The air was thick with the musky scent of the spider, a miasma that sought to cloud his mind with illusions. But Cal was aware and alert now. He could feel the primal fury within him stir, his bloodlust clawing its way to the surface. As it emerged and flooded his surroundings, his vision cleared, and the illusions became simpler distractions.

"Come then," he whispered, voice barely above a growl.

The world seemed to pulse with his heartbeat, each throb sending ripples across reality, dispelling the sinister mirages that the spider queen was weaving. His piercing blue eyes, usually calm seas of strategy and calculation, now burned with a spark of untamed fire. Cal's muscles twitched, every fiber strung taut as he sank into the mental rhythm of his kata.

A step forward, weight shifting, his body a silent symphony of motion. He moved with purpose, each position a promise of violence, a prelude to the storm about to break. Cal's mind was a fortress, refusing entry to the whispers – the two recent beast cores had given him clarity. Trust was a luxury; here, only his instincts could serve as allies.

"Let's dance," he muttered, his voice a blade cutting through the silence.

In this moment, under the gaze of the spider queen, he was the embodiment of survival, whether it was artful or not. The lair around him was no longer a trap, but an arena where his mettle would shine, tempered or tarnished by the coming fray, but resilient and intact, nonetheless.

Cal's fingers wrapped around the dagger's hilt, its edge catching the scant light, a silent promise of lethality. In his other hand, the pistol—a compact extension of his will—leveled at the arachnid form before him.

"Temp," he said, voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through his veins, "fire at will. Save two charged shots for the end."

The spider queen moved with a grace that belied her monstrous size. Each leg, a barbed spear, carved arcs in the air as she circled him. Her eyes, multifaceted orbs, reflected a cold intelligence. Power pulsed from her like heat from a forge, and Cal felt it wash over him, a tidal wave threatening to crush him beneath its weight. He could feel the weight of profound concepts distorting the air around him. His bloodlust curtailed the effect to a degree, but could not hold off the pressure entirely.

He adjusted his stance, feet planted on the uneven ground, every sense sharpened to a razor's edge. There was no fear in his heart, only the cool clarity of knowing what must be done.

"Anytime now, Temp," he called out, the command slicing through the tension.

A hint of autonomy flickered in Temp’s response. And then, the silence shattered as the pistol roared, its muzzle flashing in defiance of the lava-tinted light and timed in tune with Cal’s aim. The oversoul bolts were blood red and charged with only minor energy. The bolts would deal physical damage, but the pain would travel to the soul for additional damage - it was why oversoul weapons were so potent.

Cal lunged, his limbs a symphony of trained violence. Dagger carved through the stifling air, a silver streak seeking chitinous armor. The pistol kicked in his grasp as he aimed it to parry oncoming sweeps. It spat out small charges as the spider queen countered with her own deadly ballet. Blade met exoskeleton, and the oversoul bolts hit appendages; the clash echoed in the cavernous chamber.

"Yield!" Cal's voice was a blade, sharp and clear over the din of battle.

The queen recoiled, mandibles clacking in derision. She towered above him, the mirage turned her into a nightmare – what a monster would truly look like. Venom pooled at the tips of her fangs, dripping down like liquid emerald. With a screech that scratched at the confines of reality, she flung the toxic projectiles at him.

Half of them were illusions, Cal could tell.

Cal's response was instinct, honed by countless skirmishes. He twisted, the venom splattering where he once stood. It hissed, corrosive, eating into stone and sending up curls of acrid smoke. His eyes tracked the trajectory of each glob, his body swaying.

"Is running also your choice?" he taunted, goading the creature into recklessness.

She surged forward, bulk and fury combined, unleashing another volley. Cal ducked, rolled, the heat of the venom singeing the air mere inches from his skin. Every move was anticipation, every breath measured. He retaliated in turn with the oversoul pistol. He was the storm, and she, the tide—clashing in an endless struggle for dominance.

"Cal, she is setting up a trap!" Temp's voice pierced the chaos. Cal's instincts flared, a warning siren blaring in his mind. He scanned the terrain, noting the subtle shift in the spider queen's stance, the silken threads that now laced the ground with deadly intent. “She's baiting you. The patterns—lure tactics. She's spinning a scenario to lure you in."

"Understood," Cal grunted, recalibrating his approach. The chamber was originally her domain, and he saw the threads of a potential snare designed to entwine prey.

Cal's mind raced, sifting through Temp's warning. He glanced at the ground, the subtle shifts in shadow and dust. An almost imperceptible stickiness clinging to his boots. A web. Invisible, insidious. He'd been so focused on the venom and spider legs that he'd missed the silk-threaded trap being woven around him as they fought.

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Cal was no ordinary quarry, though. He adjusted his footing, movements precise, steps light as he navigated the treacherous floor and leaned into his kata, letting instinct and his unseen connection to the primal guide him. He adjusted only slightly, still facing the entanglement head on.

The dance of death reached its apex, crescendoing into a symphony of violence. Each movement was deliberate. Both of them were injured, but Cal was bloody, whereas the spider queen was simply battered. Cal had parried many of the spider queen’s attacks, but not all, especially because she was willing to trade blow for blow.

Cal unleashed himself upon the moment, the weight of consequence dissolving in the heat of combat. Heart racing, he embraced the thrill, the pure adrenaline that coursed through his veins. His body sang with the exertion, a living weapon.

"More," he breathed, a whisper lost to the clash of metal.

Temp monitored, silent now, allowing Cal to become the tempest he was.

Sparks one more flickered into existence, encircling Cal and the spider queen. They danced like fireflies caught in an unseen breeze, casting a soft luminescence that played across the jagged walls. The light, otherworldly in its essence, threw long, twitching shadows as it mingled with the dim light of the cavern. They danced as Cal did, in patterns that hinted at ancient secrets – older than the Primal, and certainly older than the Aether.

Cal's gaze didn't waver, fixed upon his adversary. His breaths were measured, even as the sparks reflected in his piercing blue eyes. He moved with a predator's grace, every step meaningful, every shift a prelude to violence.

"Ahhh," the spider queen's voice reverberated, a silk-wrapped hammer of sound, "This is the true tapestry!" Her multifaceted eyes gleamed with grudging respect, reverence even.

Cal heard her but gave no sign. He was focused, and his vision sharpened to a razor's edge. The air between them hummed with impending conflict, charged with the struggle between mirage and bloodlust.

Cal lunged, dagger leading the attack, only to parry a swift, lethal strike from the spider queen. The sparks swirled around them, a silent audience to their deadly ballet. His breaths came in controlled bursts as he pivoted, dodging a swipe that promised certain death.

"Yield!" Cal spat out the challenge, even as he ducked under another gossamer thread of venom.

"I have made my choice," the spider queen hissed back, her limbs moving with a precision that defied her size.

In the distance, Elena crouched low, observing the melee. The cervidians stood behind her—a silent phalanx. All four of them were wounded heavily after the successive battles, but they were unnerved by the sparks that now surrounded Cal. They looked on with interest and fell into comprehension as they prepared to ambush the spider queen.

She raised a hand, signaling them. "Stay back, I don’t think he needs us," she commanded, her violet eyes tracing the contours of the battle. "This is his fight. We should not disturb it."

The cervidians obeyed, their own gazes locked on the combatants, admiration and concern warring within their depths. Cal's every movement was a testament to his training, a dance of survival against an opponent whose very existence outmatched him.

Elena watched as Cal's dagger found its mark once more, only to slide off chitinous armor. His pistol cracked, the sound sharp and commanding amidst the cries of their struggle. Each of the dancing sparks cast light upon their faces—determination etched into both combatants.

"Come on," Cal muttered to himself, feeling the weight of each moment, the balance of life and death hanging by a thread. He moved with a fluidity borne of necessity, the pistol's report syncing with his rhythm.

The spider queen recoiled, regrouping for her next assault. Cal readied himself, knowing each second could be his last. And still, the eerie beauty of the sparks encircled them, witnesses to their fight still, but growing more anxious in their dance.

Cal feinted left then stumbled, a calculated misstep. Kristina lunged, sensing victory. But Cal and most certainly Temp, were masters of this struggle—and his stumble had been nothing more than a ruse. With agility that belied his human form, he rolled and sprung onto her back.

"Temp, now!" he barked.

Two charged shots erupted from the pistol, the sound deafening in the confined space. The blasts struck true, shattering the once-impenetrable armor along Kristina's thorax. Ichor spurted from the wounds, the fluid glimmering like oil in the flickering light.

"Arrogant child!" Kristina screeched, her voice a cacophony of pain and rage.

Before she could react further, Cal raised his dagger and a single mote of sparks joined his blade in an excited dance. It was simple and did not exude any energy he could detect, but it resonated with himself. The spark felt old, dangerous, and even deceptive.

Cal plunged the dagger deep, the blade sinking into her flesh with grim satisfaction. From the other side, the spark emerged again, dancing, leaving behind nothing in its wake. The flesh disintegrated in its outbound journey.

The spider queen’s bellow shook the very stones around them as she thrashed wildly, flinging Cal from her back.

Cal hit the ground hard, rolling to dissipate the impact. He sprang up, poised for another attack, but it wasn't necessary. Kristina staggered, the loss of ichor sapping her strength. The loss of a portion of her inner organs, a deathblow. Her legs buckled, and she swayed, the end imminent.

The ichor spread beneath her, a pool of defeat. Each breath Kristina drew was labored, the sound ragged and wet. Her many eyes, once so full of wisdom, now gazed upon Cal with an unsettling clarity.

"My god indeed is cruel,” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper yet cutting through the silence. “I pray heavens don’t mold you into monstrosity.”

He stood over her, dagger still in hand, the weight of victory and its toll heavy on his shoulders. The air hung thick with the scent of venom and spilled ichor, a sharp reminder of the battle's ferocity.

Cal's piercing blue eyes locked onto hers, searching for anything, but found nothing. The spider queen's final breaths wove a truth he had yet to fully grasp.

Her body shuddered, then stilled. The echoes of her parting words lingered, leaving Cal regretful.

[Hidden quest failed: communication has broken down. A shame, really.]

[Escalation, stage 2: Survive the entrapment of hungry predators. Time limit: 199 hours]

[Defeated a stage-two beast as a mortal - title upgraded, Mortal combat]

[Mortal combat: +5% -> +10% all stats]