The Dreadweaver Spider was already gnawing through the outer layers of the web cocoon with a series of wet, crackling snaps.
The cocoon on Albert's right shook violently, but the Dreadweaver Spider paid it no mind. All of its clustered eyes were fixed solely on him—
and within those pupils, Albert could see six tiny reflections of himself staring back.
A sharp rip cut through the air.
The web finally gave way.
One of the spider's fur-lined mandibles reached into the opening, just inches from brushing the top of Albert's head—
When suddenly, footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.
More precisely, not footsteps—
but the solid, fleshy thud of something heavy and animalistic slapping against the floor.
That was definitely not a human walking.
If anything, it sounded like a large reptile.
The Dreadweaver Spider froze mid-movement, as if someone had hit pause on a horror movie.
Two seconds later, it let out a harsh, ragged hiss—
