CHAPTER XLIX
~The Spider’s Cathedral~
He continued, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Plus, it’s got bonus vibes for protection. ’Cause, like, I got standards. Nobody messes with my team. Especially you.” He straightened with a final tug, ensuring the bow was snug and secure, the red thread a vivid sigil against her skin—messy, bright, and unmistakably Rin. He released her hand with a wink. The thin, worn red thread now echoed both tradition and Rin’s own quirky flair.
Examining his handiwork, he added, a hint more gently, “If you ever need it undone, just say so. But until then, you’re the MVP for tonight, fr.”
He flashed her a winning grin, then spun the Kendama in his hand with a practiced flick, his usual sparkle restored. “Aight, squad,” he called to Mofumi and motioned forward, “we got bosses to find and webs to break. Let’s get moving before things get sus again, yeah?”
Mofumi, watching, let out a lazy purr of approval. “Well, at least you made it cute.”
But just before heading off, he leaned close and whispered, low so only Yuzuki could hear, “Thanks...for looking out. Not everyone would.”
As Rin padded ahead, Mofumi gliding at his side, Yuzuki lingered for a moment, replaying Rin’s words:
“Thanks... for looking out. Not everyone would.”
They were simple words, spoken softly, but they struck her deeper than the damp cold at her feet.What did he mean by that?She chewed the thought, watching him—how casual and carefree he looked, spinning the freshly mended Kendama in his fingers, as if nothing could faze him. Yet, she sensed another layer, barely visible beneath the sly grins and playful bravado: a gratefulness, a hint of something rare and real.
She hugged her arms close, shoes splashing quietly in the shallow water as she hurried to keep up.
As they pressed forward through the spider realm, darkness pressed in from every angle—unnaturally thick, muffling their steps and swallowing nearly all sound. Just as the corridor seemed to narrow with oppressive gloom, a faint silver radiance began to seep through an arching gap in the twisted roots ahead.
Yuzuki squinted, heart pounding.Was this…another illusion? Or the gateway to something even stranger?The answer revealed itself as they crossed the threshold—
A vast, cavernous chamber stretched out before them, an enormous subterranean forest criss-crossed with impossibly thick, glistening spider webs. Ancient trees—misshapen and gnarled, bark faded gray with age—rose up in all directions, their limbs reaching and splitting like desperate hands in the dark. Every trunk, every branch, every fallen log was engulfed in spider silk, lattices upon lattices weaving chaotic bridges between the pillars.
Webs hung high like ghostly banners, draped from the heights, cascading down in spectral curtains. The light had no clear source, but it shimmered faintly through the haze, illuminating motes of dust and the shimmering dew caught in the silken threads.
To the right, one of the enormous trees had been overtaken so completely by webbing it looked more cocoon than wood. At its base, a hollow led deep into blackness, where small, red-pointed shadows scuttled in and out—other spiders, or perhaps something else.
A colossal arachnid leg, glossy and black as obsidian, hung suspended above—so immense it vanished off the edge of sight, twitching ever so slightly, casting a shadow like a scythe. Further inside, the suggestion of other gigantic spiders, their onyx bodies barely visible in the gloom, watched silently from the tangled heights.
Everything was enveloped in a cold luminescence, like moonlight caught eternally at midnight, broken only by shifting shadows and the quiver of threads under unseen weight. The musty chill in the air was thick with the scent of damp wood, dried silk, and something faintly metallic, like old blood or ancient secrets.
Yuzuki’s feet sank slightly into the rotting mats of web-covered undergrowth. She had to duck beneath a heavy swath of sticky silk, heart pounding as the scale of it all set in. Here, in this nest, even the bravest voice would drop to a whisper.
As they picked their way through the forest of webs, the landscape began to shift. Trees thinned, then gave way to cold stone—worn and broken, part of what must have once been a grand temple or palace now dropped into ruin. Great mossy archways rose up, their facades darkened by centuries of neglect, flanked by cracked balustrades half-submerged in shallow water.
Murky light spilled in from a vast fissure in the ceiling high above, creating a shaft of bluish-silver that cut through the gloom like divine judgment.
Directly above, the keening webwork tangled into a dome—anchored at a dizzying height and trailing down in thick, delicate spirals to the floor below. Tiny droplets trembled along the lines, glowing faintly in the shaft of light, as if stars had gotten lost in a spider’s trap.
High overhead, something monstrously large moved—a titanic spider, its huge belly suspended by the threads, body the color of tarnished copper. Its spider legs clung from shadowed rafter to web-sheathed pillar, moving with cruel grace as its many eyes glowed like dying embers in the cathedral dark.
Beneath it, the floor receded into a stagnant pool—black water reflecting both the ruined grandeur above and the nightmare creatures that called it home. Fluted pillars, half-collapsed and web-choked, jutted from the depths, rising toward the ceiling like the bones of forgotten titans.
A breath of cold wind moved the webs, and every surface crawled with a thousand scuttling shapes—smaller spiders, silent as memory, drawn toward the living intruders.
Yuzuki’s heart thundered inside her chest.
She held her newly tied red thread, feeling its warmth against her skin as a fragile shield. Rin’s silhouette rippled just ahead, Kendama in hand, posture somehow both nervous and cocky as ever. Mofumi’s quiet presence pressed close beside her, all of them mere dots in this vast, nightmarish realm between worlds.
Light flickered and dust hung liminal in the air, mingling with the scent of forgotten lives and the certainty that here, every footstep left a mark.
It was a realm of predators and prey, of beauty and horror woven inseparably—and now, it was Yuzuki’s turn to walk straight into the web.
The vast chamber trembled with the hiss of ancient fury as Tsuchigumo’s many eyes glinted fiercely in the dim light. The giant spider’s jaws snapped, ejecting a spray of thick, wet saliva that splattered across Rin’s face and chest.
Rin staggered back a step, wiping the slick moisture off his cheek with the back of his hand, his usual grin wavering for a flicker.
“You think this goo’ll slow me down?” Rin shot back, voice edged with playful defiance as his fingers tightened around the polished Kendama. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, grandpa spider.”
The spider hissed deeply, the sound like dragging stone against stone, and a guttural roar echoed off the cavern walls:
“Foolish child, this web is no mere trap. It is the binding of fate, spun to imprison gods and men alike! Your impudence will be your undoing!”
With renewed venom, Tsuchigumo lashed out with its gigantic legs, shaking the thick silk strands loose. The webs tore free, cascading down in heavy tangles, littering the floor with gleaming threads.
Yuzuki’s breath caught, her fingers turning numb and icy despite her trembling determination. She bent low, voice urgent as she spoke to Mofumi.
“Mofumi, help me. We need to analyze these web threads—there’s something off about them.”
Without hesitation, Mofumi leapt forward with feline grace, his eyes narrowing as he began to paw and sniff at the fallen silk. The Korobokkurus scurried in, their keen senses helping him examine the strange properties of the threads with surprising speed.
Meanwhile, Rin launched himself back into the fray of words and strikes, Kendama whirling in sharp arcs through the thick air.
“Your threads? Cute. But watch closely,” Rin taunted, striking again to shatter more webs. “This isn’t just wood and string—this is chaos in motion.”
The spider hissed in reply, quick to counter:
“Chaos? No—this is divine order, the weaving of eternity’s snare. You tangle with forces beyond your wit.”
Rin’s eyes gleamed, unfazed.
“Order’s overrated if it chains ya down. I’m about breaking rules, not following ’em.”
The combatants circled, Rin’s attacks slicing threads mid-flight while the massive spider writhed, snapping and spitting venomous warnings.
Behind them, Yuzuki and Mofumi worked swiftly—examining threads that shimmered with a strange dark essence, the fabric of spider silk laced with unnatural magic, hinting at weaknesses hidden where light dared not touch.
“Got it,” Mofumi murmured, a low purr of satisfaction as he prodded a strand that quivered at his touch. “These strands are enchanted… but that enchantment weakens near broken bonds. If we can break their flow...”
Yuzuki nodded, breath still shallow from the cold and tension. “Then we disrupt the twin’s hold on this realm.”
Rin’s voice cut across the chamber, sharp and playful as ever. “Keep pokin’ around, Mofumi. I’m gonna give this spider a lesson in humility with my Kendama.”
With swift, practiced movements, Rin’s weapon slashed glimmering arcs through the webs, systematically dismantling the spider’s barrier while Yuzuki and Mofumi prepared to exploit the weakening threads.
The battle wasn’t just brute force; it was a dance of power, will, and strategy—each playing their part in weaving the fate of the Spider Realm’s next moments.
Yuzuki’s eyes widened with sudden urgency as she turned swiftly toward the Korobokkurus. “Go! Run to the others and tell them to completely destroy the webs!” Her voice pierced the tense air, sharp and commanding.
Without hesitation, the tiny creatures darted off, their little feet pattering like a flurry of raindrops as they sprinted toward the left flank where Shingure, Kagami, Ayaka, and Himari had moved.
But no sooner had they scattered than the massive spider’s glistening body tensed. It whipped out a thick strand of web with terrifying speed, shooting a sticky thread like a harpoon across the chamber.
“RINNNNN!” Yuzuki shrieked, heart pounding, eyes locked on the speeding trap targeting the nimble Korobokkurus.
Rin, caught mid-motion, abruptly halted and twisted his body, snapping his Kendama deftly upward just in time. The polished wood connected with a loud clack, the webbing splintering against the weapon’s sharp impact.
His stance shifted instantly from playful to fierce, limbs coiling like the spring of a cat as he darted forward to engage. Yet, the spider was relentless—guarding its vast web with furious determination, it lashed out to keep Rin from closing in, hurling sticky strikes that forced him to retreat step by step.
Yuzuki’s breath hitched, adrenaline surging. He can’t take this alone. Her mind raced—she needed to help.
Glancing quickly at the uneven, stone-staggered pillars holding the chamber’s ancient structure—the same pillars draped with spider silk that rose like jagged towers through the misty air—her resolve crystallized.
Without hesitation, Yuzuki began to climb.
“Mofumi!” she called out, voice firm but edged with urgency.
The sleek feline tether’s eyes snapped to her, a flicker of worry crossing his calm demeanor. “What are you doing?”
“Helping Rin! Come along!” Yuzuki requested, determination blazing in her gaze as her hands gripped the cold, rough stone. Her fingers found purchase in the cracks and crevices; legs pushing up and over the slippery surfaces coated with faintly shimmering silk—climbing higher into the dense maze of webs above the flooded chamber floor.
Mofumi’s expression shifted, a mixture of concern and respect, his low growl almost protective as he followed her movement with keen eyes.
Above the rising web labyrinth, Yuzuki’s silhouette blurred against the dim, eerie glow—her figure steady and purposeful as she prepared to join Rin in the tangled battle against the monstrous Tsuchigumo’s defenses, ready to shatter the threads binding them all.
After nearly twenty minutes of weaving and weaving through the shadow-drenched corridors of the spider realm, the Korobokkurus—tiny but tireless—finally arrived at their destination: Hisame’s lair. The entrance opened into a vast chamber that seemed almost impossibly large, a cavernous sanctum woven entirely of spider silk and whispered secrets.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth mixed with a faint, sweet musk, and soft threads of silk shimmered faintly in the dim, ambient light that spilled through cracks far above. Enormous webs stretched in chaotic geometry from floor to ceiling, layered in delicate cascades that glistened like strands of liquid moonlight. The architecture of the space was organic yet strangely regal—the thick stalks of each web acting as pillars and arches, coiling and twisting into elaborate lattices that formed tunnels and alcoves, passages branching into shadowed depths. Jagged shards of stone and warped metal scraps were woven seamlessly within the intricate netting, ancient trophies ensnared by the relentless patience of the spider gods. Flickers of movement traced the edges of the silken weave, shadows dancing through the tangles like phantoms in an elaborate dream.
In the center of the chamber stood the grand Table of Webs: a sprawling, semi-circular platform constructed entirely of interlaced silk so strong it gleamed like spun silver under the pale light. Suspended just above the floor, it floated ethereally, supported by thick threads that hummed softly under unseen tension. Around that table, the scene was surreal and oddly domestic.
Seated with casual airiness were the twins and their companions: Hisame, draped elegantly as a giant spider, hanging upside-down from the thickest strand of web high above, his many eyes gleaming with cold amusement. Beside him, the four supernaturals — Kagami, Ayaka, Shingure, and Himari — lounged like aristocrats at an exclusive soirée. Each held delicate, translucent cups fashioned from woven silk, filled with a mysterious dark liquid that shimmered with iridescent hues — as if brewed from the essence of the realm itself.
Even the Kaga-Kaga lizards joined the gathering, perched neatly on the webbed tabletop, their crimson scales glistening as they delicately sipped from tiny cups fashioned from the same webbed material. The eerie quiet was only punctuated by the soft clink of silk cups and the faint, rhythmic hum of the web.
To be Continued...
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