The sky was incredibly clear, even though clouds were scattered across the horizon. Tyrin tried to see beyond them, and with some effort, he realized that the deep blue wasn't what it seemed. What covered the sky was not a common firmament, but rather gigantic stalactites, pigmented by some living substance that moved slowly, creating that bright, light-blue hue—almost illusory.
There were no mountains in that world, only colossal stalactites extending from the sky toward the ground, forming hourglass-like shapes, crashing into the blue ceiling in a chaotic and awe-inspiring display. Also floating were massive portions of land, suspended in the air like wandering islands, defying gravity. Tyrin already understood: nothing on that planet obeyed the natural laws of the universe. To be the Singularity meant to break every known rule, physical or mathematical.
Gertrudes had told him: "Forget everything you know. No law is absolute on this planet."
"Come on, Karma. We need to find an open area," said Tyrin, his voice low but resolute.
He didn't ask Karma to take flight. They both knew the sky was the most dangerous place on Gargantua. Ravenous creatures dwelled in the heights, capable of reaching anything that dared to take off—and that wasn't even the greatest danger. There was a peculiar species on that planet, resembling jellyfish but much larger. Their sticky tentacles reached out to everything around them, devouring anything they touched with insatiable hunger.
They were considered some of the most deadly creatures in that world. It was said their bodies could keep prey alive for months, maybe years, digesting them slowly while forming a perverse symbiosis—killing the creature meant also killing whoever was inside it.
The silence around them was dense and oppressive. Everything here kills, everything kills... The words echoed in Tyrin's mind, a constant reminder that no mistake would be forgiven.
As soon as they had arrived on the planet, they had come face to face with two grotesque forms—four-legged, carnivorous creatures, covered in blood. They vaguely resembled wolves, but something was wrong with them. They were tearing into the flesh of a being Tyrin could no longer recognize. They were massive, larger than he was, and it was by their snouts with three holes that Tyrin was able to identify them.
"Vulture Wolves," he murmured.
The scavengers of the planet. Strong, agile—in any other place, they would be considered apex predators. But here... here, they were just scavengers. Gargantua reduced them to traveling in packs and feeding on corpses that even other predators had rejected.
"Just like life," he thought, as he watched one of them lick its bloodied lips. The stench of rotting flesh invaded his nostrils, making him gag. Tyrin almost vomited but held it back.
As soon as they noticed Karma's presence, the vultures bolted. They knew what that dragon was. And Tyrin realized that perhaps his journey would only be possible because of him. There were creatures on that planet that, even after centuries of human attempts, still had no name, no description, no mythology. No one knew how they lived, where they slept, or even if they slept at all. The hostility of this place was so extreme that even well-known beings like the vulture wolves barely occupied four or five lines in the records Tyrin had studied.
The truth was that on Gargantua, knowledge never had time to flourish. Survival didn't allow it. He remembered a phrase from Gertrudes about that strange world as his shoes sank into a thick, foul-smelling sludge that covered the ground.
The air was breathable, but not easily accessible. Being there was like living permanently atop a suffocating mountain. The suit Tyrin wore was hyper-resistant, designed to withstand extreme conditions—but even that didn't make him safe.
The most common deaths didn't come from giant monsters or territorial beasts, but from insects. Tiny, stealthy, they entered the human body through its orifices to reproduce, devouring the host from the inside out.
"Let's try to set up camp near that mountain, that's the nearest safe area," said Tyrin, pointing to a distant rock formation, almost hidden by the bluish haze on the horizon.
Karma was watching the surroundings attentively. The dragon's usually gentle expression had vanished, replaced by one of hypervigilance and tension. Even an Iluthar didn't dare treat that planet lightly, Tyrin reflected in silence.
Karma's footsteps were as silent as the breeze whispering through the trees—or what was left of them. The path was becoming increasingly dense, wrapped in twisted vegetation with black thorns that seemed to watch in silence. Still, the dragon moved swiftly, without touching a single leaf.
But then… she stopped.
Karma suddenly raised her head, blocking Tyrin's view as he sat on her neck. Something was wrong. The dragon could sense it before seeing it.
Tyrin tried to peer through the vegetation, but nothing seemed to move—until shadows began to emerge among the thorned trees. They were the same carrion wolves—but now in far greater number. Tyrin managed to count at least eight of them. At the front, a colossal creature led the pack, larger than all the others combined.
Without hesitation, Karma took off at low altitude through the twisted canopies, shaking the carnivorous trees whose hungry branches snapped as they sensed living flesh. Tyrin, steady on the dragon's back, drew his dagger, its blade glinting under the dull light of the artificial sky.
The ground trembled.
The lead wolf emerged from the shadows with eyes like burning coals, followed by the other eight, who spread out in a circle, surrounding the area where Karma landed with a crash that violently cleared the space.
The first enemy to leap was swallowed by a blast of fire. Karma's flames were unlike any other—more alive and insatiable. They didn't just burn; they corroded everything they touched. Even after the creature's scream faded, the flames still crackled, hungry.
Two wolves attacked from the flanks, aiming for the dragon's wings. Tyrin leapt from his mount, spinning mid-air. The dagger came down in a precise arc, slicing the first wolf from top to bottom. A gush of thick, greenish blood hit him, hot as lava.
The second wolf took advantage of the distraction and sank its teeth into Tyrin's leg. The pain was sharp and lacerating. Tyrin screamed. But that scream was enough to awaken Karma's fury. She used her tail like a whip of stone and fire, smashing the enemy with brutal force. Bones shattered. The wolf collapsed, spine broken.
The carnivorous trees, drawn by the scent of blood, began to move. Their thorn-covered branches reached toward the clearing, trying to seize the victims. The wounded wolf was pulled in by the branches, which dug into its flesh and tore it apart as it howled, helpless.
Five remained.
Panting and bleeding, Tyrin climbed back onto Karma's back with effort.
"Let's finish this, Karma!"
The dragon answered with an ancient roar, flapping her wings with fury. Together, they rose back into the skies. From above, they saw the five wolves trying to flee into the forest. But there was no escape. The trees surrounded them.
Karma dove with all her rage, spewing a spiral of black fire and ash. Tyrin, seizing the opportunity, jumped into the chaos, landing right on top of the lead wolf. The dagger pierced the creature's skull with force, breaking through flesh, bone, and pride. The others were either consumed by the flames or torn apart by the murderous branches.
Silence.
The forest seemed to breathe again, sated by the violence it had witnessed.
Tyrin staggered across the ground, soaked in blood and ash, watching as Karma landed beside him. Both were wounded, covered in the blood of their enemies. But alive.
"We need to get out of here… now."
A distant sound reached his ears—not the howls of wolves, but the cries of other creatures, unknown, and drawing closer. Even the trees, scorched by Karma's flames, seemed hungry again, moving desperately in search of any sign of flesh.
Karma looked at Tyrin's bleeding leg with concern.
"Don't worry… I brought some potions with me," he said, breathless.
He pulled one of the potions Alvina had given him from a small pouch before the mission. It wasn't exactly forbidden, but it wasn't encouraged either. Potions of that quality were rare—and expensive. Tyrin knew that even many newly graduated Astras didn't have access to such resources.
And at that moment, it might be the only reason he would live to see the dawn on Gargantua.
"I'll have to thank the Headmistress when I get back… cough, cough… What a horrible place," Tyrin groaned, pressing on the wound in his leg as the potion's thick liquid began to take effect.
He felt the tissue closing beneath the skin, hot and tingling, as if it were being stitched from the inside. The pain, however, would last at least two more days—
a throbbing reminder that he was far from any comfort zone. At least, he thought, he wouldn't be leaving a trail of blood behind anymore.
He climbed once more onto Karma's back. The dragon waited patiently, eyes scanning the horizon. As soon as Tyrin was secure, they took off at a swift pace toward the mountain they'd spotted upon arrival.
"We need to get out of this tree territory as soon as possible… or we won't be able to sleep."
The map Tyrin carried indicated they'd need at least a full day of continuous travel to escape that hostile region. Flying was an impossible option—the sky was a death sentence. The best Karma could manage was gliding just above the treetops, but even that was risky. The creatures above had too many eyes… and too much reach.
It took nearly three exhausting hours of running before they reached the marked location.
"Well… according to Alvina, we're in one of the safe zones now," said Tyrin, stopping, breathless.
Gertrudes had explained these places: sacred territories for the creatures of Gargantua. Places where, according to records and rumors, entities of immeasurable power had once perished. The memory of those titans still haunted the land, repelling even the boldest of monsters. Many of these sites had become human settlements or research zones, but some remained forgotten—and Tyrin had found the closest one to the portal he'd entered through.
"At least we'll have a place to rest... after the hunt."
Karma finally allowed herself to relax, nuzzling her head against Tyrin and letting out a deep, contented rumble.
"Easy, big girl… you're huge. You'll crush me like that."
Tyrin's stomach growled loudly. Between the battle, the tension, and his time on the planet, his body now demanded food.
"Good thing I brought this ring…"
Singular Ring
🌀 STATUS 🌀
Unique
Active Abilities:
Confined Space (10x10 m) – Enabled
Quick Draw – Enabled
Owner:
Tyrin
The ring was one of the most absurd rarities he'd ever seen. A pocket-dimensional space where he stored the essentials: food, shelter, even tools. Tyrin didn't yet have full access to all the pre-existing items inside, but the compartments currently available were already a blessing. Anything stored remained clean, fresh, and perfectly preserved.
"This is better than a fridge or pantry."
From within the dimensional space, he pulled out a few special stones—gifts from Gertrudes—that fed Karma. Despite her carnivorous diet, the dragon loved those stones. They nourished and, according to Gertrudes, steadily and consistently strengthened her magical essence.
"Now that I think about it… I didn't grab the wolves' core…" he muttered. "But how the hell was I supposed to do anything in that situation?"
Tyrin pondered the best way to quickly dissect creatures, collect their stones, and escape before something even worse appeared. But every idea that came to mind felt more suicidal than practical.
"I'll have to take it slow… claim territory, understand the rhythm of this place. Otherwise, I'll end up facing something way too big for me."
He turned his attention back to Karma… but the dragon was on alert.
"What is it, Karma?"
Karma pointed with her snout toward the clearing. Tyrin turned—and saw it.
Something disturbing was moving in mass. Spiders. Giant spiders, the size of trees, running at high speed toward the east, parallel to the clearing. Some stopped just to observe the two of them—their eyes were like glass orbs filled with saliva and hatred. They screeched in sounds that blended with clicks and growls before returning to their sprint, their many legs cracking the earth beneath them.
Many carried organic sacks on their backs. Tyrin knew what they were. Inside those structures were living bodies—kept as a slow, constant source of blood.
"Vampiric spiders…?"
His face twisted in unease.
"Strange… they're not supposed to be in this region. Their territory doesn't even appear on this map..."
The map he'd received marked danger zones and known routes. The vampiric spiders weren't listed at all. If Tyrin hadn't done his own research, he wouldn't even have known what he was looking at.
"I didn't see any females among the males… so they're probably just passing through… I hope."
His words lingered in the air, thick with growing tension. Something had driven those creatures out of their territory—something even they didn't want to face.
And that, for Tyrin… was the real problem.
He combed through his memory as he watched the webs spread across the forest like a silent plague. He'd only read fragments about those creatures, but even the little he knew was enough to make his skin crawl.
"Vampiric Spiders are one of the few wandering species of Gargantua. Their insatiable hunger, combined with their absurd reproductive capacity, makes them a virus to any ecosystem. They've adapted to keep their prey alive as long as possible, stitching them into organic pouches on their backs. Their webs have steel-like resistance, but in direct combat, they're fragile. Masters of ambush."
Danger Rating: 5.7
A chill ran down Tyrin's spine. He also remembered another detail:
"Females are extremely rare—but infinitely more lethal. They are larger, faster, stronger. In their presence, even entire colonies go into a frenzy."
Danger Rating: 7.8
For comparison... the wolves he had fought earlier were rated 3.8.
In other words, against the males, in open terrain, he and Karma might still have a decent chance. But here… there was no such thing as "open terrain." And if a female was nearby? It would be a death sentence.
Even so, time passed—and with it, the certainty grew: those spiders weren't just passing through.
They were settling.
In just a few hours, the sacred territory began to transform. The once-bare trees now bore white, viscous shells, covered in fine silver threads that fluttered with the slightest breeze. The clearings grew hazy. Webs as thick as steel cables were already tangled around the rocks.
Tyrin stood silently, analyzing, at Karma's side.
"I think tomorrow we'll have to fight these disgusting things, Karma…"
The dragon let out a low breath, uneasy. Her eyes scanned the perimeter, watching the forest shift before them. The sounds of animals and insects had ceased. Silence took over like an omen.
But something in the air changed.
Not just silence—something heavier, like the shadow of a living mountain.
The ground trembled.
Karma lifted her head with a snap. Tyrin followed the dragon's gaze… and then he saw it.
Farther ahead, among the twisted trees and freshly spun webs, a colossal shadow stood out. It didn't march like the others, didn't screech, didn't spit silk. It only… watched.
Almost thirty meters tall, its body swollen and pulsating like a living tumor, covered in natural plates of black chitin. The creature didn't move. It simply observed from afar, its countless eyes glowing like warped lanterns.
The spider queen.
Its fangs trembled with anticipation. Glands in its mouth contracted, spilling rivers of acidic saliva that corroded the earth around it, forming steaming craters. Each droplet was like a chemical strike—its venom dissolved stone and vegetation, leaving behind dark, gaping wounds in the soil.
It had noticed them.
But it didn't attack.
Tyrin realized something few others would in that moment:
She was… curious.
The young human was a new species, a flesh she had never tasted. Something different. A fresh, vulnerable, cornered delicacy. The creature's ancient hunger blended with the thrill of the unknown. Her massive body trembled like a hillside on the verge of collapse during an earthquake.
"She's deciding… whether to wait… or leave," Tyrin murmured, feeling cold sweat trickle down his back.
Gargantua never offered easy choices.
Only consequences.