The scent of human sweat returned before the sound of footsteps. It crept in beneath the stale mineral breath of the dungeon, sharp and familiar—tinged with blood, with fear.
He was back.
The boy.
Alone, at first.
He entered from the western passage, torchlight quivering in his hands. The tunnel was cleaner now. I had scrubbed the floor with acid-seep silk, polished the bones, created symmetry in the design. It was welcoming. Purposeful.
A trap.
And yet… I didn't spring it.
I watched him from the shadowed curve of the ceiling, unmoving, my many eyes fixed on the shivering silhouette of a child that should never have returned.
[Trap Proximity Triggered: Web Snare I]
[Status: Suspended]
I suppressed the trigger with a conscious thought. The dungeon obeyed.
The boy whispered my name.
"Spider…? Are you here?"
I blinked.
Riku.
Not a name he could've known. But something in the way he said it—hesitant, reverent—made the air feel colder.
He stepped closer to the nest chamber. The torch flickered against the strands of silk I had strung like cathedral banners, each one vibrating faintly with my breath.
"I came back," he said. "I had to."
I crawled lower, silent, legs grasping the rock like tendrils of a god. His torch caught a glimpse of my form—angular, shadowed, sharp.
He didn't scream.
"I thought you let me go," he said. "Not because you were weak. But because you understood."
I tilted my head.
Understood?
No, boy. I chose not to kill you.
But that doesn't mean I saved you.
He returned twice more that week.
The second time, he brought food—moldy bread, a piece of dried meat, a copper dagger. He left them at the edge of the nest chamber like offerings to something sacred.
The third time, he came with questions.
"Are you… really a monster?" he asked.
I did not answer. But I lowered myself close enough that he could see the glint of my fangs, the runes along my carapace, the shimmer of silk soaked in acid.
He sat.
Like a pilgrim before an altar.
"My name's Ren," he said. "I don't have anywhere else to go. Mom and Sis… they're scared. The village thinks the dungeon will kill us all. But I think you're different."
Oh, Ren.
You're right.
I am different.
But not in the way you hope.
[New Trait Progress: Deceiver (Awakening)]
[Brood Path Affinity: 12%]
[Requirement Unlocked: Voluntary Human Bond (1/3)]
Days passed.
He returned again and again, speaking to me in the dark, never asking for answers—just telling me about the world. About the sky I had nearly forgotten. About a sister named Lira who knew how to use healing herbs. About a mother who hadn't smiled since the monsters took their father.
I listened.
And slowly, I weaved.
Not webs.
Lies.
I crafted the illusion of safety. Of intelligence. Of kindness. I rearranged silk to resemble patterns—shapes almost like symbols, half-words etched into the rock. I let him believe he was teaching me language.
But the only thing I was learning…
Was how to use him.
One night, he came with them.
His sister. His mother.
Lira was taller than him, with sun-darkened skin and sharp eyes. The kind of girl who would've made fun of me back in school. The kind who never got picked on. She held a wooden staff and a pouch of crushed herbs. Her mother was thinner, worn by grief and hunger, but her hands trembled less than her voice.
Ren introduced them as if I were some ancient guardian.
"He won't hurt us," Ren said. "He's not what they think."
And I allowed it.
I let the dungeon lower its guard, let the tunnels glow faintly with bioluminescent moss I had cultivated for this purpose. I softened the light. I moved with care.
And the sister stared.
"You really think this thing understands you?" she whispered.
"I know he does."
She stepped closer. "Then why is it watching me like that?"
Because I was learning.
The gait of her stride. The way her body tensed. The structure of her bones.
She would make a strong one.
[Brood Path Affinity: 28%]
[New Mutation Option Approaching: Brood Weaver I]
[Requirement: Secure Human Hosts (2/3)]
They slept near the edge of the nest, curled beneath a curtain of thread I had made to look warm. Ren snored softly. His sister didn't sleep at all.
And I stayed above them.
Still. Patient.
My venom glands pulsed softly with hunger.
Not for flesh.
For dominion.
The dungeon trembled faintly beneath my legs, sensing the convergence of fate and purpose.
The threads were tightening.
And soon, the Brood would begin