The armored spider staggered, its hulking form trembling under the weight of its wounds. Aethyr had drained himself of mana, but it didn’t matter now. His battle instincts surged forward like a second wind. The spider could no longer siphon energy from him—its most effective weapon nullified.

It wasn’t long before Aethyr noticed something sinister. Every time the giant arachnid sustained damage, it would release a shimmering pulse along the webbed walls. The pulse snaked through the chamber, linking to smaller spiders scattered around. A gruesome spectacle followed as the web drained the smaller creatures, their bodies shriveling, their life force funneled back into the towering monstrosity.

Aethyr’s eyes narrowed, scanning the room. He pieced it together: the spider had turned its minions into a living reservoir of mana, a sacrificial fountain to keep it alive. If he allowed even one to reach the giant, the fight could drag on forever—or worse, tilt in the spider’s favor.

Suddenly, two smaller arachnid monsters dropped from the ceiling, their legs skittering across the stone floor as they bolted toward the hulking beast.

“Not today!” Aethyr growled, raising his crossbow. With a sharp click and a hiss, an explosive bolt soared through the air. It struck one creature dead center, the impact tearing its abdomen apart in a fiery burst. Its guts splattered across the chamber walls, sending sizzling fragments onto the webs. Without hesitation, Aethyr swiveled, firing another bolt at the second spider. Bullseye—the explosion turned it into a shredded, twitching heap before it could offer its life force to the giant.

The armored beast roared in frustration, its fangs clacking together in desperation as it called out to more of its minions.

But Aethyr was relentless. Each time a smaller spider appeared, he shifted his attacks. His spear and crossbow worked in deadly unison, targeting the incoming minions with precision. The cycle continued—a dance of blood, fire, and steel. The giant grew more desperate with every thwarted attempt to heal itself, its movements becoming erratic.

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The chamber filled with the stench of scorched ichor and the deafening screeches of dying spiders. Aethyr didn’t falter. His strikes grew heavier, faster, his focus sharpening like a blade honed to perfection. Every sword slash bit deeper into the monster’s carapace; every shield bash cracked its once-impenetrable armor.

The creature's bleeding worsened, black ichor pooling beneath it. Its monstrous legs faltered, the once-mighty arachnid now trembling under its own weight.

“This is it,” Aethyr muttered under his breath, switching to his spear. The polished weapon gleamed in the dim light as he plunged it into a vulnerable crack in the spider’s exoskeleton. A guttural shriek tore through the chamber as the creature staggered backward, barely able to stand.

Aethyr didn’t let up. He unleashed a volley of crossbow bolts, each one punching through the soft joints of the beast’s legs and abdomen. The spider faltered, its movements slowing as if dragged down by the sheer weight of its injuries.

Finally, it collapsed, its legs crumpling beneath it, its colossal form swaying unsteadily before slamming into the ground with a thunderous crash.

Aethyr seized the moment. He activated the mechanism on his spear, causing it to extend into a deadly length. With a powerful leap, he drove the weapon straight into the creature’s brain. The sound of chitin shattering echoed through the chamber, followed by a sickening squelch as black ichor poured out in torrents.

The battle was over. The giant spider lay lifeless, its reign of terror extinguished.

Yet, despite the victory, Aethyr felt no relief. A strange unease crept over him, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. The air grew heavy, cold enough to bite at his skin. He shivered involuntarily, clutching his spear as he scanned the chamber.

“What... is this?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the oppressive silence.

His eyes shifted to the massive door at the far end of the chamber, its surface shrouded in low light and faintly glowing runes. From the shadows beyond, a figure emerged.

It moved with an unnatural grace, its form cloaked in darkness. Aethyr tightened his grip on his weapon, every muscle in his body tense. He couldn’t make out the figure’s face, but the sheer presence it exuded was suffocating—an overwhelming aura that made the entire chamber feel as if it were caving in around him.

The figure stopped, standing just at the edge of the light. Its piercing gaze cut through the shadows, locking onto Aethyr.

Aethyr’s breath caught in his throat. The battle might have been over, but something far worse was just beginning.