Mae knelt beside Jason’s unconscious body, her hands trembling. His face was pale—paler than usual—and his skin was hot to the touch. Too hot. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill of the dungeon.

She didn’t hesitate.

Mae reached for her top, pulling the leather harness aside to expose her breast. Then she squeezed, directing the milk directly from her body into Jason’s mouth. Thick, warm, sweet. The same milk that had healed his bruises, his cuts, his exhaustion.

But this time, it wasn’t working.

Jason’s temperature continued to rise. His breathing grew shallow. His body twitched—small, involuntary spasms that made his fingers curl and uncurl against the stone floor.

"Why isn’t it working?" Mae muttered, pressing more milk past his lips. "It should be working."

Thalion stood over her, his silver hair matted with spider ichor, his nose still bleeding. He had just finished tearing Ylva free from her cocoon with his bare hands—not his magic—ripping through the thick webbing strand by strand.

Ylva stumbled out of the remains, her fur matted, her eyes wild. She rushed to Jason’s side, pushing Mae aside.

"What happened?" she demanded. "Why isn’t he waking up?"

Mae sat back on her heels, her eyes wide. "The spiders didn’t poison him."

"Then what?"

Mae looked at the small wound on Jason’s shoulder—the puncture mark from the stinger. It was still red, still swollen, but there was something else. A small bulge beneath his skin. Moving.

"They implanted an egg," Mae whispered.

Ylva’s blood ran cold. "What?"

"An egg. Inside him." Mae pointed at the moving bulge. "That’s why my milk isn’t working. I can’t heal this. Nothing can."

Thalion’s pale eyes widened. He had no idea about the eggs. None of them did. Not really. They had seen the corpses in the chamber—the bodies ripped open, the cavities filled with larvae—but they hadn’t understood what it meant.

Now they were beginning to.

Because what none of them knew—what no one in this world had yet discovered—was that these spiders were evolving.

Each egg that hatched grew into a spider that adapted specific traits of the race it had been implanted in. An elf host produced a spider with elf-like agility and mana sensitivity. A dwarf host produced a spider with dense chitin and brute strength. A beastkin host produced a spider with enhanced senses and claws.

The spiders were collectively getting stronger with each body they found to lay eggs in.

This was something that no one knew was even possible. Not the guilds. Not the adventurers.

But Jason’s body was fighting back.

His system—the adaptation that had been growing since the moment he arrived in this world—was working overtime. The forty percent resistance to mana manipulation was one thing. But this was different. This was biological. The egg inside him was trying to integrate with his flesh, and his body was rejecting it.

That was why his temperature was so high. His immune system was burning through him like wildfire.

Thalion crouched down beside Jason, his pale eyes studying the moving bulge beneath the skin. "We need to get it out."

"How?" Mae asked. "Cut him open? He’ll bleed out before we find it."

Ylva grabbed Jason’s hand. His fingers were hot. His palm was slick with sweat.

"He’s burning up," she said. "His temperature is too high. There’s no way he’s going to survive this if we don’t do something."

Thalion raised his hand, ready to use magic again as energy crackled around his fingers.

"No," Ylva said.

"Ylva—"

"I said no." Her voice was ice. "Jason told you not to use magic. Not until he’s stable. Not until you’re stable." She paused. Her eyes softened—just a fraction. "But I can’t blame you for what you did back there. We’d all be dead if you hadn’t."

Thalion lowered his hand.

"So what do we do?" Mae asked, looking between them.

Ylva looked down at Jason’s face—the sweat, the pallor, the twitching muscles. Her chest ached.

"We find a way," she said. "And fast."

-

Mira ran, her boots splashed through puddles of unknown origin. Her daggers glinted in the dim moss-light. Her tail streamed behind her like a banner.

She had managed to exit the path that she had entered—the left tunnel, the one that should have connected to the main junction. But something told her not to go ahead and chase after Jason and the others. Not yet.

She saw decaying bodies after taking a few steps in, because unlike the rests, her eyes could somewhat see in the dark

Something was off about this crawl.

She could feel it in her bones. In the way the tunnels seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking. In the way the silence pressed against her eardrums like a physical weight. In the way her instincts—honed over decades of dungeon diving—screamed at her to stop.

Mira slowed to a jog, then a walk, then a stop halfway through.

She leaned against the damp wall, her chest heaving, her amber eyes scanning the darkness ahead.

She instantly regretted allowing Kaelen and Helga rush forward.

If they were together, they would stand a much better chance. The three of them—Kaelen, Helga, and herself—they had years of history. They knew each other’s movements, each other’s tells, each other’s weaknesses. Their teamwork was impeccable because they all made up for each other’s flaws.

Kaelen had the strength and the aggression. Helga had the defense and the raw power. Mira had the speed and the strategy.

Together, they could survive almost anything.

But that was not the case anymore.

Kaelen was somewhere in the darkness, maybe dying. Helga was alone, maybe surrounded. And Mira was here, in a tunnel with no idea what had happened to any of them.

She pushed off the wall and took a step forward.

"Don’t move."

The voice came from behind her—soft, cold, and very close.

Mira froze.

A blade pressed against her throat. Not a dagger. Not a sword. Something thinner. Sharper. A stiletto, maybe, or a thin-bladed knife designed for slipping between ribs.

She couldn’t see the wielder, but she could feel them.

"State your guild," the voice said.

Mira’s tail went still. Her mind raced. She had no reason to lie, but no reason to trust either.

"Crimson Fang," she said.

The blade didn’t move. "Rank?"

"Eighty-four."

A pause. Then the knife withdrew.

Mira turned.

Two figures stood behind her. Female. Pale. Their skin was almost white, their lips faintly blue, their eyes a deep, bloody red.

They were vampires.

They bore a resemblance to the creature that Jason had seen earlier in the tunnels. The same pale skin. The same sharp features. The same hollow cheeks.

These were not random dungeon divers.

They belonged to a guild. One of the stronger ones.

The taller vampire stepped closer. "You’re alone," she said. It wasn’t a question.

"I was with others," Mira replied. "We got separated."

The shorter vampire’s red eyes narrowed. "Where?"

"The tunnels shifted." Mira gestured at the walls around them. "I took the left path. They went right. I heard explosions. Felt the ground shake. Then nothing."

The two vampires exchanged glances.

"Our brother," the taller one said. "Have you seen him? Male. Pale. Wearing a torn gray cloak. He went ahead to scout. He hasn’t returned."

Mira shook her head. "I haven’t seen anyone. Just bodies."

The shorter vampire’s hand drifted to her blade. "What kind of bodies?"

"Corpses. Ripped open. Used as nests." Mira’s voice was flat. "I didn’t stay long enough to inspect them."

The taller vampire studied Mira’s face—her amber eyes, her steady breathing, her lack of visible injuries. "You’re not lying."

"I have no reason to."

The two vampires stepped back, their blades lowering. They spoke to each other in low voices, their words too soft for Mira to catch. But she caught the tension in their shoulders. The fear in their red eyes.

"What guild are you from?" Mira asked.

The taller vampire turned back. "Umbral Court."

Mira’s blood ran cold.

She knew the name. Everyone in the adventurer’s district knew the name. The Umbral Court was ranked number twelve—one of the strongest guilds in the region. They were popularly known as the Bloodless Trio due to being vampires who left no blood in their victims.

If they were having difficulties with this crawl, it meant something was very, very wrong.

"Your brother," Mira said slowly. "He went ahead alone?"

"He insisted." The shorter vampire said. "He said he could handle anything these tunnels threw at him."

Mira didn’t respond. She had seen what these tunnels had thrown at them. The spiders. The eggs. The shifting walls. If the brother had run into any of that alone...