Although Nick tried his best to sidestep unnecessary conflict, at the end of his week of intensive training, he found himself forced into a confrontation with a species of beast that he had been fervently hoping to avoid.

To his dismay, instead of leaving the area, the spider that had entered his valley had grown more aggressive over time. Instead of simply observing Nick, the beast began overtly stalking him, like it wanted him to know that it was coming for him. Challenging him directly rather than hunting him for food.

At first, Nick had been hopeful that the beast was simply scouting the area, determining what had happened to the missing bonecruncher pack, as their absence had shifted the dynamics between the creatures living in the forest. But after sighting the oversized arachnid for the fourth time, the last just outside the spring near the island’s southern shore, he had realized that, for some reason, this spider was targeting him specifically. Unless he did something about it now, he would likely walk into an ambush that he wouldn’t walk out of.

If the rest of the spider colony followed suit, Nick was afraid that they would set trap webs along the trails he walked, or worse, attack his hideout in force. He needed to send the beasts a message that would encourage them to err on the side of caution—a way of communicating despite the language barrier, telling the spiders, “Something dangerous still lives in the neighborhood.”

The idea of striding headlong into a sticky web strung across his path, of the spider pouncing from the branches overhead, was enough to make him break out into a cold sweat. He had been waiting to see if the beast would lose interest, but now Nick was convinced that he needed to deal with the problem once and for all. At least the elite members of the spider colony hadn’t wandered into the area… yet. He held no illusions that he could hold his own against one of the colossal specimens that he had spotted from the treetops.

Now certain that a fight was inevitable, Nick wanted to face the beast on the ground of his choosing, developing a series of tactics designed specifically for the nature of his enemy. He knew from observation that the spiders were agile and strong for their size. They could produce prolific webbing and likely had a venomous bite as well. At least he had his potion of antidote to use in an emergency, but that wouldn’t do him much good if he found himself bound up in webbing.

What gave him pause, beyond the beast’s frightening visage, was its unusual behavior. Nick was convinced that the spider was revealing its presence to him on purpose. During his last encounter, he found the grayhound-sized arachnid watching him from the trail ahead, moving along after stopping to consider him for a nervous handful of minutes.

Each time they met, the beast had come closer than the last, and Nick’s instincts were certain that the next time he saw the spider, it would decide to engage him head-on. Now that a showdown was a foregone conclusion, he was planning to lure the beast to favorable terrain and then initiate the battle himself.

He was confident that he would run into the spider again today, and he was ready to put an end to the threat it posed. In order to have their confrontation take place on the ground of his choosing, he had risen early and spent the morning waiting in an open clearing where nothing could be waiting in ambush, especially from the treetops.

He was in the middle of drilling with his sword, the noonday sun compacting his shadow into a small ball between his legs, when the beast arrived on scene. After scanning the clearing, the spider advanced to within a hundred feet of Nick and then stopped to consider him. He got a good, long look at the beast in turn as it watched him from the shin-high grass. The ochre arachnid was the size of a large dog, although it was over twice as wide given the spread of its spindly limbs.

He already knew that the creature was incredibly fast, and its chitin looked tough enough to turn a blade. The spider’s agile limbs were as thick as his wrists, and its body was powerfully built. The hairs on its legs and abdomen shone with a faint iridescence in the sunlight. Nick knew these filaments were sensitive to tiny vibrations, enhancing its perception of the environment. The beast’s mandibles twitched as its compound eyes stared back into his own, regarding him with no fear whatsoever.

Size Up did not like Nick’s odds, but it wasn’t like he had been given much of a choice.

He took the opportunity to analyze the beast while he could, using his reason and his instincts to supplement the feedback from his skill. Overall, he was left with the impression that the spider was a dangerous opponent, but one that he could best if he found a way to take control of the momentum of the battle.

Taken together, Nick concluded that the eight-legged predator was less dangerous than one of the crunchers but far more deadly than a solitary komo. He had a hunch that it would rush or leap for him at breakneck speed, delivering a venomous bite while laying down immobilizing webbing as it maneuvered into position. The exoskeleton on its body looks tough, but the legs seem fragile by comparison. One good slice with my sword will severely hamper its mobility.

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In short, the prospect of facing the giant spider in melee was utterly terrifying. Even his sword seemed like a poor tool for the job. If Nick missed, the beast would close the distance before he could hope to recover his stance. Thankfully, he had a few tricks of his own up his sleeve, or more accurately, attached to his belt.

He reached down with one hand, making sure that his flashbang orbs were in the proper pouch and that his wand would slide free from its loop without resistance. Although he hoped to win the battle without them, these tools were Nick’s ace in the hole if he found himself severely outmatched.

Since it seemed that his opponent was waiting for him to finish his preparations, Nick slipped off his bag and then took up his sword in a two-handed grip, visualizing the best angles to swing the blade to counter both a low rush and a high leap. He took a sip of water from his canteen and then began walking forward, curious to see how the beast would respond to his challenge despite the danger.

The spider mirrored his advance, both combatants coming to a stop when there was about twenty feet of open ground between them. Then, for a long, tension-saturated moment, man and spider stood poised beneath the high noon sun, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Nick could feel a bead of sweat form before running down his neck, smell the fragrant wildflowers in bloom all around him. Hear the music of the birds and bees. He let these sensations wash over him unappreciated, every scrap of concentration placed upon the beast before him.

He held his sword at the ready and prepared himself for battle. His goal was to prevent his opponent from closing the distance until he was certain that he could counter its attack. For now, his strategy was simple—keep the blade between himself and his enemy until he found a chance to cut. Under no circumstances would Nick let the spider leap and wrap its legs around him; his soul shuddered at the thought.

At that point, the time for consideration evaporated like water dripping onto a hot pan. Because that was the moment when the beast decided to take the initiative and came skittering toward him in a blurring rush.

Nick expected the beast to keep charging straight for him, mirroring the komos’ direct approach. Instead, the oversized arachnid came to a stop just outside the reach of his blade, doing that creepy thing that spiders did where they raised two of their legs to use as arms.

This close, he could hear the beast’s limbs articulate, a gentle grind of chitin sliding across chitin. He could smell its scent in the air—a spicy musk with acrid overtones. He could see the delicate markings along its flanks—swirls of tan and onyx against the dark hairs covering its limbs. Why isn’t it attacking? It’s clearly hostile. What is it waiting for?

Nick adjusted the angle of his blade to keep it on target, watching as the spider’s limbs shifted slightly in response. I think it understands what my sword is. The dynamics involved in setting up a slash. In fact, now that I think about it, it’s standing like it’s ready to parry a blow… Oh shit. Oh fuck, came Nick’s eloquent internal dialogue as the realization came crashing home as to what this behavior indicated.

It was now appallingly obvious that he had radically misjudged the situation. He was not merely about to fight to the death against a gigantic, nightmare-inducing spider. Instead, Nick was heartbeats away from mixing it up with a nightmare-inducing spider that could think. Could plan and predict. Anticipate and counter. This is one of the beasts the System mentioned that is smarter than any animal on Earth. Perhaps even as intelligent as myself.

Not only was this development horrifying on any number of levels, but it also changed the dynamics of the battle completely. To prevail, he would need to rely on strategies and tactics of a different nature than those suitable for fighting mere animals, rendering most of his plans and preparations useless or nearly so. But their conflict was imminent regardless. Nick’s mind raced to catch up, desperately trying to come up with anything he could do to improve his odds against a mind that might be equal to his own.

If the spider can anticipate my swordplay, it can also be misled and surprised, but that blade cuts both ways. I really, really hope that it’s willing to fight because it’s sure that it can win and not because it has friends chilling in the neighborhood, ready to tag in if the battle goes my way.

That was all the time for analysis that Nick was given. Half a heartbeat later, the spider burst into motion again, darting in low as it sped for his knees. He nearly panicked and brought the blade down hard. He remembered at the last possible second to keep the razored edge out and facing the spider center mass. Because if he missed, he would leave himself critically exposed at this range.

Nick’s caution proved to be well founded, because the beast abruptly skittered to one side, circling to flank him the moment he started his swing. It had clearly anticipated his reaction and intended to dodge the blow rather than continue its charge. The instant Nick regained control of his sword, he saw the spider freeze for a second before scampering out of range.

It’s baiting me into overswinging before committing to an attack. It definitely has at least a rudimentary understanding of the physics involved in swordplay. Over the next few minutes, Nick and the spider jockeyed for position. Feinting and probing. Repositioning and taking the measure of one another. He was certain by this point that the spider was a great deal smarter than any other beast he had encountered, including the lemur tribe.

It was clear that Nick had bitten off more than he could chew. Now, his only options were to swallow or choke.