[Quest - Kill ???? Dismissed]
The system message flashed briefly before disappearing, and Shwet wasn't surprised. He had lost all agency. The quest was probably dismissed because he wasn't in a state to do anything. A mission that couldn't be completed had no purpose.
The silk cocoon that wrapped him was unyielding, but surprisingly smooth against his skin. If not for the suffocating tightness around his chest, he might have even called it comfortable. But that was a ridiculous thought—his breaths were shallow, his ribs compressed. His vision was blocked, forcing him to rely on his ears.
Screech. Tap. Click. Skitter.
The sounds grew in volume, overlapping into a chaotic symphony. The taratects were moving, dragging him toward something—somewhere. He tried to keep track of his surroundings based on the shifts in movement, but it was impossible to gauge distance or direction.
His mind raced through his options.
"I can use Shadow Stride to phase through the silk, then activate Last Stand and take out one of the white spiders carrying me."
It was a decent plan, but there was one massive problem—the black one.
The Assassin Spider was far faster than him, to the point where he hadn't even seen it move when it first attacked. If he tried anything, it would kill him in an instant. The fact that it hadn't done so already meant it had a purpose for him. That was far worse.
The journey continued, the air growing heavier, more humid. Then, suddenly—
More noise.
The screeching, tapping, clicking—now amplified a hundredfold. It wasn't just the ones dragging him. The sounds came from everywhere.
"A colony…" The realization struck him cold.
Then, the silk covering his eyes was abruptly slashed away.
The Assassin Spider had done it. It wanted him to see.
Shwet regretted it instantly.
The sheer mass of taratects in front of him was beyond comprehension. Spiders of all sizes, ranging from the size of his palm to towering monsters that rivaled a single-story building, filled the cavern. They covered the walls, the floor, the ceiling—skittering, working, weaving.
Some scuttled rapidly, carrying strange, wriggling bundles. Others spun massive, glistening webs, while a few sat motionless, their multiple eyes fixated on him.
And then there were the black ones—hundreds of them.
He had barely survived a single Assassin Spider. Now, he was in the very heart of their nest. A single misstep meant instant death.
A group of smaller taratects scuttled forward, their fangs clicking aggressively. He recognized them.
The survivors of the chain quest.
They had been weak, disposable creatures when he first fought them, but now they seemed emboldened, eager. They wanted revenge.
One of them lunged—
Shhk!
The black taratect that had captured him moved. Not a sound, not a warning—just instantaneous violence.
The lesser taratect was shredded apart before it even reached him. The others immediately backed away, their bodies trembling. The Assassin Spider didn't even look at them. It wasn't an act of loyalty or protection.
It was ownership.
Shwet was its prey.
His body continued to drag across the webbed floor, his mind already spiraling into despair. There was no escape.
His only escape from the serpents had been their willingness to let him go. But this? This was different. This was a civilization of monsters. If he made a single move, he was dead.
Then—he felt himself rising.
The white taratects had stopped dragging him and were now lifting him. Higher. Higher. His bound body dangled as he was hoisted toward the cavern ceiling.
His breath hitched.
There were others.
Cocoons, just like his, hung alongside him—dozens of them.
His first thought was more prey. Other adventurers, perhaps?
But then—he heard it.
A faint chittering sound, muffled but unmistakable. It was coming from the cocoons. The insides of the cocoons.
Something was moving inside them.
His stomach twisted.
On the cavern floor, neatly arranged in massive clusters, were eggs.
Hundreds. No, thousands of eggs.
The realization clawed into him like icy fangs.
This wasn't just a colony.
This was a breeding nest.
And the purpose of those hung in the ceiling—
They weren't prisoners.
They were incubators.
Food for the newborn.