Everyone just froze for a moment as the giant spider looked on, the sight of it petrifying just as much as its words. Its body, about the size of a small car, was round but elongated upward as it raised its two front legs. It looked like it had been built from layered plates rather than grown, each one breathing in and out at different times, giving it an effect of liquid motion.

  Webbing hung between its joints like tattered curtains, stretching and clinging as it moved. Its eyes filled most of its face, too many of them flickering and moving about to count, and its mouth dripped green liquid from two overgrown fangs as it clicked and hissed.

  The spider’s abdomen then split, a seam opening like a wound along its underside, and movement skittered out in a wave. Dozens of football-sized spiderlings ran in all directions, several heading straight for the group, who were only now starting to realise they were in serious trouble.

  “Weapons! Now!” Rafe yelled, his voice hitting like a whip. “Syed, you with me. Shahan, stick with Keith—don’t let one of those bastard things touch him!”

  Everyone moved. Someone knocked over the crate with leftover food, a tent flap tore, and metal clanged. Tyler grabbed his bar from where he had propped it up against the back of one of the chairs. The sleep was totally washed out of him now, heart pumping at full speed.

  To his left, Charlie rushed by holding a long stick that had been carved then smoothed into a polearm, apart from one end where it had been flattened, as if it was used for sweeping. He spun it around his body, quick and precise—way too clean to be coincidence.

  Shahan stumbled behind Keith, his hands glowing a soft orange, like he held embers within them. Keith’s eyes narrowed as if he was assessing. The lack of panic in the old man was unsettling.

  Helen ran up to Rafe and Syed, and Bill was the last to emerge, coming out of his tent with what could only be described as a large club. He looked at the others approaching the spiderlings, rolled his neck as if he was just about to start work, then ran.

  The spiderlings scattered in an expanding ring, a few vanishing into the trees and reappearing overhead, clinging upside down to branches like living wind chimes. The first spiderling slammed into Syed’s shin. He screamed but swung down with his stick like a baseball bat. It landed with a sickening crunch, the creature’s leg buckling as dark, ink-like fluid oozed out, thick and stringy. The spiderling skittered back and sideways, looking confused for a moment before attacking again.

  Syed hit it again, this time catching it full in the back. Its pointed leg failed to reach him as it cracked under the blow. It didn’t die slowly—it tried to reform, fibrous strands pulling at broken joints—but Syed kept swinging, clubbing at it as his face reddened, twisted with determination, until after a dozen blows the spiderling stopped twitching, its legs curling up as it went prone.

  To Syed’s right, Charlie’s polearm whipped about in fast arcs as he danced around the spiderlings. He struck one spiderling’s foreleg with a crack, sending it backwards as the limb snapped sideways. He immediately followed with a sweep, hooking the creature’s legs and yanking them out from under it. The spiderling hit the ground upside down as he brought the polearm down like a hammer. A loud crunch reverberated as he obliterated it.

  A spiderling leapt for Helen, but she twisted sideways, letting it pass by mere inches, then kicked off the upturned crate with both feet, flipping backwards and landing on top of the spiderling. Her boots danced a storm as she smashed down on it. It flattened beneath her, its legs fanning out in defeat.

  Rafe was a different kind of violence. He met a spiderling head-on, driving a fist into its face with a sound like a stone dropping into a lake. The spiderling’s head dented inward and it staggered from side to side. Rafe danced with it, hammering blow after blow, knuckles sinking into its flesh.

  The creature reeled and tried to run, but Rafe grabbed one of its legs and twisted hard. It snapped with a brutal wrench, the spiderling screeching as its body convulsed. Rafe raised his leg, swung it around, and drove his heel down on its abdomen, which exploded as if a bomb had gone off inside it.

  Tyler watched all this unfold in seconds, amazed at the skill and efficiency of the group. Surely they hadn’t had these skills already—that would have meant he’d somehow been grouped with the world’s most proficient fighting team he’d ever seen. No, this was what the system had done to them—not just the gift-like abilities they were displaying, but the horror they’d been put through to show them how to use them.

  Keith’s voice cut through the carnage. “If you’re bleeding, shout! I’ll get to you. Shahan’s got my back—focus on what you’re doing!”

  Keith fought in his own way, staying back and keeping his eyes up. When Bill took a strike to his forearm, a spiderling’s leg piercing right through, Keith moved in, pressing his arm to the wound. A faint silvery light spread out, then pulsed through Bill’s arm as the wound closed—not instantly, but over time—as Bill kept fighting.

  Bill didn’t thank him. He didn’t have time. In the next moment his hands were a blur of motion and the air shifted around them. A spiderling that had been mid-leap suddenly jerked sideways, as if a gust had grabbed it, and went smashing into a tree, sprays of its insides exploding out under the force.

  Bill shoved again, knocking a second spiderling off balance, giving Syed time to jab the end of his stick into its eye. The spiderling shook as if it had been electrocuted, then went limp.

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  Tyler saw the pattern forming even through the panic.

  Rafe: brute force, close-range, dominating.

  Helen: movement, angles, staying alive.

  Charlie: control and sweeps, crushing joints.

  Syed: raw effort, clubbing until it stops.

  Bill: space control, knocking them off line.

  Keith: keeping the whole machine from bleeding out.

  Shahan: fire—but he was holding it back, saving it.

  And what was he doing? Watching.

  He gritted his teeth and entered the fray, swinging his bar at a spiderling heading his way. The bar hit the spiderling’s outstretched leg and there was a thud as the bar cut into it, barely slowing its forward motion.

  The bar stuck for a second as he yanked it back, a small trickle of blue blood spilling to the floor as the spiderling jumped toward his face. Tyler felt a gust of wind as the creature was diverted, tumbling into another spiderling and getting tangled up. Tyler shot Bill a glance of thanks, but the man was too busy to notice.

  What the hell happened there? It was like I had no effect on it—like my attack did nothing but irritate it, Tyler thought.

  “Because you’re poking it!” Al screeched. “Crush it, not poke!”

  Tyler quickly checked the battlefield and noticed nearly everyone was using some sort of stick or wooden pole, and he had an idea of what Al was on about.

  Metal pierces. Wood crushes. Different creatures react differently.

  He dropped his bar and grabbed one of the many wooden poles, swinging it in a downward spiral and catching a spiderling in his wake. Crunch. The pole hit true, crushing the spiderling beneath it.

  “Right, got it,” he said out loud as he ducked under a jumping spiderling, turning and swinging away. He felt crunch after crunch as his attacks landed—legs breaking and bending, bodies squashed as he waded into the invaders.

  Tyler turned and saw a spiderling on Keith—on Keith—climbing up his back like a nightmare. Keith hadn’t even noticed yet. He was mid-heal on Syed’s forearm, trying to close a gash that was spilling too much blood.

  Tyler sprinted over, swinging his pole hard and aiming for the spiderling’s body. The impact was solid as the creature went flying and slammed into the ground. Charlie was there a second later, bringing his polearm down like an axe. Crunch. Dead.

  Keith never stopped healing. He just exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath, trusting everyone to do their part.

  Shahan gave an apologetic look. His hands glowed brighter, orange light pulsing under his fingers like he was holding coals. He tossed a small firebolt at a spiderling heading for Helen—just enough to knock it off course—then kept his hands close, conserving his mana.

  The large spider just stood and watched. It remained at the edge of the clearing, legs planted, abdomen pulsing, head slightly tilted as if it was reading them. Its mouthparts clicked slowly, like a metronome. Like it was counting.

  Even though everyone seemed proficient and they were crushing spiderling after spiderling, Tyler noticed more and more attacks were getting through. His own attacks felt slower and less powerful. If this kept going, they’d soon be overrun.

  He took a moment to use Insight on the large spider, standing still and watching over the fight.

  Arachnid — Rank F — Domain Warden — Level ???

  Tyler flinched when he couldn’t see its level, but he’d seen enough. Domain Warden. He looked around and, sure enough, the area was covered in webbing. The spiderlings had spread it everywhere—across the ground, up the treeline, above them. It was like they were being cocooned.

  He used Insight on Keith as he healed a cut to Charlie’s leg, beads of sweat running down his face. He was moving more like the old man he looked than the invigorated person Tyler had met yesterday.

  Human — Rank F — Lifeweaver — Level 3

  Debuff:

  Webbed Domain — Active

  Non-Arachnid stat suppression increasing over time.

  Arachnid enhancement increasing over time.

  Tyler touched some webbing stretched between two chairs. It felt rough, tough, and dry. He brought mana to his hands, letting it jump between his fingers. The webbing singed and burned in a small area around his hands.

  This was no good. It would take him weeks to burn it all away like this.

  “Shahan!” Tyler yelled. “Fire! Burn the webbing!”

  Shahan flinched. “What?”

  “The ground—the webbing!” Tyler shouted, voice cracking. “It’s making them stronger and us weaker!”

  Rafe heard him. Rafe didn’t debate. “Shahan, burn it!”

  Shahan’s eyes widened. He raised both hands and for the first time let the fire build properly in his palms. A bright orange pulse formed between them, swelling, heat shimmering the air.

  Tyler ran to Shahan, brandishing his pole in defence. “Guard him! If we don’t burn this webbing away, we’re all done for!”

  Helen moved immediately, repositioning to Shahan’s left, blade up, eyes sharp despite the fear. Charlie planted his polearm like a staff and stood guard on Shahan’s right, breathing hard, sweat running down his face. Bill shoved outward in short bursts, keeping spiderlings off balance whenever they tried to break through. Rafe stepped forward, fists clenched, body between Shahan and the largest cluster. Keith stayed just behind them, hand glowing, ready to patch whoever got clipped.

  A moment later Shahan released a fireball. With a mighty roar it blasted wide, heat washing across the ground and burning a three-metre hole through the webbing. The ground flickered, then dimmed like a lamp losing power, and the pressure eased—just a fraction.

  Helen gasped. “It’s working!”

  “Keep going! Don’t stop!” Tyler shouted as his pole hit a spiderling right in its back—a joyous crunch—as it exploded under the blow. His attacks once again had power behind them.

  The large spider hissed but didn’t advance. Its clicking increased as if agitated.

  The spiderlings surged again, several that had gone for the trees now rejoining the fight, trying to push and break through the guard line before they lost their advantage.

  Charlie met the first one with a sweep, hooking its legs and slamming it down. Crunch.

  Helen kicked another away mid-leap, twisting so the impact slid off rather than landing full.

  Rafe grabbed one by the face and drove it into the dirt until it stopped moving.

  Bill shoved two sideways into each other, buying Syed enough time to swing his club down and finish them.

  Tyler’s arms burned. His grip slipped with sweat, but he swung anyway—again and again—crushing joints and smashing limbs.

  Shahan burned away another section of webbing, the pressure lifting further. Tyler realised with cold clarity that it wasn’t the spiderlings they were fighting, but the space the spider had built around them—and if they didn’t break it in time, they would all die slow and tired.

  The big spider rose higher, four legs lifting from the ground like arms stretching outward. Tyler saw a pulse—subtle but deliberate—as if it was taking a breath before things got worse.

  The spider rushed forward.