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I finally start getting up little by little, careful not to make my joints crack — not that I care, but who knows if using wings that have never been used might snap my back in some kind of magical scoliosis.
Once I'm standing, a foul stench slams into me. The smell of a dead raccoon, soaked, crushed, and forgotten inside a beer can left in the sun.
I squint, then look around.
…Great.
I landed headfirst in a mud puddle. A massive, swampy puddle stretching to the horizon, like a giant spilled their soup bowl.
And at the end, a forest. Dense. Humid. Strangely sinister. I can't even see the end of it.
"How long did it rain, exactly? An inverted ice age?"
I try turning around to check on my wings… bad call. The traitors are caked in mud, stuck like a pigeon tried to mate with a compost heap. No way I'm getting them to deploy now.
"Just my luck… And I was finally motivated to train, for once."
[ The mission has deviated from its original objective due to unforeseen weather conditions. Recommendation: remain discreet to avoid attracting attention. ]
"You're right, Senpai. A half-human half-dragon Oni fresh out of an interdimensional hole… must go for a high price on the black market."
Alright, priority number one: get out of this hell puddle.
Priority number two: find something to eat. Because yeah, isekai is fun and all, but I'd rather not starve to death three hours after finally seeing the sun. That would be a hell of an irony.
And if the food here is as disgusting as in the labyrinth… I'll snap. I'll raze a forest. Turn it into mulch. There.
The mud slowly peels off my skin as I pull myself out of the swampy ground, soaked, stinking, and really not in the mood for poetic monologues. My back hurts, my wings are glued like two filthy rags, and my legs keep slipping with every step like the earth itself wants me to go die back in my hole.
But I press on. Slowly. One slap in the face from exhaustion at a time.
The forest finally takes shape on the horizon. A real one, with trees that breathe something other than mutant mushroom fumes and leaves that aren't actively trying to eat my leg. It's green, maybe too quiet for my taste, but after the Aberrant Stratum, even a picnic spot would give me PTSD.
I keep walking a bit further, sticky feet, wings stuck to my back, until I spot a bush. A real one. With fruits. Not hallucinogenic berries or poison-pustules with "game over" sauce, no. Actual fruit. Round. Red. Edible.
I approach like a survivor in front of a vending machine.
"Please don't be radioactive…"
I reach out, grab a berry, inspect it, sniff it… then pop it into my mouth.
And miracle, I don't die.
It's a bit sour, with the taste of a bad-tempered raspberry, but after everything I've ingested so far — I mean, dragon blood, deer meat, and liters of poison — it's almost a luxury.
I gorge. Literally. Arms in the branches, teeth in the fruit, like a budget version of Snow White on acid.
Then I stop. Just a second.
I look at the sky. Blue. Or almost. The clouds are moving.
And for the first time in a while… I really breathe.
Not a survival breath.
A breath of freedom.
I leave the bush, belly vaguely full, mind still as empty as ever, but at least I have the luxury of walking without the Aberrant Stratum spitting on me. I walk through the trees, breathing in this semblance of peace… but there's a problem.
The silence.
Not the calm and relaxing kind. The real one. The kind that screams something's wrong.
No birdsong. No insects. Even the leaves have stopped rustling.
And then I see them.
First one. Tiny. The size of a half-dead kitten, with thin legs and multiple eyes glowing an unhealthy red in the shadow of the ferns. Then two. Then five. Everywhere. On the trunks, in the branches, on the ground.
"Small Lesser Taratect."
I recognize the species. I saw their degenerate version deep in the Labyrinth. But these… they're different. More numerous. Calmer. Like they're guarding the territory.
I cast [Analyze].
[Small Lesser Taratect Lv3–8]
Great. Another colony. And judging by the info bubble, we're officially on Queen territory.
Can I assume I'm near Ohts? Because from what I understand, a Queen Taratect attacked Ohts thirty years ago!
And here I was, just trying to cross the forest peacefully after crashing into a pool of mud…
I feel my wings twitching on my back. I try not to move too fast. Any sudden motion could set them off.
They're watching me. But not attacking. Not yet. Maybe I'm too big. Or maybe they're waiting for a signal.
And in this kind of situation, there's always a bigger bastard nearby to give it.
I take a deep breath.
My muscles tense. My wings unfold with a strange rustle, somewhere between leather and magic. One beat. Two. And I finally leave the ground.
Holy shit… I'm flying.
Not a majestic Superman flight, no. More like a drunk hot-air balloon barely dodging a tree every ten meters, but it's not bad. I'm in the air. Above the world. Above the Labyrinth. Above everything.
The sky is vast. A pale, almost milky blue. A few clouds fray lazily in the distance, like thoughts too shy to form. The wind caresses my face, lifts my hair. It's… strange. Gentle. New. Worrying. Free.
I hover for a moment. Suspended. A little nightmare star in the vastness.
Then I look down.
And everything changes.
The forest, seen from above, is no haven. It's a giant nest, a landscape woven entirely of silk and death.
White, translucent threads cover the trees like a shroud. Every branch, every stump, every crevice is imprisoned beneath a layer of webbing. Geometric patterns stretch over dozens of meters. Cocoons hang, some still moving.
And above all… spiders. Everywhere.
Small, large, huge. Some the size of a wolf. Others… much worse. Black shapes crawling, waiting, fighting each other, devouring. Nests. Trenches. Marks on the ground.
A spider kingdom.
And at the heart of it all, in a devastated clearing, a shadow. Motionless. Massive. Too far to see clearly. But I know it's not an illusion.
Something lives there. Something that built all this.
And I, half-brain Oni, am flying right over it like a suicidal butterfly.
I keep flapping my wings, clumsily but surely, following the line of trees consumed by silk.
The air is cooler up here. Higher. Less humid than in the depths of the Labyrinth. Almost pleasant, if you forget the giant webs turning the forest into a funeral cloth.
And then… I see it.
In the distance. Between the hills and the clouds. A city. Or what's left of it.
Crumbling walls. Gutted buildings. Streets overrun by weeds. The kind of sight that would make a mayor or real estate agent weep. But that's not the worst part.
The worst part is the city is crawling with spiders.
They crawl across facades, hang from bell towers, weave enormous webs between buildings. The collapsed towers have become funeral pillars of silk and chitin. Dozens of Small Lesser Taratects move in organized colonies. And at the center… a massive shape, lurking in the shadow of an old cathedral, which I recognize without even seeing her fully.
The Queen Taratect.
Shit. This isn't a spider camp.
It's their capital.
I hang in the air, wings flapping weakly. Even from this distance, my instincts scream. The city has become a hive. A trap. A silk tomb.
And judging by the old crests still hanging on the broken gates… it might have been Ohts. The famous theocratic kingdom. In ruins. Silent.
But not empty.
Not at all.
I slowly back away, eyes locked on that macabre stage. No way I'm going near it. Not now. Not alone. Not suicidal.