The corridor ahead narrowed, stone walls drawing closer as if the structure itself was tightening around us.

  We advanced in silence, shields forward, careful spacing maintained to avoid trap overlap. Glenn’s revelation still hung over us like a held breath. Every step forward could be our last. The pressure mounted as Jessica led us deeper.

  It was the air that changed first.

  It grew heavier, thick with a faint, cloying scent—chemical, a sickening sweetness layered beneath the cold stone. My Sixth Sense pulsed sharply, continuously. When even the structure itself could kill you, it didn’t bother to specify a single threat.

  Jessica slowed.

  She didn’t raise her hand this time. She simply stopped—and we froze with her.

  Her head tilted slightly, eyes unfocused, tracking something none of the others could see. Her fingers tightened on her bowstring without drawing it back.

  “Enemies incoming,” she said quietly.

  No echo carried the words. The corridor swallowed sound.

  She frowned. “Five… no. Six.”

  Alan’s shield lifted another inch. Richard shifted his stance beside him, weight settling, Holy Shield already active—its faint burning glow devoured by the darkness after only a few feet.

  “What are they?” Maria whispered, edging a little closer to me. So far, we’d only encountered demonic ogres, and those announced themselves long before Jessica ever needed to track them.

  Jessica didn’t answer right away.

  “They’re above us,” she said finally. “And ahead. All over…”

  I followed her gaze instinctively, letting Vast Shadows bleed outward just enough to test the space. Darkness thickened along the edges of the corridor, shadows deepening unnaturally along the ceiling vaults and recessed stonework.

  I activated Necrotic Vision.

  Then I saw them—not clearly, just the dull orange glow that marked living presence. It was enough. Enough to understand the rough shape and size of what we were dealing with.

  “Rebekah,” Thomas whispered, “can you summon your faerie for a moment?”

  She nodded and sent it out. The little faerie drifted upward, blissfully unaware of what lurked above, its soft light carefully illuminating the ceiling.

  The orange outlines remained—but even with the added light, my eyes struggled to reconcile what I was seeing.

  “I don’t see anything…” Anna said.

  “Me either,” Lidya added.

  It was only the split second before the faerie was destroyed that any of us truly saw them.

  Segmented limbs unfolded soundlessly. Jointed legs clung to stone at impossible angles. The corridor ceiling became wrong, its lines interrupted by shapes that refused to resolve unless I focused directly on them.

  Spiders.

  Not the skittering kind. These were massive—each body the size of a large dog, legs spanning wall to wall when fully extended. Their carapaces were matte black, absorbing the crimson torchlight instead of reflecting it. Multiple dull eyes clustered low on their heads, unfaceted, like polished stones buried in tar.

  They simply waited.

  Jessica exhaled slowly. “Level thirty-two,” she said. “Elite.”

  A ripple passed through the formation. Thirty-two was a jump. Manageable—but only if the battle stayed controlled.

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  “What can they do?” Alan asked. If they weren’t rushing us, we had time. Barely.

  Jessica’s jaw tightened. “Web Spray. Paralytic Poison. Envenom.”

  “It’s always poison…” I muttered.

  “They’re hunting,” Jessica added. “Not charging.”

  Sixth Sense hadn’t spiked the way it should have—which meant we weren’t in immediate lethal danger. Not yet.

  The spiders shifted again, barely perceptible, repositioning along the ceiling vaults and deep recesses where stone met shadow. They were encircling, and that naive hope we could walk through unscathed vanished quickly.

  I pushed Vast Shadows farther, threading it along floor and walls, letting it seep into cracks and seams. The darkness answered, thickening, giving me a clearer sense of their outlines. I could feel their limbs skittering faintly against the stone.

  They adjusted instantly.

  Legs flexed. Bodies pressed tighter to the ceiling. They slid deeper.

  “Mike,” Nicole murmured from the rear. “Are they testing us?”

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “I think they are.”

  And then it happened. It wasn’t a frontliner. It wasn’t anyone with a shield raised.

  One of the newer ones—someone whose name I still hadn’t learned—shifted half a step out of formation. Maybe he was trying for a better angle. Maybe he panicked. Whatever it was, a mistake was a mistake.

  The spider didn’t lunge.

  A wet, pressurized hiss split the silence.

  Web Spray detonated from above, a mass of viscous, pale strands slamming down onto his upper body and face. The force alone hurled him backward into the wall, bones cracked on impact.

  He screamed.

  The sound cut off as the webbing tightened, crushing his jaw, pinning his arms to his sides. He thrashed once, boots scraping uselessly—

  —and then a spider dropped.

  It fell like released weight, legs folding midair, striking with brutal precision. Mandibles punched through webbing and flesh in a single practiced motion.

  There was a wet, sickening crunch.

  It happened too fast and none of us reacted in time.

  No one moved. No one dared to.

  “…Jonathan,” Lidya whispered, so softly it barely carried.

  The spider didn’t linger. It hauled what remained of the body upward with terrifying strength, dragging the limp, broken shape back into the ceiling shadows as if it weighed nothing at all.

  Blood dripped down in slow, heavy drops, splattering the stone between our formation.

  The corridor went dead still.

  Jessica’s bow was half-raised, frozen. Maria’s fingers were white-knuckled around her grip. Rebekah’s raised hand trembled as she aborted a healing spell that had no target.

  “Don’t,” I said quietly.

  The spiders didn’t advance.

  As if in agreement, the shadows shifted—six distinct shapes visible to me, barely discernible to Jessica. To everyone else, there was only darkness and the occasional outline when torchlight brushed a limb.

  “They’re observing our reactions,” Jessica said. “Waiting for another break.”

  “Then we don’t give them one,” Richard said, exhaling slowly.

  Alan nodded. “Formation holds. Shields up. No one steps out.”

  “Rear stays tight,” Nicole added. “Nothing gets past me.” She said more for herself, but her body language betrayed her nervousness.

  The spiders began to move, not toward us, but around us.

  One skittered laterally along the ceiling above the front line. Another slid down a wall, stopping just out of reach. A third repositioned behind us, testing Nicole’s coverage. I could feel them shifting through the shadows.

  I felt the poison before it touched anyone—a faint prickle in the air, pressure against my lungs. Sixth sense had flared, unmistakable danger.

  “Anna,” I said. “Cool it down. Now!”

  There was confusion—but no hesitation. Her staff flared blue as she poured MP into the spell. The air plunged toward freezing.

  A moment later, solid droplets pattered against stone—the airborne poison crystallized and shattered across the floor.

  “What was that?” Maria asked as something bounced off her shoulder.

  “Poison,” I said. “Keep it cold.”

  Anna downed an MP potion and shut her eyes, focusing entirely on frost.

  Protect her. I send a mental note to Spikey #1 and #2.

  The corridor funneled us perfectly. No angles to maneuver, No retreat. No room for reckless movement. Our enemies were silent, invisible, patient.

  “Jessica and I handle the offense,” I decided. “Everyone else holds defense.”

  We were the only ones who could truly see them. Panic would get someone else killed.

  “We’ll force them out,” I said.

  The spider nearest the front flexed, abdomen pulsing. Web Spray erupted again—wide this time.

  It slammed into Alan’s and Richard’s raised shields, strands stretching and pulling, trying to tear weapons and bodies out of position—to force a mistake, an opening. Alan braced, boots grinding stone. Richard absorbed the redirected force without flinching, Consecrated Stand locking him in place.

  They were testing again. “Hold,” Alan growled.

  I acted.

  Vast Shadows surged forward, flooding the corridor, crawling up walls and ceiling, wrapping around chitin and merging with the natural darkness. Their movements became clear—precise, inevitable.

  Paralytic Poison vented from multiple bodies at once, mist spilling downward.

  It froze midair.

  Glass-like shards shattered across the stone as Anna held the temperature down.

  The spiders clicked, mandibles tapping as they raced along the ceiling.

  I glanced at King Spikey, sending a mental mark.

  He didn’t need it.

  His eyes flared orange as Necrotic Vision engaged. His arm recoiled—and the Ivory Lance launched like a missile, air spiraling around it in a tight cyclone.

  Thunder cracked.

  A viscous, shrill scream followed as one spider slammed into the floor, mandibles flailing. Jessica’s arrow punched cleanly into its mouth, ending it.

  “One down,” I said.

  This corridor—narrow and unforgiving—would become a killing ground.

  Five level thirty-two elites remained.

  “Next,” I said, steadying my hand.