The Antventure Begins

13. Arachnid ( Insect

Despite my tough talk, I was shivering inside my own carapace for the eventual rampage of the spider’s pursuit.

I retreated all the way to the junction, thinking if worse came to worse I could hide close to the wolf lizards or aggro them onto the spider and try to slip though their den.

Fortunately, this spider appears to be as cautious as me.

And why not? All he has to do is sit inside a web and wait for the prey to be delivered, stuck and unable to fight. Practically free Biomass. Truly, being a spider is like easy mode in the Dungeon.

Resentment is building towards this web spinning scum. Thinking of all the hardships I’ve been through while this chump sits there collecting free XP. My rage is reaching towards the sky, to the very heavens themselves!

To ease my fury, the spider must die.

Of course, consideration for this course of action is only happening since I’ve weighed the odds and believe winning is a possibility. There are a couple reasons for this. Firstly, the tunnel is unusually bright. Spotting the spider and its web is not as hard as it would have been just after I arrived in the Dungeon. Secondly, the spider appears to be small, possibly as weak—stats wise—as I am. If I can remove the natural advantage it gains from its web, I can win.

The question remains, how to ensure I never fight it in its web? Phase one is already complete. With my two acid attacks yesterday, the spider has likely lost at least five HP. Unless it can secure food to replenish its strength, continuing to lure it to where I can attack it from range is the best course of action.

Simple.

The weakness to my plan is the requirement of ambushing the spider a number of times in order to be victorious. However, if the spider ambushes me even once with its poison fangs… lights out.

Antennae, forward! Eyes open! Brain, focused to a razor’s edge! There must be no mistakes. Maintaining this attitude, I advance on the web once more, inspecting every stone and fold in the rock for hidden arachnids.

No sign of it. The horrid thing is probably licking its wounds behind the safe walls of its web. Provided it has a tongue.

Being unable to see it, I will proceed as I did before, trying to lure the fiend here by disturbing the web. After preparing some choice stones and lining them up, I flick them one by one into the web. I use four stones this time, trying to create a larger disturbance to convince the creature a juicy prey has become entangled.

Before the last stone strikes home, I hide in a shady position and prepare to wait.

And I wait.

And wait.

Half an hour goes by without even one hairy leg emerging. Not coming out, eh? Yellow are ya? Too chicken to fight face to face like a man—or… bug!

This is also fine.

But first, I need to be sure.

Once again, stones prepared and lined up, ramped up to seven stones this time, they’re flicked into the web using my mandibles. The web shaking and wobbling under my rocky assault, I retreat and observe. Come at me spider!

Nothing. The tunnel is perfectly still and quiet, not even a whisper echoes off the stone.

I learned during my first hunt that patience is everything to a monster. Death lurks around every corner; no safeguards can afford to be cut. If this spider wants to play a waiting game, I’m ready to play. I wait an hour before making my move.

The spider is either more wounded than I initially thought or is too wary to approach this side of its nest after getting an acid bath.

Time for phase two of my web disruption plan. Using my antennae, I find an area of softer, looser stone and begin to shift it close to the web using my trusty face hands, otherwise known as mandibles.

Once I have enough finer material, I begin flicking it up onto the web, sending it wavering and shivering once more. Unlike the heavier stones, this stuff doesn’t get the web really shaking, but it does do something the heavier rocks couldn’t.

It sticks.

Flick, flick, flick. Again and again, I send the fine stone into the web. Some rebounds, and some impacts the threads, remaining hanging in the air. I don’t need to cover all the web, just enough for me to be able to pass through without getting stuck. Then I’ll be able to infiltrate the inner sanctum of my foe.

When I’m halfway done, I take another opportunity to retreat and hide, just in case the spider has at last been drawn out by my constant interference with its web.

Thirty minutes later and I’m back at work.

Since the spider refuses to emerge, it allows me to cover as much of the web as I reasonably can from the ground, with as thick a coating as possible. If I get a leg stuck to this damned web, I may not be able to free myself.

Eventually I’m satisfied enough to try and squeeze through. Being as careful as I can, I pass my antennae across each strand I plan to walk past, checking for residual stickiness. Finding none, I cross into the lair of the beast.

This is the most dangerous phase of this conflict. Although I’ve secured a path of retreat, there could be any number of hidden threads here in the creature’s lair. I must be careful.

Foothold by foothold I creep forward, eyes scanning every inch of wall and ceiling. A single lapse of concentration will be deadly here. I try to be as Stealthy as I can, but dark, shadowed areas are becoming harder and harder to find. The flowing blue light running through the walls of the tunnels has definitely become stronger over the last few days.

At least this troubling issue runs both ways. Although I can’t hide very well, neither can my opponent.

Here inside the nest of the spider, threads run along the walls and floor here and there, some of them so fine they barely catch the light. Hesitation is in almost every step, trying to be certain I don’t place a foot wrong.

What’s that?

There’s a shape over there, close to the wall. I can’t be sure though. Is it a fold in the rock, or is it—a leg!

Take this you skittering git!

Like lightning I blast off a shot of acid.

[Acid Shot has reached Level 3.]

Ha! Must have been a hit.

Only one thing to do now. That’s right, run for it!

Bwahahaha! You won’t catch me spider. I’m like the wind across the fjords. The gazelle leaping over the plains. Like the falcon soaring in the clear—Bah, a thread—I’m stuck! It’s got me. It’s coming to get me!

Will I die here? Before even meeting my colony? I have so many regrets… I’m too young to die. Come to think of it, I’m not even one month old.

[You have defeated a Level 1 Puer Aranea.]

[You have gained XP.]

Please don’t kill me, spider, I have so much to live for. I still don’t know if I can evolve like a pocket monster. I mean, how cool would that be! You don’t want me to die before I find out, do you?

And… And… What?

Turning around, it’s just one of my legs that’s brushed a spider thread on the ground. By pulling hard I’m able to break free.

Once liberated I return to where the spider was sighted, only to see the small creature, severely burned by acid, lying on its back presenting its curled legs to the ceiling.

…I’m sorry, spider. I misjudged you.