Icid felt a familiar rush of knowledge enter her head. But, unlike the usual sarcastic prattle, there was a fast mechanical simplicity to it.

Web Spinning lv. 4 --> lv. 6

Webbing Instinct lv. 2 --> lv. 3

She looked around. Nothing moved, only endless shadows and roots. It felt suspicious for the announcer to drop its ridicule, like an attack could come at any moment, but nothing happened.

Icid calmed a little and considered the info. She had only gotten skill levels, nothing very useful. Her Arachne level capped, so she was not going to get new skills in that field anymore. All out brawls were not going to raise the Thief skill either.

She cursed softly. If she continued like this she was going to stagnate. She needed a soul skill, an alternative to her regular methods of combat. She needed magic.

Icid dug through her memories, attempting to remember what options existed. Of all systems in Aard, the magic system was the most obtuse. This was to be expected as the act of doing magic has no equivalent in the real world. The forums said to be like a six sense, moving phantom limbs. Not unlike how she knew to walk on eight legs or spinning thread, Icid guessed.

She attempted to probe with her mind as she moved. Like a child attempting to bend a spoon, force without force, strain without contact. She tried to telepathically lob stray rocks or ignite the loose wood, but nothing happened. No resistance, no signals, no feedback, nothing.

Then Rowan halted. Icid listened in alarm. Soft creaks, those of bending leather and rustling fabrics sounded in the distance. Rowan made a couple of hand gestures, sending Icid to go prowl around on the ceiling.

Hiding in the shadows they put out their lamps. Icid held her breath in the opaque dark. Slowly her sight adjusted to the dark, causing her to notice the blueish glow she had missed in the light of her lamp. The view was poor, but still clear enough discern the walls from open space.

Rowan took the lead, moving between cover and shadow. As they prowled the glow became stronger, seeming to wrap around the roots like a fluid more than light. The roots became thicker and sparser, expanding the view. They halted again, listening for more rustling.

Nothing, only silence.

Rowan made a gesture in front of her rump.

Stay put.

Icid understood in an instant and connected a thread to the ceiling as quietly as possible. Then Rowan moved forward, peering around the larger sets of roots.

Right on the beat, they emerged from the shadows. Green and in ragged clothes, noses bulbous and knives drawn.

Goblins.

Icid put her feet onto the line and lowered herself behind the pair. She reached for her dagger, but stopped.

The bare green neck of the closest creature was visible under the weak glow. She hesitated, should she a stab with a novice dagger, or tearing his throat apart with her fangs…

It would be disgusting, animalistic, feral… but optimal, true to this world nature.

Just another attack, the better skill, nothing weird about it at all. Yeah, just pick the one with better numbers, right?

She bared her fangs, and bit. Venom rushed, and veins tore apart. The goblin scarcely managed scream before the soft flesh of his throat tore into pieces. Warmth spread through Icid’s body, the strange delight of feeling the body go limp and lifeless. Hot blood flowed into her mouth, both sweet and savoury.

The other goblin turned, ready to leap, but there was no need to release her prey. His eyes flared up in shock as Rowan’s blade struck the instant he moved. More blood splattered on the ground, and the second goblin fell.

Icid head buzzed with a strange harmony, like the song, but a different sound. Melodic and simple, the sounds of nature going its course. She felt the worms crawl in the earth, the bugs skittering in the branches and the rodents gnawing at the roots.

It was a wholesome feeling, a feeling of belonging. Icid sat in silence for a while with the goblin still dangling from her mouth while Rowan stared. The adrenaline faded and her mind came back to earth.

Her eyes moved to stare into Rowan’s and she snapped back out of her trance. The whole thing felt a lot less sensible now that the heat of combat had passed. Monstrous even, in a way.

She dropped the goblin, causing it to fall to into its own blood with a wet thud. Rowan tiled her head and spoke with a strange tone.

“Do you find that… fun?”

Icid tilted all her eyes away, avoiding her gaze.

“I don’t-

I-it just kind of happens. I guess it feels good, in a way. Powerful, dominant, frightening…”

Another moment of silence fell. Shame and embarrassment mixed into a horrifying cocktail of self-doubt. Icid opened her mouth to speak again, but the words seem to come out all garbled.

“I-I won’t, don’t - ehhh. I know, know but- uhmm.”

“It does not matter, Icid.”

Rowan threw her arms wide, like she asked the world to look at her.

“You might even be doing things just right.

I used to be a thief, a criminal and a crook in a world where those things are seen as vile. That is why it worked, because of the inherent lies of society. Cheaters don’t prosper, crime does not pay and countless other idioms.

All of them lies.

Being the bad guy pays and cheaters win big. But society needs those lies to be believed, or else everything will collapse. The world cannot consist only of crooks. It cannot even survive consisting partially of crooks. It needs a hundred, maybe even a thousand sheep for every wolf, otherwise there will be nothing left to steal.

And this world most likely is not much different. Icid, for the better or worse, you take quite a delight in your animalistic impulses. That just is, you cannot change that.

The question is, what do you do with that impulse?

Do you suppress it, or learn to control it?

It might even be exactly what we need right now.”

Icid stared back, blood dripping from her chin.

“Nope, not going there, thank you very much. Let someone else be the psychopath. I don’t want any of this. It was a mistake, a spur of the moment thing. Nothing weird, all completely reasonable. Only fear, that’s all.

I am not doing that again, just not, ok?”

Rowan let out a deep sigh but did not make any further comments. She ruffled through the goblins belongings. Out came rope, regen pots, some food, but nothing of interest and set forth into the blueish glow.

Icid trailed behind, rattling an endless stream of excuses why her biting thing is a one-off incident. Well, two off if you count the time she bit the detective, or three off if you count when she almost bit Revvel. The more she talked against the silent Rowan, the more of a mess her excuses became. After a while she gave up and followed quietly.

They were now walking around an enormous hole from which the blue glow seemed to emanate. Thick flows of aard leaked from the ceiling into the debts below.

“You hear that?” Rowan asked.

Icid closed her eyes and listened.

“Panicked voices, a couple of them.” She concluded.

“Not just voices, Jack and the others. About two floors down, I think.”

Rowan hopped on Icid’s back. Icid was about to start her climb down when Rowan ran her arms under her shoulders and folded them behind her neck. A memory of her first night of combat training in the dustbuck drawn cart bubbled to the surface. Then Rowan started whispering into her ear with, the tone that reminded her of a purring cat.

“Don’t forget the promises you made when I took you as my apprentice, Icid. I told you there would be murder, suffering and blood. That we would both receive and deal it. You accepted those terms wholeheartedly that day. Do not forget that.”

Icid shuddered, but did not respond. Then she set off with speed down the steep wall.

Bob slammed his weight into the approaching horde of goblins. The path was too wide, he knew it. They had hoped for a choke point, but the attackers had caught up before they could find one.

“Firebolt at point black!” Rid yelled.

Bob ducked in the nick of time as an explosion slammed into the pile. His eyes burned as the ash and smoke flooded into his visor.

Then he felt the weight of the stack move. He made a wild swing with his sword to his left. Even with his eyes blinded the piercing scream made it clear that he had struck his mark. As he pulled back his blade, arrows whistled past his ear.

“Leak on the left.” Revvel roared.

He cursed and forced open his eyes. Many goblins lay charred, but countless more streamed in to replace their number. They rushed both sides tirelessly, hoping to get them surrounded.

Why were there so many? It was like someone had driven all of them out of their nest and onto the surface.

Jack jumped into the left flank with his rapier, but the space was too wide for two close quarter combatants. Bob made another swing on his left. One goblin fell, three others jumped over his corpse and took the flank.

This was it then, slaughtered by a pack of tier 1 goblins in a noob dungeon. He would lose most of his levels, the system would randomize his character and his armour would fall into the depths below.

Would he still be able to provide for his family? What would they pay the bills with while he attempted to regain his levels and equipment?

Rid screamed something and an ice lance hit two of the leaked goblins. Pointless, six or seven more jumped in the instant they fell. They rushed past, ignoring the melee line and going straight for the squishy dps layer.

Revvel held her bow out in front of her, attempting to shield herself from the swords. Then suddenly the attackers sunk through their knees and tumbled into the depths below.

Daggers flew at stunning speed, piecing arteries and air-pipes left and right. Three goblins turned and dashed toward their new assailant. Screeching like frenzied badgers as they rose their blades high and-

Boff- long legs shot out from the dark chasm and threw them off their feed. Before they even hit the ground Rowan roared “[Blast leap]” and kicked them down the depths with shocking force.

“By the mites, you are late!” Jack roared.

“Love you too.” Rowan replied.

Then another wave of goblins clashed against and over Bob’s great shield.

“Shut up you two and plug the holes!” He yelled.

Rowan jumped in and Icid moved along the chasm wall. She hacked away at ankles for a while, but it did not take long for the goblins to start avoiding the edge. Then she gave up trying to be smart and jumped into the fray.

Blood flowed buckets at a time as blades stabbed, arrows flew and flames exploded. After a while, everything blurred together into a haze of red frenzy. Blades sunk into goblins, goblin teeth sunk into Icid. At some point, she seemed to no longer have a blade at all.

Somewhere she heard herself whisper the words [Fury], but all of it seemed so far away. This time she could feel it. Inside the flow of blood, inside the drizzling aard, inside the scurrying critters and inside fragile hearts.

The illusive phantom limb, the stray arm of the sixth sense, the crystallisation of life, the magic itself. It rustled with many sounds: foreign and dissonant sound like those in Rid’s staff, strange but pleasant sounds like Rowan’s eyes and the thrilling pulse of the blood.

It was a new but familiar song, echoing the notes of her spider’s stalk and the comfort of her webs. Something instinctual, something feral, the primal magic of beasts. Then, only half aware, she bared her fangs.