"Do you have a plan?" asked Zuri, trying to keep up with the leap from tree to tree with wide eyes.
"Of course I do."
"Liar. You're improvising as usual!"
"Improvising is a plan. It just... adapts in real time."
The spider leaped.
Vergil barely had time to throw himself to the side when the creature's fangs came down like guillotines, digging into the ground with a crash that opened deep cracks. The eggs on his back pulsed even faster—as if vibrating in rage... or in a sign of imminent birth.
"If any more of them come out of her, I swear I'll faint," said Zuri, trembling, her eyes half-closed.
"Then close your eyes, because this is going to get ugly."
Vergil plunged his flaming spear into the ground, and an incandescent line snaked out from the impact, forming a circle of embers around the spider. The heat rose, the trees crackling as if they were gnashing their teeth. The creature hesitated—instinctively retreating. The fire, though not lethal to it, was a problem.
