Warm.That was the first feeling.
Not light. Not thought. Just warmth.
The kind that melts through bone.If I still had bones.
Wrapped inside the silk I'd spun, every sound was dulled — like snowfall, or an old blanket drawn over the head. I couldn't see. Couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
And yet... I dreamed.
Not like human dreams. No memories played. No voices of people I loved.
Only impressions.
Tastes.
Hunger.
The Spring of Leaves blurred around me like paint on wet paper. Shapes bent. Time twisted.
Then came the first voice.
A whisper.
Soft. Dry. Curious.
"You are not one of mine… yet you chew as if you were."
I saw nothing.But a thread shimmered in the darkness — red, trembling, ancient.
It coiled around me. Tested my silk. Tasted it.
"Silk from a newborn. But you wove shelter, not a trap."
A pause.
Then amusement.
"Strange little morsel."
I wanted to respond, but I had no mouth.
Only a sense of being chewed on in reverse — as though something ancient was digesting my presence.
"You bit me, didn't you? Even in death, I taste good."
My cocoon pulsed.My mind reeled.
"I was once Gluttony. I devoured gods. Spun hunger into silk. And now… I rot."
A weight settled on me.
Her.
The spider goddess.
Arachnia.
I didn't know how I knew the name, but it shivered through my thread.
"But you… you preserved my thread. You let me taste mana again."
Something brushed against me — many legs, too soft, too long.
"Sleep well, little larva. The first dream belongs to me."
A vision came.
A web, stretched across a sky of purple moons.
Dragons entangled. Gods bound. Mortals caught like flies.
And at the center, a woman.
No — a spider. A queen. Fangs bared. Laughing as she spun a cloak from galaxies.
Then… silence.
Her voice returned, fainter now:
"When you awaken… eat again."
"Feed the thread."
"And perhaps… I shall wear you next."
The cocoon shuddered.The thread snapped.
And I… woke.
The silk split.
Not with sound, but with sensation — like wet paper tearing, like skin shedding itself. I didn't force my way out. The cocoon opened for me. A seam parted down the side, and light trickled in — blue, soft, familiar.
The Spring of Leaves still glowed outside.
My apartment-nest still stood.
The water groove still flowed beside it.
But I was different.
[Molting Complete.]
[You have evolved.]
My body felt lighter, yet denser. My segments had reformed — sleeker now, less gelatinous, more structured. A thin lattice of soft chitin curved over each section like armor made of lacquered bone. My mandibles clicked — longer, more precise. My silk nozzles twitched in response to thought.
I looked down.
I had tiny claws.
Not much. Just faint hooks beneath my front feelers — enough to grip, to shape, to climb.
[Race: Larva → Threadling]
[Class: None]
[New Trait: Silk Manipulation – Adaptive]
[Skill Progression Unlocked: Crafting | Threadcasting | Terrain Weaving]
My eyes — yes, eyes now — adjusted.
Not the beady clusters of a bug. Not dull or many. Just two. Large. Forward-facing. Smooth, glossy, almost human in shape — if not yet in expression.
They weren't brown or black or blue, but something in between — like polished onyx laced with faint silver veins. They shimmered in the dungeon's blue light, catching every flicker, every breath of movement.
I can see.
For the first time… I can really see.
Light. Depth. Motion.
Even mana — flickering through the world like drifting threads.
And somehow, those eyes didn't feel alien.
They felt like mine.
And more importantly—
I could see the threads.
Not all of them. Just faint outlines — like veins of glowing hairline cracks in the stone, in the moss, in the roots. Mana threads. The remnants of magic long-forgotten, stitched through the world like spiderwebs across an abandoned cathedral.
My silk itched in response.
I stood still for a while, absorbing it.
Breathing.
Being.
Then I crawled out of the cocoon and returned to my "apartment."
Still intact.
The moss-bed was dry but soft. The mirror-stone still leaned at an angle, cracked by my last molting twitch. The noren silk-door fluttered when I passed through it.
And I laughed.
Not aloud. Not with a mouth.
But inside.
I'm a threadling now.Still small. Still squishy. But not helpless.
I flexed my silk.
A line shot forward, anchored against a rock.I twitched, reeled, pulled — and launched myself upward.
[Skill Gained: Silk Grapple Lv.1]
I landed atop the flat stone of my roof.
The spring spread below me like a glowing lung, breathing blue. The water shimmered. The carcass of the Sentinel still slumped in the corner of its alcove — drained, but somehow more peaceful now.
I stared at it.
And I remembered.
The voice in the dark.
The ancient amusement.
The goddess I'd bitten by accident.
"Feed the thread."
I didn't know what that meant.
But I had an idea.
And for the first time, I felt something beyond hunger.
I felt curious.
[New Evolution Path Progressed: Hollow Weaver – 2.8%]
[System Note: Thread Memory Activated]
[Next Evolution Available At: 25% Threshold]
[Current Objective: Feed. Weave. Descend.]
I slithered back into my den.
Time to rest.
Tomorrow, I crawl deeper.
But tonight?
Tonight… this larva sleeps like a king.
The silk of my den held the warmth well.Moss under my belly, smooth stone behind my back, and the water groove trickling like a lullaby.
I'd never had a bed this nice in Tokyo.
Not really.
Rented rooms. Fluorescent buzz. Thin futons on harder floors. My bones always ached by morning, back then.
But here?
Here, I lay wrapped in thread I spun myself, in a home I built with my mandibles, overlooking a glowing spring in the heart of the world.
And I smiled.
Not because I was proud.Not because I was powerful.
But because — for the first time — I felt free.
No superior barking over paperwork.No phone ringing from a government office.
No cancer gnawing my bones.
Just hunger.
And even that, I could tame.
Is this what kings feel like?
A laugh stirred in my gut. A strange, twitching sound.
I wasn't royalty. I was still barely more than a grub.But this space — this little stone burrow woven in silk and memory — it was mine.
I closed my eyes.
I remembered Tokyo again.
The train rides. The curry bread.
The city lights reflected in rainy pavement.
And then…I remembered the children.
The ones who smiled when I brought them oranges.
The old man who offered me tea, even when his kitchen was empty.
The girl who asked me once, "Will we ever have our own house?"
I didn't answer then.
But maybe now…
Just maybe…
I'll build them one.
[Status: Resting]
[Recovery Rate Boosted]
[Silk Nest Registered: Temporary Base of Operations]
[Passive Ability Unlocked: Thread Resonance Lv.1]
[Thread Resonance: You can sense disturbances or movement through your silk structures within 10 meters.]
Time passed.
Maybe hours. Maybe longer.
In the dark, the dungeon shifted. Water dripped. Distant echoes curled like whispers across the stone.
But my silk did not stir.
Nothing approached.
I stirred.
The threads beneath me trembled — faintly, like a string drawn across a distant drum.Not from the spring.Not from the water.
From below.
[Thread Resonance: Disturbance Detected. Proximity – 8.3m]
[Direction: Burrowing Upward]
My eyes flicked open.
The den was quiet. The moss glowed faintly. The silk walls rustled gently, brushing the stone like breath.
But my threads twitched. The ones I had spun through the moss. The ones woven behind the mirror rock. The ones I didn't even realize I'd laid out like tripwire across the burrow's floor.
Something was coming.
And not just crawling.
It was digging.
So the dungeon sends another guest, eh?
I uncoiled slowly. Carefully. I touched the nearest silk anchor and reached out with my senses — like a spider feeling tremors on its web.
He was big.
Segmented. Heavy.Each movement was a thud in the thread.
And I knew that rhythm.
Centipede.
The same one?
Maybe.
Or maybe just another of its kind — but I remembered that scent. That weight. That sound.
It had chased me when I was blind.
It had crunched larvae like they were crumbs.
I had run, then.
But not today.
I spun silk.
Quick. Quiet.
A net beneath the moss. A sticky curve over the side entrance. Two anchor lines drawn across the roof like harp strings.
Then I waited.
The moment stretched.
Dust stirred from the wall.
Then—
Crack.
Stone burst.
A long, armored head punched through the tunnel — eyes wide, black, mindless. Fangs dripping with slime. A hundred legs bristling behind it. Its antennae twitched, tasting the air.
It paused.
And I moved.
I bit the silk on the roofline — snapped it clean — and the anchored stone dropped like a hammer.
CRUNCH.
[Crushing Damage Inflicted: Minor Skull Fracture]
[Target: Lesser Dungeon Centipede (Juvenile)]
[Status: Stunned]
The creature squealed. Its legs flailed.
I launched forward, mandibles open, silk trailing behind me like a comet-tail.
It shrieked and lunged—But my trap-line caught it.
The net pulled taut — its middle legs bound. Its momentum snapped sideways.
I landed on its back.
And I bit down.
Hard.
[Chitin Integrity: Fractured. Ingestion Approved.]
[Skill Gained: Acid Gland Resistance Lv.1]
[Skill Gained: Mandible Pressure Lv.2]
[Unique Effect: Hunger – Centipede Flesh Analyzed]
[Processing… Nutrient Value: Low, Material Density: Medium]
Still tastes awful.
I bit again anyway.Its screeches turned to spasms.
Then silence.
The centipede twitched once more… then fell still.
Its blood dripped onto the stone — dark, sticky, bitter with bile.
I stood atop its back.Breathing.Watching the threads settle.
The dungeon remembered me. So I returned the favor.
[Prey Defeated: First Solo Kill Achieved]
[Predator Instinct Awakens: 1%]
[Hunger Increased: Evolution Threshold +5%]
[Current Hollow Weaver Path: 7.8%]
I dragged its carcass into the edge of the den. I'd use it for parts. For silk practice. Maybe even armor layering.
For now?
I coiled up again — not to rest. Not to hide.
Just to watch.
Because the moment the dungeon sent its next test...
I'd be ready.