He wasn't looking at the web anymore. His gaze was fixed on something just beyond it, a spot deep in the shadows between the trees. His expression had changed, the bored contempt replaced by a sharp, predatory focus. He was a hunter, and he had just spotted his prey.
"Stay here," he commanded, the words a flat, undeniable order. Then, before I could even think to argue, he was moving.
He didn't walk around the web. He walked through it. The sticky, greasy silk parted around him as if it were water, clinging to his skin for a moment before sliding off and falling to the ground in a limp, lifeless heap. He passed through the barrier without a single thread catching on him.
And he moved silently. No branches snapped. No leaves rustled. He was a ghost, a shadow melting into the deeper shadows of the forest.
I stood frozen on the path, my hands clenched into fists, my heart a frantic, trapped bird in my chest. A part of me wanted to run, to put as much distance as possible between myself and the Shadow Spider and the terrifyingly competent man who had just walked into its lair. But another part of me, a much larger, more foolish part, was curious. I had to see what happened.
I took a slow, careful step toward the web, my boots sinking into the soft earth. I peered through the gaps in the silk, my eyes straining to see into the gloom.
The forest floor on the other side of the web was a nightmare of half-devoured carcasses and discarded husks. The air was thick with the smell of old blood and something else, something sharp and acrid, like burnt sugar. The demon king stood in the center of this clearing, his back to me, perfectly still.
Then I saw it. The Shadow Spider.
It was bigger than I had imagined. Much, much bigger. Its body was the size of a carriage, a bloated, bulbous sac of black, chitinous plates that seemed to absorb the light. Its legs were long, spindly things, each one tipped with a wicked-looking claw. And it had too many of them. Eight, ten, maybe more. It was hard to count. They moved with a jerky, insectoid grace, its multiple joints bending in ways that made my head spin.
The demon king didn't seem to be intimidated. He just stood there, watching the creature as it circled him, its legs tapping a nervous, rhythmic beat on the forest floor. He was a statue, a monument of calm in the face of a nightmare.
[I'm coming down! đź’¨] Angus's thought-bubble appeared.
His timing was probably poor, and that definitely confirmed he was unable to see well through the canopy. Still, the demon king could handle himself.
I thought.
The Shadow Spider stopped its circling. Its front legs reared back, revealing a pair of glistening, dripping fangs the length of my forearm. A low, gurgling hiss escaped from its maw, a sound that was half-growl, half-bubble. It was getting ready to attack.
The demon king still didn't move. He just stood there, a lazy, almost bored expression on his face. He raised a hand, not in a gesture of power, but as if he were beckoning the creature closer. A silent, mocking invitation.
The spider lunged.
It was a blur of black chitin and glistening fangs, a mindless, ravenous charge. I held my breath.
I expected a flash of crimson light, a burst of fire, some display of the incredible power I had seen him unleash on the corrupted bough.
Nothing happened.
The spider's fangs closed around him. Or at least, they would have. Just as they were about to sink into his flesh, he moved. He didn't dodge. He sidestepped, a simple, economical movement that was so fast it was almost a blur. He was there, then he was a foot to the left, a ghost in the spider's trajectory.
He reached out and placed a single, delicate finger on the creature's thorax, right between its bulging, multifaceted eyes.
The spider froze. Its eight legs locked in place, its body rigid, a statue of black chitin and mindless hunger. A low, guttural clicking sound came from its maw, a sound of confusion and pain.
The demon king leaned in close, his lips almost touching the creature's head. "Pathetic," he whispered, his voice a soft, mocking caress. "Even the beasts of this world are weak."
A thin trickle of black smoke began to rise from the spot where his finger touched the spider's carapace. The smoke was followed by a sizzling sound, like bacon cooking on a hot pan. The smell was acrid, metallic, and utterly disgusting.
The spider's legs began to twitch. A low, keening wail escaped from its maw, a sound of such profound agony that it made my teeth ache. The demon king just stood there, a bored spectator to the creature's suffering.
[That's... a lot of damage! (O_O)] Angus's text box appeared, popping into existence right beside my head. I hadn't even noticed he'd landed beside me.
"It's not even fighting back," I whispered, my eyes glued to the horrifying scene. "He's just... killing it. Slowly."
"I'm not trying to kill it," the demon king said, his voice a low, bored murmur that carried perfectly through the forest. "If I wanted to kill it, it would already be ash." He removed his finger from the spider's thorax. The spot where he had touched it was now a perfect, circular hole, the edges glowing with a faint, red heat.
He took a step back and gestured to the spider, which was now twitching uncontrollably, its legs flailing in the air like a broken toy. "It is a creature of shadow and hunger. Its strength lies in its ability to consume, to drain the life from its prey. I am merely showing it what it feels like to be the one who is devoured."
The spider's body began to shrink, its bloated form deflating like a punctured balloon. The black smoke that rose from it grew thicker, more concentrated, flowing from the creature's body and coiling around the demon king's outstretched hand like a loyal pet.
...I don't care for that. At all.