The cave pulsed with sound: the click of mandibles, the scrape of countless legs, the hiss of silk unraveling from above. Noctis stood ankle-deep in ichor, surrounded by broken bodies, his greatsword dripping black. Yet for every carcass that twitched and stilled, two more spiders poured out of the shadows, their eyes glittering like embers in the dark.
He met them without pause.
The first lunged low. His blade chopped down through its head, splitting chitin and spilling gore. The next came from the side. He swiveled, claws flashing out from his gauntlet, tearing through a cluster of eyes before finishing it with a clean slash. A third dropped from the ceiling, silk trailing. He raised a boot and kicked it mid-fall, sending it tumbling back into the wall where he drove the sword through its thorax in a savage finisher.
The swarm answered in kind. Eight legs hammered his armor, mandibles clamped against steel, bodies slammed against him to drag him down. He spun in a vicious arc, blade carving through three at once, then shouldered another aside and raked his claws across its belly.
He moved constantly, never still. Strike, pivot, parry, hack. Every blow bled into the next. His doctrines guided the rhythm—Tempo Ledger marking beats, Ranger's spacing dictating gaps, Bulwark's angles redirecting limbs that slipped past the sword. Vector lines burned faint across his vision, showing where the next strike must land, where the next cut would matter.
The Grid pulsed brighter with every kill.
But he did not fight with the sword alone.
When gaps opened, he filled them with everything his body could offer. His boot shattered a spider's head against the stone floor. His clawed hand tore into another's carapace, ripping free strands of muscle before he spun and impaled the next with the sword. He slammed a shoulder into one trying to flank, knocking it down so another strike could finish it.
Then the projectiles came.
Shadow arrows flickered from his free hand, punching into eyes before the sword followed to sever the legs. Phantom bolts struck in rhythm with his swings, hitting gaps the blade couldn't reach. When a spider tried to leap past his guard, a spear of shadow whistled through the air, skewering it mid-flight and pinning it twitching to the wall.
Hack. Slash. Shoot. Tear. Kick. Claw.
There was no end, only patterns—dozens of combinations that flowed seamlessly. Sword and claw. Slash then arrow. Kick then thrust. Shoulder then spin. Every finisher chained into another opener. The cave became a crucible of movement, every breath a strike, every step a kill.
Bodies piled high. Legs twitched underfoot. The floor grew slick with ichor until footing became treacherous, and he was forced to shift position deeper into the cave, carving new ground just to stand. More spiders poured in from the cracks, their hissing forming a constant wall of noise.
Noctis laughed under his helm. The swarm was endless, and that was exactly what he wanted.
The Grid flared so bright it burned behind his eyes, nodes sparking as repetition carved new instincts into him. Doctrines didn't just work one at a time now—they folded together, creating near-infinite sequences of slaughter. Slash to arrow, arrow to thrust, thrust to claw, claw to spin. His body moved faster, smoother, adapting mid-fight to every angle.
The spiders pressed on without hesitation, but to Noctis they were no longer predators. They were lessons. Each wave refined him. Each kill fed him. The horde's persistence became his forge.
The cave shook with his hack-and-slash rhythm, the endless grind of blade through chitin, claws rending flesh, and projectiles splitting eyes. The spiders filled every gap their dead left behind, but he carved them down again and again, never tiring, never slowing.
For them, it was a futile battle.
For him, it was evolution.
The deeper Noctis pushed into the cave, the thicker the air became. Webs clung in sheets across the walls, their strands as thick as ropes. The corpses of his kills marked the path behind him, a slick trail of ichor and twitching limbs. Yet ahead, the sound of scraping legs only grew louder, heavier.
The spiders here were different. Larger, thicker-bodied, their chitin hardened to a sheen. They hissed when they saw him, lunging with mandibles large enough to dent steel. Noctis met them in stride. His blade carved through one's forelegs, his claw tore another's eyes apart, and his boot crushed the abdomen of a third. Even so, it took multiple strikes to finish each one. Their vitality was leagues above the fodder he had fought before.
The Grid thrummed brighter. Every clash layered his doctrines tighter, hack-and-slash patterns refined through endless trial. Slash into claw. Kick into arrow. Spin into thrust. The stronger they grew, the more satisfying the sequence became.
When the last of that cluster lay broken, he moved further inward.
The passage opened suddenly into a massive chamber—a natural chasm split wide through the earth. His breath echoed faintly off the walls. The ceiling stretched high above, so thick with webbing it looked like pale stone. The ground below was a tangle of silk and shattered bones.
And in the center pit, waiting, was a titan.
The spider queen loomed, its body easily five times the size of the larger variants he had already carved through. Eight limbs bristled with jagged hair, claws like scythes, eyes glowing a sickly green across its massive head. Its mandibles clacked once, the sound reverberating across the chamber like stone splitting.
Noctis did not flinch. His smile spread unseen beneath the helm. A titan worthy of him. Something he could go all out against.
The queen screeched, a high-pitched shrill that rattled the cavern walls. From that cry came chaos.
Spiders poured from every direction. From the walls, from the ceiling, dropping from the webbing above. They surged from tunnels at his sides, rushed from the floor ahead, rained down behind him. The air filled with legs, silk, and fangs.
Noctis did not wait.
He surged forward, greatsword flashing crimson arcs. The blade cleaved through three, then four, then spun across the next cluster. He ducked a lunge from the side, claw tearing through its skull before he planted a boot on its carcass and launched himself upward.
The wall became his foothold. His claws dug into silk and stone as he sprinted along its vertical face, spiders swarming after him. He cut down two as they crawled to intercept, then sprang higher, landing on the webbed ceiling. The silk sagged beneath his weight but held.
From above, the swarm seemed endless. They clambered up the walls, scuttled across the ceiling, leapt from strands to fall upon him in a rain of bodies. Noctis hacked them apart midair, blade carving arcs of black ichor that spattered across the webbing. His movements blurred, hack-and-slash rhythms folding into fluid geometry—cut, parry, kick, slash, claw, arrow. A seamless storm.
He dashed across the ceiling, spun into a cluster of leaping spiders, hacked them apart, then pushed off and dropped back down to the ground. He landed in the center of the swarm, greatsword punching deep into the stone floor as he ripped the blade through three at once. His claw tore out another's mandibles. His boot caved in a carapace. Arrows of shadow split through the eyes of those who closed from behind.
The swarm pressed tighter, bodies piling over each other, their hisses drowning the air. But Noctis's movements only grew sharper. His blade hacked through the crush, each finisher flowing into the next opener. His claws slashed when his sword was locked, his boot stomped when his arms were bound, his projectiles struck when his footing broke. Even gravity no longer constrained him—walls, ceiling, floor, all became one battlefield.
And in the pit, the queen still waited, its many eyes watching him with hunger.
The swarm was endless.
For every spider Noctis hacked down, two more filled the gap, their mandibles clacking, their eyes burning faint green in the shadows. He stood at the center of the lair, ichor dripping from the greatsword in his grip, crimson runes on his armor pulsing like a heartbeat. The floor was already a thick carpet of legs, torsos, and shattered shells. Each step splashed or cracked through the dead, yet the horde pressed on, their bodies spilling from walls, ceiling, and hidden cracks like an unending tide.
Noctis moved constantly. The blade sang arcs of steel, carving through bodies that snapped and bled under its edge. His claw ripped into eyes when the sword was caught, dragging spiders down to the ground before his boot crushed their heads with a wet crunch. Projectiles flashed from his off hand—shadow arrows splitting eyes, phantom bolts punching into abdomens, spear constructs pinning bodies to the cave wall.
He flowed like water, hack into slash, claw into arrow, kick into thrust. The Grid glowed bright in his vision, doctrines meshing into infinite rhythm. Tempo Ledger beat like a drum. Ranger's spacing dictated his steps. Vector Cavalier painted lines where each strike must fall. Even Bulwark's angles guided him, turning the swarm's lunges into prison walls that trapped them in their own momentum.
A spider skittered across the ceiling. He launched himself upward, claw sinking into silk, sprinting upside-down as if gravity had lost its claim. His sword tore the creature in half, ichor spilling across the web. Three more leapt from above. He spun, blade cutting arcs through the air, then kicked off, dropping back into the crush below. He landed in a crouch, blade punching into the floor through two bodies at once, then ripped it free and turned in a new swing that opened three more.
The swarm answered with another wave. Mandibles snapped against his armor, legs clawed to pull him down. He ducked low, slashed high, shoulder-checked another into a cluster, then raked his claw through all of them in one motion.
On and on it went. The cave thundered with noise. The air stank of blood, silk, and rot. Noctis's breath remained even, but his smile widened unseen under the helm. Every moment refined him. Every kill fed him. The Grid blazed brighter, its lattice thrumming with hunger.
But then he decided.
The grind had taught him enough. It was time to clear the field.
The crimson veins of his armor pulsed brighter. Essence surged in his chest, spilling down his limbs.
"Bloodstorm."
Power erupted outward. A ring of scarlet force tore through the lair, blades of blood bursting in a spinning halo. Webs ripped from the walls. Stone cracked. Dozens of spiders shrieked as their limbs severed, bodies split apart in sprays of ichor. The wave rolled through them without pause, shredding a path clear around him.
They screamed louder.
"Exsanguinate."
The ground split beneath him. Spears of crimson shot upward, jagged and pulsing, skewering bodies through the abdomen. Their legs thrashed, their mandibles clicked, but the spikes drank their blood into him. Their shrieks weakened as their essence drained, the ichor pulled upward into vapor that swirled into his armor, feeding the Grid's blaze.
The wave faltered but did not stop.
"Ghost Vein."
His body flickered, splitting into a storm of afterimages. Dozens of Noctises exploded outward, each one hacking, slashing, cutting through the swarm. Blades rang against chitin in every direction at once. The cave filled with overlapping sounds of steel, claws, and screams. Each clone moved with doctrine precision, each strike real, each death true. The swarm collapsed under the illusion made solid, falling in heaps that twitched and stilled.
The chamber shook.
When the afterimages faded, Noctis stood alone again in the center of the devastation, the air thick with ichor mist. The floor was a graveyard of limbs and corpses. For the first time since entering, silence pressed at the edges of the lair.
And then the queen screamed.
The sound tore through the cavern like stone shattering. It was high-pitched, piercing, powerful enough to rattle the walls and send dust falling from the ceiling. The silence broke into chaos again as the titan stirred.
From the center pit, its massive form rose, pulling itself free of tangled webs. The Spider Queen's body towered five times the size of the largest variants he had already slaughtered. Its legs were thick as spears, armored in black chitin so dense they gleamed like obsidian. Eight green eyes glowed across its monstrous head. Mandibles clashed together, sparks flickering from the sheer force.
The queen planted her legs into the stone. The cavern shook.
It lunged.
Noctis smiled. His Grid pulsed with delight. This was no fodder. This was worthy prey.
The titan launched itself in a blur, a wall of black limbs crashing toward him. Noctis vanished into motion, his body flickering into shadow and reappearing at its flank. The queen's claws slammed into the ground where he had stood, stone splitting apart from the force.
He swung the greatsword hard into its leg. Steel rang on armor, sparks bursting across the chitin. The strike bounced off, leaving nothing but a shallow scratch.
He tilted his helm, one brow raising.
So brute force wouldn't cut it. The queen's armor was too thick.
The queen hissed and turned, mandibles opening wide. Its roar shook the cavern again, webs trembling on the ceiling.
Noctis steadied his stance, crimson runes pulsing along his armor, the Grid already aligning new vectors in his sight.
The queen lunged again, its eight legs pounding into the cavern floor with the weight of falling stone. Mandibles clashed like scythes, sparks bursting from the force. The air reeked of venom and rot.
Noctis met its fury without hesitation. His Grid pulsed, lattice lines flickering bright across his vision. He moved.
The greatsword slashed from below, a rising arc aimed at the queen's underbelly. The strike hit hard, ringing steel against black armor. Sparks burst again, but the blade skipped, leaving only a shallow mark. He stepped back, sidestepped a stabbing foreleg, and immediately countered with a sweeping slash toward the joint. Another shallow scratch, no break.
His helm tilted. His smile widened. The thicker the wall, the sweeter the key to breaking it.
The queen hissed, its mandibles crashing together before lunging downward to bite. Noctis blurred sideways.
[Skill: Shadow Step]The world tilted, shadows folding over him. He reappeared ten paces to the left, the mandibles snapping into empty air where he had stood.
He charged again, hack-and-slash rhythm pounding. Sword slashes became claw swipes, claw swipes became kicks, kicks became projectiles. He flowed without pause, attacking every angle he could reach. A leg joint. The abdomen plate. The mandible hinge. Every strike bounced or scraped, shallow but never fatal.
The queen answered with wild fury. One leg smashed down. He slipped between. Another swept sideways. He ducked low, rolling beneath the swing, blade flashing upward to test the softer joint beneath. Sparks, shallow cut. Still no break.
She leapt into the air, body twisting as she crashed downward, all weight concentrated.
[Skill: Wraith Step]
Noctis flickered into translucence, her massive body slamming through him like smoke. He reappeared behind her, greatsword hammering into the back plate. The cavern rang with impact, stone beneath his feet cracking, but again the blade bounced.
The Grid hissed with frustration. He didn't relent.
[Skill: Phantom Dash]He burst forward, a blur of afterimage speed, circling her massive bulk. Each dash carved another strike—slashes across legs, stabs into joints, rakes of his claw against the softer mouth. Nothing broke.
The queen spun in place, her forelegs stabbing in every direction. Noctis ducked, weaved, stepped through shadows. He never stopped cutting. His movements became a storm of attempts, every doctrine pressed to probe for weaknesses.
When her body rose high, he lifted his hand.
[Skill: Shadow Volley]
Arrows of darkness erupted from his palm, splitting into dozens mid-flight. They rained against her abdomen, her back, her face. The chitin deflected most with sparks, but a few sank half an inch into thinner plates. Noctis's eyes narrowed. That mattered.
He raised his claw again.
[Skill: Silent Pin]
Arrows sank into her shadow, holding her foreleg to the stone. She screeched and wrenched free, tearing the ground up with her, but it gave him the opening for another barrage.
[Skill: Kill Order]
Targets flared in his vision, weak points sequenced by doctrine logic. His arrows and bolts followed those lines automatically, streaking into knees, mouth hinges, and abdominal creases. Sparks, shallow punctures, scratches.
Still, not enough.
The queen reared back, eyes glowing green, venom dripping in threads from her mandibles. She spat, a jet of caustic fluid spraying across the cavern.
Noctis vanished.
[Skill: Shadowmeld]
His body sank into darkness, the venom hissing across the stone where he had been. He rose again behind her, blade already in motion, hacking at the rear joint. The Grid flared as steel rang again. The plate cracked—but held.
There must be a weak spot.
He pressed harder. The tempo quickened. Shadow Step, Phantom Dash, claw, slash, arrow, pin. His body blurred into motion, weaving doctrines in seamless grind. The cavern filled with steel on chitin, ichor mist, and his laughter under the helm.
And then he saw it.
As the queen reared again, mandibles wide, her underbelly stretched. Just beneath the thorax plate, where the abdomen joined, a pale seam pulsed faintly. Thin, softer, less armored. A crack in the wall.
Noctis smiled.
The queen had a weakness.
The queen reared, mandibles wide, venom dragging in ropes. Eight legs hammered fissures into the stone. Noctis stood centered, greatsword lifted, claw flexed, the Grid burning bright across his vision. The seam beneath the thorax. The thinness at the joints. The rhythm of her weight.
He moved.
Phantom Dash took him under the first hammering strike—blur forward, reappear at her flank. His blade slammed into a knee joint. Sparks, a hairline split. Better than before, not enough.
The queen hissed, mandibles clashing hard enough to throw flecks of green fire. Noctis raised his off-hand.
[Skill: Helix Bore]
A single shadow round coalesced into a tight, spinning drill, grooves biting the air. He snapped his wrist. The projectile screamed as it crossed the cavern and buried into the pale seam beneath her thorax. Armor shrieked. The bit chewed. Black ichor misted out.
She screamed.
[Skill: Kill Order] lit targets in red: seam, knee pins, coxa joints, mandible hinges. The sequence pulsed. His body obeyed.
He drove in.
[Skill: Piercing Lunge] punched the greatsword like a spear into a foreleg joint, widening the crack. He rolled with the recoil and ripped a Sweeping Arc across the neighboring knee.
The queen spat a fan of caustic venom. Wraith Step blurred him translucent; the spray passed through smoke. He came up directly beneath her.
[Skill: Silent Pin] nailed her back leg's shadow to the floor. Balance dipped—just enough.
[Skill: Impaler's Grasp] lanced spectral spikes through a rear joint, tearing the ligaments. She buckled.
Noctis lifted his hand again.
[Skill: Helix Volley]
Three Helix Bores spun to life, stagger-timed.[Augment: Homing]They curved mid-flight around thrashing limbs and bored into the same thorax seam one after the other—first to bite, second to widen, third to punch through. The plate fractured. Ichor burst in a pressurized spray.
She lurched. Weight shifted. Half her stance failed.
[Skill: Exsanguinate II] speared blood spikes up from the stone, skewering abdomen meat and drinking hard. The Grid surged.
[Skill: Bloodstorm II] detonated in a cutting halo, shearing two more joints; legs blew out in geysers of black.
The seam gaped, pulsing. Noctis leapt.
[Skill: Ghost Vein II] multiplied him into a storm of afterimages. Every copy dove for the same breach—steel and claw striking as one. The greatsword punched deep; claws tore the tear wider; a last Helix Bore screamed down the tunnel they'd opened and drilled into the core.
The queen convulsed. Venom fanned harmlessly into the dark. One final shriek tore the chamber. Then the seam ruptured end-to-end. Abdomen split. A black tide flooded the stone. Limbs thrashed once, twice, then slammed still.
Silence. Drip. Steam.
Noctis wrenched the blade free and stepped off the carcass. The Grid blazed, mutating around the Helix line's success. Another titan finished. Another doctrine solved.