The queen's body lay split and twitching, ichor running in rivers that hissed as it soaked into the stone. Her mandibles spasmed once, a final useless bite into air, then sagged. The vast chamber of webs trembled with silence for the first time since Noctis entered.
He stood upon her collapsed abdomen, greatsword dripping black, helm tilted downward. The Grid pulsed bright in his vision, its lattice almost blinding, every node vibrating with hunger. This kill was no mere harvest. It was a turning point.
Noctis crouched, laying a clawed hand across the cracked seam of the thorax. "Devour," he whispered.
The corpse collapsed inward. Black mist rushed upward in a tide, drawn into his armor, into his mouth, into his veins. The queen's essence flooded him like fire, her vitality so massive it threatened to burst him apart. He dug his claws into her flesh to anchor himself as the last of her dissolved, pouring into the Grid like molten iron into a forge.
The lattice erupted.
Beast nodes flashed one after another. Chitin Fortress expanded through his body, layering his own armor with microscopic latticework. Venom Spit etched itself across his throat, promising the ability to vomit caustic spray. Predator's Tremor Sense pulsed in his legs, awareness of every vibration across the cavern.
But the feast did not end there.
The walls still crawled faint with dying spiders, the remnants of the swarm. Hundreds of corpses carpeted the floor, ichor steaming from open shells. Noctis raised his claw, runes across his blood armor burning brighter.
[Skill: Blood Field II]
The air cracked. A crimson sphere expanded from his body, saturating the entire cavern. Threads of blood wove outward, touching every corpse, every fragment, every twitching leg. One by one they dissolved into mist, streams rushing back into him. Living spiders still clinging to webbing shrieked as the field caught them, their bodies unraveling before they could flee.
The chamber became a storm of red.
Noctis stood calm at the center, arms spread slightly, letting the tide pour into him. The Grid screamed in response. New nodes sparked to life too fast to count. Beast Essence flooded. His vision blurred as upgrades surged into old skills, folding spider traits into predator doctrines.
His claws darkened, veins tracing green-black venom along their edges. His armor pulsed with a sheen of hardened chitin layered into the bloodsteel. His perception exploded outward, every tremor of the webbed cavern feeding into his awareness—every drip of ichor, every settling of stone, every twitch of distant legs.
The lattice warped. Dozens of nodes connected where before they had stood alone. Soldier's Edge sharpened under arachnid instincts. Ranger's Ledger pulsed stronger with web-born spacing. Tempo Ledger stretched, expanding rhythm awareness under swarm pressure. Even Helix Bore twisted tighter, its drill point lined with serrations taken from spider mandibles.
He clenched a fist, feeling the strength surge through his blood. This was more than an evolution. This was a refit of the entire predator system.
The last corpse unraveled. Silence swallowed the lair again, broken only by the drip of ichor onto stone.
Noctis breathed in once, slow and deep. He raised his helm slightly, licking blood from his lips where mist had condensed. The taste was sharp, venomous, bitter in a way that made his teeth ache. He smiled beneath the mask.
The Spider Queen's legacy was his now.
The cavern was still. Not a leg twitched, not a strand stirred. All that remained of the Spider Queen was ichor soaking stone and the lattice of power burning bright in Noctis's Grid.
He prowled through the lair, ripping apart cocoons, pulling treasure into Blood Storage. Gold, gems, weapons, armor—spoils of decades. Then the eggs. Clutches of trembling shells filled with spiderlings. He crushed them one by one, mist rising, Beast Essence rushing into him. When the last was gone, the cavern reeked of rot and hunger.
Then he felt it.
A pressure bleeding from the far wall. Not movement—an aura. Dark, heavy, metallic, like blood charred in fire. He slashed the webbing apart and revealed a hidden tunnel.
The passage sloped down, walls wet with silk that clung to his boots. The deeper he walked, the heavier the aura pressed. His Grid hummed sharp with warning and temptation both.
The tunnel opened into a vast chamber.
Webbed runes spread across the floor, glowing faint with ichor. At the center pulsed a hardened black resin the size of a boulder. It beat slowly like a heart. Threads of aura stretched from it in all directions, feeding the nest.
Noctis stilled. His helm tilted. "So this is what made you," he murmured, remembering the queen's final scream.
He extended a claw and touched the resin. Cold fire shot through him. Dark mist curled upward, clawing at his armor, reaching for his veins. His Grid locked around him, lines tightening into chains—but not resisting. They opened.
Noctis grinned. "Mine."
He sank his claws deep and whispered, "Devour."
The core cracked. A shockwave rattled the chamber as black mist exploded outward. The Grid flared white in his vision, every node trembling, then pulling the storm inward. He staggered once as the force poured into him—venom, hunger, brood-instincts, endless waves of spawning will. His veins burned. His armor pulsed with foreign patterns. His claw tips dripped black.
The core dissolved entirely, sucked into his body. Silence dropped again.
Then the Grid changed.
Lines warped, curving into spirals. Nodes flared into new shapes. A new branch split off the Beast tree, pulsing darker than the rest.
[New Branch Unlocked: Broodmother's Legacy]
Spawn Bane — innate dominance over insectoid and arachnid creatures; weak-willed targets submit instantly.
Brood Devourer — devouring nests, eggs, or swarms yields multiplied essence.
Venom Infusion — upgrades melee and projectile strikes with caustic venom overlay.
Abyssal Cocoon — ability to shroud self in a temporary shell of web and ichor, healing while hidden.
Noctis drew a long breath, exhaling black mist from his helm. The cavern smelled of poison and victory. His hand flexed. Threads of silk answered, snapping into existence across his palm before dissolving.
He looked down at the place where the core had been. Nothing remained. The source of the Spider Queen's rise was now inside him.
The Grid pulsed one final time, then steadied.
Noctis turned and left the chamber, steps slow, deliberate, his shadow dragging threads of web behind him before they faded. He had come to kill a queen. He left as the heir to her power.
The lair still stank of venom and ichor, but now the reek bent to him, not against him. The Spider Queen's brood had been broken. The core had been devoured. This hollow, once a nest of endless hunger, was his.
Noctis stood still in the center of the cavern, helm tilted slightly, the Grid burning bright in his vision. The new branch pulsed like a heartbeat—dark, coiled, waiting.
He exhaled a slow breath and raised his claw.
[Skill: Blood Field III — Brood Infusion]
The crimson wave rippled outward once more, but this time it carried something new. Threads of black web stretched between droplets of mist. Venom clung to the air, sharp and caustic. Dead spiders strewn across the cavern floor—those he had not already consumed—dissolved in unison. Their carapaces melted, their ichor lifted into mist and streamed back into him. The sound was like rain reversed.
The Grid surged, Beast Essence ticking upward, nodes lighting brighter. Noctis lowered his claw, satisfied. This place would no longer rot—it would feed him, endlessly, until there was nothing left.
He moved methodically among the carcasses, boots crunching over husks. His greatsword carved apart what remained of the larger spider variants. From their corpses he pried fangs the size of daggers, shards of hardened chitin, venom sacs still swollen and pulsing faintly. His Blood Storage flared as each piece vanished inside.
When he reached the remains of the queen, he crouched. Her armor had dissolved with the core, but fragments lingered—scales of obsidian chitin, dense as iron. He lifted one in his claw, turning it under the dim light. Even broken, it resisted pressure. His helm tilted in thought. Armor, weapons, perhaps even a new edge for his sword—materials such as this would forge items unlike anything above.
He pulled them all into Storage.
When the work was done, silence returned. The chamber seemed larger without the corpses, emptier without the crawling legs. His Grid pulsed once, urging him to look.
Noctis closed his eyes and willed the lattice to rise.
It unfolded like a spiderweb in his mind, every branch aglow. Soldier's Edge, Spearwarden's Path, Bulwark Dominion, Ranger's Ledger, Tempo Ledger, Lance Doctrine—all the captain-tier doctrines stood bright and interlocked. The Beast branch sprawled wider than ever, nodes swelling with spider-born power. And now—dark and new—the Broodmother's Legacy coiled alongside, tethered to the Beast branch but distinct, as if a second will had been grafted onto his own.
He traced its nodes slowly.
Spawn Bane. The aura of dominance. Even as he thought of it, the webs clinging to the ceiling sagged, threads bowing faintly toward him, as though acknowledging their heir.
Brood Devourer. He recalled the eggs breaking under his claws, how the Grid had surged faster with each clutch. This node would multiply that forever, turning nests into fountains of power.
Venom Infusion. His claws tingled. He flexed them, and droplets of green-black venom dripped to the stone, sizzling faintly. He imagined it coating arrows, coating drills, layering atop his sword strikes. It would not only pierce but corrode.
Abyssal Cocoon. He lingered here longest. A defensive shell, woven of web and ichor, capable of regenerating wounds while he hid inside. He could almost feel the strands coiling around him, protective, suffocating, reborn.
The lattice glowed steady, no longer trembling, as though it too was testing its new balance.
Noctis opened his eyes. The chamber was unchanged, but he was not.
This place was his lair now. The queen had fallen; her core had been consumed; her brood had become fuel. The Grid pulsed with her legacy, not hers, but his.
He walked slowly to the wall where the core had once pulsed. He placed a claw where the resin had stood. Only cold stone remained.
"You belonged to me the moment I entered," he murmured.
Then he turned back toward the cavern, scanning the webbed vault above. Threads hung useless, yet his aura made them sway faintly, as though waiting for command. He could raise a brood of his own here, if he chose. Or he could strip it clean, leaving nothing but bones and treasure.
For now, he simply stood and let the silence press. His shadow stretched long, cut by threads of web, a new sovereign in a place built for monsters.
And the Grid whispered in return, nodes clicking into place, as though it too approved.
The lair was his now. Not a nest, not a tomb—his forge. Every thread of web bent to his aura, every shadow bowed. The Spider Queen's death had left behind power, and he would hammer it into a weapon worthy of his Grid.
Noctis sat in the center of the chamber, helm laid beside him, eyes glowing with the crimson lattice of the Blood Grid. The nodes hummed, swollen with essence from queen, swarm, and core. He directed the flow deliberately, threading power into minor nodes.
Strength thickened, muscles drawn tighter with hidden cords. Agility sharpened, footwork lightened, reflexes spiked. Endurance swelled, his stamina coiled like steel wire. Perception widened until every droplet of ichor dripping from stone rang in his senses.
When the Grid steadied, he rose. "Now for you," he murmured, pulling spider spoils into the open with a flick of will.
Obsidian chitin slabs clattered across stone. Venom sacs pulsed faintly. Strands of web tightened before snapping free. The Grid flared in resonance. His claws stretched, bleeding fire as he summoned his forge. Blood ignited, melting chitin, liquefying venom, unraveling silk into threads.
Piece by piece, he built.
First came the haft—a shaft of fused brood-chitin and bloodsteel, light but unyielding. The veins of venom etched down its length, glowing faintly green-black. Then the blades.
He shaped them threefold.
The first form: the scythe, its dual crescents double-edged and twice the size of a man's torso. Serrated inner ridges glistened with venom, curved like fangs ready to reap.
The second form: the sword, the blades rotated inward and locked into a straight, titanic greatsword. The haft folded clean into a hilt, crimson veins glowing down the center. A blade for precision, doctrine chaining, and Helix drills.
The third form: the guan dao. With a twist of the mechanism, the haft extended and locked. The blade angled forward into a heavy, sweeping crescent more vertical than the scythe, balanced perfectly for thrusting and slashing both. A weapon of reach, weight, and authority—ideal for Soldier's Edge, Spearwarden's Path, and the new spider-born doctrines.
Noctis gripped the haft. The weapon pulsed like it was alive. He swung once in scythe form—air split, venom mist trailing in long arcs. With a click, the scythe collapsed into sword form; he slammed it downward, sparks bursting as stone fractured. He twisted again, haft extending—the guan dao unfurled, blade angled heavy. He swept it across, the entire cavern shuddering as webs tore from the walls.
The Grid responded instantly. Each doctrine adapted. Soldier's Edge snapped into sword thrusts and guan dao sweeps. Spearwarden's Path merged seamlessly with the polearm length. Helix Bore screamed tighter from the sword tip and guan dao edge. Bloodstorm curved into perfect circles with scythe arcs.
This was no mere weapon. It was an arsenal forged from broodsteel, venom, and his will.
He planted the haft against the stone floor, helm tilting as he admired the glow of its veins. "Sword. Scythe. Guan dao. You are mine."
The weapon answered with a low hum, its edges burning faintly red in the dark.
Noctis rested it across his knees, eyes closing. The lair pressed silence around him. But in that silence, the Grid whispered approval.
The lair felt smaller now. Its silence no longer pressed—only confirmed what he already knew: this place belonged to him. But a forge is only useful when its weapon is tested.
Noctis stood at the cavern mouth, helm tilted up toward the faint shaft of night spilling through the cracks. The air tasted different here—fresh, sharp, threaded with the pulse of living prey above. He tightened his grip on the Broodfang Reaper, its haft cool, its veins glowing faint red under the shadows.
He ascended, boots crunching over stone, webs brushing past his shoulders. When he emerged, the forest stretched before him—wide, dark, filled with the murmur of wind and the restless stir of creatures that roamed the night.
Perfect.
His Grid pulsed in his vision, Perception nodes blazing. Vibrations in the earth traced the movements of distant beasts. Warm outlines pulsed faint through the trees. He smiled under the helm. This was his hunting ground now.
The first came fast—boar-sized creatures with tusks jagged as stone, rooting noisily in the brush. Noctis stepped into the clearing, the Broodfang Reaper lengthening in his hands.
[Weapon Form: Guan Dao]
The haft extended, blade angled heavy, balanced forward. He swept once, the polearm carving a red arc. Venom mist trailed in its wake. The lead beast never finished its grunt—the guan dao split its head from jaw to spine, the corpse collapsing silently into soil.
Two more rushed him, tusks lowered. Noctis pivoted.
[Skill: Piercing Lunge + Guan Dao Form]
The weapon shot forward like a spear, venom-edged blade drilling through the first boar's chest. He wrenched it free and swung wide, the second beast cleaved in half, ichor spraying. Both corpses dissolved in mist before they hit the ground, pulled into his Grid.
The lattice hummed. Beast Essence ticked upward.
Noctis twisted the haft.
[Weapon Form: Scythe]
The blades rotated outward, curving into a crescent. He spun it in a circle, testing balance, the venom-serrated edges whistling as they cut air. The forest floor shook as heavier prey approached—lizard-things with scaled hides, long tails thrashing. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dark, hunting him as prey.
He grinned.
They leapt. Noctis surged to meet them, scythe sweeping in a wide Bloodstorm arc. The first wave of reptiles was cut clean through, venom burning their scales as their bodies collapsed. He let the mist absorb them before pivoting, dragging the scythe through another, bisecting it as easily as silk.
But one beast coiled behind, tail whipping. Noctis felt the tremor through Predator's Sense and ducked, tail slicing over his helm. He came up in a low spin, scythe biting deep into its midsection, carving it into two shrieking halves.
The weapon pulsed in his hands, eager, alive.
He twisted again.
[Weapon Form: Sword]
The scythe collapsed into a straight greatsword, haft folding into a hilt. Crimson veins glowed down the blade's center. The next lizard lunged, jaws wide. Noctis lifted the weapon.
[Skill: Helix Fang Drill]
The blade screamed forward, spiraling in motion. It drove through the lizard's throat, the drill motion tearing flesh and armor alike. Ichor sprayed in a spiral pattern before dissolving into mist.
Two more lunged together.
[Skill: Ghost Vein III]
Phantoms split from him, each wielding mirrored blades. Three Noctises struck at once, greatswords hammering down, their afterimages leaving sticky webs to snare the beasts. The reptiles shrieked, tangled, helpless. Noctis finished them with a single downward strike, Bloodstorm exploding from the sword edge in venom-laced shards.
The clearing went silent.
Noctis straightened, blade dripping with steaming ichor. The corpses dissolved, their essence drawn into him, the Grid flashing brighter with every pulse. He rotated the weapon through each form once more—scythe, guan dao, sword—each movement clean, precise, flawless.
The Broodfang Reaper was no longer just forged. It was tested. And the forest knew it.
Noctis looked toward the distant tree line, where larger vibrations stirred. His helm tilted. Bigger prey waited in the dark.
He smiled beneath the mask. Tonight was only the beginning.