—Rei—

  Rei stared, momentarily forgetting to breathe.

  The aura around Barrett didn’t just flare; it warped. The air bent and shimmered around his body as if heat were rolling off him in visible waves, pressure pressing outward in slow, suffocating pulses. She wasn’t even close, yet it felt like standing too near a roaring furnace, the kind that made your instincts scream and back away.

  Power like that couldn’t be hidden. It pressed outward, undeniable, and even the villagers who’d stayed behind could feel it. Barrett wasn’t just stronger now; he existed on a different plane entirely.

  Rei felt a knot tighten in her chest. She found herself praying that it would be enough. Their team was spent and broken. There were no plans left to execute, no reserves to draw from, no clever tricks waiting in the wings.

  Only him.

  Barrett Donovan stood between them and annihilation, the final line holding back the dark.

  Pippy lay unconscious at her side, small and frighteningly still. Rei stayed close and quietly worked to coax any ambient mana around her into herself. Her regeneration capabilities were painfully slow. If the smaller spiders rushed them now, she’d need something to hold them off.

  For the moment, they didn’t dare.

  The lesser spiders lingered at the edges of the clearing, skittering and circling, but none crossed the invisible line between Barrett and the Queen. Danger had a smell to it, Rei realized, and the creatures were choking on it.

  Most of the villagers had already fled. Rei noticed their absence with a spike of irritation. This was their home, and yet they had abandoned it for strangers to defend. Cowards.

  A few had stayed.

  Wexel stood rigid, mouth hanging open, eyes wide with something between awe and terror. Vin lingered beside him, knuckles white around his staff. An older woman stood further back, muttering prayers under her breath.

  “One of your companions, I presume?” Wexel asked, voice barely above a whisper.

  Rei nodded, eyes never leaving the battlefield.

  “He’s…facing it like that?” Vin asked slowly. “Just how strong is he?”

  Rei hesitated. The honest answer surprised even her.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Barrett took a single step forward.

  The Queen reacted instantly.

  She lunged, her massive form exploding into motion—legs slashing, mandibles snapping, her entire body a blur of violence and momentum. The ground cracked beneath her charge.

  Barrett met her head-on.

  Every strike she threw was turned aside—batted away like an inconvenience. His movements were brutal in their efficiency, precise without being delicate. He blocked, redirected, stepped inside her reach, and punished her for daring to close the distance.

  Rei studied him, searching for any trace of the Barrett she knew. But it was all sealed away behind a face carved from stone, and the stars-and-stripes bandana tied tight over his eyes.

  It unsettled her more than the power did.

  Why would he blind himself like that? And more disturbing still, how was he moving with such certainty, such precision, as if he could see better than ever?

  Then he went on the offensive.

  Rei struggled to follow him. He moved too fast—cutting from leg to leg, blade flashing, body weaving through impossible angles. Each strike landed with merciless intent. The Queen shrieked, her screams tearing through the clearing, but Barrett didn’t slow.

  Not once.

  He dismantled her.

  One leg fell. Then another. And another.

  Like a chair losing its supports, the massive spider collapsed, the earth shaking violently as her body slammed down. Dust and debris erupted into the air. The elders gasped as one.

  Barrett didn’t give her time to recover.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  He vaulted onto her back, boots finding purchase as he sprinted along her spine. His blade dragged behind him, carving a brutal line through hardened chitin.

  When he reached the center, he drove the machete down.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Rei felt a chill crawl up her spine.

  This wasn’t just strength. It wasn’t even rage. There was a cold, relentless savagery in him now, something stripped of hesitation or mercy.

  Rei couldn’t tell whether this was the real Barrett finally unchained, or a shape this world had carved him into through blood and pressure. The thought sent a chill down her spine. And yet, she didn’t look away. She couldn’t. Somewhere along the line she had become part of this team, and turning her back now would mean leaving everything on his shoulders alone.

  She glanced to the side.

  The elders were frozen, transfixed by the slaughter unfolding before them. None spoke. None looked away. Rei found she respected them for that.

  Behind them, Granny Ida worked with grim focus, helping a handful of villagers haul Maku toward them on a hastily assembled gurney. His eyes were half-open, unfocused, barely registering the carnage in front of him.

  “What’s happened to Barrett?” Granny asked quietly.

  Rei shook her head.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I really don’t.”

  Then the Queen’s movements slowed.

  Her shrieks broke into wet, choking sounds. Her massive form shuddered…and began to fold inward, collapsing under its own weight, growing smaller, weaker, quieter.

  The clearing fell eerily silent.

  Vin swallowed hard. “Did he…beat it?”

  Rei didn’t answer right away.

  She watched Barrett stand there amid the ruin, blade still buried deep, aura simmering around him like a living thing. For a moment, she wondered what, exactly, was standing in front of them now.

  —Barrett—

  The Spider Queen did not die all at once.

  She unraveled.

  Layer by layer, chitin split and collapsed, monstrous limbs crumbling inward as the thing that had worn the crown of terror was peeled away piece by piece. What remained at the center—what had always been there—was not a monster at all.

  It was her.

  Rebby lay amid the ruin, pale skin marred with bruises, long black hair streaked with red fanned across the broken earth. The power that had once animated her was gone, drained to nothing, leaving behind something fragile and heartbreakingly human.

  Barrett stared for a moment too long.

  Something in his chest twisted, sharp and hollow all at once.

  Grimm circled once overhead before settling on his shoulder. The familiar weight grounded him—still light, still warm—but heavier than he remembered. Or maybe that was just him. He’d grown. The tiny, fragile bird he’d once worried over wasn’t a baby anymore.

  Barrett dropped to his knees beside her and gently pulled her into his arms, supporting her head against his chest.

  “Rebby,” he said softly, like speaking too loudly might shatter what little remained.

  Her lashes fluttered.

  Slowly, painfully, her eyes opened. She lifted a trembling hand and pressed it weakly against his cheek, fingers brushing his skin as if to confirm he was real.

  He swallowed hard. The tears came anyway.

  “I’m so sorry, Barrett,” she whispered, her voice barely there.

  The words broke something inside him.

  “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—I should’ve saved you.”

  Only now did he truly understand. The spider hadn’t just lived with her—it had grown into her. Where he had overpowered the thing inside himself, absorbed it completely, she had been far too young when it took hold. It hadn’t needed to dominate her. It had simply waited. Claimed what it could.

  She looked at him then, eyes glassy with pain and regret, and he felt it like a blade between the ribs.

  He wished—desperately—that he could trade places with her. He could endure broken bones, poison, blood loss. That kind of pain was familiar. Almost comforting.

  But this?

  This hurt too much.

  “Rebby.”

  The voice was older. Trembling.

  Barrett looked up as a woman hurried to their side, collapsing to her knees beside them. She looked startlingly like Rebby with the same features, softened by age, eyes shining with grief.

  “Rebby, my sweet girl,” the woman said, voice breaking. “I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

  “Mother…?” Rebby murmured.

  The woman took her hand, clutching it tightly, as if afraid letting go would end her again. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

  “I missed you,” Rebby whispered.

  Barrett bowed his head, his tears soaking into the fabric of his stars-and-stripes bandana. He held her carefully, reverently, as though she might slip away if he loosened his grip even a little.

  He couldn’t see her with his own eyes, but he could feel how weak she was. How thin the thread had become.

  “Stay,” he pleaded, voice cracking. “Please. Stay with us. We can figure something out. I’ll stay on this damn island if you want. I don’t care. Just don’t leave.”

  She smiled faintly, the kind of smile meant to comfort someone else, not herself.

  “I wish I’d been stronger,” she said.

  “Don’t,” he choked. “Don’t say that. You were strong as hell.”

  Her fingers tightened weakly around his sleeve.

  “Don’t give up on your dream,” she whispered.

  “I won’t,” he promised instantly. “I swear.”

  She smiled again—softer this time—and drew in a shallow breath, as if to say something more.

  Then, the world intruded.

  [You have slain Spider Queen — Level 24]

  [LEVEL UP!]

  [Congratulations, you are now Level 16!]

  [LEVEL UP!]

  [Congratulations, you are now Level 17!]

  [LEVEL UP!]

  [Congratulations, you are now Level 18!]

  [LEVEL UP!]

  [Congratulations, you are now Level 19!]

  Barrett stiffened.

  “No,” he said, voice breaking completely. “Rebby—”

  The light left her eyes.

  And whatever victory the system claimed, it tasted like ash.