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When he woke many hours later he was on his back and Meidron’s mouth wrapped around his cock.

“Mmmmm.” He moaned, hands instinctively moving down to his incubus’s head and stroking his hair as he fellated him.

He did not stop the incubus, enjoying his oral ministrations as Meidron brought him to the brink, and then over the edge, spilling his seed down his throat. He laid his head on Torric’s thigh when he finished cumming, sighing happily.

“Shouldn’t I be the happy one?” Torric teased. “That was a great way to wake up.”

“Trust me. As an incubus who is also your lumin, that was very, very good for me too. I just got a double dose of energy all for the low, low cost of sucking your cock, an action I would gladly undertake even without the additional benefits. Every day. No. Multiple times a day.”

“You would have to fight me for him.” Liam spoke from the door.

Torric turned his gaze to his elven lover. “Where have you been?” He asked, holding out a hand in invitation to join them in bed.

“I was collecting your offerings of devotion. People have been leaving them downstairs for you the entire time you’ve been asleep. Which has been a while, but Senshia said to let you rest after you gave so much of yourself yesterday.”

“Gave so much of myself? All I did was listen to their stories and talk with them. It was the least I could do.”

“You were feeding energy into every single one of them. Every word, every touch, every hug. Every time you wiped away their tears. I could sense it.” Liam replied, joining them.

“Me too.” Meidron replied. “It's like you were a reverse incubus, giving bits of yourself to them instead of taking bits of them. What is your devotion at?”

He checked, blinking at what he saw. It had gone up by more than a billion. His devotion points had surged as well as a result. He’d also acquired 2 new Blessings.

Blessing of the Unshackled Path

 Channel Bahumet’s roar of freedom to break chains both physical and spiritual. Removes bindings, compulsions, or enslaving contracts imposed by magic, curse, or oath. Grants the recipient resistance to domination effects, mind control, or forced servitude. If used on those recently freed from bondage, permanently increases Resolve and Presence, and marks them as Unshackled , making them immune to being enslaved once again against their will. Outside combat: Can be invoked to consecrate sites of liberation, sanctify the breaking of chains, or imbue tools/weapons used in uprisings with divine resonance. It radiates a palpable aura of defiance against tyranny, inspiring others to rise.

Blessing of the Dawning Flame

Summon Bahumet’s inner fire to rekindle hope in those whose spirits have been dimmed. Restores morale, dispels despair, depression, and spiritual numbness. Fills recipients with renewed courage, clarity, and the will to keep living. Grants a regeneration effect to Willpower and Spirit, and in combat temporarily boosts Accuracy and Crit Chance as Hope’s Edge sharpens their strikes. Outside combat: May be used to uplift the downtrodden, heal trauma-scars of the soul, or bless communities suffering hopelessness. When invoked on gatherings, it creates a Lumin Hearth , a lingering aura of warmth and safety that restores emotional resilience to all who remain within and provides a minor regenerative effect on HP, MP, SP, and morale.

“But how?” He asked. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About 14 hours.” Meidron answered. “And in all that time word has been spreading throughout the dungeons of what you did.”

“But I didn’t do anything?”

“You gave yourself to slaves.” Liam pointed out.

“Exslaves.” Torric corrected.

“Still. Most Luminari don’t give a shit about their worshippers. They treat it as a matter of fact. Something that is owed to them. They rarely give back. Rarely minister. Rarely hand out Blessings.”

“You act like it is a gift. A precious gift and not something owed to you.” Meidron added. “You cherish them. The people are responding to that. Especially since you are ministering to what most people consider the lowest of the low.”

“I’m just doing what is right.”

“Very few would agree. The Luminari aren’t exactly common, each Celestine makes a new child but once in 1,000 years and could end up seeded anywhere in their controlled spaces.” Liam explained.

“Their names, appearances, abilities, domains are all religiously tracked, literally, by the cults that spring up around them.” He continued. “You are not behaving the way they do. Not even remotely close. Which is why your name is being spread far and wide. It will both put you in greater danger as your fame grows, but also protect you, for the same reasons.”

“You are rapidly becoming adopted by the common people.” Meidron added. “I keep track of the System chatter involving your name. The lesser rankers, the mortals, and the enslaved all feel strongly like you belong to them. And the high rankers want to own you in order to gain access to that loyalty.”

Threshold of Devotion Met, System Event Triggered: 

The Legend of Freedom’s Protector

Your name and deeds have begun to spread beyond your sight across the multiverse.

Word of how you cherish the lowest of society has echoed beyond your presence, spreading across worlds and permanently entering the System Records.

Effect: Devotion gain from freedfolk and common mortals increased by 50%. Fame among high-rankers increased significantly. 

Warning: As your fame spreads so will those who covet you. Threat risk amplified.

“Huh.” Torric mumbled, reading his new notification. “Look at this.” He told his lovers, making the notification visible.

“Oh wow you already have a Legend?” Meidron replied excitedly.

“What is a Legend?”

Meidron’s grin widened, sharp with pride. “A Legend is a story the System itself chooses to immortalize. Not just a Title, and it's not a Blessing. It’s when word of your personal deeds grow to such a level that they literally etch themselves into the Records. They become unalterable.”

Liam leaned against the bedframe, his voice steadier, more pragmatic. “There are Titles, there are Myths, and above those are Legends. A Title marks achievement. A Myth is what others believe about you. But a Legend…” He gestured to the pane. “A Legend becomes an unalienable truth about you. Even if someone killed you, the System would remember you. It would take serious god tier magic to erase you from the Records now.”

Torric frowned, ears twitching. “So now the System thinks I’m some kind of a… protector of freedom?”

“No, little star.” Meidron’s eyes gleamed with delight. “The System has declared you are one because the multiverse believes that is who and what you are. That truth will ripple out through every world in its lattice. You can’t take it back, even if you wanted to.”

He blinked at that, tail flicking uneasily. “I didn’t do it to become some great legend. I just… did what was right.”

“And that,” Liam said softly, “is exactly why it became a Legend.”

“I’m going to go make you breakfast.” Meidron announced. “You talk to this with Senshia. And maybe work on spending those devotion points since you have refreshed them.”

He kissed Torric’s temple, then slipped from the room, barbed tail flicking with satisfaction, leaving Torric with Liam. 

Torric quickly got dressed, not wanting to meet with Senshia nude. The idea made him feel vulnerable in a way he didn’t like. Only once he was presentable did he shoot her a System message inviting her to his room.

She appeared almost before the message pane faded, slipping into his room so quickly Torric startled. She must have been waiting outside his door. Then again, her quarters were next to his; if she was there she would not have very far to travel.

“You have a Legend,” Senshia said in lieu of greeting, her starlit eyes fixed on him.

Torric blinked. “How do you know?”

“New Legends shine,” she replied, voice edged like a blade drawn in the dark. “To those who already carry one, the resonance is unmistakable. It hasn’t fully settled into your aura yet. It flickers, half-written. Technically, it could still be erased from the Records.” Her tail flicked once, deliberate. “But only for a few days. After that, it will root itself, and not even gods will be able to easily strike it out.”

“So I could reject it?”

You could,” Senshia allowed, voice smooth as ice over steel. “The System would let you refuse. But understand what that means. Legends are anchors. They root your story in the Records. Strip that away, and you will drift. Your Devotion will bleed. Your Evolutions will stumble. A Luminari without Legends is like a star with no gravity; bright, but burning itself to ash within centuries.”

Her tail flicked again, deliberate. “Accept it. Wield it. Power is not shameful, little kitten. It is survival. Now what Legend have you acquired?”

Torric pulled the pane into view. The words glowed between them, stark and unyielding.

Senshia read, then inclined her head with slow gravity. “Fitting.” A faint smile curved her lips, though it was more blade than warmth. “An appropriate Legend for one the people already name the Shackled God. You broke your own chains, so now the multiverse demands you break the chains of others. It was inevitable.”

She let the pane fade and looked at him with a weight that pressed deeper than her words. “Do you see now? You cannot run from what you are. Not anymore. You carry their hope in your stripes, and their freedom in your claws. That is what the System has written. That is what you will be judged by.”

Torric’s ears flattened against his skull unhappily, “But it was Andorel who freed me. I didn’t break my chains. She kidnapped me from the auction block and ripped the collar from my throat.” His voice was tight.

Senshia’s gaze did not soften. If anything, it burned brighter, as though she would not allow him to diminish himself. “She undid the shackles upon your body,” she said, each word deliberate, heavy. “But it was you who broke your chains. The chains that cut deeper than iron. The chains on your soul.”

She leaned closer, her presence pressing like a storm. “Do not insult your own survival, kitten. Countless thousands wear collars and never rise again. You were stolen, beaten by your guardians, brainwashed, enslaved, and sold, and yet still your spirit did not bow. That is why the System named you thus.”

“That is why they call you the Shackled God. Because you endured chains meant to erase you and you remained. Because you seek not retribution against those who had chained you but that you instead ministered to the souls of others who carried the same burden.”

“The shackles on your soul could have made you hard, calloused. One who abused others to inflict the same damage as was done to you.” She continued. “But you have chosen the kinder path, the gentler path. Few Luminari who found themselves in such a scenario would do the same. Especially after going through their crucible.”

“But-”

“No buts, little kitten.” Senshia’s voice softened, but her tone cracked like a whip, leaving no space for refusal. Her tail brushed once against his leg, fond and grounding. “Take what you have earned. The System does not give lightly.”

She drew back a fraction, gaze sharpening again “Now. Now that you have a Legend things will change a bit. Your devotion is going to explode exponentially with that 50% buff. You’ll also start collecting more Legends through your deeds, as every deed of weight will begin to crystallize into further Legends as your actions did last night.”

“This is important to a growing Luminari, and something that wouldn’t typically come until you were much older and more experienced.”

Torric frowned. “Why are Legends so important?”

“Because you are a god, kitten. Legends are how we grow and Evolve. You’ll never reach S grade without them, let alone obtain true Divinity.”

“Because you are a god, kitten,” Senshia said simply. “Legends are how we grow. How we Evolve. You will never reach S-grade without them. And without S-grade, true Divinity will always remain beyond your claws.”

Her eyes glimmered, nebulae swirling. “Do you understand? Legends are not mere stories. They are the bones of Divinity itself.”

Torric’s tail lashed, ears folding flat against his head once again. The words tore out of him before he could stop them. “But what if I don’t want Divinity?”

Senshia’s laugh was soft, sharp, almost pitying. “Don’t be stupid, kitten.” Her eyes caught starlight, fierce and merciless. “You are too young to understand. Everyone wants Divinity. That is the point of the System itself. It created and maintains the Ladder of Heavens. Every trial, every Record, every Evolution is a rung. Climb high enough, and you stand among the gods.”

Her gaze bored into him, pressing like weight on his chest. “Without the gods, the multiverse would collapse into chaos, into ruin. They are the anchors that hold the lattice together. And you-” her tail speared into his chest, slow and deliberate “-you were born already halfway up the Ladder. Luminari are nepotism incarnate, the children of Celestines. You have a leg up most would kill entire worlds for.”

“Liam, would you have become a god given the opportunity?” Torric asked the elf who had remained quietly at his side during the exchange.

“Yes.” He answered simply. “That is everyone’s goal. And her eminence is correct. People would kill for the chance to be where you stand. I would have killed for such a chance.”

His gaze met Torric’s, calm but unwavering. “And people will try to kill you. To rip out the divine core Bahumet forced into you. Do you understand what you carry? The life and souls of 46 worlds, compressed into power. Absorbing that would catapult someone like me higher up the Ladder of Heavens than I could ever hope to climb in a thousand lifetimes without help.”

For just a heartbeat, his eyes flickered, an echo of the longing he never voiced. Then it was gone, replaced by quiet certainty. “That is why they’ll hunt you, Torric. Not because you are weak. Because you are worth more than they can dream. Even if they can’t steal your core, if they can bear your children they’ll be able to get their divinity.”

Torric’s breath caught, ears pressing flat, claws curling against the bedding, tail lashing with agitation behind him.

Liam’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “Or they will seek to bind you, to coax you into giving what you gave us. To manipulate you into sharing your power until nothing remains yours. Few will come openly offering friendship as I did, or as loyally as Meidron. Most will come with honeyed words and hidden chains like the succubi who tried to take you.”

“Which is why I am your guardian until you have grown strong enough to defend yourself." Senshia added her voice cutting across the air like a drawn blade. The starlight in her eyes flared, fierce and unyielding. “Until you have grown strong enough to defend yourself.”

Her tail lashed once, deliberate, as though punctuating the decree. “You do not yet grasp how valuable you are, or how dangerous that value makes you. Every whisper of your name is a hook in the dark. Every collar you break, every slave you Bless has painted a target brighter on your back. You will not walk alone until you can shred those who would claim you.”

Torric’s claws flexed against the bedding, ears pressed tight to his skull. The weight of their words coiled around him like chains he had thought broken. His tail lashed again, restless. He did not argue, but his silence was sharp with unease.

“Hey it isn’t all bad.” Liam said with a gentle smile and a comforting squeeze of his hand. “Every devotion means there is someone out there who loves you. Who would die for you.”

Torric ripped his hand away from him. “I don’t want people to die for me!” He cried in anguish. “It's too much pressure.”

“Then kill yourself.” Senshia said flatly. “Because that is the only way that this ends. But know if you do, many of those who are devoted may follow you to the grave.”

Torric looked at her with equal parts betrayal and horror.

“She isn’t actually telling you to do that,” Liam said softly, his hand hovering near Torric’s but careful not to force the touch this time. His voice was calm, steady, carrying none of Senshia’s sharp edges. “She’s showing you how high the stakes are. None of us want you to die. Not her, not Meidron, not me.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice as though speaking only for Torric. “We want you to live. To thrive. To grow into the strength that keeps you safe, and keeps those who believe in you safe too.”

Torric sighed, the fight draining from him. He leaned into Liam’s side, resting his head on the elf’s shoulder. His voice came out small, almost fragile. “I just want to live in peace… not be the focal point of an entire religion.”

“We can’t always get what we want, little kitten. The universe needs you.” Senshi told him kindly, her voice absent of its usual harshness. “The devotion you have generated is not meant to be chains to bind you with obligation. They are banners to uplift you, to show that you are worth following. That you are worthy of love. Of worship.”

She leaned back slightly, her tail curling around his arm in a rare gesture of affection. “Do not think of them as shackles, Torric. Think of them as wings. They will carry you farther than you can yet imagine.”

“The stronger you grow the more you can keep me and Meidron safe.” Liam murmured softly in his ear.

“That is the best incentive yet.” Torric replied, looking up at him through thick eyelashes. 

More seriously, he looked at Senshia. “Before you said my power laid in chains and control, not annihilation like most tigers. But I am, apparently, a god of freedom. I even have a new Blessing involving free people from magically enforced bonds. Make it make sense.”

Senshia’s ears twitched, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she inclined her head slowly, as though pleased he had finally asked the right question. 

It does make sense, kitten. More than you realize. Power over chains does not mean you must bind others to you. It means you choose what chains endure. You can wield them as tyrants do or you can break them. That is the freedom you embody.”

Torric’s tail twitched, uncertainty flickering across his face.

“Chains don’t always mean slavery, either,” Liam said softly, reaching to brush Torric’s hand with his thumb. “Think of bonds of love, of family, of friendship. They tie you to someone, yes, but you wouldn’t call it evil. You wouldn’t call it slavery. Sometimes those chains are what keep us from drifting apart.”

“And control?” Torric pressed, ears pinned tight. “How is that meant to be anything other than slavery?”

Senshia’s gaze softened, though her words carried the same weight as ever. “Control over others, that is one path. But it is not yours. Not if I had to guess.” Her tail curled, deliberate. “Control can also mean mastery of the self. Your destiny. Your mind. Your body.”

She leaned forward, eyes shimmering with starlight. “Think, kitten. They stole that from you once. Your freedom. Your choice. Your very will. Yet you clawed it back. The people and the System named you the Shackled God not to chain you or rub your past in your face, but to remind you: you hold the reins now. No master, no chain, no collar can strip you again unless you allow it. You were shackled, but no longer.”

Her lips curved, faint and fierce. “Your power may not be about controlling the fates of others at all. It may be about the chains you throw off, and the control you reclaim, piece by piece, until no one can ever take it from you again.”

Torric blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His shoulders loosened, ears easing forward, tail flicking in slower arcs. The way they had framed his power was still daunting, but less frightening now. More comforting. The knots he’d carried over the source of his magic began to loosen, though not all unraveled. Not yet.

The door swung open.

Meidron strode in with his usual brightness, carrying the scent of spice and sizzling meat. He halted a few steps inside, eyes sweeping the room. “Wuff.” He fanned a hand theatrically at the air. “The psychic tension in here is thicker than swamp mud. Have you been discussing the fate of the universe without me?”

“The universe as a whole?” Liam replied. “No. The fate of our universe, yes.” He hugged Torric against him, indicating exactly what and who he meant when he spoke of ‘our universe.’

Torric flushed under the weight of his arm, ears twitching and whiskers twitching.

Meidron’s grin sharpened. “Good answer.” With a wave of his hand carts laden with freshly made food and drink appeared from his storage, each one laden with steaming platters of food and chilled pitchers of fresh juice. The air filled at once with the scents of spiced meat, sweet bread, and rich hot chocolate, the faint hiss of still-sizzling pans rising like a promise.“Now let’s see if breakfast can’t make this particular universe a little less gloomy.”

Torric dove into his food with the ferocity of a starving man, all of it a feast for the senses, and not just his taste buds. The amazing aromas that tickled his sensitive nose. The texture of the perfectly fluffy eggs, the crisp bite of peppers mixed with them. The crunch of his butter and jam drenched toast. 

And beneath it all, there was more. The devotion of his followers that lingered in every morsel, a hum of energy that settled warmly in his chest. But deeper still was something rarer, richer: the unmistakable thread of Meidron himself. The incubus’s love soaked into every bite, fierce and comforting all at once, until Torric felt it pooling in his veins like sunlight.

An inadvertent purr began rumbling deep within his chest as he ate, his tail curling around Meidron’s arm as they sat at the table side by side.

“Did you discuss the expenditure of your new devotion points?” Meidron asked as they ate. Well, while he, Liam, and Torric ate. Senshia stuck to drinking from her ever present ornate flask.

Torric shook his head. “We discussed my Legend and the source of my powers.”

“How many more points do you have?”  Senshia asked.

“Um. Lemme check.” He opened his status window, not setting it to public viewing, just checking his stats. “A bit over 189 million. And now I have a Legend point?”

“Ignore the Legend point for now. As for your devotion points. All of your Skills have been reset to level 1 after we upgraded everything the other day. Spend them to upgrade some of their levels.”

Breakfast became a war council. Between bites of eggs and jam-soaked toast and sips of fresh pressed juice, Torric weighed his companions’ voices. Meidron argued for offense. “A tiger’s claws should always be sharpest, little star.” He teased.

 Liam pressed for defense. “You won’t protect us if you fall.” Senshia cut through both with strategic coldness, urging him to invest in foresight and control.

With between the four of them they spent nearly everything. Point after point burned away by the million into rising panes of light until only a little over two hundred thousand remained in reserve, barely a drop in the ocean of his power. But when Torric leaned back at last, claws tapping against the table, he felt it: every Skill humming brighter, stronger, like a constellation reignited. He would absolutely demolish whatever he fought next.

They cleaned up after they finished eating, arming and armoring up. The dangers past level 50 in any dungeon were astronomically higher compared to the 1st 50 floors, for it was starting at level 50 that the floors would connect to the lattice between worlds. There would be no rushing madly through floor after floor with barely any breaks. They’d have to move with caution and deliberation. 

The monsters waiting below were not just stronger, they were smarter, a lot smarter. Some would possess  cunning that rivaled men, and others would have crossed into true sapience. These would not be mere beasts to slay, but enemies who could scheme, set traps, even parley or trade with.

The traps wouldn't be only from the monsters, either. Other divers prowled these depths, and not all sought glory honestly. Squabbles over kills could turn to bloodshed. Loot and gear proving too tempting to resist. Worse still were those who hunted their own kind deliberately, slavers and body-harvesters, predators who saw Skills and attributes as spoils of war.

Here, every shadow hid teeth. And the floors below them promised no mercy. Even with the S ranked Senshia to keep them safe, they were only 4 in number. Power and Skills didn’t mean much when overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

They left the safe zone, walking through the swirling purple portal and into the blackness of the abyss.

This floor held no driving snow, no frigid winds that stung the skin, no groud thick with sheets of ice.

Here the torches they brought with them sputtered briefly, then died, smothered by clinging strands that glimmered faintly in the gloom. The air was heavy with dust and something sweeter, sickly, cloying, like rotting honey and decaying meat. Torric’s whiskers twitched as his ears swiveled, picking up faint skittering above and all around him.

The floor stretched downward, not forward: a titanic chasm yawning beneath their boots, its depth impossible to gauge. Bridges of spider silk spanned the void, thick as ship’s rigging in places, thin as thread in others, swaying with each draft of stale air. More webs layered the ceiling like a second floor turned upside down, dotted with the husks of creatures long drained.

Torric's wings rustled as he began to spread them. He did not trust the webbing to walk across and three of the four of them now possessed wings.

But Senshia’s tail wrapped tight around his wrist, pulling sharply. “Don’t,” she said flatly. “The air belongs to the spiders.

“The floors have shifted,” she continued, eyes glowing faintly. “A webbed dungeon this high is bad. Very bad. The air itself is their hunting ground, and their threads will foul your wings. Here they are no gift, but a liability. Tuck them tight, kitten. Keep them hidden, or they’ll never let you back down.”

“Fire is supposed to be good on webbed floors,” Meidron remarked, a little too cheerfully. His golden eyes glowed faintly as he flexed his fingers, sparks dancing between his claws. “And as a demon, it happens to be my specialty.”

“Yes, but fire also burns bridges,” Liam countered, voice sharp as his blade. “And spiders mean poison. Not just venom in fangs. Paralysis, acid, silk that corrodes armor. Fire won’t save us from that.”

Torric’s ears flicked uneasily, but he lifted his chin. “I can layer two of my Blessings over us. Divine Lineage will bolster our healing and cleanse debuffs, which includes poison. And Eternal Aegis will shield us from anything that impairs movement or forces displacement. I’d rather not discover what happens if someone gets knocked into the abyss when wings are useless here.”

“The good thing is webbed floors tend to be relatively small,” Senshia said, her tone like drawn steel. “We are not stopping here for any reason short of someone needing intensive healing. Not for food, not for drink. Cleanse your bodies with mana if you must so we don’t have to stop for that. Do not pause. Every heartbeat we linger, we give them time to notice.”

The words settled over them, heavy as the silence of the abyss. To push so hard spoke volumes of how dangerous this floor was.

Torric drew a slow breath and shifted his aura, toggling from the social powers of Velvet Demiurge to the harsher, hungering pulse of the Blood Demiurge. The air around hom became more menacing, predatory instead of seductive. The air around him craving not seduction but bloodshed. Diplomacy to violence.

He reached for Meidron and Liam, and the Blessings answered, Divine Lineage, Eternal Aegis, and the two newborn gifts from his ever increasing followers. Golden-white sigils unfurled and sank into their cores, searing permanent brands upon their very souls. The weight of it thrummed in the air, binding them tighter to him, devotion woven into living flame.

Meidron shivered, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as the power locked into place. Liam’s hand tightened briefly on Torric’s wrist, a silent vow in the touch.

Senshia waved him off with a flick of her tail. “I have no need for the protections of a kitten.” 

She did, however, layer her own buffs over the three of them, though she did not Bless any of them. While Torric could have gotten one or more such protections from her, Liam and Meidron could only carry one god’s Blessings at a time and it went without saying that they would never give up Torric’s Blessings. She didn’t even offer.

The moment they were ready, the party began their careful race across the webbed abyss.

The silk beneath their boots was a road only by function. It quivered with every step, alive and sensitive, its resonance carrying like the strings of a harp plucked in warning. Wards and enchantments wrapped their feet, dulling vibration and suppressing the betrayal of sound, but even so, the danger wasn’t gone. Threads as fine as mist drifted across the chasm, invisible until you were upon them. Breaking those strands was inevitable. Breaking them was the point. Each snapped filament carried a signal into the darkness, telling the waiting spiders exactly where their prey had passed.

The first attack was only a matter of time.

When it came, there was no sound, only the sudden presence of a body dropping from the endless dark above. Torric’s Skilled named it at once: Arachnephid Scout . Bulbous, long-legged, its mandibles clicked reflexively as it descended.

The trio struck without hesitation.

Meidron’s Flame-Tongue Bolt lanced through its carapace, a needle of fire that left blackened cracks in the glossy shell. Liam’s Radiant Bolt it at almost the exact same time, brilliant and blinding in the gloom, burning straight through its abdomen. Torric’s will impressed bent reality upon it.

Curse of Stillness.

The spider froze mid-motion, locked in place like a figure carved from stone.

Curse of Entropy.

The follow-up unravelled its insides in silence. No scream, no twitch, the creature simply stopped existing as alive . Its corpse remained locked in rigid stasis, suspended on the silken road, doomed to stay motionless until the curse’s hour-long grip ran its course. Torric could have stretched the spell longer, but there was no need to waste mana.

A perfect kill. A silent one. Their advantage held.

They pressed onward, repeating the pattern with the next two scouts. Clean, efficient executions, the kind that spoke of training and experience fighting as a trio, not luck. Fighting their way through the first 50 floors together, plus their innate bonds had made them an unstoppable force, able to know how each other part of their trio would move and act as if they were one hive mind piloting three different bodies.

They all knew it wouldn’t last. Patterns break. Silence doesn’t hold forever. It shattered with the arrival of three at once.

Two were scouts, bulbous and familiar. The third was different. Smaller in frame, but its body glowed with a virulent acid-green sheen, striped with black like warning sigils carved into flesh. Its twin fangs dripped venom so bright it gleamed in the dark, and when the drops hit the web beneath, the threads hissed and smoked.

+Take the Chasm Venomfang first,+ Torric’s command brushed across their minds, cold and certain.

All three struck with their practiced combo. Meidron’s fire and Liam’s radiance slammed into its hide, while Torric’s twin curses clamped down with greater weight this time, more mana poured into the spellwork. So they kept firing, bolts of flame and light hammering its carapace while Torric snared one of the scouts with his Curse of Stillness . The second he intentionally allowed to charge straight at them down the silken path.

It met Senshia.

She surged forward, claws flashing, faster than sight. Her strike carved the first scout’s head from its body in a single clean cut. The second never even slowed her. One step, one swipe and another corpse was made, held motionless in place by the curse invading its corpse. Her momentum never broke.

Beyond her, the Chasm Venomfang died under the combined fire of Meidron and Liam, entropy eating it from within until it too sagged lifelessly.

This time the corpses didn’t dangle above the chasm, feet away from the silk road and thus unreachable. Instead they lay across the silken path itself perfect for looting.

Meidron touched each one in turn.

The dead spiders dissolved. Carapaces cracked, legs folded inward, venomous sacs ruptured without a sound. Smoke bled from the bodies, curling upward before folding neatly into his chest. The loot followed: fangs, venom glands, silken sacs, everything of value whisked away into his soul storage. In seconds, the web was clean as if the trio of spiders had never existed.

If he hadn’t possessed the harvesting Skill, they would have been forced to leave everything behind. To linger meant death. But with Meidron, they didn’t even break stride. The treasure was theirs, and the silence held for one moment longer.

The one fight, however, had been enough for the other spiders to finally, truly take notice of them. The expected onslaught had arrived. They ran across web roads, stopping only when they had collected too many pursuers to be able to safely flee from. Then they stopped to fight. 

The cycle repeated again and again, run, fight, loot, run. Their rhythm became survival itself, weaving like the threads beneath their boots.

Liam stood firm in the front, shield gleaming with eclipse light as wave after wave of spiders crashed against him. Meidron’s fire carved burning holes in the darkness, every spell another corpse that dissolved into smoke. Senshia blurred through the chaos, claws slicing, carapaces splitting in showers of ichor. Torric stalked behind them, untouched more often than not, his very presence bending the battlefield. Demiurge’s Dominion made the spiders falter, the monsters too terrified to even attempt to fight him, unable to beat the save.

His claws tore through nearly as many spiders as Senshia’s as he danced between his two lovers, moving between them to keep either from getting overwhelmed by the tide of bodies, slicing through spiders, and the webbing they tried to coat his lumin in without hesitation or slowing.

Between their combined auras and buffs their stamina and mana were constantly refreshing, never going below half, and recovering completely before they stopped for another killing field of fighting.

They pressed on until the threads beneath them widened, stretching into an open expanse.

The webbed abyss yawned before them, no longer narrow roads but a vast woven plain. The sheer size of it made the air feel thin, the silk trembling beneath their feet with each faint breeze.

And in the center of it waited their death.

It was a spider in the way a mountain is a hill. A thing too large for the word to hold. Its legs were pillars sunk deep into the abyss, its abdomen the size of a keep, its fangs as long as spears and dripping with venom that smoked as it struck the threads below. Every breath it exhaled was a chorus of creaking silk.

[Boss Identified: Arachnephid Broodmother, Matriarch of the Abyssal Webs]

Torric stared up at the giant spider, throat dry. Bigger than the orphanage, his mind whispered inanely. Gargantuan didn’t seem enough. Titan, maybe. Godspawn, perhaps.

He shook the thought away. Now wasn’t the time for labels.

Now was the time to kill.

The webbed abyss thrummed like a drum beneath their feet. Each strand was a taut line of silk stretched into infinity, quivering with menace. Torric, Meidron, Liam, and somewhere already beyond sight, Senshia, advanced toward the heart of the floor.

The Arachnephid Broodmother waited.

Her legs sank like black spires into the woven expanse of silken webbing, anchoring her fortress-body above the chasm. Hundreds of eyes gleamed like onyx lanterns, mandibles as big as Torric’s bodies clicking as venom fell in drops the size of one of Liam’s shields.

Then she screamed.

Webs all across the chasm split, birthing swarms of spiders that spilled out like floodwater.

Senshia moved as if she were death incarnate. In a way she was, just as Torric had his three domains, she had hers. One was Death, another was the way of the Predator. Both served her well as the Lumanari vanished into the tide, claws whispering, a shadow of inevitability. 

Each sweep harvested dozens, each breath carried her Domain of Death, each heartbeat painted the silk in husks. The adds were hers. The Broodmother was theirs.

+Take the legs!+ Torric’s voice rang through their mental bond. His Leadership made it an edict, and as such boosted their attack abilities when his two lumin moved to obey him.

Liam surged forward, his shield glowing with Moonveil Ward . A volley of acid globules shattered harmlessly on silver light. His sword swung in a blazing arc, Solar Sunder , and a foreleg split open, golden fire searing through chitin.

Meidron slid along another leg, elegant as a dancer, cloak flaring with fire. His rapier flicked in crimson ribbons, Cinder Waltz, Burning Riposte , each strike carving neat seams into spider-flesh. With a flick of his hand, a glowing sigil seared onto the Broodmother’s abdomen: Incubus Brand. Her entire body became more vulnerable to his flames.

Torric lifted a clawed hand. Curse of the Dimming Sparks sank into her, mana leaking away as starlight threads. Demiurge’s Dominion thickened the air every spider that skittered too close faltered, their instincts rebelling at the idea of touching him. The Broodmother had no such aversions. No, she seemed to have decided to focus all her intent upon him.

The Broodmother responded to their assault with a Webquake , the silk plain shuddering like a plucked harp. Threads snapped, alarms sang into the abyss.

“Not today,” Torric whispered. He unleashed his Demiurgic Roar. The quake stuttered, silk falling silent. The alarm-veils tore apart in unreal stillness, and Senshia used that breath to reap another swath of the tide.

Two legs crumbled, each one taken by Meidron or Liam while the broodmother focused her attention on him. The abyssal queen shrieked, and her abdomen swelled with a blight cocoon.

The Broodmother wrapped herself in layer upon layer of toxic green thread. They all knew that to touch the webbing on her body would inflict them with a virulently deadly poison. They tried throwing magic spells at the enwebbed spider queen but the energy immediately rebounded. Their spells struck back like mirrors.

Liam’s Silverlight Reflection caught the first rebound, turning the rebounded and converted venom beam back at the matriarch’s face. Meidron’s Obsidian Mirror stole the second, catching a lance of toxin midair and snapping it back into her abdomen. Torric didn’t even bother, Absolute Mana Sovereignty folded the reflected currents into nothing, as if the laws of magic had remembered who wrote them.

“Break it,” Liam growled. He swapped into Solar stance, radiance blazing, and carved with Eclipse Cleave into a powerful Judgment Slash. Moon and sun fused into his edge, biting into the cocoon.

Meidron danced forward, blade wrapped in Enthralling Flame Blade , cuts placed precisely along stress points. A final Crimson Curtain Blast ignited the seams, silk burned, and the cocoon split.

Torric pressed his palm to the queen’s newly exposed body, whispering the words of Curse of Eternal Eclipse. . The Broodmother’s regeneration had been halted prematurely when Meidron and Liam tore through her protections and his Curse would keep such a trick from working a second time.

The brood mother’s abdomen exploded outward, releasing a tide of elite arachnids from within. They screamed across the web toward the trio. 

Senshia was too busy to assist them in their deluge, but that did not mean they were defenseless. He activated one of his Ultimate abilities, Fang of the Celestine. A massive semi-opaque tiger roared into existence and began laying waste to the elite arachnoids as they surged towards them.

The Broodmother shrieked again, gravity dragging the whole plain downward. The silk pitched, anchors snapping.

Liam leapt high, crashing down on her broken and bleeding abdomen with Duskbreaker’s Leap . 

The shockwave broke her concentration, ending the spell and stabilizing the webbed platform

Torric expanded his Eclipse Mantle of Ruin. Every buff, to herself or her minions, every attempt at coordination the Broodmother tried to muster bled away, leaving only despair.

Her shriek became a howl of desperation when her health hit 50%, but still they did not let up on the attack. Torric targeted her legs, using his claws to disjoint them to throw the queen off balance while Meidron worked alongside his Avatar to demolish her elite spiders and Liam targeted one of her two fangs, eventually ripping it free and throwing it aside in a spray of blood and venom.

At 25%, she ascended. Webs reknit into towers, and the entire plain became a storm of razor-thread. Every gust cut like blades.

Liam answered with his oath. Eternal Eclipse Form ignited, his body cloaked in fire and shadow. He became balance incarnate, and with him came Beacon of Equinox , their damage, their healing, their very will sharpened by his vow.

Meidron let go of the Skill he had been holding onto as well. His incubus aura burst outward in full, Steward of Desire’s Embrace. Fire and charm rolled across the arena. Enemies within twenty meters knelt or burned; his allies surged with Charisma and Fire Affinity, passion and flame braided into their veins.

Torric activated his own Ultimate form, Celestial Ascension, and directed his Avatar to ignore the remaining elites, focusing its attacks on the spider queen. The fortress-sized astral tiger roared across the web, slamming titanic paws into the Broodmother’s legs. Chitin cracked, silk trembled and split. 

The queen reeled, half-shredded, thrashing in venom and silk.

Liam locked her gaze with Judgment of the Eclipse. Radiant and Shadow fire flared in her eyes as the verdict was read: guilty. She staggered, falling from the ceiling she’d been trying to run to..

Meidron was there, ready and waiting, rapier flashing, while his Searing Gaze scorching another eye cluster, Phoenix Flare bursting to sear and heal his allies in one motion. His final thrust, Discreet Elimination , sank beneath her chin-plate, silent as smoke.

Then Torric stepped into the breach, Presence crowned in darkness and fire. His claws drew a sigil in the air.

“Fall.”

Eclipse Rend of Oblivion.

The first strike stripped defenses.
The second strike unmade her strength.
And with the third, Godrend Absolute , her existence unraveled.

The Arachnephid Broodmother ceased to be. Not slain. Not destroyed. Forgotten by reality, her threads erased from the tapestry, half of her power bled into the void, half flowed into Torric, infusing him with her strength.

Silence.

Velvet Harvest bloomed in Meidron’s hand. The remains dissolved to smoke, valuables whisked into his soul storage: venom heart, spool-glands, amber eggs, and crown-plates. The web lay clean, as though she had never existed.

At the edge of the abyss, Senshia returned. Her claws dripped with starlight ichor, her eyes calm as the grave. Behind her lay a mountain of husks.

“Done?” she asked, voice light as dust.

Liam’s Halo dimmed, steady. “Done.”

“Not quite done.” Torric said as his body resumed its normal form. “We have a Champion’s Chest to loot.”

A chest had appeared in the center of the web-plain, enormous, gilded with black chitin and burning starlight veins. Its edges shimmered as though woven from both nightmare and dream.

Champion’s Chest
Rank: Epic

Venomfang’s Crowned Mandibles – Epic – Twin daggers carved from the Broodmother’s fangs. Deal +25% bonus damage to Poisoned enemies and apply stacking toxin that ignores resistance caps.

Silken Veil of the Abyss – Epic – Cloak woven from Broodmother web. Grants +20% Dodge and renders the wearer invisible for 3s after taking a critical hit.

Broodheart Core – Epic crafting material – Pulsating with venom and shadow this core can be used to forge gear granting +35% Poison Resistance or a weapon with a poison affliction that applies lifesteal against afflicted enemies.

Chasmthread Greaves – Epic – Boots lined with abyss-silk. +30% Agility and Reflexes; wearer can sprint across vertical or inverted surfaces spun of magic or silk.

Venom Sac of Eternity – Epic alchemical reagent –  Used to brew poisons that scale with the brewer’s Charisma or Willpower, bypassing 50% of enemy resistances.

Silkspinner’s Gauntlets – Epic –  Gloves that allow the creation of temporary silk-threads. Functions as grappling lines or restraints. Threads count as Epic-tier material and are nearly unbreakable.

Eyes of the Broodmother – Epic crafting material – Crystalized cluster of abyssal eyes. Consumable crafting reagent or implant; grants +25% Perception and immunity to Blindness for 1 hour when activated.

Threadspinner’s Quiver – Epic –  Generates spectral silk arrows that never run out. Each arrow inflicts +10% True Damage that ignores armor.

Carapace Plating of the Abyss – Epic –  Chest armor plate. Grants +35% Physical Defense and +20% resistance to Acid/Poison. The first critical hit each battle is negated entirely.

Web-Touched Reliquary Stone – Epic –  Trinket. Activatable ability: summon a 10m radius dome of spectral silk that blocks all projectiles for 15s. Cooldown: 1 hour.

Crown of the Abyssal Matriarch – Legendary – A circlet woven from eternal silk and crystallized venom, shimmering between shadow and starlight.

• Passive: +50% Resistance to Poison, Charm, and Fear.
• Aura: Allies within 20m gain +15% Reflexes and +15% Willpower, enemies suffer -15% Composure.
• Active: Broodmother’s Edict – Once per day, summon spectral webbing across the battlefield, halving enemy Speed and Dodge for 30s while allies gain +20% Attack Speed and +20% Accuracy.
• Flavor: A crown fit for one who commands desire, death, or dominion. Its threads hum with whispers of all prey ever caught in the Broodmother’s web.

“Now that is some good loot.” Liam said approvingly.

“Mei-mei will you go loot all the other spiders then we can get the fuck out of here? Hopefully the next floor won’t be another fucking spider floor.”

"As my lord commands." The incubus replied with a grin and a mocking bow.