1.16

Silence reigned over the cavernous expanse. Only one being in these tunnels had ever observed such a phenomenon, and she wasn’t here.

The fighting had ceased, and a suffocating confusion had taken its place. Should they keep killing the Black Widow spiders? Was there a point to fighting right now anyway?

The Fang spiderlings looked similarly conflicted. Two of them had fallen over several minutes after the fight, seemingly unresponsive to the prompting of their brethren, but the rest of their number simply looked around, confused.

It was strange to ever find an enemy spiderling unwilling to fight back. Other species? Perhaps. Their young could not fend for themselves in these tunnels. But even the youngest spider hatchling would swarm if forced to.

Now faced with a cavern full of this phenomenon, the Fangs looked around, unsure as to their next move.

The Black Widows on their part stood stock still. With the slightest shiver every few seconds. Never in sync, but standing like statues, even as the Fang spiderlings tapped on them.

A test then. Harold hefted his hammer with both hands swung at the nearest spider cracking its carapace open. It’s body had ruptured on impact, and its black blood dripped onto the cold stone floor. No reaction from its surrounding allies.

This went on for some time, until Harold walked by one of the larger specimens, intent on finding what kept them from moving.

It suddenly moved. Rearing its head, it hissed at no being in particular, and lunged.

But not at him. It tore into its nearest ally, another Black Widow broodling of a lower level, disemboweling it with continuous strikes from its long, glistening maw.

Harold jumped back immediately, turning his back and running towards their original position while asking Rocky to order their group into a line on their side of the cavern.

A wild, feral spiderling followed him. With no regard for strategy or possibility, it simply jumped towards him, forcing Harold to bring his shield up to protect his torso.

Ping. The spiderling, a small one if Harold was any judge, bounced off his shield. Shaking its head to clear its disorientation, it lunged again. And again.

Harold let this continue. The spiderling posed no threat to him if it continued in this manner, and they had yet to figure out why the spiderlings had reacted this way to the death of their Brood Mother.

He looked up, monetarily distracting himself from the matter at hand. What he observed was not a massed assault of an enraged brood. Instead, each and every Black Widow in the room had taken to killing the closest target. In most cases, it had been their own allies who bore the brunt of their fury.

The Fang line fought off the few dregs that rushed at them, but no one made any move to stop the messy free taking place on the other side of the cavern.

Of course, the veritable mountain of experience on the other side of the room was tempting, but the strongest Fang spiderlings had fallen unconscious, though Harold didn’t have an inkling as to why. Rocky as well, having given the final order to form the line, had seen his gem dim, the green lines running along his body all but disappearing.

They didn’t have a translator to give orders, and were missing a number of their strongest fighters. And so, the group erred on the side of caution, waiting out the storm as their former enemies tore one another to pieces.

#####

The only currently evolved Fang spiderling was being recalled to the Brood Mother’s cavern.

The spiderling had participated in more fighting in the last few days than he had seen over the course of his admittedly short life. It had relished the challenge presented to him

Now, our [Fang of the Stone Noble] was skittering down one of the last few tunnels in Fang control, on his way to see the mother.

He knew he had been recalled for a specific reason. The order had come down in the form of a broodling messenger, uttering the hisses and clicks of his brood.

It had come just as the Black Widow assault had fizzled out. There, their foes had paused in place, right before tearing one another apart.

Before, he had felt elation for his brood after every victory, every cavern won, every tunnel conquered. Yet now, at the height of their victory the most powerful Fang broodling could only feel… nothing.

That wasn’t necessarily true. Nestled within his mind was a personal satisfaction, of having levelled many times since his evolution. And some part of him knew that was… wrong?

It was wrong that he could feel no happiness for brood, was it not? A child of their mother was a child of the brood evermore, so why could he feel no joy? The not so little spider pondered these ideas as it finally reached the mother’s chamber.

It was the same large cavernous expanse he remembered from his youth. The same smattering of crystals still lit the chamber. His brothers and sisters still moved along the same pre-ordained paths, carrying on with tasks essential to the brood’s survival.

The static, unchanging nature of the mother’s domain made his anxieties much worse. It was as if the world around him had been put on hold while he experienced a century of adventure, returning to the same cottage from whence he had set off.

The spiders here. He could recognize them as his kin, as his family. But the bond of kinship that had held them? It was gone.

Sinking further into the pits of despair, he was roused only by his mother’s greeting, spoken to him in the chitters and hisses of the brood.

“Welcome back, my favored son.” Far from the imposing, loud mental voice she projected when speaking to Harold’s party, the voice the spiderling heard was that of a doting mother.

“It is good to see the brood still unharmed after so long.” He knew not why he lied, only that he felt it wise to do so.

The mother waved her front leg dismissively. “The brood always survives, as do I. Let us speak instead about your experiences at the front. It is good to have one of my own finally develop the ability to carry a conversation.”

Bobbing his torso in his best impression of a nod, he carefully crafted his response. “I am what you called, an assassin variant. My fangs have grown longer, sharper. My carapace is dulled, no longer shining in even the brightest light. A number of advantages allows me to kill powerful opponents.”

“Very good. To be honest I had hoped for an evolved servant such as you. Our foes are too powerful to grind to dust beneath our treads. We require something more subtle. You will bring death even to those among our brood that might betray us.”

Ah. The spiderling had a good idea as to why his first instinct had been to lie. His mother was scary when she spoke like this.

He mutely wondered whether ranks of the brood held other malcontents, disillusioned with the brood but driven to loyalty through fear of the mother. There had to be some, and the spider found himself agreeing with, well, himself.

If he found them, would he out them as traitors to the brood? Would he be akin to a spider drowning, the mother his only source of air? If not, could he secure a brood of his own, in place of the one he had lost?

The mother’s voice shot up in tone. ‘By the web, that was a question.’ He scrambled to come up with an acceptable response. She liked agreement, right? Yeah!

With that in mind, he gave the most noncommittal and affirmative answer he could manage. “Perhaps. Though I would defer to your opinion, mother.”

Approval. “Indeed. You will stay here for my negotiations with the Nobilis and its pets. As the first evolution of my brood, you will sit at my side as we secure their continued… cooperation.”

He could only bow and acquiesce.

#####

Thud. Thud. Thud.

They were moving. Maybe? Rocky could hear a familiar thumping, footfalls as he was being carried somewhere.

Dull. Why were the sounds dull? Muffled like someone was covering his gem. But he felt nothing on him.

Speaking of which, why couldn’t he see? A black haze obscured his vision, turning everything around the rock dark, an incomprehensible void. He looked frantically, seeing nothing, feeling nothing. It was as if he had regressed, back to that cold, unfeeling life of an unconscious rock.

And for the first time in his life, he felt fear. Had he been destroyed? Lost? Forgotten? The dull footfalls had ceased altogether now, and he now languished in total sensory deprivation.

So there he sat, for a length of time unknown even to him. Afraid that nothing would ever cut through the monotony-

Then light. Wait, light? Light! It was shining from a source behind him, an iridescent blue that permeated the nothingness.

#####

[Rock Hard]

Age: ???

Race: Rock

Class: [Noble of Stone, Level 15]

Constitution: Rock

Achievements: [First Light] [Arachnae Slayer]

Titles: [Progenitor] [Monarch’s Bane]

#####

That was strange. Rocky couldn’t recall ever saying the magic word that usually brought this page up, but he shrugged it off. Maybe he said it while in the void? Wait, wasn’t he still there?

No, that couldn’t be. Right? The void was a place with absolutely nothing, but here was something. This place was… different?

He kept looking at the screen.

Congratulations! Evolution Requirements Met. Please Choose an Evolution]

[Stone Golem, Common]

[Stone Magus, Epic]

[Count of Cold Iron, Mythic II (Direct Evolution)]

It looked familiar to him, he had definitely seen this before, back when he had first met Harold and Amber, where they had told him which option to pick.

He had no one to consult this time, and so he sat, waiting for something to help him choose.

When no help came, he tried to remember which option Harold had directed him to and why. It had been the final option, he remembered it clearly.

Rocky looked back to the options available to him again. He had a middling understanding of language now, but… these words didn’t tell him anything. Mythic? Epic? Those seemed like important things to know. But unfortunately, his tutoring had been relegated mostly to speaking and the understanding of conversation.

He shrugged, though how he did so without shoulders would have been anyone’s guess.

Rocky selected the last one, and the world began to fade into being once more.

#####

An evolved spiderling watched on as the two humans and the rock entered the mother’s chamber. The rock’s light had dimmed. ‘Perhaps it’s dying?’

He watched as the group stood before the mother, but his many eyes were continuously drawn to the small stone.

He didn’t know why, but his every attempt to focus on the conversation between the humans and mother was interrupted. There was something off about…

A yelp broke the flow of the conversation, as one of the humans, the one with the higher pitched voice, dropped the rock onto the floor.

Rage. Hot and heavy, it flowed through his veins, it heated his black blood to a boil. His maw trembled with trepidation and desire. The human woman would DIE-

The rock had begun sprouting. And that was not simply a figure of speech. It demanded attention as longer limbs now grew in place of the stumps that previously served as its arms and legs. They were detailed, each one crafted from innumerable jagged rocks and edges. In each surface was carved a green circuit, glowing dimly in the dimly lit cavern.

Rocks continued to shift into place, pulled it seemed, from no particular place, and by no particular force. They simply appeared, flying around in a haphazard fashion until finally, finally finding their place as a part of the rock’s new body.

The torso elongated, the shoulders broadened and a green eye opened where the face of the golem should have been. The evolved spiderling knew this phenomenon too well, though it had never seen the process. It too had awoken to a new body. It had been confusion that had taken him then, and he had no doubt this rock would awake to the same feeling. An alien within one's own body.

The mother had paused, shocked. The humans, similarly stunned, had taken to gaping at the rock’s new body, which now stood at a modest three and a half feet. The gem that gave the rock his greenish hue was nowhere to be seen, likely protected behind a sheet of rocky skin.

In its place now was the unnerving green eye, a hole in the rock really, which gave off the same green glow as the circuits which now ran along the length of his body.

The [Fang of the Stone Noble] gazed upon the new being and its body welled with pride. The happiness he had lost following his evolution returned in full force, his loyalty to the brood dwarfed by the very sight of the evolved being before him.

He kept watching from the shadows. They were arguing now, the queen and the humans.

The spiderling had been intent on seeking out the high pitched one, to kill her for dropping the stone. But the rock had immediately gone to embrace both humans. The injury had been an accident then? The human would live another day.

“Where’s the tunnel to the outside? We would like to get going as soon as possible.” The taller, lower voiced human asked.

He heard the mother respond in the harsh, unforgiving tone that she had taken every time he had seen her interact with them. “THE ENTRANCE IS… NOT HERE.”

The humans looked more agitated with her every word. “So you’ve double crossed us? We do your dirty work and you tell us you don’t have a way out?” The tall one in particular seemed to be the leader, as he had when he led them through the tunnels. But that felt like a lifetime ago, what mattered now was that the mother and this group seemed agitated by one another.

“I HAVE NOT LIED, BUT… THE EXIT IS IN THE POSSESSION OF A DIFFERENT BROOD.” It seemed as though the mother had lied to them. The spiderling couldn’t understand the words, spoken in a language far removed from that of their brood’s. But the indignant expressions on the face of the humans was unmistakable.

“We’ve suffered enough for your-

The tall human was cut off by the short one. A lack of a power structure perhaps? “Please just tell us where the exit is?”

She looked much more diplomatic than the other one, though the spiderling was now tired of using the terms ‘that one’ and ‘the other one’. Instead, he deemed the tall one, well, ‘tall’, and the short one ‘short’.

Returning his attention to the conversation, he listened to the rising voices of those involved.

“IF YOU WOULD LIKE, I CAN LEND YOU A SMALL EXPEDITION. KILL THEIR BROOD MOTHER AND YOU WILL HAVE THE TUNNEL EXIT IN THE PALM OF YOUR HAND.” The mother had a conversational tone, but it was clear, even to him, that she was trying to manipulate the humans. Her voice strong, but assertive.

“Hell no. Thank you for your hospitality, but we’ll be going now.” That was the sound of a man who had suffered for a cause, only to find it had been a fool’s dream all along. And though the spiderling could not understand the words, it saw the human’s attempt to leave, turning their backs and walking to the entrance, little rock in tow.

Only now did the Brood Mother revert to her brood’s tongue. “Kill the rock first. If they will not serve me, they will die in protection of my secrets.”

To their credit, the humans turned in response. Perhaps not understanding, but knowing the implications of such an aggressive hiss. Tall one raised his hammer and shield, short one summoned fire. And the rock?

The rock seemed to be waiting for something.

The spiderling shook itself. ‘Shouldn’t I be attacking them?’ The mother had ordered it, and he was her child. The logic checked out, didn’t it?

Yet he could not bring himself to lift even a single leg to support his brethren surging towards the isolated group.

Three golems formed from the ground, wrought from something other than rock. They crushed spiderlings into so many pieces with their hammer shaped hands. His brothers and sisters were dying, they were fighting. Why could he not move?

A lucky Fang spiderling made it past the golems and aimed a singular hit on the rock, who was still frontlining with the tall human and the golems.

The maw sank into a small chunk of stone, and our evolved spiderling’s vision went red.

The rock was hurt, and there was only one way to guarantee its survival.

Kill.

The [Fang of the Stone Noble] was moving now, scuttling across the ceiling of the cavern with his silenced legs.

Well, not much had to be silenced regardless, as the fight continued to ramp up. Attacked from all sides, the golems were forming a circle around the group, with the short human in the center.

Kill.

He watched as another spider got close enough to strike at the rock, only to be bashed to pieces by the tall one’s hammer.

Kill.

He dropped from the ceiling, diving far more than he was falling. His trajectory determined, his target certain.

His fangs found flesh, they broke through, and the sharp ends of his maw punctured the brain.

The Fang Brood Mother was dead before she hit the ground.