The chamber trembled as the Spider Queen staggered to her feet. Her body was singed, legs cracked and steaming, but she was far from finished — a terrible, stubborn intelligence still burned in those red eyes.
"I'm going to finish this," I heard myself say — more to myself than to anyone else.
She lunged, a blur of limbs. I blurred with her.
Flash Step.
The world snapped. One moment the cave was a roaring storm of webs and smoke; the next I was already in front of her, blade in hand.
She lashed out with another arm. My shield met it with a thunderous shock; the force shoved me back a step, but the barrier held. Another limb swung for my head — I caught it with the shield again, grinding my teeth as the vibration ran up my arm.
Her next swing came from the right. I didn't wait. I drove my blade between two armored plates of chitin and twisted my body, letting momentum do the work. The sound of cracking armor filled my ears.
She reeled, then reared her massive head back to strike. I gathered everything in a single motion — a spinning, precise thrust, one strike timed to the split-second opening Arthur's memory gifted me. My sword cut through the neck, down, clean.
The Spider Queen's head came free and hit the stone with a wet thud.
Silence fell so hard I could hear my own breath.
For a heartbeat I stood there, sword dripping, shield heavy in my hand, chest heaving. The cave was a ruin of smoke and broken silk; the smaller spiders scattered and fled. Around me, Leon and the others were quiet, staring. Lili's torch guttered and died in the ash.
Something cold slid through me — not just relief, but the memory of all the times Arthur had fought alone. In that instant I understood why the old warrior's instincts were so sharp: he had been the blade and the bulwark, the one who bent the tide by himself.
If it had been only me, I would have killed her earlier. I would have taken the cost and moved on.
But I had not fought alone. I had stood with people who threw their spells, who drew arrows, who covered my back. I had been the one to block and to finish, yes — but they had been the ones who made the opening possible.
A question rose — blunt, horrible, simple: Do I really need someone?
I let the thought hang in the smoky air, and then I answered it honestly.
No — I didn't need them to be strong. I could have done it alone. But that didn't make their presence useless. I lowered my sword and looked at them properly for the first time in the fight: sweat-streaked faces, ragged breaths, eyes bright with fear and something like trust.
Leon stepped forward first, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Hell of a finish," he said, voice rough with exhaustion and something like awe. "Haru… you're a real wall."
Lili huffed, trying to hide a grin. "Don't go soft now. We still need to collect eggs and clear the chamber."
Lysandra moved to patch minor wounds, her hands warm. "Everyone okay?" she asked quietly.
Rico scanned the clearing with his calm gaze. "No more life signatures within the nest area. The queen is dead. We can clear the eggs and move to extraction."
I let out a slow breath and, absurdly, smiled. The thought I'd entertained in the cave — that strength alone was enough — felt suddenly small. Power without people was only proof of survival. Power with people was purpose.
A faint chime pulsed in my vision.
> [Level Up!]
Level 36
Strength +2 — Agility +1 — Vitality +2
I felt the steady, quiet growth settle into my limbs. Not because I'd done it alone, but because I had acted — and acted with others.
We set to work. Leon and Ronan began cutting down the egg sacs; Lili and Lysandra burned off the most dangerous silk; Rico's perception guided us around unstable tunnels. I moved through it all like a machine that had learned to trust its crew.
As we cleared the last of the webs and bundled up the eggs for safe disposal, I glanced once more at the ruined husk of the Spider Queen. Arthur's memories stirred, a whisper: A true warrior protects what he values, and chooses who he fights beside.
I didn't know which voice was mine anymore. Maybe that was the point.
"Alright," I said, meeting their eyes. "Let's finish this properly — and get back before someone misses dinner."
They laughed — tired, genuine — and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged to that sound.