“Where’s Zylvern?” an uneasy voice trailed off.

“Should we search for him?” another player proposed.

“No, the headmaster said that if something like this occurs, retreating and informing him is imperative. Besides, we can call the assistant fairy…” As he spoke about calling the assistant fairy, the other players flinched and averted their gazes as though avoiding some unspoken truth.

At times like this, the assistant fairy had instructed them to call her through their Shadowlink Marks. William himself had never attempted to utilize this feature because it required speaking a truly, truly embarrassing line. So embarrassing that if spoken in front of the other players, he would become a laughingstock on the official forum for days to come; a price too steep to pay.

Er… I don’t know why, but I feel like Miss Fairy made it like that so that she would only be called if absolutely necessary. William had this inkling in his mind.

“Fuck it. If you guys are gonna be a chicken, then I’ll do it!” Locktekei, one of the construction group members, stepped forward, activated his Shadowlink Mark, and stated, “Emerge with a dance as awkward… uh… as my attempts at flirting with a ninety-year-old—”

“Uh… I don’t wanna be a wet blanket, but it’s a bit too late for that.” Thunder swiftly stopped him from embarrassing himself any further as he pointed to a nearby tree. Suspended from its branches hung a human-sized cocoon, its humanoid shape unmistakable. Muffled sounds emanated from within, accompanied by a subtle movement.

One thing was for sure: It hadn’t been there before…

“Holy shit!”

“Isn’t that Zylvern, the one who’s missing?”

Fear tangled with adrenaline gripped the players’ hearts as they clenched their weapons and tools. The unknown threat had shattered their composure.

William led a small group toward the cocoon to inspect it and possibly save the player trapped within. But just when they were a few steps away, a piercing shriek shattered the air.

“Watch out!”

Above them, an eight-legged nightmare clung to the tree, its body melding into the shadows of the bark. It was a massive spider, bigger than anything William had ever seen.

“SKREEE!!”

“Fu—!”

The spider monster spared not a second as it lunged at William with terrifying speed. Instinct took over as William brandished his stone spear, meeting the creature’s onslaught head-on. The impact reverberated through him, pushing him to the ground as the spear sank into the spider’s chitinous armor but failed to pierce through it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is scarier than playing horror games!” William grunted as he forced the stone spear to become a barrier between himself and the spider’s menacing jaws — a last line of defense in this nightmarish confrontation.

“Aaahh!” Locktekei yelled aloud as he rushed to his aid, iron axe in hand, and aimed squarely at the spider’s back. However, the creature’s extraordinary perception, sharpened by its expansive vision and Locktekei’s cry, allowed it to anticipate the assault. It sidestepped the blow with lightning-quick maneuver, narrowly evading the axe’s arc.

Enraged, the spider unleashed its fury upon Locktekei, sinking its fangs into his neck. Blood erupted in a gruesome spurt, dyeing the ground crimson.

“Argh! Help! Help me—!” Locktekei cried, trying his best to get the spider off his back but to no avail.

“Everyone, attack!” an unknown speaker commander, igniting a surge of determination from the remaining players.

William, seizing the moment, regained his footing and thrust his stone spear into an opening in the creature’s defenses. Others joined the fray, their coordinated assault forcing the spider into a defensive stance. Stabs, chops, cuts, and slices rained down upon it from every angle, their collective blows feeling like brutal vengeance.

“SKREEE…!”

Each individual attack was a minor wound, but their combined onslaught became a storm that overwhelmed the spider’s defenses. The creature writhed and contorted under the barrage, and in one final, violent surge, the accumulation converged, delivering a death blow that silenced the creature’s piercing cry.

Unfortunately, they were too late to save their friend Locktekei as he was sprawled motionless on the ground. The sight of his lifeless form sent shivers down their spines; it was just too realistic.

“Phew… Never thought I’d feel this kind of adrenaline in a game.”

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“Damn! The sensation of cutting that spider… felt too real…!”

Even William, the one who emerged victorious, found himself physically and mentally drained — the stone spear in his hand had broken into two. He collapsed to the ground and panted heavily, his heart filled with dread as he looked upon the aftermath of their battle. Now I know why the headmaster told me to not get ahead of myself and start hunting outside the academy grounds. Without magic, we’re just mere mortals — the lowest on the food chain.

“You okay?” Thunder extended a helping hand, and he accepted the offer, leveraging it to rise to his feet.

“I’m fine…” He spared a glance at Locktekei’s corpse. His final expression was that of disbelief, with eyes that were still wide open in shock. Normally, he would’ve felt nausea for how real the corpse was, but in this game, he felt oddly undisturbed.

Thunder approached the fallen form, gently closing his eyes. A hint of grief crossed his features, but it fell short of comparing to the emotion of watching a friend die in real life. Nevertheless, William felt that this player was taking this too seriously, as though he was living in this world instead of playing a game.

“Sorry, I couldn’t save your friend. This may just be a game, but…” The fact Locktekei died after saving him made him feel like it was his fault.

“No worries.” Thunder shook his head. “What’s important is that we retreat from this place and bring his corpse back. The smell of blood could potentially attract other magical beasts to this location, so we better be quick.”

“Uh-huh.” William nodded in agreement and led the others to go back to the academy. Of course, he didn’t forget to save the player who was swathed in spider silk.

***

Victor’s expression darkened as he listened to Lizbeth’s panic-stricken account of the player’s death. Unexpectedly, on the fifth day of the game, someone suffered a combat casualty, which was at least two weeks earlier than he had anticipated. While a non-combat accident might have been unfortunate, a death resulting from direct conflict was the worst-case scenario.

Hearing the details made Victor’s eyebrows crease. There had been no records of spider-like magical beasts native to the Thornwood Forest, at least not as far as his memory served. He questioned Lizbeth on why she hadn’t intervened. She could have appeared in her hologram form to alert the players and urge them to retreat from the danger. Despite watching this whole thing unfold, she responded apprehensively…

“Well, I did instruct the players to contact me using the feature within their Shadowlink Marks,” Lizbeth explained through the holographic screen, her gaze averting as she enumerated her reasons. “But seeing that they were already engaged with the spider and had no time to do so, I decided not to interfere, not that I could do anything in that situation. Besides, this could serve as their first encounter with a magical beast — a lesson to teach these players.”

Her excuses did little to assuage his concern. Perhaps he had to give this assistant fairy some form of “disciplinary action” for her poor judgment. Though, in truth, she couldn’t have done much to help even if she appeared.

As much as Victor wished he could have helped the players and saved the day right there and then, he had been on his way back from the daily visit to the village, carrying potatoes, tools, and weapons recently made by Eleanor. Even if he cast every magic spell he knew that could increase mobility, he wouldn’t have reached them in time. His power was still far from that of an official Magus with the power to conjure a spell that would enable him to fly.

On top of that, he received this report only after the players had beaten the magical beast. This was surprising — creatures categorized as magical beasts, even the weakest among them, typically possessed combat prowess that neared or rivaled that of a first-stage Initiate Attunement acolyte. This turn of events left Victor speculating whether the encountered creature was an inferior subspecies or had some other unique traits.

Not long after, Victor arrived near the scene, where players who had faced the magical beast were gathered at the clearing’s edge. Curiously, their demeanor was lacking the expected fear. In contrast, an air of excitement hung about them, fueled by the prospect of battling formidable magical creatures.

“Bro, how did you get kidnapped by the spider monster?”

“Yeah, what is it like being trapped inside a cocoon? Did you feel like you were turning into a butterfly?”

“I’m telling you! I swear, I was just taking a leak nearby, and then the spider monster started webbing me up. Worst of all, being wrapped in that cocoon was one hell of an experience; I couldn’t move a muscle!”

“So you were abducted in the middle of doing your little ‘business?’ Hahaha!”

“Why didn’t you shout for help?”

“The damn spider’s web hit my head first. I thought I was blind for a second, thinking that a large bird had pooped on my face. Ugh, just thinking about it grosses me out. And some of that web got in my mouth! Shit!”

Chatter filled the air as players exchanged stories, their animated conversations revolving around the player who had been ensnared in the spider’s cocoon. If Victor’s memory served him correctly, the player’s name was Zylvern.

Victor showed himself and stepped forward with a commanding presence. “Ahem. Explain what happened here.”

“Headmaster!” They all came to attention.

“Sir Astralium… Well, this is how it went down…” Prominence, stepping forward as the leader, began recounting the events from the players’ perspective.

Interestingly enough, there were a few subtle divergences compared to what Lizbeth had narrated. According to him, they had initially attempted to withdraw but were caught off guard by the spider’s swift assault. Despite the players’ valiant efforts, this unanticipated confrontation tragically led to the demise of Locktekei, a member of the construction group.

“I see.” Victor inspected the fallen player’s body that was positioned to the side and mused, “I’m not sure if he can be considered lucky or not, but he was bitten on the neck, meaning he was given the mercy of a swift demise, and it spared his clothes from damage. The acolyte robe is valuable, after all, and can be reused by him upon revival.”

This aspect had become the setting of the game: The players could respawn indefinitely, provided they possessed sufficient merit points.

“Uhm,” Prominence continued hesitantly, “aside from that, we might have brought the spider’s corpse with us.”

“Oh? Excellent. Show me then.”

“Of course, it’s right over there.” Prominence led Victor a dozen or so steps in a certain direction. He then gestured toward the defeated carcass of a brownish-black spider the size of an adult male with its eight legs sprawled out like a grotesque tableau.

“This… Isn’t this…”

Realization dawned upon him; the whole situation was way graver than he had initially expected.