Asdras's fingers slipped on the damp wooden rungs of the ladder. He glanced up, narrowing his eyes against the dim, flickering orange light from the windmill's upper window.

The windmill loomed overhead, its dark wooden structure weathered by countless storms. The massive sails creaked in the silence of the night, casting shadows that danced like specters across the fog-laden ground.

A heavy object blocked the entrance, forcing him to climb. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and aged timber.

Asdras wiped his palms on his trousers, the coarse fabric offering scant relief from the damp. Taking a deep breath, he climbed, each rung a struggle against the elements and his waning strength.

Determination set his jaw tight, sweat beading on his forehead. The ladder trembled under his weight, the wood groaning in protest.

Halfway up, he paused, his chest heaving. The light above flickered again, a beacon in the murky gloom. Gritting his teeth, Asdras shifted his weight and pushed off with his legs, propelling himself upward and causing the ladder to sway.

His fingers reached for the window's handle, slick wood slipping through his grasp before he tightened his hold.

With a final, desperate lunge, Asdras caught the handle firmly. The frame creaked as he hauled himself up, his muscles burning with the exertion.

He hung there for a heartbeat, suspended between the ground and the faint promise of warmth above. Then, with a grunt of effort, he swung a leg over the sill and pulled himself into the room.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, Asdras surveyed the windmill's details, his breath still labored from the climb. A solitary lamp hung from the ceiling, casting feeble light over the aged, worn wooden walls and creaking floorboards.

Barrels lined the walls, their contents shrouded in mystery. The windmill’s central mechanism, a massive, weathered grindstone, dominated the space, its presence looming ominously. In the corner, a small table caught his eye. On it lay an ink pad and a note. His heart quickened.

‘I hope this tells me something,’ he thought.

His journey to the windmill had been shrouded in confusion and doubt. He recalled awakening on a winding pathway up a mist-shrouded hill, the bishop’s cryptic last words echoing in his mind: "The Eruption is corrupted."

Lost in thought, he had almost missed the distant sound of a bell. It was barely audible; it had been his only lead. He had followed the faint ringing through the fog, his steps guided by the hope of finding answers.

The windmill had loomed out of the mist. The flickering light from the upper window had been a beacon, promising refuge or at least information. But now, straining to read the note in the poor light, he found himself alone.

The note was scrawled in hurried handwriting, and the ink smudged in places.

"The creature... it looks like a spider but as big as a dog. Its eyes... God, those eyes. They gleamed in the dark, unblinking. And the sound it made... a low, buzzing hum like a swarm of insects. I've never heard anything like it."

Asdras could almost hear the guard’s voice, trembling with fear. "After this night, I’m quitting. I can’t do this anymore. Bardim said he’d help me get a job as a cleaner in town. Anything’s better than this."

He stared at the note, his mind racing.

"Hm... A creature? And a town? So there are people nearby here?" He muttered, his fingers tracing the smudged ink as if seeking answers from the faint marks.

"I hope it isn't far from here. I need to find my group." He placed the note back on the table, the wood creaking under his touch.

"Brian, I hope he is okay." He scratched his nose, the familiar gesture bringing a fleeting comfort in the face of uncertainty.

"What happened to the guard? Is he here? Or already quit?" His thoughts lingered on the last words of the note.

Suddenly, Asdras froze. His ears caught a low, distant sound, like something moving. His heart quickened as he strained to listen, the note's description of the creature echoing in his mind.

‘Was it the thing the guard had written about?’ he thought.

He adjusted his backpack and tightened the strap of his sword across his back, the weight reassuring against his spine. Moving cautiously, he approached the window.

The moon, a luminescent half-disc, hung in the ink-black sky, bathing the land in a silvery glow. It pierced through the mist, casting an ethereal light on the world below. For a moment, he was mesmerized, his gaze burning with the beauty of it.

"Incredible," he murmured.

Shaking his head, he pulled his attention back to the task at hand. His eyes scanned the landscape, though the thick mist obscured much of it.

He could make out the dark silhouettes of gnarled trees, their twisted branches reaching like skeletal fingers into the night. The roadway wound through the haze, a ghostly path leading deeper into the unknown.

Movement flickered in the corner of his eye. He snapped his head to the side and saw them — two creatures creeping towards the windmill. His breath caught in his throat as he took in their grotesque forms.

The creatures were nightmarish, resembling monstrous spiders. Their bodies were pale and sinewy, each segment of their exoskeleton rippling with unnatural motion. They moved with an eerie, fluid grace, their long, jointed legs ending in sharp, needle-like points that pierced the ground with each step.

Their heads were the most horrifying — clusters of glistening eyes set above a maw lined with razor-sharp mandibles. From their bodies dangled thread-like appendages, twitching and writhing as if sensing the air around them.

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Asdras narrowed his eyes, focusing intently on the creatures. A name surfaced in his mind: "Tainted Grimclaw Spider."

"Tainted?" he mumbled. "A good test, maybe, but I need to be cautious. There are two of them; maybe there are more. But what about the rank?"

His mind worked by instinct, tapping into the mysterious system. Concentrating on the rank of the creatures, he felt the answer materialize in the void: "Rank I."

It was as if lightning had struck him, the sudden knowledge sparking through his consciousness. "Then, if I desire to know something while using the system, will it give me the answer?" he asked himself, the revelation opening new possibilities.

The creatures were getting closer, their grotesque forms almost at the windmill's door. Curiosity drove him to try again, this time seeking their weaknesses. He waited, but the void remained silent, offering no new insights.

"I guess it's specific information. I need to share it with them."

A sudden, unsettling noise from above — sharp, rhythmic stabs, like daggers puncturing the wooden ceiling — jolted him.

He gripped his sword tightly, the metal cool and reassuring in his hand. Peering through the window, he kept his senses alert, aware of the danger that could strike from any direction.

The stabbing sounds grew louder and more insistent. Asdras took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Suddenly, one of the creatures leaped through the window, its two front legs raised like spears, aiming to impale him.

With reflexes honed by instinct, Asdras jumped back, his sword coming up to deflect the attack. The creature’s legs clanged against his blade, the force sending vibrations up his arm. His blood rushed into his ears.

Narrowing his eyes, he shifted his stance, holding the sword diagonally near his left leg, the blade poised for a decisive strike.

With a fierce input, he dashed forward, slashing in a powerful arc. The steel met the creature's leg with a sickening crunch, severing it cleanly.

The spider emitted a vibrating, buzzing cry of pain that resonated through the dim interior. Asdras's ears caught more stabbing sounds from the windmill walls. Time was running out. He had to finish this quickly and escape.

The wounded creature lunged forward, green liquid dripping from its severed leg. Asdras positioned himself in a diagonal stance, pressing hard into the ground with his left foot.

In one fluid motion, he rotated his body, gripping his sword with both hands, to deliver a powerful slash. The blade cut through the air and met the spider's body, slicing it cleanly in half.

The creature's remains hit the floor with a sickening thud, ichor pooling around them. Asdras's eyes stung, causing him to squint and briefly shut them. It felt like something was moving beneath his eyelids, a crawling sensation that made him shiver.

Then, a voice echoed in his head, clear and cold: "You killed a Tainted Grimclaw Spider."

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. The voice was unfamiliar yet strangely natural, as if it had always been a part of him. Though he couldn't explain why, his mind and body accepted it instinctively. It was the system, and it had spoken to him directly.

He saw two more creatures crawling through the window, their legs skittering against the wooden frame.

Adjusting his grip on his sword, Asdras pushed his questions to the back of his mind. The room's dimensions crowded in on him as he moved backward slowly, careful not to provoke the spiders into a premature attack.

He neared the staircase, his mind racing. The entrance was blocked, and the window was no longer a viable escape route. Though he could fight these two creatures, it seemed wiser to conserve his energy. He didn't know how far the town was, and every bit of strength would be crucial.

As his foot hit the staircase, one creature lunged while the other leapt onto the grindstone. Asdras reacted swiftly, kicking the first spider away. He then jumped from his step, landing on a lower one. He bent his knees, letting his calves absorb the impact before hitting the ground in a controlled crouch.

He wasted no time, bolting toward the room's entrance. A buzzing sound from his left warned him just in time, and he rolled to the ground, narrowly avoiding the spider's attack.

Asdras quickly scanned the room. It was spacious but mostly empty, save for the mysterious object blocking the entrance. In the dim light, he could barely make out its shape, which resembled a large, featureless ball.

"Maybe I should kill them? At least one?" Asdras pondered, his resolve hardening.

Gripping his sword with one hand, he raised his left hand slightly ahead of him, his mind blanking out all but three basic actions: attack, defend, and evade.

One of the creatures near the staircase hissed, its mouth opening to reveal a nightmarish maw lined with rows of sharp, needle-like teeth. It spat a jet of greenish liquid towards him.

Asdras rolled to the right, evading the acid spray just in time. The other spider lunged, trying to bury him under its body.

With quick reflexes, Asdras used his left hand to punch the creature, then swiftly stabbed it with his sword, aiming for its head. The blade pierced through it, killing it instantly. One of the creature’s legs brushed over his arm, but he felt nothing.

He saw streams of the green liquid coming from his back. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw where the acid had landed, eating away at the wall and revealing a glimpse of the outside.

‘This is dangerous!’ he thought, his urgency mounting.

He advanced forward, his sword raised to neck level. The remaining spider backed away, its mouth opening in preparation for another jet of acid.

But Asdras was faster. He threw his sword with precision, the blade striking the creature's head and dropping it dead.

Panting, his blood still rushing with adrenaline, Asdras retrieved his sword. He paused, catching his breath and halting the use of his abilities, since all he could hear was the wind and the rustle of trees.

Then he heard it — first one stabbing sound, then countless more, growing in intensity. His heartbeat quickened. He didn’t know how many creatures were out there, but he couldn't stay.

He noticed the crack in the wall where the acid had eaten through. The sounds were getting closer.

Using his body, Asdras pushed himself into the crack, then forced it wider with his shoulders. The wood groaned and splintered under the strain.

"I don't have much time. I can't just run; they will prey on me. It's an open field outside; it's easier to spot me. It's now or never."

He clenched his right fist, feeling the curse in his hand pulsing slowly. Since his awakening, he had difficulty controlling his flame, only managing a spark most of the time. Once, he had released a flame big enough to cover his arm, but it had left him exhausted for the entire day.

He didn’t need much then; the wood was dry and almost rotten. He focused on summoning a small ember, pressing his hand against the wall. Half his body was already through the crack he had widened.

His eyes caught glimpses of three creatures emerging from the staircase. His temperature rose, and the veins in his arm pulsed. A small ember flickered to life in his hand, catching the wall and spreading quickly.

He forced himself through the crack and bolted, glancing over his shoulder. Fear surged through him as he saw at least ten spiders descending from the ceiling.

Relief washed over him when he saw the fire engulfing the windmill, the creatures' painful screeches echoing behind him.