Ren pushed himself up from the cocoon, his legs shaking like wet twigs. He took one step, then another—only for the room to tilt. His vision swam.
A pair of strong, brown-skinned arms caught him before he hit the ground. Yutu held him as if he weighed nothing."Still weak, Threadmaster," she teased. "Maybe next time, warn us before you burn all your mana naming people."
Ren gave her a half-smile. "Was worth it…"
But before he could get comfortable in her grip, Ghur stepped forward, ears twitching, golden eyes sharp. Then Kaela. Then Lukas. And then—more. Goblins from the village, beastkin strays they had rescued, all filtering into the room.
Ren blinked. "Uh… why are you all standing in a line?"
A smaller goblin in the back called out nervously, "Name us too, boss!"
Another chimed in, "Yeah! We want… shiny words!"
Ren's lips twitched. "You mean surnames."
Kaela's mouth curved into an amused smirk. "They've decided being 'Thread-something' makes them stronger. They're not entirely wrong."
The pop-up windows flickered faintly in his vision — Thread-Oath Binding Available. Dozens of them. His chest tightened at the thought of pouring mana into all of them.
Ghur crossed his arms, voice dry. "Careful, Ren. You name all of them today, you'll pass out for a week."
Ren just grinned. "Then line up properly… let's make Threadrest a place worth fearing."
Excited murmurs filled the room. Goblins straightened their backs, beastkin adjusted their posture, everyone waiting like children in front of a festival stall. Yutu shook her head but couldn't hide her smile.
"You're enjoying this way too much," she muttered.
Ren leaned forward slightly, his onyx eyes glowing faintly. "Oh, I am."
The "naming line" wasn't just a line anymore.It was a cross-section of every soul Threadrest had gathered — battle-scarred survivors, rescued slaves, and wandering strays who now looked at Ren with the same expectant eyes.
At the front stood the first goblins.
The elder — skin weathered like old bark, one arm missing from the shoulder — stood with his chin lifted. Around his neck hung a bone-carved flute, smoothed by decades of touch."That flute," Yutu whispered at Ren's shoulder, "once called dew spirits during the drought years. Without him, my village would've starved."
Ren studied the old goblin's remaining arm — steady despite the years.[Thread-Oath Binding Available: Confirm?]He reached out, letting his mana threads wrap the elder's form. The old goblin closed his eyes, and for a moment, the air tasted of rain.
[Name Granted: Orrin Threadtone]
[Trait Enhancement: Spirit Resonance Lv.1]
Behind him, the twins shuffled forward. Barefoot, eyes wide, they said nothing — only whistled, short and sharp, in perfect harmony. Ren's brows lifted."They don't speak?""They do," Yutu said, smiling faintly. "Just not in words."The threads wound around them both at once. Their whistles shifted pitch as the glow took them, like two flutes tuning together.
[Name Granted: Lii Threadwhistle]
[Name Granted: Luu Threadwhistle]
[Twin Bond: Whistle Tongue – Shared Communication]
Then came the sharp-eyed goblin woman. A limp slowed her step, but her hands were busy — one fingering the edge of a throwing knife, the other resting protectively on a pouch of moss spores at her hip. Her gaze met Ren's without flinching."She saved three kids by collapsing a tunnel with her spores," Yutu murmured. "She's earned more than a name."The oath thread coiled around her like ivy, binding strength into her bones.
[Name Granted: Serri Threadmoss]
[Trait Acquired: Verdant Trapcraft Lv.2]
Ren turned next to the rescued slaves.
Thirteen goblins — mostly women and children — eyes hollow but brightening as the mana threads touched them. They didn't all step forward at once, but each who did straightened as if a weight had lifted.The pop-ups kept flashing:
[Threadrest Goblin – Bound]
Eleven beastkin followed — fox, wolf, hare. Each bore their own marks of captivity: torn ears, dulled fur, averted gazes. Yet when the oath thread reached them, tails twitched, ears perked, and they met Ren's eyes as if daring to hope again.
Last came the three elderly beastkin. They were too weak to walk unaided, yet insisted on standing for the binding. Ren's threads wrapped them gently, as if aware their bodies could only bear so much.
By the end, Ren's head felt light, his breath shallow. His mana pulsed raggedly, warning him he was pushing too far. But when he looked at the gathered faces — goblin and beastkin alike — he saw not just followers.
He saw Threadrest.
Yutu's voice broke the silence. "Threadmaster… you've done it. You've given them more than names. You've given them home."
Ren's knees buckled.
Yutu lunged forward, catching him before he could hit the ground, her slender goblin frame trembling under his weight.
"Ren!" she called, panic cracking her voice.
He could hear voices — distant, muffled — but his mind had already slipped beneath the surface, sinking into the dark.
There, Syrri's voice was waiting.
"You're becoming something, Ren."
And then—light.
It wasn't the light of mana, or silk, or flame. It was memory.
Not this forest. Not this world.
Concrete. A train platform. The scent of baked bread.
Japan.When he'd been just a man.
Hana.
She was eight. Thin. Quiet. Always wearing a scarf, even in summer.Her mother gone.Her grandfather too frail to care for her.Another name on his protection roster — one of many.
Every Friday, he'd stop at the bakery near the station and buy her a chocolate melonpan. She always laughed, pointing to the dark crumbs in the crust. "They look like slimes trying to escape," she'd say.
It was a small ritual.
Small…but real.
The light shattered into black.
Chains.
Crowds of them.
A kingdom's market, choked with the stench of sweat and fear.
Beastkin sold like cattle. Goblins stuffed into cages.
Creatures without speech — horses, gryphons, even horned hounds — muzzled and beaten.
Dragonlings shackled in silver collars, pulled on chains for nobles' amusement.
Orcs, ogres, trolls — all broken-backed, driven to carry loads until death.
He could smell the rot of despair.
And he could hear it: the laughter of men who had made cruelty into sport.
"Humans in this world are cruel, yes…" Syrri's voice trembled. "…but not all."
A shadow moved through the dark — vast, slow, inevitable.
The air thickened. Threads of black silk slid over him, covering, shielding.
Eight eyes opened in the void.
"Little one."
Arachnia.Her voice was hunger, silk, and thunder rolled into one.
"You are becoming different… yet you preserve. I see the threads you weave — not just of death, but of protection. You carry gluttony in you, but you will not waste it."
Her silhouette bent low — a colossal spider, legs sinking into the dark like spears into water.
"You may use my mana, all of it, as you wish."
A cold shiver wrapped Ren's heart. Then—
[Infinite Mana Reserve Unlocked]
[Regeneration: Infinite]
The surge hit him like a tidal wave. Even in sleep, his body arched. Silk poured from him in rippling waves, his chitin glistening under an otherworldly glow.
Outside, Kaela and Yutu froze. The air was so thick with mana it tasted metallic on the tongue.
Golden eyes widened.
Wolf ears flattened.
Every beastkin and goblin in Threadrest fell to their knees as one.
Far beyond the camp, the Forest of Oukra stirred. Roots shifted. Leaves whispered. Predators retreated into burrows.
They knew this mana.
Not a calamity of ruin… but the Calamity of Gluttony.
Arachnia's will, vast and ancient, seeped into every root and stone. She was the forest's guardian — the dungeon's guardian — and now, her mantle brushed against a new bearer.
In the dark, her last words curled around Ren like silk.
"You are mine, and I am yours, little one. Protect them… all of them… from men and demons alike."