The spider was not an ordinary one, like those you find in the bathtub or between your shoes. It was an ugly creature, with eight eyes—but intelligent.
I knew it when it looked at me and screeched as if it were laughing at me. Another thing that made it stand out from the others was the huge metal shell it carried on its belly, similar to that of a World War II airplane. From there, a purple glow emerged.
"Holy fuck! Is this the Nest Master?"
I wanted to run, but I remembered I was incapacitated. The spider moved slowly.
[TIME REMAINING: 38 MINUTES]
I looked for a way out or a hiding place where the nightmare couldn't reach me. Luckily, because of my small size, I could fit under the dresser where a stack of fantasy novels was piled up. I didn't think twice. Using my arms like oars, I pushed my body so fast that the floor creaked beneath me. I was sweating profusely.
The spider sensed my desperate plan and descended from the wall at full speed, showing off its hunting skills. Even if I had been my usual size, that creature wouldn't have fit in my hand—and I have big hands. Of course, with my current proportions, the spider looked like a semi-truck charging straight at me.
"Help!" I shouted.The scream tore through the silence and bounced off the flat surfaces of the apartment. No one would come.
That didn't stop me from screaming as I crawled with difficulty. I usually left my slippers under that dresser, but for some cruel twist of fate, they weren't there at that moment to serve as cover. I cursed my luck.
I was lucky to make it to the edge safely. From my perspective, the dresser was the size of a house, and I was slipping between its pillars. Still, I wasn't sure the spider couldn't squeeze through the gap—and if it could, my plan would fail.
But the Nest Master had skills it would've been nice to know about. One of its legs stretched out and coiled around my right leg.
"Let go of me! No! Aah!"
I clung to the dresser's leg and fought with everything I had. Each tug from the spider made my teeth clench—it stretched my spine and twisted it at will. If I were Elastigirl, I might've understood, but I was never the best gymnast in class. Like a piece of gum, I fought and at least managed not to be dragged into its jaws.
The spider let out a chirp, perhaps irritated by my stubborn resistance, and paused to think. Yes, exactly like that! I foolishly believed it was over. As a child, my older brother used to act the same way: he'd start beating me, then suddenly stop halfway for no reason. But the spider had no such mercy. It wasn't my stupid brother—it was taking measurements. Finally, it tightened its grip and, with the barbs on its legs, amputated my limb better than a surgeon could have.
"You bitch—!"
Blood gushed out and poured from my body like a stampeding crowd. I did everything I could to endure the pain, on the verge of hemorrhagic shock, and crawled into hiding. However, the creature—now more for amusement than necessity—caught me again, this time by the other leg, and severed it too.
The world spun around me, and I sensed I would lose consciousness. Those doubts, those sensations that pass through the mind when death feels near, are what often trigger the body's last reserves of adrenaline. Mine had plenty. How long had it been since I last went for a run or jumped rope?
I fought for my life. I bit my lips, endured the pain, and kept moving forward. The spider tried to grab me once more but failed. I drew on those reserves and rowed with my arms at incredible speed. At last, I managed to crawl a few centimeters into the dresser (which for me felt like meters) and positioned myself sideways.
The spider turned and climbed onto the dresser. I heard its legs scraping over the spines of the books.
[TIME REMAINING: 37 MINUTES]
So much had happened that I thought it was over, but barely two minutes had passed. I froze. The spider continued moving above me.
It slipped its legs down the back and tried to descend along the wall, but it didn't fit. Suddenly, in its search, it made a sudden movement and knocked down one of the books. The large hardcover traced an arc through the air. I thought I recognized the cover of The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss. Fortunately, the arc wasn't very steep, and the book—pushed by gravity—landed right in front of the dresser's left side, blocking that entrance.
I crawled there, thanking God. Maybe, with my back against the wall and Patrick Rothfuss guarding my left flank, I could survive. In that little fortress, I prepared to defend myself.
[TIME REMAINING: 32 MINUTES]
The spider screeched in frustration when it realized its blunder. Like a mad thing, it charged the entrance. It shoved its horrible head in and tried to force its abdomen through, but it was too bloated to fit.
"Ha! Serves you right, you greedy pig!"
The spider kept struggling but soon recognized its plan was hopeless. It assessed the situation, pulled back its ugly head, then tried to stick one of its legs through the opening. It must've thought it was a cat that could shove its paw anywhere. However, when it leaned in to try, its center of gravity failed, and it fell onto its side, belly up.
"Serves you right!" I taunted, mocking its ridiculous pose.
The spider screeched, and the metal plate on its abdomen changed color.
[THE NEST MASTER HAS SUMMONED THE SPIDER PACK]
My smile vanished. I watched, speechless, as the monster straightened and began to split into fragments. Dozens of smaller spiders emerged from its body one by one until it disappeared entirely—replaced by a terrifying army. The new spiders, however, were my size and seemed even fiercer than their mother. In such numbers, they would devour me. Panic hit me.
[DUE TO USE OF INVOCATION, THE USER IS GRANTED PERMISSION TO USE THE EIGHTH AMENDMENT]
A glowing message appeared on the palm of my left hand. It was casual, as if it had always been there. I stared at it in shock, though not in hope. I didn't know what it was—but I had no other choice.
[DO YOU WANT TO USE THE EIGHTH AMENDMENT?]
[YES] [NO]
[WARNING: THIS ABILITY CAN ONLY BE USED ONCE PER YEAR]
The little spiders lunged at me, their jaws foaming.
"Yes!" I shouted.
[USER ACTIVATES THE EIGHTH AMENDMENT]
The room suddenly filled with light, and the air grew thick with tension. A vortex opened in the floor; the wooden boards liquefied and began to quake violently. The shaking gave off acrid smoke and evaporated my blood as if I were in a frying pan. Finally, the hole spewed something out—a creature. I saw its silhouette. It was an animal. The surrounding air condensed around it. Its dense fur rippled and halted the spiders.
It was a tiger—about twice my size. Its long fur shimmered with a bluish glow, and its emerald eyes burned with fire.
"Did you call me, Master?" it said.
The tiger looked at the spiders with indifference. They began to tremble. Some charged, others fled, but the tiger only had to raise one foreleg and slice the air like a swordsman to stop them. The heavy dresser split in two, and both halves flew at least ten real meters away. The walls, the desk, the chair—everything in front of him—shattered into a thousand pieces and collapsed.
A hole the size of a tunnel now gaped where a wall had once stood.
[THE USER HAS FLED THE NEST MASTER]
[REWARD: 100 FRAGMENTS]
[BONUS REWARD FOR DEFEATING THE BOSS: 200 FRAGMENTS]
"Yes!" I exclaimed joyfully, before falling unconscious.