Chapter 90: Silk and Fangs
[You're an idiot.]
"I know what I'm doing!"
The spear came down hard, metal sparking against Butcher's Wrath as Seo-jin parried and cut high, carving across the serpent's chest. He spun with the recoil, his blade dragging a second line of blood through scale and armor.
[+164 Damage Dealt]
[+160 Damage Dealt]
The armor looked primitive, stitched leather and bone, but it soaked enough of the blows to gnaw at his patience.
He ducked a whip of tail, then twisted back just in time to dodge the next thrust, one aimed for his heart. The spear still caught him—skewering through his ribs before tearing out his back.
[-142 HP]
[HP // 693 / 840]
"Fuck!"
He snapped the shaft off with one hand, teeth bared as the metal stayed buried deep. He threw a kick, but the serpent coiled its body and slipped aside, diving into him and driving him into the dirt.
[You're about to be surrounded.]
"Shut the fuck up!"
He grappled with the creature, the ground cracking under them. He could feel the auras closing fast through the trees, the others coming. The serpent hissed and lunged again, fangs wide, aiming for his throat.
Rage flared white in his skull.
"You fucking dare?!"
The serpent struck, fangs punching into his shoulder.
Seo-jin didn't flinch. His face shifted, and bit back. Bone cracked between his teeth. The snake reeled, shrieking, clutching its face as blood spilled through its fingers.
Butcher's Wrath slid back into his flesh as he stood, fangs and jaw working. He charged. The Green Hood spun, trying to scramble away, one eye gone, half its face torn to pulp. Seo-jin slammed into it, claws bursting from his hands.
He ripped. Tore. Bit. Flesh peeled, bone splintered. No rhythm, no technique—just raw hunger.
Until the system blinked.
[+160 EXP]
[Feed // Activated]
Heat rushed through his chest as his wounds began to knit. He stood, breathing hard, blood steaming off his skin. Then his feet split into claws again, gripping bark as he vaulted up into the trees.
Shapes moved below...closing fast.
His brow tightened as the new arrivals came into view. Keeping hidden high among the branches, he started to think there was more to this island than he thought.
'What the fuck...why are they here?'
The figures trudging toward the corpse were something he could have never guessed...dwarves. Short, thick, and armored in fine-crafted metal. Skin gray and scarred. Flat noses, heavy brows, jaws full of fangs. Nothing like the laughing drunks from old human tales. These were Fae dwarves—miners turned killers, the kind that gutted men for iron.
Perched on a high limb, he watched five of them close in on the carcass. They kicked at it, scanning the treeline with heavy, bloodshot eyes.
[Dwarves and the Serpent Tribe. Both can go long stretches without food. Considering their history, they should've slaughtered each other by now.]
'Maybe they just arrived. But if it's dwarves, and if they've been here awhile, they've already dug in. There's possibly a fortress under our feet.'
He crouched low, ears straining. The words below were thick and guttural...he couldn't understand a thing.
"Kazᛜbrun nar unz?"
"Na-mar grol un nurz. Na grumz ur ar grum unkᛜnar. Khazᛜar."
"Khaz run unnur. Mabi grum ar nurn run un. Ar nar grum brun. Run nar. Bronz un khal."
"Fanal nur nurz."
The dwarves fell silent. One bent, grabbed the corpse by the leg, and started dragging it through the brush. The others spread out, eyes sweeping the treeline, weapons drawn.
'Any chance you caught that?'
[Translating… Clan patrol from others? Not likely. Kill fresh. Whatever killed it fled before dwarf arrival. Maybe fighting each other? Must be starving by now. Keep watch. Maybe find truth. Bring body back. Report. Bronze, your turn to haul. Finally, eat meat.]
His brow lifted.
'You speak dwarf now?'
[My update expanded my accessible data. Most human knowledge bases are now integrated, including Dwarven and several other linguistic branches. Accuracy rate uncertain.]
He followed, moving soundless through the canopy. The dwarves trudged beneath him, their armor clanking with every step.
'If neither side's new here, then they must be too balanced for one to wipe the other out. Can't imagine they'd ever form a truce.'
[Enemies often ally when something worse comes into play.]
'You're saying there's a third party?'
[Possible.]
That caught his attention. His plan to train was slipping away. Curiosity itched at him now. Too strong to ignore.
He stayed in the branches, tracking them as the system translated scraps of conversation. The situation slowly became clear. The serpent tribe and the dwarves weren't allies. But they weren't fighting either, not directly. They were cornered animals circling each other, each waiting for the other to starve first.
Until recently.
Everything changed the second a third faction showed up. When he heard the name of the new presence, it hit him like lightning the moment he heard the system translate. A cold, familiar knot in his gut began to crawl.
Another demon.
The chatter below shifted; excitement threaded through their words about newly dug tunnels and fresh spoils. That explained the standoff: the serpent tribe owned the surface, the dwarves held the earth beneath. Each had carved out survival on their terms.
He vaulted to a leaning trunk and froze at a shift in the air. A wind from the same direction carried a scent that crawled under his skin and made his hairs rise.
'That must be where the Hell dungeon broke.'
[I detect elevated arousal in your vitals. Nervousness is logical; remain composed and do not escalate to fear.]
'Not afraid, you prick. I'm excited. There's another demon, and I want to talk before I gut it. That's all. Besides, last time I met one, I didn't get the chance to ask him anything. Maybe I can find out how to make a contract.'
He fought the pull to run straight to the flare of corruption. Instead he held back, curious. First he would find the dwarf base and see how deep their tunnels ran. Down below, the guard was loosening, whatever they trailed toward, they were almost home.
He landed on a thick branch slick with fur, the bark throbbing lightly beneath his grip. Below, the dwarves halted before a massive tree. They stood silent for several seconds...then the soil at its roots began to stir.
'Clever bastards… I couldn't even sense the entrance.'
A stairway spiraled open from the earth, dark and seamless. The dwarves descended without a word, and as soon as the last one vanished, the ground folded shut again, swallowing every trace.
'Mark this spot.'
[For what? Don't tell me you plan to go down there. If they've been fighting the Snake Tribe this long, that place will be a fortress—a death trap for anything that isn't them.]
'I'm not going in. I don't need to.'
He turned away, senses sharp. One enemy pinned down. Two more unaccounted for.
[If your goal's training, I can think of saner places than this.]
'I've got a new goal. Training's just the bonus.'
[And what exactly—]
'Don't play dumb. You already know.'
[You made me promise to pretend, remember?]
He smirked, wordless, and vaulted through the canopy. The air grew thick with heat. Each breath carried a stronger hint of sulfur. His blood began to drum.
He stopped on a tree lined with leaves sharp as blades. Beyond it, the forest turned to shadow. Dense, molten black. His Dark Vision cut through it, revealing what waited ahead.
What he saw wasn't like the Maw. It wasn't like anything he'd seen. Only read.
'Third layer dungeon…'
His claws flexed as the air burned around him.
'Compared to this, the Maw doesn't seem so bad.'
Before him stretched a landscape twisted into madness, something Panic might have called beautiful. A forest made of knives. Every branch, every blade of grass, every breath of wind promised to cut.
From where he stood, the light caught on edges everywhere. The ground looked like a bed of razors. Even the air vibrated with a quiet hunger. Metal leaves clinked softly in the breeze, a hollow, rhythmic chime, like distant chains brushing in the wind.
[Careful where you step.]
'No shit.'
He climbed down slow, gripping bark that bit into his palms. Jumping around the canopy was suicide. When his feet hit the ground, he moved with deliberate care, toes searching for safe earth between splintered shards.
The deeper he went, the more wrong it felt. Something in the air...soft, creeping, hard to name, pressed at the edge of his senses.
"How the fuck do you even fight in a place like this? If this dropped in the city, humans would've wiped for sure."
[There are guides in the Network for surviving third-layer Hell dungeons. Humanity excels at throwing bodies at a problem until one survives.]
His jaw tightened.
"Then how'd they solve this one?"
[Simple. But not something you can afford. That's why I didn't bother explaining.]
He dragged a claw down his face, exhaling through his teeth.
"You're pissing me off. Then why did—?! No...it's fine."
He took a deep breath.
"Just tell me what it is, for later."
[Featherstep potions. Network Shop.]
He went quiet. The answer landed like a brick. It was out of reach because he was broke.
'Figures.'
He kept moving, each step a slow scrape through the blades. By the time he stopped, his pants were torn, but they had done a good job of keeping him from bleeding. Ahead, the path closed off completely. A wall of bramble and thorn. Woven tight enough to choke light.
'Cut through?'
He hesitated. There were other routes. He could backtrack, swing by the coast. Safer, smarter. He almost turned.
But he froze instead.
Cold brushed across his skin...thin, delicate, deliberate. Like silk threads drawn slow over flesh. His instincts screamed.
He lifted his head, eyes narrowing into the dark.
"How long are you going to watch?"
A long silence pressed around him before a woman's voice answered...soft and splintered.
"How long are you going to wear that skin?"
The air grew heavy. Now that it had spoken, Seo-jin could feel the thing behind the words—its weight, its focus, its hunger. He stared into the living wall of thorns, thinking for only a breath before nodding once.
He unbuttoned his pants, let them fall away. The cloth dissolved into fading system light.
Bare and still, his eyes began to burn red. Flesh tore as his skin split open, blackening with cracks that seethed molten. Horns burst through his skull, curling high, their tips glowing faintly like forge metal. His spine arched with a crack as a long, barbed tail uncoiled behind him.
When he straightened, Azakh-Tur stood where Seo-jin had been—towering, horned, and leaking bloodlight from every fracture in his flesh. His voice ground like stone.
"Now it's your turn."
From within the brambles, eyes bloomed. Two at first, then four more. All white, all unblinking. Rows of sharp teeth peeled into a grin.
"You have good eyes."
He stepped back as the thorn wall trembled. The vines began to shift, curling away as something pushed through, its shadow stretching wider than the trees. The voice grew lighter, almost melodic, almost kind.
"One is pleased. One is overjoyed. Forgive our manners—allow us to speak properly. One is many… but you may call us Lilid, Queen of Spiders. Demon of Lust."
What emerged might have passed for human, at least in shape. A woman—pale skin flawless, silver hair cascading to her waist. Naked. Her hips full, her chest small, her body built to lure. But it wasn't her beauty he saw...it was the nightmare behind it.
Her back split into a vast thorax of black flesh, slick and pulsing. A web of veins fed into a fused face, half carapace, half screaming mask of teeth. Eight spindled legs fanned out, chitinous and wet, scraping as they moved.
Lilid's human face smiled. Her eyes glowed like glass in the dark. She lifted one perfect hand toward him, voice soft and inviting.
"Now it's your turn."