, since leadership carries responsibility and all.

“How do all these kids even know what coffee is anyway?” he asked rather abruptly. “Madame Gossamer has barely spoken two sentences to them.”

I shrugged. “Lechia’s kids hatch with some smarts baked in. They skip the first few years of development, if she so chooses. Which she always does.”

He sneered. “Hmph. No childhood, better soldiers.”

“I don’t think she could actually raise kids the normal way. She’d just get frustrated and eat them at some point. HEY! YOU TWO! NO WRESTLING!”

……

“An’ den, beeg gween man swung hiz massiv cwub an’ I thought I ded! But Cammie fast! He swing mama’s needle an’ swice da hanz of da orc-man! An’ dat waz how he sav ma life a secon’ time! Wook: I even made neckwace!” Stitch announced, proudly holding up a necklace of finger bones that… needed more bleaching.

Cam pinched his nose. “Oh, man, how nice…”

“I know! Iz supa nice. You wear?”

“Umm,” he stammered, trying to find an out. “Maybe when it’s done. I’m sure those won’t be the only fingers you ever collect.”

What began as disappointment quickly turned to epiphany. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, big thinky! Ten hands, hunned hands! Will be bes neckwace!” She stashed it, and then somehow continued her breakneck pace. “Nest is da time I jump diiiiiis high,” she described, holding her hands above her head.

“How high?” I asked, amused by her energy.

Stitch appeared confused, then let go of Cam. “Dees high!” she proclaimed, bending her knees and jumping up… and back… right into a tree.

There was brushing and a bonking noise, and she didn’t come down. Instead, a faint ‘owwwwieeee’ could be heard. I gestured to my 2nd in command.

“Smith, would you mind taking her to bed, please?”

The brute nodded and got on her feet, soon departing with a whining Stitch on her shoulder. Poor little monkey bumped her head…

……

We watched as the last bunch of arachne headed for their beds. Cam crossed his arms.

“Fuckin’ segregation, dude.”

I elbowed him. “Justified segregation. You have no idea how easy it is for arachne to accidentally sleepwalk and kill people. The statistics are wack in the early years,” I explained as I partially undressed to hop in my hammock.

He huffed. “I’ll take your word for it. G’nite, Boss.”

“Night.”

Of course, our night didn’t actually end there. Imagine working for the queen of all spiders and expecting a good, solid, uninterrupted night of sleep. Pah. It was barely an hour after we hit the hay when some unmistakable stomping entered camp. I pretended to be asleep, since that was the best way to not make myself interesting. My ears picked up the sound of hot water being poured, and a spoon clinking about an actually nice cup, not the stamped metal ones we distributed in bulk.

“Oh, Stick Bug, dear, still awake?” Lechia asked softly while clinking away.

He remained silent for a moment. “No offense, but I find it difficult to sleep around you.”

“Heheh, none taken. A rabbit does not sleep while the wolf stands over it.” She sipped. “Mmm, exquisite, as always. Locust certainly knows what I like.” There was a pause, and I felt her eyes fall on me. “Speaking of our sleeping friend, did you know that he’s a massive hypocrite?”

“Um, yes and no. I'm guessing you have a specific scenario in mind?”

There was another pause for more slurping, then I heard her start another cup. “Correct. I am all but certain that he informed you of the… risks, befalling any lover of mine, and warned you to reject any advance.”

“... Maybe he did.”

“And all that coming from a man who has bedded me and lived to tell the tale.”

“Whaaat?” Cam asked in disbelief. “I thought he didn’t have sex.”

She sipped. “I was under the same impression, and I still am. However, he was newly married with that lawyer of his, and he needed to consummate the marriage with at least a single affair. It was fresh in his mind when he came for my… fifth job for him. It arose in conversation when I had him suspended from a web to interrogate him about his personal life.”

“He… let you do that?”

“Oh yes. It was in the old contract, before the revisions that protected him more. Better days. He was upset over some rather harsh ribbing he was receiving from some of the social circle he was forced into by the marriage. That Chivos had slept with a rather prominent demon on the second day, covering his side of the bargain with class and bravado. That left dear Locust as the subject of mockery. ‘How would he ever top that achievement?’ they asked.

“So I somewhat jokingly offered it. When two come together to spite a third... such dalliances are among the best in memory, and I hoped to recreate it. I believe he said ‘I would need to be quite high, and you would have to be thoroughly tied up.’ so I countered ‘the queen of all spiders, knotted to the point of immobility in her own webs? The indignance! I would have to be terribly drunk for that.’ It was at that point that we realized… such a scenario could be arranged.”

“Damn! He really got with you and lived?”

“That’s why he wanted me restrained. Clever man, always thinking two steps ahead… except when he isn’t. And for one who seems to rarely take a lover, he is competent. He used all the right brews to match me, and was nothing but a gentleman. Though I felt it… transactional. Perhaps the most valuable thing I have ever given was a pictographic crystal of myself in a tastefully compromising position, with Locust in the frame. That was all the proof he needed to one-up his demon husband. Sheerest, pettiest spite; worth more than a billion gold.”

“Would you really take something like that over a billion gold though?” Cam asked sarcastically.

I heard Lechia stand up and walk over to him, chuckling. “No,” she uttered flatly before laying a kiss… somewhere. I prefer to think it was on his forehead, but who fuckin’ knows. Then, she about-faced, and audibly absconded with a sack of beans and the kettle.

“I better get that pot back when you’re done, Lechia,” I stated over my shoulder.

“Oh shit!” she spouted, speeding off into the shadows.

Lechia fled quickly. Embarrassment is a major weakness of hers. After so many centuries of killing and eating everything that could possibly humiliate her, she had developed a surprisingly thin skin for it. Indeed, many things fear her angry reprisal, but not me, and I won’t let her forget it. Cam made the right call and rolled over to sleep without a word. Good man.

……

I was up bright and early the next morning. Cam didn’t ask any questions, and I applaud him for it. Not that I would have told him anything beyond the shocked reaction I got from the demons bullying me. It was just a footnote of my past otherwise. I found a nice far-out web trap with nobody actively watching it and zapped out one of the caimans, then returned to camp to announce how I used ‘special magic’ to bring the hung-over arachne squad a big breakfast. They were majorly happy and let us be as we two-legged dudes went to eat ours.

The only wisdom exchanged over breakfast was a warning from me to Cam. I told him that arachne can be about as obsessive as dryads, and to factor that into his behavior for the day. He gave a simple nod and kept eating. I followed suit and went to complete the most dangerous task of the entire trip:

Waking Lechia up.

Fuji and Pippin followed me in, and I turned to greet them. “Morning, girls.”

“Good morning, Captain,” Fuji answered.

“Would either of you two know where Lechia is sleeping?” They shook their heads. “I guess we’ll follow our ears, then.”

It’s… not hard to find where Madame Gossamer is sleeping. Discerning that it’s her you’re hearing is another matter, she doesn’t sound so different from any odd member of the dragon family having a snooze; so if you know it’s her ahead of time, that’s great. (But you also willingly entered audible range of Madame Gossamer knowing it’s her, so you might still be an idiot like me).

The interior decorating was also a thing. The bare walls of black stone were rapidly disappearing under layers and layers of silk. Not only that, but I know arachne-built tension traps when I see them. Bump a line, snap the strand, and something gets set loose to stab and/or snare you. They were unloaded, but still. It made me want to finish up and be on the road before sundown.

I halted my company and made the final stretch alone. I stepped over and ducked under nearly invisible lines, covered in sticky droplets that only caught the tiniest glimmer of light. A peek into the room ahead and—behind layer upon layer of silken walls—I saw the biggest spider in the world, and without her human torso. She told me in the past that it’s uncomfortable to sleep halfway between forms, so it was expected. Given the snoring, I decided to be a little cheeky and zap the caiman right onto her web.

The UFO was quick to fetch, and I let it hover right in front of me. I took aim at the ceiling above.

ZAP

As soon as the caiman was out, I jammed the drone back into the bag and shut it. The bag started to rattle violently until I removed the targeting glove. Note to self: Turn it off before you put it away.

A big, scaly tantrum went on as the caiman struggled in the indestructible net. Such acts sent waves through the whole structure. It started with a twitch of the leg, then, the giant spider form rotated to see the source of the disturbance. With one clean lunge, the beast was impaled by two fangs and being wrapped in silk moments later. I ducked back behind the door and snuck away before my luck had a chance to run out.

The sounds of bone and flesh crunching mixed with the dying screeches of the crocodilian in such a brilliant manner. The noise chased me down the hall as I met up with the gang. They seemed mildly alarmed by what they heard.

“What’s with the faces? Never woke up so hungry you ate the first thing you saw?” I asked jokingly.

Fuji blinked. “We… were born yesterday, how would we know?”

“Right. Well, she’ll eat the first thing in sight sometimes, and that can be you. Now, run off and go fetch everyone, we’re going to pick up where we left off… soonish.”

They did as requested, going to gather sword and sorority. That left me milling about for the next 10 minutes. And what face would break the quiet spell but Lechia? She came strolling down the hall in human form, and smoking like a chimney.

“Locust, dear. I would like to speak with you privately.”

I rather cautiously checked the watch. The needle straddled the line between green and yellow. “Ehhhhh, sure. What’s up?”

She beckoned me over and I obliged. We moved to a little silken alcove that really absorbed the echoes. “First, thank you for the breakfast. You certainly know how to treat a lady.”

“Umm, thanks, but what’s the matter?”

Lechia inquisitively brushed her chin. “The breakfast itself, actually. How did you get it there?”

I crossed my arms and scrunched my brow. “With… a catch orb? You know I always have a few on me for jobs.”

A hearty sigh passed her lips and she shook her head. “Locust, Locust. I was one of the many contributors to the catch orb project, those 1,200 years ago. I helped decide the features, the restrictions, the frequencies of magic upon which they operate… and I am keenly aware of the creatures on which they cannot function. Slipscale caimans cannot be caught with the orbs. So I ask again. How did you do it?” she inquired, looming over me.

My next words were planned, revised, torn up, replaced, and revised again before I answered. I opened my mouth, but she held a finger to my lips.

“Truth shall flow free,” she uttered. That was an incantation for an interrogation spell.

I then had to rebuild my answer from the ground up. I hoped for the best as I spoke, but RNGeesus said ‘fuck ya secrets, her spell makes you spill the beans’.

“I used a prototype magitech drone that has similar properties to catch orbs, but a much higher degree of utility.”

She nodded. “Where did you get it, and why has it become available?”

“I got it from a personal connection. They designed it based on items found in the Tomb of Instability, which I solo cleared. Everything I just told you is inadmissible in court, and I think you’re a massive cuntbag in general and only do jobs for you to get my employees cool legendaries.”

Her hand covered my mouth. “That’s… enough honesty for now,” she stated with a confused expression. The spell fizzled out and she released me. “You… cleared…? No, that is beside the point. Show me this ‘drone’.”

“Fine, but knowledge of it doesn’t leave this room,” I stated with the trademarked authoritative finger.

“You have this massive cuntbag’s word,” she promised with a narrow-eyed smirk. I wasn’t going to get away with that insult long-term.

Cautiously, I produced the little drone and let it hover as I put on the glove. It zipped around, and I gave very basic and generalized information on it; capacity, range, unlimited battery life…

“And would it work on me?” she asked all of a sudden, looming over me again.

I took a subconscious step back. “Umm, probably not? I was told that the production model will have limited effect against more powerful foes.”

She backed me into a corner and put a hand on the wall next to my head to lean in menacingly. “But this is not that model. This is a special piece, modeled on machinations of magic from the most twisted, deadliest place yet recorded. I feel the chaotic, reality-bending energies emanating from your prize, Dennis. And I fear it. So tell me: Would it work on me?”

I breathed deep and focused on the calm. Her fear aura was on blast and I was feeling the burn. “The only limitations I know of are a 5-ton weight limit, and an unspecified maximum volume per chamber.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So it would not work on any form but my current one?” I nodded. “Prove it. Show that I can be contained. And then release me immediately, if you do not want my daughters to tear you limb from limb,” she hissed in my ear.

Eyes locked with hers, I nodded again. “Alright. Just back up and try to stay calm. I’ve had shit like this used on me before, it’s disconcerting. I will let you back out within seconds.”

Lechia held her arms wide. “I trust your survival instinct. Do it.”

I pointed what I realized—in that moment—to be the world’s most dangerous finger gun. The not-laser fell on her, and I hesitated for the briefest heartbeat.

ZAP

Fuck. my. life. It worked. I just demonstrated the existence of a potential insta-loss item to a post-credits superboss. I gulped, inverted my hand, and let her out.

ZAP

“Well–”

THWACK

A backhand connected with my right cheekbone, striking so hard that I flipped off my feet, bounced my head off the floor hard, and came to rest halfway between face-down and on my side. Then, Lechia placed her foot on my head, with her heel-fang resting precariously against my neck. Her face came into my view and her words cut through the ringing in my ears.

“Who made this abomination, this affront to the precious equilibrium?” she spat, eyes blazing red.

“M, mflgrgh,” I answered through what I realized was a broken jaw.

Lechia snarled. “Fine. You find this madman and give them a message for me: They will never make another device like this. Their product will equal the orbs in power but never surpass them. And if they do not, I will find them, and I will take them, their friends, their families, their collaborators. And I will gnaw their limbs off until their bodies can only sit and suffer as I subject them to torments even the Hells would frown upon until they die of despair alone.”

She removed her foot and stood up. My eyes followed the motion up to see her grab the drone and rip the turret off, then extend claws from her fingers and gouge numerous half-inch scars on either side of the shell. Then she dropped it to the ground, its power seemingly gone.

“Leave the damage, it marks this abomination as yours. If I see another, I will destroy it and carry out my vendetta.”

At that, she marched off, and I finally managed to breathe. Then, the adrenaline high began to fade. I became acutely aware that my goddamn jaw was broken, and my fucking cheekbone had caved in. Hands shaking, I pushed off the ground and sat up. Everything was spinning, and there was darkness at the corners of my vision. I reached into my bag and quickly popped the cork on a healing potion. I tried to open my mouth, but instead was forced to painfully pry it open and pour.

The vial emptied and I let go, causing my mouth to slam shut and send a spike of pain through my body. I powered through it and swished the potion around with my tongue, letting it soak into the affected area. I rocked back and forth where I sat, blood dripping from my cheek, shards of bone protruding from the wound that I dare not feel or attempt to understand the depth of.

It felt like hours, but it was only 30 seconds. There was a crunch of bone resetting and my mouth fell open slightly. I tested it but felt more pain. Another healing potion went in and I waited. I felt human after that and dared to stand. That was manageable, so I used a little cleaning spell to swipe the blood off my clothes. A glance at my stat card revealed that I’d lost half my health before the potions.

Then the room came back into focus. My little prototype drone lay broken on the floor, ripped apart by a very angry spider queen. I checked my watch at the thought of her; halfway into red. She really does like me. I bent over to roll the thing into my bag, almost passing out in the process. With all the bits put away, I peeked out from the alcove. No Lechia in sight.

Instead, I heard Cam gathering the troops. So I ventured over to him. He saw me and I waved, but he looked concerned.

“You uhh… shit, man, you look terrible. Something happen?”

I nodded as I donned the araneous brace. “Yeah, yeah. I spoke with Lechia about something important, but unrelated to the job. She didn’t like it and I got backhanded. Shit kinda hurts, but I’m ok.”

He frowned with concern. “Damn, why’d you have to go and piss her off? But if you say you’re fine, then I’ll take your word for it. You good to go?”

I pulled the staff of the heavens from my bag. “Let’s just get this done and get the hell out of here.”