The territory was vast.
Vergil had walked less than thirty meters since crossing the first silk threads, and already seemed to be completely surrounded by that cathedral of webs. It was like walking inside a suspended bubble—the whole world seemed to have been enveloped by a viscous membrane of white threads, thick as mummified tentacles.
The branches above formed a tight ceiling, distorting even the light. No sound of birds. No wind. Not even his whistle escaped properly — the web seemed to absorb sound like a hungry tomb.
"Wow," Vergil muttered sarcastically. "It's more suffocating than a family dinner."
Zuri, still wrapped around his neck, narrowed her eyes. "It's literally suffocating, idiot. This is an ecological-scale trap. You should be more concerned about—"
