Spiders

Speed's chest tightened the moment he saw them—the spiders. Their glinting, ebony bodies skittered across the uneven stone floor of the dungeon, their legs impossibly long and jagged, tapping like the slow ticking of a clock. These weren't ordinary creatures. They were *Level Three Beasts*, known for their deadly venom and ruthless hunting tactics. Each spider's crimson eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, locking onto him with predatory focus.

The knowledge hit Speed like a blow: he was utterly unprepared. Spirit magic stirred faintly within him, but it felt distant, untamed—wild energy he couldn't wield in the face of immediate danger. His instincts screamed at him to run, and without hesitation, he obeyed.

His boots pounded against the cracked stone floor as he sprinted down the labyrinthine corridors, the faint glow of the rune-lined walls casting eerie shadows as he fled. The spiders moved swiftly behind him, their bodies whispering across the stone, closing the distance with terrifying precision.

*"Pathetic,"* the deep voice growled, its tone dripping with disdain. It reverberated through the chamber, mocking him with every syllable. *"The dragon chose you? The bearer of Spirit? And yet you run like a frightened child?"*

Speed gritted his teeth, his heart pounding as he rounded a sharp corner, nearly slipping on the damp stone. The voice continued its cruel taunts, its tone heavy with amusement. *"You will never survive this dungeon if fear rules your heart. Power without courage is worthless. Perhaps the spiders will show you the meaning of humility."*

The air grew heavier, the oppressive aura of the dungeon pressing down on him even as his legs burned with the effort of running. The maze-like corridors seemed endless, each turn leading to more darkness and no escape. Behind him, the spiders hissed, their glowing eyes growing brighter as they closed in.

Speed's breath came in ragged gasps, his thoughts racing. He couldn't fight—not like this. But running wasn't going to save him either. The mocking voice was right; he needed to face them. He needed to survive. He needed to *think*.

Ahead, the corridor opened into a larger chamber, faintly illuminated by glowing crimson runes carved into the walls and ceiling. Speed's eyes darted around the space, searching desperately for something—anything—that could help. His gaze landed on a series of jagged stalactites hanging from the ceiling, their sharp edges gleaming faintly in the dim light.

An idea sparked in his mind. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

He stopped abruptly, turning to face the approaching spiders. His knees felt weak, and his heart thundered in his chest, but he forced himself to stand his ground. He raised his hands, focusing every ounce of his will on the faint spark of Spirit magic within him. The energy flickered weakly, wild and unsteady, but Speed didn't need perfection—he needed chaos.

The spiders hissed loudly, their crimson eyes narrowing as they prepared to strike. Speed clenched his fists, his voice trembling but steady as he growled, "Come and get me

Speed planted his feet firmly against the uneven stone floor, his chest heaving as the monstrous spiders hissed and edged closer. He felt the spark of Spirit magic flickering inside him—chaotic, raw, and unrefined—but it was power, and he knew he had to act. His heart pounded as he focused on the glowing runes etched along the walls, hoping to channel something—anything—that could fend off the approaching creatures.

*Fire.* It was the thought that came to him first. Fire was destructive, elemental, and primal—exactly what he needed against the arachnid horrors. Clenching his fists, Speed inhaled deeply, trying to draw out the chaotic magic swirling within him. His fingers tingled as the energy surged forward, wild and untamed, and for a moment, he felt the spark ignite.

Then it went horribly wrong.

The fire flared in his palm, too fast and uncontrollable, leaping outward like a ravenous beast. Instead of hitting the spiders, the flames lashed out and burned through the fabric of his shirt, leaving a charred hole in the center of his chest and singeing his side. Speed let out a startled cry, stumbling backward as he patted frantically at the embers that clung to the shredded fabric.

The voice returned, booming louder than ever, its tone dripping with disdain and cruel amusement. *"Pitiful,"* it growled. *"The dragon chose you, the bearer of Spirit magic, and yet you can't even conjure fire without burning yourself? Truly, the dragon's judgment has faltered. Perhaps it should have chosen a less… fragile vessel."*

Speed winced, more from the sting of the mocking words than the actual burn on his skin. He clenched his teeth, glaring into the darkness as the spiders crept closer, their glowing crimson eyes reflecting his frustration. "I'm not fragile," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaking. "I'll figure this out."

The voice let out a low, rumbling laugh that reverberated through the chamber, each note cutting deeper than the last. *"Will you, child? Perhaps the spiders will end your struggle here, sparing you the embarrassment of further failure."*

Speed straightened, his stormy-gray eyes narrowing. The fire may have gone awry, but his resolve burned brighter than ever. He wasn't going to let the voice—or the spiders—break him. "I'm still standing," he said through gritted teeth. "And I'll keep standing, no matter what you throw at me."

The runes on the walls pulsed faintly, almost as if responding to his defiance. The spiders hissed louder, sensing his resolve. Speed tightened his fists, his mind racing as he searched for a way to channel the wild magic within him into something useful—something that wouldn't involve setting himself on fire again.

Speed's breaths came in ragged gasps as he tried to dart away from the spiders, their hissing and clicking echoing relentlessly through the stone corridors. But the creatures were faster, their gangly legs skittering with an unnatural rhythm that seemed to close in from all sides. His legs burned with fatigue, his mind racing as he desperately searched for a way out. But no path opened, no light broke the oppressive darkness.

The first strike was swift—a barbed, glistening leg lashed out, hooking into his shirt and tearing him off balance. Speed hit the cold, damp stone with a gasp, pain shooting through his ribs as the impact drove the air from his lungs. He clawed at the floor, trying to pull himself away, but it was too late. Sticky, silken threads—coated in a sickly-sweet scent that made his stomach churn—wrapped around his legs, binding him in place.

The largest spider loomed over him, its segmented body casting a monstrous shadow across the chamber. Eight glowing crimson eyes locked onto Speed, their unblinking gaze reflecting nothing but hunger and malice. Its pincers clicked together, dripping venom that sizzled as it hit the ground mere inches from his face. The sound was a grotesque melody, a reminder of his helplessness.

"No—no, not like this," Speed rasped, struggling against the web that tightened with every frantic movement. His hands tore at the sticky threads, but they only seemed to multiply, binding him tighter and tighter. The more he fought, the more entangled he became.

The voice from the shadows returned, booming louder than before, its tone dripping with cruel amusement. *"Look at you. Weak. Helpless. Is this what the great Dragon Mage has become? Flailing in fear, caught like an insect in the web of your own failures?"*

The words struck deeper than the spider's venom could. Speed squeezed his eyes shut, his mind spinning as memories flooded back unbidden. The sneering faces of those who had mocked him in his village, the derision he faced for being born without a recognized bloodline, the countless times he had been told he was nothing. Each moment of doubt, each whispered insult, crashed over him like a wave, drowning his resolve.

"You don't deserve this power," the voice continued, relentless. *"Do you know why the dragon chose you? Because it pitied you. Nothing more. And now, here you are, proving that pity is all you're worth."*

Tears welled in Speed's eyes as he felt the weight of those words. He had always known fear, always known struggle—but this, this felt different. This was failure in its purest form. *I'm not strong enough,* he thought. *I never was.*

The spider reared back, its massive body shifting as it prepared to strike, venom dripping in long, glistening strands from its fangs. Speed froze, his breath caught in his throat as a single thought pierced the haze of despair: *This is the end.*

But as the darkness pressed in, a faint warmth stirred within him—a flicker, small and fragile, but unmistakable. It wasn't the wild, chaotic force of Spirit magic—it was something else. A memory. Not of failure, but of a promise. The dragon's voice echoed faintly in the back of his mind, soft but steady: *You are stronger than you know. Trust in yourself.*

The thought struck like a spark in the darkness, igniting something within him. Speed's hands, still trembling, clenched into fists. He wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.

The spider's fangs descended, but deep in Speed's chest, the flicker of resolve began to grow.