The battlefield had shifted. The Great Nethrite Serpents, with their sheer numbers, had pushed the Titan Taratects back. Their monstrous bodies slithered forward, their scales glistening like black steel in the dim cavern light. They had begun to encroach upon the nesting grounds, where thousands of eggs and infant taratects lay unprotected.
For Shwet, this was the worst possible scenario.
If the serpents reached this area, they would devour everything—the eggs, the newborn taratects, and him. He was still trapped, bound tightly in a cocoon of enchanted silk, hanging helplessly like prey awaiting its execution.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he fought against the silk binding him, his body twisting desperately in midair.
"I can't believe this is happening… After everything, after surviving the Serpents' nest, killing them, hunting spiders, now I'm just going to die like this?"
Panic clawed at his mind. His thoughts spiraled into regret. He had been careless. He had let his guard down after the Taratects decided not to kill him immediately, assuming he could maneuver his way out at his own pace.
But this was the consequence of that overconfidence.
"Stupid! I should have known their silk was infused with magic!" he cursed himself.
Shwet activated Double Dash, trying to strain his body against the webbing. Nothing.
He attempted Air Kick, jerking his body to break free. Still nothing.
The cavern trembled again as another Titan Taratect crashed against the rocky walls, sending dust and pebbles cascading down. The vibrations made his silk bindings sway, but still, they held strong.
"Useless! This is all useless!"
For the first time, a sliver of real despair crept into his heart.
Then—movement.
A shadow detached itself from the ceiling, a silent figure descending through the webbing.
Shwet's eyes widened.
"You…!"
It was the Assassin Taratect.
The very same creature that had defeated him, that had bound him in this prison of silk and left him helpless.
Shwet thrashed harder, rage boiling inside him.
"What the hell do you want, you bastard!?" he shouted, his voice hoarse from desperation.
The spider merely tilted its head, those dark, soulless red eyes watching him intently.
Then—without warning—it moved.
One of its bladed limbs slashed through the cocoon in a single stroke.
The silk split apart.
For a moment, Shwet felt weightless. Then he plummeted.
He hit the ground hard, the impact sending a sharp jolt of pain up his legs. The cold cavern floor met him with a cruel embrace, his body collapsing amid the eggs and newborn Taratects.
He barely had time to register the pain before the Assassin Taratect landed beside him.
It stood there, towering over him, its presence both eerie and commanding.
Its many eyes locked onto him, and in that moment—he understood.
"You want me to fight?"
The Assassin didn't answer. It didn't need to.
The message was clear.
This wasn't just about survival anymore. The Taratects needed him now.
"You want to drag me into your conflict?! Like throwing me into this mess wasn't enough?!"
His fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. His frustration, his rage, his desperation all boiled over.
He wanted to scream at the spider, to curse it for ruining his plans, for making his life even worse than it already was.
But there was no time.
The Serpents were here.
Shwet looked toward the battlefield.
The first Great Serpent was mere seconds away from reaching the eggs.
The moment they crossed into this zone, it would be over.
He had no choice.
His hand shot to his waist, gripping the handle of his Nethrite Dagger.
He unsheathed it in one swift motion.
His body lowered into a stance, muscles tensed, heart pounding.
His instincts screamed at him—
"Run!"
But there was nowhere to run.
There was only the battle.
There was no escape. Only death, his or theirs.