1.13 To Break the Tide (Spiderling POV)

The level ten spiderling looked out at the wide expanse of bodies, and waited for the order to charge.

Like its siblings, the spider had a stylistic ‘fang’ etched into its carapace. The mark of their mother, the creator of their brood. Its shiny black carapace covered a large portion of its body, capable of defending against most glancing blows.

It was the spiderlings’ siblings that were in the cavern, embroiled in the combat that would leave dozens, if not hundreds dead in this cave alone. Yet the spiders fought on. Both sides slogging through a veritable wave of enemies.

This spiderling had been the one to guide the humans to the storage room. Now, it wondered whether its siblings were being broken on other fronts. Had their human allies made a difference? Turned the tide in another, unseen cave?

He did not lament the futility of war, nor the death of its siblings of the brood. He was born into this world of war, after all. Its earliest memories were that of conflict. War, he understood.

His mother called the reserves forward, and where the Brood Mother calls, her children answer.

Diving into the fray, he ducked underneath the maw of an especially large Black Widow, lashing upwards with his fangs. The sharp edge dug into the unprotected underbelly of his opponent, and it let out a blood curdling screech.

It swung, madly, a spider possessed, but the spiderling knew he had hit something vital. The swings became less pronounced, weaker, before the Black Widow fell over, bleeding out and almost certainly dead.

The Fang spiderling in question was a great deal smarter than its siblings, hence why it had been provided with the job of being the human’s guide, however short a time that had been. In every brood, there is genetic variation from spider to spider, subtle variations in their unseen stats that dictate their effectiveness and likelihood of survival.

He had lucked out on his stats, the small differences had made his mind understand that to attack these larger, deadlier, and venomous foes head on would be all but suicide. Let the brothers and sisters of the brood throw themselves forward in an unending tide. He would seek the vulnerable.

Cutting forwards and then abruptly turning to his left, the spider struck the side of another Black Widow. He pulled back, and struck again as the opponent in question stumbled, then fell.

Stabbing once more for good measure, the spiderling backed up. No sense charging in headfirst to die.

It seemed as though he was the smartest spider in the cavern. No other combatant was looking for easier kills. Instead, each side simply threw more and more bodies at the proverbial wall until one side could clearly overpower the other.

It was no wonder, then, that few members of the Fang brood had reached the level 10 benchmark that many of the Black Widow frontliners had. The Black Widows were stronger, and had the fangs and venom to outfight the Fang spiderlings in a direct confrontation. And even he, smartest of the Fangs, had only just now reached level 12 after his last two kills.

The Fangs’ doctrine revolved around targeting the most powerful enemy combatants, killing them and scattering the weakest opponents like so much chaff. The pattern of attacks that this strategy required demanded heavy tithes of dead and wounded from the Fang brood, but made certain that enemy forces would fail to retain most of their high-level spiderlings, leaving behind only those broodlings least likely to evolve.

Conversely, the Black Widows seemed to have no such doctrine, instead relying on their base biological advantages in size and venom to kill those who stood before them.

It was in this manner that both broods had pursued the war, and it was for these reasons that neither brood could boast an evolved form among their number, save for their original Brood Mothers.

This Fang spiderling, smartest of his kind, was determined to change that. It’s siblings didn’t understand the situation, didn’t understand the possible destruction of the hive lay at the doorstep already. It would be down to him, and he refused to fall here.

His next blow caught the leg of a relatively small Black Widow, severing its leg at the knee joint, and significantly hampering its ability to counterattack.

The Fang scuttled backwards, determined to escape out of range before retribution arrived. In doing so, it managed to pull itself mostly out of the way, taking only a light blow to the carapace which imparted no venom into his veins.

But his kill was being swarmed by other Fang spiderlings now, and the experience would go to waste as soon as they mindlessly charged the next Black Widow. That could not be permitted, he would have to secure the kill.

The spiderling barreled through two of his brethren, careful not to catch them with the fangs that protruded its face. Knocking aside a third, it buried its fangs in a chink in the Black Widow spiderling’s carapace, the neck.

The spiders that he had just knocked aside looked at him in confusion, but quickly looked back at the battlefield, scurrying towards the nearest foe.

His fears were justified as soon as one of the three spiderlings he had knocked aside began to rush an abnormally large Black Widow. Charging straight forward, the smaller Fang broodling stood no chance as the larger insect brought its maw downwards and buried its envenomed fangs in the smaller one’s head.

The smarter Fang shuddered involuntarily, an expression even he didn’t know he could make. The Black Widow had cracked the carapace of the smaller spiderling with a simple downwards motion of its head. A terrifying prospect, to see him break through their armor that easily.

The spider shook his head. That one had to die. For the welfare of the brood, even if it cost him his own life.

Of course, because that particular Black Widow was the strongest individual spiderling in the cavern, it was currently the target of fifteen Fang spiderlings’ attentions.

Battered on all sides as it was, every few moments it found a new opening to lash out, to cut down one of his Fang brood brethren as they tried their best to land a killing blow.

He observed for another length of time, perhaps it was seconds, perhaps it was minutes. Completely enraptured in the task of looking for an opening; anything at all, that the Fangs could exploit.

Nothing. The large one had pushed their line back, leaving him isolated for a time, but it was now receiving support from its fellow Black Widows, the fangs that comprise its maw glinting in the gem-lit room. Each of those fangs were the length of the dagger, and our little spiderling began to wonder if the subtle variations in a spiderling’s stats at birth weren't really so... minor, at all.

But the brood was loath to quit, and his more, ah, mentally deficient siblings had taken to attacking the beastly thing in groups. As if any number of Fang spiderlings could pierce that carapace.

No, if a death blow came, it would have to come from the back or the belly, the unprotected portions of the large one’s body.

But the belly was hardly an option, he concluded, for the large Black Widow’s overbearing size also came with the drawback that when it stood and fought, its main body would rest on the ground. No, ducking underneath to deal the killing blow wasn’t the answer.

Then was it the back? Could he really fight through two or three Black Widows on his own, just to get to this one’s weak side. And even if he did would the large spider even still be there when he was done?

A possibility. What about the ceiling? Their Brood Mother had commanded them not to take to the ceiling. The drop was too high, they would be disoriented by the fall, and besides the cavern was fully lit. What element of surprise was to be had anyway?

A lot of it, the Fang spiderling decided. If the Black Widows were even remotely disorganized, which they most likely were, they would not be able to warn one another, even if one of them had the presence of mind to do so. Hopefully.

Ceiling it was. The spider backed through his own brood’s ranks, crawling vertically onto the cavern wall, and then slowly making his way up to the cavern ceiling. The target was a long ways away, but he moved anyway.

Slowly, carefully, he moved across the unoccupied ceiling of the large battleground. The foe was in sight now, still hunkered down, skewering his Fang broodmates with every passing moment.

Now or never. He let fly, releasing his hold on the rocky ceiling’s surface and plummeting downwards, righting himself so that his fangs were pointed towards the distracted opponent’s backside and…

His fangs had sunk into something, but he was too disoriented to figure out what. All he knew was that he had hit another spiderling. Friend. Foe. It didn’t matter. Any moment now-

There it was, a Black Widow had caught wind of his position, and seeing him dazed, unable to move with the agility he would normally manage, rushed forwards and struck down at him.

Scrambling, the Fang spiderling could not avoid the death blow, but managed to tilt his carapace to block the strike as best it could.

He was lucky. Lucky that his gamble hadn’t resulted in his guts splayed out on the floor. Lucky, that the offending Black Widow spiderling was not the one he had been targeting, lest his carapace give way to inevitable death. Lucky, even, that the blow had only cracked his carapace, rather than puncture any vital organs.

Away. Away. AWAY. MUST GET AWAY.

The world blacked out.

#####

He was alive, and regaining consciousness quickly. An evolution page appeared before him, written in the hisses and clicks of his brood.

[Congratulations, Evolution Requirements Met! Please Choose an Evolution]

[Spiderling Brood Mother, Common]

[Spiderling Spellweaver, Rare]

[Broodling Fang Assassin, Unique]

...

[ERROR, CANNOT OFFER EVOLUTION CHOICE]

[ERROR, MUST-]

[ERRO-]

[E-]

...

[Fang of the Stone Noble, Epic]

Perhaps if the spiderling lacked intellect, it would have chosen at random. Perhaps if he lacked even the autonomy his mind had afforded him, he would have rushed to the Brood Mother, rather than choose for himself.

That was still an option, wasn’t it? The spiderling mused to himself. No. His brood were already marching through the next tunnel. To the next cavern. To the next battle. This war would not abide his delay.

The spiderling, smartest of his kind, logically deduced that the final offer, this… Epic evolution would be the most powerful, for it had been scrawled onto the screen in the form of many loud and pervading screeches, as opposed to the quieter, much more mellow sounds that represented the other options. By extension, it would allow him to destroy the unending tide of Black Widows still flooding into Fang brood tunnels. Yes, this was the right choice. Wasn’t it?

He willed himself to accept the final choice, to become a Fang of the Stone Noble. The spiderling pushed away any doubts, he knew what this new evolution would entail. Sort of.

Okay, he didn’t know what it meant at all, but the spiderling chose nonetheless. For the brood, the spider declared, as if a crowd of his brethren were there to witness his transformation.

He entered a trance, the prelude to his evolution.

[Congratulations! Evolution Chosen! Level 15 Fang of the Stone Noble]