The silence held.
It was the kind of silence that felt thick enough to lean on — and no one dared to break it.
The four adventurers stood frozen, backs to one another without thinking about it, as if expecting an attack from every side. Their torch crackled weakly, the light shivering on the silken threads above.
The larva — the knee-high, chitin-plated thing with burning crimson eyes — simply stood there. Watching.
The swordsman's jaw flexed. He was used to sizing up opponents, finding the tells, the shifts in weight that gave away an opening. But there was nothing to read here. This thing wasn't in a stance, wasn't holding its balance like a fighter. It was just present — in a way that made the walls feel smaller.
It spoke again."Tell me your names."
The words didn't rise in volume, but they carried — slipping through the dungeon air as if carried by every thread in the ceiling.
The thief swallowed. "W–why?"
"So I know what to write on the wall if you fail."
A soft sound skittered overhead — like nails on silk.
The archer's voice came out brittle. "We're… we're not here to fight you."
The larva tilted its head just slightly. "Then why are you here?"
The swordsman found his voice. "We came for silk. A Guild quest. That's it."
"Silk," the larva repeated, the word turning over in that too-deep voice. "And if you find it, how much will you take?"
The healer stepped forward before the swordsman could speak. "Only what we need. We're not here to strip your home bare."
The crimson eyes fixed on her. For a long, long moment, the larva said nothing. Then:"Your need and mine are not the same."
Threads shifted above. A single strand descended right between the healer and the swordsman, swaying gently — as if marking a line between them.
"You walk through my hall and call what you take yours," the larva said, voice low but cutting. "You see stone and silk, I see the web I've spun to keep my people alive."
The swordsman frowned. "People? You mean… monsters?"
A soft murmur rolled along the walls, so faint it almost could have been imagined — except the healer saw the way the threads trembled at the same moment.
The larva's crimson gaze didn't waver. "You think 'monster' is a word that belongs to you. That it means lesser. That anything under it is yours to cut down."
The thief took a step back. He didn't like the way the shadows shifted when the larva spoke. "Look… we didn't mean any harm—"
"You came into my home with blades," the larva interrupted. "That is harm."
From deeper in the dungeon came a faint, rhythmic sound — like heavy steps. They were far off, but they were steady, and they were getting closer.
The healer's voice quavered. "If… if we put the silk back, will you let us leave?"
The larva blinked slowly. "No."
The swordsman's hand tightened on his hilt. "Then what? You just keep us here?"
The larva unfolded one of its upper limbs, the motion so fluid it looked wrong in human eyes, and pointed — not at them, but at the threads overhead.
"If you are worthy of walking out, you will walk out. If not, you will stay… as part of the thread."
The archer frowned. "What does that mean?"
The larva's eyes flared. "It means the dungeon remembers what it takes."
The thief looked up — and froze.The threads overhead weren't empty. In their silken cocoons hung shapes. Some were small. Some were far too large to be human. None of them moved.
The healer's breath caught. "…Are they dead?"
The larva didn't answer directly. "They are quiet now."
Another sound came from the darkness beyond — a low, steady growl, answered by the creak of bows being drawn somewhere they couldn't see.
The swordsman's voice dropped to a whisper meant only for his party. "We're surrounded."
The larva stepped forward — only half a pace, but the torchlight caught the crimson in its eyes in a way that made them seem to burn hotter.
"You came to take something from Threadrest," it said, the name of the village rolling from its mouth like a verdict. "You will leave something in return."
The archer's voice was tight. "What do you want? Gold? Gear?"
The larva blinked again. "I have no use for gold. And your weapons…" It glanced briefly at the swordsman's blade, then back at the man's face. "…are not worth the iron they were forged from."
The thief tried again. "Then what?"
"Your promise."
They all stared at it.
The larva went on. "You will swear not to touch what is mine. Not the silk. Not the wood. Not the creatures who live under my web. You will swear this with your lives. And if you lie…" The crimson gaze swept upward to the silent cocoons. "…you will join the quiet ones."
The swordsman hesitated. "And if we refuse?"
The growls deepened. The skittering above them moved closer. From the far end of the hall, something heavy shifted in the shadows.
The larva didn't blink. "Then I decide what you are without your words."
The healer looked at her companions. "We… we can swear."
The swordsman frowned. "We can't just—""We can," she cut in, eyes hard. "Or we die here."
For a long moment, no one spoke. The threads overhead swayed like they were breathing.
Finally, the swordsman let out a slow breath. "…Fine. We swear."
The larva tilted its head, considering them for a moment — then stepped closer. Its crimson eyes locked on each of them in turn, as though memorizing their faces.
"Then speak it," it said.
They did — one by one, their voices unsteady, swearing not to touch what belonged to Threadrest.
The larva listened in silence. When the last voice faded, it gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Then, instead of retreating into the dark, the shadows behind him began to change.
A pale glow rose from somewhere deeper in the dungeon — threads themselves catching the faint light like strands of moonlit hair. It spread outward, tracing the tunnels, until the whole chamber was lit in a soft silver-white.
The adventurers blinked against it… and the larva was gone.
In its place stood a short, slender figure — human-shaped, maybe fourteen in human years. Pale hair, cut short, brushed against the back of the neck like spun silver. And those burning crimson eyes, sharp as heated blades, studied them with mild embarrassment at the sheer attention he was getting.
Ren.
The four froze. He didn't look dangerous. He didn't need to.
From the tunnel walls, from the silk shadows, figures began to emerge — goblins, beastkin, elders, children. Some bore weapons, some tools, but all carried themselves like they belonged to this place in a way no outsider ever would.
Ren's gaze swept the four adventurers slowly, measuring, then he spoke.
"You look like harmless ones," he said, his voice low but clear. "You want food, we can feed you."
The swordsman stiffened, shaking his head. "We're fine. We didn't mean to intrude."
But before the tension could twist further, another figure stepped from the villagers' side. Human. Well-fed. Well-kept. His face bore a look of someone who had found his place in life.
Lukas.
The archer's jaw slackened. "You—?!"
"Easy," Lukas said, holding a hand up. "You can trust them. You can trust him." He nodded toward Ren. "If you're smart."
The healer blinked. "You're… living here?"
"Yes," Lukas said. "And before you say anything stupid, listen — you need to understand what this place is. If you're looking for trouble, you won't leave. But if you're looking for safety… it's here."
Ren's gaze sharpened. "But before you do anything," he said, "you will not speak of this place to anyone. No one in your Guild. No one in your towns. Not even your families."
The swordsman narrowed his eyes. "And if we refuse?"
Ren smiled faintly. It wasn't a kind smile. "Then you fail my test."
The words landed heavier than they should have, and the adventurers exchanged wary glances.
Flashback
Hours earlier, in the quiet heart of Threadrest, Ren had sat on a carved stump, his larva form balanced in perfect stillness. Ghur stood to his right, Kaela to his left.
"You want to test them?" Kaela's voice was a low hiss. "Why not just keep them out entirely?"
"Because," Ren said evenly, "we need to know what kind of people will walk into our web. If they're dangerous, we end it. If they're not, we can use them."
Ghur frowned. "And if they lie?"
Ren's crimson eyes glinted. "Then you slice their throats before they reach the gate."
Kaela exchanged a glance with Ghur. "You're serious."
"I'm always serious," Ren replied. "I'll see them first. I'll scare them if I have to. And if they pass… they leave with their lives, and a reason not to speak of us."
Neither of his lieutenants looked entirely comfortable, but in the end, both nodded.
Back in the present, the adventurers stood under that steady crimson gaze.
Ren stepped aside, gesturing toward the tunnel that led back toward the surface. "Decide quickly. You walk out, or you don't walk at all."
They didn't take long to decide.