The girl noticed his gaze, returning the scrutiny.
Her eyes traced the lines of his frame—posture first, then shoulders, then hand.
Then his clothes.
Rough-spun fabric. Faded dye. Functional stitching. No reinforcement inscriptions. No crest. No sect sigil sewn into collar or cuff.
Cheap.
Her eyes did not linger long enough to be rude.
But long enough to categorize.
Sectless mercenary. Not someone worth immediate attention.
She did not dismiss him.
She simply placed him where she believed he belonged.
Riven noticed.
But he didn't correct her.
Instead his fingers rose briefly, adjusting the lay of his collar as if smoothing a wrinkle. The motion shifted the fabric just enough to conceal the necklace at his throat. The small ring resting beneath it disappeared fully from view.
Across the room, the hooded figure remained near the wall, posture relaxed against the timber beams. No obvious reaction. No shift in stance.
But as Riven lowered his hand, he felt it—
A glance.
Not at his face.
At his left hand.
And the spider tattoo on he'd been ignoring for the past while.
Then the kettle hissed softly in the corner.
The elder cleared his throat.
"I won't wait to see if more mercenaries arrive," he said, voice steady but edged with strain. "I'll explain the situation now."
The elder stepped fully into the center of the room.
His gaze moved between the three of them, lingering just long enough to ensure he held their attention.
"I'll start from the beginning."
He folded his hands behind his back, the motion controlled but tense.
"One week ago a spider, larger than any beast we've seen before, descended from somewhere and claimed the sacred tree on the hill."
Riven's eyes shifted slightly toward the window, where the immense tree's canopy cast its shadow down the slope.
"The sacred tree," the elder continued. "It has been there longer than any living villager. We hold our festivals beneath it. We bury our dead in its shade."
His jaw tightened.
"The spider built its nest along the upper branches. Thick webbing between the trunk and the surrounding rock."
The elder shivered.
"At night, it descends. It takes one of us. A farmer. A shepherd. A child." His voice did not break—but it thinned. "One every evening."
The girl's hand curled slightly at her side.
Silence settled heavier than before.
"We don't want to abandon the tree," the elder added quietly. "It's sacred to us. The roots run deep beneath the village. It is our history."
His gaze hardened.
"So please kill that beast... so we don't have to dissapoint our ancestors."
The silence lingered for a moment after the elder finished.
The weight of his words hung in the small room, thick as the steam rising from the kettle.
The girl was the first to move.
Her posture straightened slightly, the tension in her hand easing as she drew a slow breath. When she spoke, her voice carried a controlled firmness.
"You have our help," she said.
Her gaze shifted toward the window, toward the darkening hill beyond.
"We'll remove it."
The elder's shoulders sagged with something close to relief.
Riven looked at her.
Our help?
Across the room, the hooded figure remained where he stood.
No nod.
No acknowledgement.
Just stillness.
Then he spoke.
"How large?"
The elder hesitated.
"Half as tall as my house," he said finally. "Be careful."
The hooded man gave a faint hum of acknowledgement.
He didn't seem intent on contradiction the knight girls statement either.
The elder stepped aside, gesturing toward the door.
"Please," he said. "If you're going to act… it must be soon."
Outside, the light had already begun to soften.
Dusk was coming.
The three of them stepped outside.
The air had cooled since Riven entered the house. Long shadows stretched across the packed dirt road, the sun already dipping toward the horizon. The hill loomed beyond the village, its great tree cutting a jagged silhouette against the fading light.
The door closed behind them with a soft thud.
No one spoke as they crossed the village.
None interested in the others.
A few villagers watched them from doorways or behind fences, hope and fear tangled in their eyes.
One young girl wanted to run to them but her mother pulled her back inside.
The trio didn't stop.
Riven walked slightly behind the other two, letting them take the lead toward the narrow path winding up the hill.
The ground began to slope upward soon after they passed the last houses. Dry grass brushed against their boots, and the wind carried the faint smell of old sap from the massive tree above.
For a while, only the sound of footsteps filled the space between them.
Then the hooded man stopped.
The movement was small but deliberate.
"Leave."
His voice was calm, almost conversational.
Neither Riven nor the girl moved.
"I want the full reward," the man continued. "I don't split."
The girl's expression tightened immediately.
Her scowl was sharp enough to cut.
"I don't care about the reward," she said. "I'm here to stop it."
The hooded man tilted his head slightly.
"That's fine then," he replied.
Then he turned toward Riven.
"You leave."
The words hung in the air, light but heavy at the same time.
Riven met the man's gaze.
"I'm not giving up my reward."
The words came out flat.
No challenge. No irritation.
Just fact.
The hooded man was quiet for a moment.
Then his stance shifted—subtle, but deliberate. One foot sliding half a step across the grass, shoulders turning just enough to square toward Riven.
Getting ready to fight.
The air tightened faintly.
Riven mirrored him.
But before the tension could stretch any further, the girl stepped forward.
"You can kill each other after the spider is dead."
Her voice cut through the moment cleanly.
Not pleading. Not angry.
Commanding.
The tone of someone used to giving orders.
The wind rustled through the grass around them.
The hooded man studied her first.
Then Riven.
Silence stretched another breath.
Then he shrugged faintly, the movement hidden mostly beneath his cloak.
"Fine."
He gave up surprisingly easy.
The pressure in the air eased.
Not gone.
Just postponed.
The hill still waited above them, the massive tree looming darker as the sun continued to sink toward the horizon.
But Riven didn't relax fully.
He quietly summoned a needle.
He hid it inside his sleeve, balanced between two fingers, its thin length hidden along the inside of his forearm. Ready.
In case the hooded man decided the agreement had expired.
But for now, the tension settled into something quieter. Sharper.
They continued up the hill.
The slope steepened as they climbed, the dirt path thinning into patches of exposed stone and roots that clawed up through the soil. Wind moved more freely here, brushing through the tall grass in long restless waves.
At first, nothing seemed unusual.
Then the forest began to change.
A strand of web caught on a branch beside the path.
Thin.
Almost invisible until the wind tugged it sideways and the setting sun flashed against it.
Riven noticed it immediately.
A few steps later, there was another.
And another.
They stretched between branches and stones, some broken, others still taut. Not thick enough to be traps yet.
But close.
The higher they climbed, the quieter the hill became.
No birds.
No insects.
Even the wind sounded different here, dragging faintly across strands of silk hidden in the grass and branches.
The hill felt… occupied.
Claimed.
The sacred tree loomed larger above them now, its massive trunk rising like a dark pillar against the fading sky. The canopy spread wide overhead, branches thick enough to support entire structures of webbing.
The hooded man walked ahead without speaking, steps light despite the uneven terrain.
The girl had grown sharper too.
Her gaze moved constantly now—branches, shadows, gaps between rocks. Her posture had shifted into something distinctly martial, every movement deliberate.
Riven followed slightly behind them.
Watching.
Listening.
Then—
Something pulsed.
He stopped for half a step.
Not outside.
Inside.
His left hand.
The skin over the spider-shaped tattoo warmed suddenly.
Not pain.
Something stranger.
Awareness.
The sensation tightened across the mark like something beneath the skin stretching slowly, reacting to something ahead of them.
Riven glanced down briefly.
The tattoo had always been a thorn in his side.
It had appeared without warning, without explanation—etched into his skin as if it had always been there. A spider-shaped mark that reacted strangely whenever he was around spiders.
Even during the journey with Yue Lin, it had pulsed faintly at times. Subtle enough that he had mostly ignored it. A slight warmth, a faint tightening beneath the skin whenever too many spiders gathered nearby.
He had simply grown used to it.
Unless it reacted strongly, he barely noticed it anymore. The occasional pulse had become background noise.
Normal.
But this—
This wasn't subtle.
The warmth had weight to it. A tension that spread across the mark like something beneath the skin stretching awake.
It reminded him of the forest during the newcomers' trial.
Of the small green-tinged spider he had encountered there.
Riven slowed slightly, letting his awareness brush against the mark.
For a brief moment, something answered.
A distant presence.
Faint.
Far away.
But still there.
The green-tinged spider.
Somewhere distant beyond the reach of his senses.
The connection faded almost as quickly as it appeared.
Riven exhaled quietly and withdrew his attention.
Then he lifted his gaze again.
If the mark reacted this strongly…
The spider ahead wasn't weak.
His strength had grown significantly since back then. But even now, he wasn't certain he could easily defeat the greater feral mantis of that forest.
Or the strange green-tinged spider.
At least not without transforming.
And the one ahead…
It felt similar.
But he didn't want to transform with two outsiders around.
Especially since one of them was clearly hostile toward him.
The hilltop drew closer.
They crested the final rise of the hill a few moments later.
And the tree revealed its true state.
Webbing stretched between its branches in vast pale sheets, layered and overlapping like the vaulted ceiling of some grotesque cathedral. Thick anchor lines ran from trunk to stone and back again, binding the entire hilltop in a lattice of silk.
Near the center of it all, something hung from one of the largest branches.
A cocoon.
Human-sized.
And it moved.
Very slightly.
Above it, deeper in the canopy—
Something large shifted.