30. Close Fight (Patreon)

Luke crouched low against the uneven, sticky rock of the cavern floor, his breathing slow, steady. The scent of blood, rot, and old silk clung to the air like humidity before a storm.

His sharp gaze swept over the scene before him.

Seven.

Seven guards.

Elite Spiders.

These were the Queen’s personal guards.

Living walls of armor and death stationed around her throne like grotesque statues — except they weren’t still. Far from it. They shifted. Twitched. Moved in unsettling patterns. Limbs scraped against stone. Jaws clicked and flexed, tasting the air for signs of intruders.

Each one big enough to crush a man beneath its weight. Their grotesque bodies twitched and shifted restlessly, armored limbs stabbing into the cavern floor with dull, scraping sounds.

Luke's jaw clenched.

He’d known this wasn’t going to be easy.

Everything about this dungeon had been leading to this moment. Every tunnel, every ambush, every fight — all of it had been one long gauntlet, bleeding his stamina, testing his limits.

But standing here, seeing them in person, he couldn’t deny a faint chill working its way down his spine.

He reached down without looking, feeling the reassuring cool weight of his Titanfang Repeater. At his back, Szeth was unnervingly still — coils wound so tight he looked like a carved statue of silver-black steel.

Luke spoke without turning his head.

"Seven guards," He muttered under his breath, voice low, calm. "Big. Tough. Mean-looking. Probably not that bright."

Szeth’s tongue flicked out enthusiastically. After all the time they had spent together, Luke knew what it meant.

That was his version of a grin.

Luke's lips quirked upward for the briefest moment.

“The plan isn’t that complicated,” Luke said quietly. “I’ll take the right. You take left.”

A low hum of agreement echoed in his mind — not words exactly, but the unmistakable pulse of hunger.

A faint ripple of amusement brushed against Luke’s mind — not words, not quite — but the mental equivalent of a hungry grin.

Szeth didn’t just want to fight.

Szeth wanted to hunt.

Luke exhaled slowly.

Then let’s give him a hunt.

His feet moved in absolute silence, steps landing only on safe stone. No web. No loose gravel. Every inch of this cavern was a deathtrap, but Luke had learned long ago — patience kills better than bullets.

He reached the first target.

The Elite Spider scraped its forelimbs together, producing a faint rasping sound — the spider equivalent of boredom. Its bulk blocked part of the tunnel leading toward the Queen's throne of bones. Getting past it was non-negotiable.

Luke’s finger ghosted over the Titanfang Repeater’s trigger.

Skill: Lock On activated.

The faint shimmer marked the weak point in its right forelimb joint — just above the hardened plating where flexibility was necessary.

Bang.

The shot ripped through chitin like paper. The leg cracked, buckled. The spider staggered in confusion, letting out a low, guttural screech — too late.

Bang.

The second shot drilled through its head cluster. Clean. Efficient. The body twitched once before collapsing heavily to the ground.

Luke was already moving.

Across the cavern, Szeth struck like lightning given shape.

One moment, the leftmost guard was alone.

The next?

A blur of metallic coils looped silently around its body, driving crystalline tail-hooks deep into vulnerable underbelly flesh. No screech. No warning. Just a violent constriction that forced internal fluids to explode outward like overripe fruit crushed in a fist.

The corpse dropped without ceremony.

Two down.

Luke didn’t slow.

The second spider on his side had turned toward the noise — too slow, too linear. These things weren’t used to prey fighting back.

Skill: Double Round activated.

Bang. Bang.

Two shots in quick succession — the first mangling another leg joint, the second punching through an exposed eye socket. The spider jerked back, limbs flailing wildly as it crumpled sideways.

A third one barreled toward him in a frenzy, mandibles wide.

Luke holstered the Repeater without missing a step, drawing his Enhanced Flintlock in a smooth, practiced motion.

Skill: Explosive Bullet activated.

He didn’t aim for the creature.

He aimed under it.

Bang.

The bullet buried itself into the stone floor just as the spider lunged.

BOOM.

The resulting explosion wasn’t massive — controlled, tight, but powerful enough to lift the spider off its legs mid-lunge and slam it sideways into a jagged rock outcropping. The sound of its exoskeleton cracking was like a stone slab being split in half.

Szeth was already handling his next opponent, twisting through the air like a whip made of metal and death. He crashed into the fourth guard, wrapping tightly around its thorax before squeezing — hard.

Bones popped.

Armor cracked.

Blood sprayed.

Another corpse hit the ground.

“Four down,” Luke murmured under his breath.

Szeth flicked his tail, shattering the remains of his victim’s skull.

“Three to go,” Luke corrected himself, seeing two more guards moving in — their speed increasing now, no longer patrolling, but actively hunting.

Luke’s lips curled upward.

Finally.

Movement.

Chaos.

Something he could work with.

The fifth spider scuttled forward aggressively, screeching loud enough to shake loose dust from the cavern ceiling.

Luke didn’t blink. He switched back to his Titanfang Repeater.

Skill: Leap activated.

Mana covered his legs before launching him upward in a powerful burst, clearing the lunging spider entirely. Mid-air, he spun — lining up the Repeater.

Bang.

The bullet caught the spider’s central eye dead-on, staggering it backward.

He landed in a crouch.

A second spider barreled in behind him — jaws wide.

But Szeth was already there.

A blur of coils. A violent twist.

The spider’s head spun a full ninety degrees before something inside snapped with a wet pop.

It dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

Six down.

One left.

Luke stepped forward, boots grinding over bone and broken stone, the stench of gunpowder and ichor hanging thick in the stagnant air. The bodies of the Obsidion Broodmother's elite guards littered the crater floor — grotesque, twitching husks of armor and torn limbs.

Only one remained.

The last of her royal guard — an obsidian-plated brute with jagged horns and twitching spinnerets — screeched its rage and charged him like a bull.

Luke didn't flinch.

His right hand tightened around the worn grip of the Titanfang Repeater, its barrel still faintly smoking. He’d already spent two rounds— four left in the chamber.

More than enough.

The spider-guard lunged.

Luke sidestepped, swift and low, his left boot skidding over the crater dust. The monster’s claw raked past his face, close enough for him to feel the wind shear.

Bang.

He snapped a shot straight into its lower joint — the Titan Bullet punching through armor like rotted bark. The beast faltered.

Bang.

Another shot, center mass, just as it reared.

The guard crumpled — not clean, not pretty — but dead.

Luke exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulder, sweat dripping down his jaw.

Silence.

But Luke's gaze was already lifted — to her.

The true threat.

[The Obsidian Broodmother]

Mini-Boss Monster

The Obsidion Broodmother shifted atop her throne of bones, eight jointed limbs clicking against stone as her obsidian-black carapace gleamed under the purple crystal light of the cavern. Her many red eyes locked onto Luke in silence — unblinking, hateful.

For the first time since entering the Spider Cave, Luke felt something heavier than fear settle in his gut.

This… wasn’t like the other spiders.

This wasn’t just a beast.

This was a boss.

And it was built to kill people like him.

Szeth’s scaled body tensed beside him, silver-black armor flexing like metal cables drawn tight. The Ironclad Serpent made no sound, but his coiled posture mirrored Luke’s own instincts.

This is gonna be bad.

The Queen moved first.

Her body vanished in a sudden burst of unnatural speed, kicking up bone dust from her throne. Luke barely twisted to the side as a hooked limb cleaved down where his head had been — the cratered stone beneath him cracked and crumbled like brittle glass.

“Fast—”

He didn’t have time to think.

Luke dove back, Titanfang Repeater snapping up in his hands.

Bang!

The shot hit clean into her side, Titan Bullet smashing into the carapace — and bouncing off with barely a dent.

His eyes narrowed.

She wasn’t just fast.

Her defense was absurd.

Luke’s crystalline blue eyes glinted sharply.

"Lock On. Titan’s Barrage."

A faint gleam marked one of the Broodmother’s exposed joints near her neck — thinner, vulnerable.

But she was already moving again.

The Queen lunged — her long limbs stabbing into the ground and pulling her like a spider from hell. Stone split in her wake. She twisted unnaturally, abdomen curling forward — and then spat a glob of sickly green acid that hissed through the air.

Luke’s body moved before thought.

Leap.

A sharp burst of wind at his feet launched him upwards, narrowly avoiding the acid splattering beneath him. The stone it touched melted instantly.

Szeth exploded into motion beneath him.

"Ichor Discharge."

A venomous red fog burst from Szeth’s body, flooding the crater like rolling smoke. The Queen screeched — high and metallic — as the fog clung to her limbs, slowing her movements, stripping her defenses.

Luke landed roughly, boots skidding back.

"Double Round."

He fired again at the Lock On mark.

Bang! Bang!

The first Titan Bullet smashed through her joint — spider ichor sprayed from the rupture — and the second shot slammed deeper into the wound, forcing a screech of agony from the Broodmother as one of her legs buckled.

But even wounded… she didn’t stop.

In the next heartbeat, she shrieked — a pulse of energy rippling outward.

Skill — Broodmother’s Call.

The bones scattered around the crater trembled — twitching — before rising as skeletal spider limbs burst from beneath them. Fragmented bone constructs erupted into being, skittering toward Luke and Szeth.

A dirty trick.

Luke’s jaw clenched.

No choice.

He holstered the Titanfang — switching smoothly to his Enhanced Flintlock.

Skill — Explosive Bullet.

The next shot glowed faintly orange as he aimed dead center of the bone constructs.

Bang!

The explosion ripped through them like thunder, bones scattering as the AoE impact cleared a space between him and the Broodmother.

But she was already closing in.

A claw caught him across the side — even with a desperate roll, the tip raked across his ribs, shredding leather and tearing skin. White-hot pain flared in his nerves as blood splattered the ground.

He hissed through gritted teeth.

Szeth coiled upward like a silver lance.

"Wrap Up."

The Ironclad Serpent slammed into the Broodmother’s wounded leg, body whipping around it like a vice. With a brutal twist in his Weighted form, Szeth snapped the already-damaged limb at the joint, breaking it in half with a sickening crack.

The Queen’s shriek turned wild — her balance staggered.

But even crippled, her abdomen curled once more.

Skill — Venom Burst.

Her swollen underbelly detonated in a hail of poisoned spines, blanketing the crater in deadly projectiles.

Luke barely threw himself behind a jagged boulder, but a spine still caught him along the thigh — tearing a vicious line through flesh.

His breathing grew harsh.

Blood soaked down his leg. His side burned. He was losing strength.

But his eyes never wavered.

Only one bullet left in Titanfang’s chamber.

He stepped out from cover, Titanfang in hand, and aimed directly at her head — the Lock On mark still glowing faintly at the thin plate between her clustered eyes.

This was it.

The Queen lunged.

Luke’s finger squeezed the trigger.

Bang.

The final Titan Bullet punched through the weakened chitin like a hammer from the heavens, shattering the segment and burrowing deep into her skull.

For the first time, the Broodmother faltered.

Szeth didn’t hesitate.

The Ironclad Serpent whipped upward — jaws splitting wide — and Bit directly into the ruined gap of her head. His venom flooded in, corroding flesh and rupturing what little resistance remained.

The Queen twitched once.

Twice.

Then collapsed — her mountainous body crashing down into the crater floor.

Silence.

For a long second… Luke stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping steadily down his side and leg.

The Obsidion Broodmother didn’t move again.

Slowly — impossibly — her massive corpse began to crumble. Her body — along with the remains of her Spider Guards — dissolved into fine black ash, scattering upward like dust caught in moonlight.

And in the middle of the crater, where her throne had stood, a radiant pile of loot shimmered into existence.

One after another — system notifications flared across Luke’s vision.