Luciel crouched before the sprawling tangle of tomato vines, his eyes narrowing with quiet contemplation. The green threads twisted over the soil like wild serpents, their ripe fruit gleaming faintly in the lantern light.
"It's not that you can't be packed," he murmured, half to himself.
An idea flickered in his mind — sharp, precise, and full of promise. He closed his eyes, sending a ripple of spiritual thought outward like an invisible pulse.
"Arachni, come here," he called silently through the link. "Help me weave the vines into one large cocoon."
A soft squeak answered his call. From the shadows, the crimson ghost spider — Arachni — emerged, its eight glistening legs tapping lightly against the ground. Threads of silvery silk shimmered between its mandibles.
Without hesitation, the creature began to spin. Silk arced gracefully through the air, capturing vine after vine. The tomato branches bent beneath its mastery, entwined and folded until the whole garden became a cocoon — a great white husk breathing faintly under the flickering firelight.
Within ten minutes, the transformation was complete.
Luciel brushed his palms together and nodded with satisfaction. "Good work."
Arachni's gleaming eyes glimmered with a flicker of delight before it scuttled backward into the dark.
Luciel turned toward the enormous stone dome that loomed ahead — the heart of Bloodbeard's secret base, and the nest of his own daring plan. The dome's curved walls were damp with condensation, the air thick with the smell of old smoke and dust.
"It's time to open the dome," he said softly. "The tricolor lizard needs a way through."
But before that, there was the matter of the gate — the thick slab of iron-bound wood that connected the dome to the outside.
"First," Luciel muttered, "the gate must be blocked."
He gathered several heavy stones, rolling them quietly across the floor. One by one, he stacked them against the inner gate until no trace of a seam remained. The final rock settled with a muted boom — gentle, yet loud enough to echo faintly through the still chamber.
Outside, the guards stirred.
"Hey! Did you hear that?" one whispered.
"I did. There was a noise inside," another replied. "But… there shouldn't be anyone in there."
"Think someone snuck in to steal something?"
"Don't be stupid," the third snapped. "We've been guarding this place all night. No one could've slipped past us."
A pause. Then a voice dropped low with unease. "If I had the key, I'd open it and look."
"You trying to die?" hissed another. "The last fool who peeked inside got gutted by the boss himself."
"…I was just talking," the man muttered, shrinking back.
Their voices faded into silence.
Luciel exhaled slowly. So they're nervous, but not reckless. Good. He needed time — and quiet.
He found an old spear leaning against the wall and moved toward the edge of the dome. With deliberate strokes, he pried at the wooden panels, easing them free. The sound of splitting wood — bang, bang, bang — echoed faintly.
Too loud.
Outside, the guards froze again.
"What in the hells is that?"
"Someone's in there!"
"Quick, tell Bloodknife! Someone's broken into the boss's incubation room!"
Luciel didn't flinch. He kept prying, patient as a craftsman. Within moments, he had opened a gap wide enough for a man to crawl through — nearly three meters across.
He turned and stroked the snout of the tricolor lizard waiting by his side. Its scaled body shimmered faintly with prismatic hues, and a low hiss escaped its throat.
"Skink," Luciel said gently, "take these home first. Twelve barrels, no more. Come back for the rest."
The creature flicked its tongue, as if acknowledging the command. It bent down, muscles rippling, and the wooden barrels on its back rattled softly. Then it vanished — fading into invisibility, its form shimmering like heat haze before melting into the air. Claws hooked the stone wall, and the lizard climbed down the hill in eerie silence.
Luciel watched it disappear, then turned back to his task. "Next, we pack what we can."
He and Arachni began wrapping the jerky — fine, smoked meat from Bloodbeard's vast stores. Luciel took only what they needed, knowing greed would cost him time. Water, at least, was no concern; the crystal fish in his pouch could condense pure liquid at will.
"Arachni," he said, "take some dried meat and stash it farther down the slope — somewhere no one will find it."
The red ghost spider clicked its mandibles in understanding. It hoisted a bundle of jerky onto its back and skittered toward the cliff's edge. There, it anchored a line of silk and began lowering the packages one by one into the misty void below.
A batch was sent down, and soon Arachni followed, vanishing into the fog to retrieve it.
Outside, the noise had grown louder.
Bloodknife — Bloodbeard's son and heir — had arrived. His temper was as famous as his crimson blade.
"What are you idiots standing around for?" he roared. "Smash the damn door open!"
The guards stumbled to obey, striking the gate with hammers and blades.
"Let's see which fool has the guts to steal from us!" Bloodknife bellowed.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The entire gate shuddered. Dust rained from the ceiling.
Luciel glanced toward the trembling stone pile. His calm never wavered. The door was thick — reinforced with bronze and layered rock. They'd need hours to break through.
He reinforced the blockage with fresh stones, binding them together with Arachni's silk until the door looked more like a wall.
Then, with a faint smile, he muttered, "Might as well eat while we wait."
He gathered a few wooden tables, broke them down into firewood, and built a small fire. The meat sizzled over the flames, the aroma spreading through the sealed chamber.
Zzzziii…
Oil dripped into the coals, sending up bursts of savory smoke.
Outside, the men paused mid-swing.
"…You smell that?"
"Meat?"
Their faces twisted in disbelief.
"He's cooking?! The bastard broke in and started cooking inside the boss's chamber?"
Bloodknife's face darkened with fury. "That— that dog! Smash the door faster! Whoever breaks it down first gets a full bucket of ale!"
The guards roared, redoubling their efforts. Metal clanged, dust flew, but the stones held.
Luciel ignored them, turning the spit lazily as the golden surface of the meat crisped under the flame. "Three hours," he mused aloud. "Plenty of time."
He ate quietly, listening to the muffled chaos beyond the gate. To him, it was all background noise — meaningless fury from men who had no idea they'd already lost.
When he finished, he smothered the fire, leaving only the faintest trail of smoke curling toward the dome's ceiling.
Outside, Bloodknife had stopped shouting. His anger cooled into calculation.
"Enough. Don't waste your strength," he ordered finally. "You two — go to the suspension bridge. Guard both sides. If that thief tries to flee, he'll have to cross one of them. Kill him on sight."
"Yes, boss!"
Within minutes, torches flared on the twin suspension bridges that linked the hills, their light flickering through the mist. The air filled with the smell of burning oil and wet earth.
…
Far away, a hooded figure crept through the valley's shadows. Her cloak clung to her shoulders, soaked from the earlier rain. She paused behind a jagged stone outcrop and peered upward.
Across the gorge, dozens of torches burned like floating eyes. The bridges were crawling with guards.
Her heart tightened. Could it be… he's been discovered?
She scanned the dark slopes, searching for movement. For a long while, there was none.
"Did he make it into the middle hill?" she whispered. "Or did he never get that far?"
It was impossible to tell. The thieves' base was alive with tension — every sentry alert, every torch swinging like a watchful gaze.
Her time was running out.
The hooded woman pressed a hand to her cheek, feeling the cold dampness there. "If I don't move soon…" she murmured. "There'll be no next chance."
Then — a flicker of white at the edge of her vision.
She froze.
From the ridge above, several pale strands dangled in the wind — trembling threads that glowed faintly in the torchlight.
"What… is that?"
Moving like a shadow, she crept closer. When she finally saw the source, her breath caught.
A massive red spider — nearly two meters across — was hauling silk-wrapped bundles down the cliff.
Her blood ran cold. A beast. Here?
She clamped a hand over her mouth, terrified that even her breathing would draw attention. The creature worked in silence, methodical and eerily graceful.
The breeze shifted. Rustling sounds filled the air. She looked up — dozens of cocoons hung from the rocks, swaying gently.
Her pulse quickened. Are there people inside those…?
The spider lifted several more cocoons, securing them to its silk line before lowering them into the valley below.
"Should I follow?" she thought, torn between curiosity and fear.
Her gaze hardened. "No. If I'm seen, I'm finished."
Still, the sight of those pale cocoons haunted her. She turned her eyes upward again — toward the hilltop where spider silk glimmered like silver threads against the dark stone.
A dangerous idea formed.
"If I use those webs to climb," she whispered, "I could reach the top unseen… maybe even find Bloodbeard's treasure."
Her lips curved into a faint, defiant smile beneath the hood. The risk was enormous — but so was the reward.
And somewhere deep within the dome, unaware of the silent watcher below, Luciel continued his quiet work — calm amid chaos, his eyes reflecting the dim glow of dying embers.
Tonight, thieves hunted a thief.
And none of them yet realized that the real danger was already above them — weaving the threads of a far greater game.
🌙✨ Dear Readers ✨🌙
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