Tales of the Endless Empire
Chapter 195: Only a Dead Spider is a Good Spider

Thalion shot through the jungle faster than ever before. Wherever he went, the light dimmed, and the shadows stretched, growing darker and longer. It was as if most of the surrounding light was filtered away, leaving a constant shroud of darkness lingering around him. It didn’t affect him in the slightest, but he had no doubt that it made him significantly harder to spot. He could amplify this effect even further if he wished, but there was no need for that now.

As he moved, he sensed the presence of numerous beasts, yet none were strong enough to warrant testing his abilities on them. Besides, they, too, deserved the chance to evolve. The horses had already proven that beasts could gain intelligence if given enough time. Not that he would hesitate to kill them if they were powerful—strength was the only thing that mattered in this new world. However, there was no point in slaughtering the weak when he had nothing to gain from it.

While sprinting through the dense forest, he received multiple messages from Maike and Kaldrek regarding their progress. So far, they hadn’t encountered any vampires or particularly strong undead. However, one of the teams had come across undead beasts, their skin and mouths exuding a sinister red mist. It wouldn’t be long before they clashed with the vampires if such creatures were already appearing—despite being on the fifth stage for barely an hour.

A good thing, then, that Thalion had just found his first prey.

Had it not been for his passive skill, he might have run straight past them. As he turned sharply to the right, he realized that it wasn’t just a single creature—it was an entire nest of spiders. Their webs stretched between the trees, forming a nearly invisible death trap.

Perhaps he would have noticed them without his passive skill, but certainly much later than this. The spiders he sensed were likely not even the strongest ones present. He recalled reading about certain small spiders that lived in massive, communal webs spanning several meters between trees.

What lay before him now, however, was something far worse—a nightmare for anyone with arachnophobia.

Thalion slowed his pace, his gaze locking onto the colossal web stretched across the jungle. It spanned hundreds of meters, anchored to multiple trees in every direction. Unlike the classic circular spiderwebs people were familiar with, this one was chaotic, its silk strands covering the area like a thick, tangled net.

And within it lurked its masters.

The spiders were far from small. The largest among them had legs stretching nearly three meters in length, their hulking forms hanging ominously in the web. Dozens of them skittered between the silk strands, waiting for their next prey to fall into their grasp.

Yeah… no one would mind if he massacred these things.

Thalion exhaled slowly and began to awaken the power hidden within him. The elemental core pulsed, sending an intoxicating surge of energy through his body. Within an instant, the jungle around him darkened—an unnatural night settling over a thirty-meter radius. Shadows deepened, stretching unnaturally, as if they themselves were alive.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his piercing gaze fixed on the creatures above.

Even with his overwhelming strength and the corrosive properties of his abyssal tendrils, he wasn’t about to fight inside that web. The exact properties of the spider silk were unknown, and he had no desire to get tangled in it. This was the perfect opportunity to test how much destruction he could unleash from a distance.

The elemental within him grew increasingly eager, feeding off his intent—his conviction to eradicate these vermin.

The darkness around him thickened further. Then, in an instant, Thalion struck.

He activated Umbral Spire, and a heartbeat later, a jagged black spike materialized in the shadows surrounding him. With a thought, it shot forward, slicing through the air at terrifying speed.

The nearest spider had no chance.

The spire impaled the creature effortlessly, piercing straight through its hardened exoskeleton as if it were made of paper. A sickening crack echoed through the jungle as its chitinous armor splintered. A moment later, a shrill, agonized screech followed, reverberating through the trees.

The creature convulsed, losing its grip on the web as it plummeted downward.

A gaping hole, filled with writhing black energy, had been torn through its midsection—slowly consuming what remained of its body.

You have slain Anelothis Eximara Level 82

Thalion smirked. Anelothis Eximara? Sounds almost Latin.

Without wasting a second, he fired another spike at a spider to his right. The result was the same—the beast had no time to react before it was reduced to a lifeless husk, its remains hanging limply in the web.

The other spiders did not take kindly to this slaughter.

The massive web came alive with frenzied movement as dozens of spiders scurried in all directions, searching for the culprit. Some rushed upward, others darted along the silk strands, their many eyes scanning for any sign of their unseen predator.

It was amusing, really.

They likely couldn’t see him within his shadowed shroud, yet they failed to notice that their entire surroundings had darkened unnaturally. Perhaps their eyes weren’t suited to perceiving such distortions? It was difficult to say—there had been too many changes after the system’s integration to make any assumptions.

Not that it mattered.

Thalion continued his assault, unleashing spike after spike, each one impaling another spider. It was excellent training—his targets moved quickly, forcing him to sharpen his precision with every shot.

One by one, the spiders fell.

And Thalion grinned, reveling in the slaughter.

The spiders didn’t spare a single glance at their fallen kin. Instead, they scurried frantically across the web, searching for the unseen attacker. Thalion found it intriguing—these weren’t the kind of spiders that lay in wait, motionless, for prey to stumble into their trap. No, these were hunters, creatures designed to chase and subdue their victims themselves. Their chitinous armor gleamed under the dim light, a testament to its durability, and their speed was nothing short of exceptional. Thalion had yet to witness their venom in action, but he had no doubt that it was equally lethal.

Not that it would make a difference.

Spike after spike erupted from the darkness at his command, impaling the creatures with merciless precision. One well-placed strike was all it took to kill a spider instantly, but they weren’t even trying to dodge. Their single-minded focus on finding him turned them into perfect targets.

Another factor worked in his favor—Eclipsar’s Intuition. It was more than just heightened perception; he could feel the movements of the spiders before they even made them. It made him a nightmare to fight, allowing him to predict and counter their every action. But he suspected it wasn’t just the passive skill at work. His title—a ridiculously overpowered one—granted a similar ability, likely amplifying the effect.

By the time the spiders adjusted their strategy, eleven of them lay dead on the ground.

Then, all at once, they abandoned the web.

A flood of chitinous bodies surged outward, descending to the forest floor with eerie coordination. Thalion had underestimated their numbers—even with the commotion in the web, he hadn’t expected this many. And it didn’t take long for the first to find him.

His earlier assumption had been correct. These spiders didn’t merely live in the net; it was a stronghold, a sanctuary they retreated to. But they were just as capable of hunting outside of it.

The first spider spotted him, its many eyes gleaming as it prepared to screech and alert the swarm, only to be impaled mid-motion.

Two jagged spikes of pure darkness shot up from the shadows beneath it, skewering its midsection and abdomen in one swift motion. A sickening crack echoed through the jungle as its exoskeleton split apart.

The noise was enough.

The swarm turned toward him, their bodies twitching in agitation. Not all of them could see him in the gloom, but the smaller, darker spiders reacted instantly, skittering toward him with terrifying speed. The larger ones hesitated, relying on their kin to guide them.

Perfect.

Thalion exhaled slowly, and with that breath, darkness bled from his lips.

A dense, inky mist seeped from his mouth, his skin, the very shadows clinging to the forest floor. The jungle seemed to drown in it, the light vanishing as Umbral Miasma spread like a living thing.

The first spider rushed straight into it.

Thalion sidestepped effortlessly—its speed was impressive, but nowhere near his own. As it lunged past him, he seized one of its legs and ripped. Chitin cracked like brittle glass as the limb tore free from its body.

The force sent it crashing into the ground, its remaining legs bending at unnatural angles. More sickening cracks followed as its armor fractured, and then—

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Smoke.

Thalion’s eyes narrowed as wisps of black vapor curled from the spider’s body. Its exoskeleton was dissolving, devoured by the corrosive darkness.

That… was new.

His brief moment of fascination nearly cost him.

A second spider lunged—its elongated fangs aimed straight for his head.

Thalion reacted instantly. A single swipe of his claws, and the creature was bisected mid-air.

Dark ichor splattered the forest floor as the severed halves collapsed, twitching. The edges of the wounds smoldered, eaten away by his power.

Umbral Miasma wasn’t just a mist—it was breath, like that of a dragon. But instead of fire, it unleashed pure darkness, corroding everything it touched. And it didn’t just desolve—it also weakened.

The spider he had thrown aside was still struggling, its movements sluggish, disoriented. It attempted to rise—only to collapse, its limbs spasming uselessly.

Thalion let out a low chuckle.

Then he stopped breathing.

The mist around him stabilized, lingering in a fifty-meter radius. The spiders that had already entered its reach looked… wrong. Their chitin was smoldering, their once-blinding speed reduced to sluggish, uncoordinated movements. Some had simply collapsed, unable to fight through the sheer lethality of the miasma.

And yet, many still hesitated at the edge, unwilling to step into the abyss.

A mistake.

Thalion spread his fingers, and from the darkness, something stirred.

Black tendrils, thick as his fist, erupted from the shadows, twisting unnaturally. These were no ordinary extensions of his power—Abyssal Devourer had evolved. Before, they had been powerful. Now? They were monstrous. Each tendril pulsed with a dark aura, radiating raw hunger.

They struck like vipers.

The spiders that had collapsed on the ground never stood a chance. The tendrils pierced them effortlessly, sinking deep before yanking backward.

And then—consumption.

At first, it was slow. The spiders twitched as their bodies dissolved into darkness, as if being unraveled from existence itself.

But the moment the first one perished, the process accelerated.

A chain reaction.

One by one, the corpses vanished, reduced to nothingness in mere seconds.

The darkness was devouring them.

Thalion grinned. He had intended to use the absorbed energy for his own body-tempering later, but his fusion with the elemental had disrupted that plan.

The damn thing devoured everything before he could even think about using the darkness.

At some point, he’d have to establish a hierarchy—but that was a problem for another day.

For now?

More death.

With another exhale, a fresh wave of Umbral Miasma poured forth, blanketing the spiders foolish enough to draw near. At the same time, more spikes of darkness shot toward the web above, slaughtering those that had yet to descend.

No reason to hold back.

As the carnage unfolded, the spiders finally broke.

Some still fought, flailing wildly in an attempt to land a hit, only to be caught—ensnared by shadowy roots erupting from the ground, binding them in place like living shackles.

Thalion didn’t even bother dodging anymore. He simply dismantled them, piece by piece.

The battle wasn’t just a massacre.

It was a lesson.

And Thalion?

He was learning fast.

There was simply nothing the spiders could do against him. Even without the oppressive influence of his domain, Thalion doubted they would stand a chance. They were fast, aggressive, and well-armored, but it didn’t matter. He had gained valuable practice controlling multiple shadows at once, weaving them into both offense and defense with growing ease. Some he used to ensnare, others to lash out in precise, merciless strikes. He had also discovered something new—by hardening the tip of a shadow into a claw-like shape, he could infuse it with Shadow Claw, turning each tendril into a lethal extension of himself.

The carnage that followed was nothing short of legendary. The spiders swarmed from all sides, desperate to bring him down, but they never got close. Darkness erupted from the ground like spears, slicing through chitin with terrifying efficiency. Shadowy whips lashed out, severing legs and heads in elegant, fluid arcs. And then there were the four abyssal tendrils—manifestations of Abyssal Devourer—controlled not by him, but by the elemental. Wherever a spider fell, the tendrils descended, wrapping around the corpse like starving serpents before consuming it entirely. Each time, the creature simply ceased to exist, its body dissolving into pure darkness.

By the time the thirtieth spider collapsed, a familiar sensation surged through him.

You have reached Level 75

Level seventy-five. Not bad.

Unlike the usual weaklings he encountered, these spiders weren’t mere cannon fodder. They were vicious, relentless predators and provided a decent amount of experience. Curious, Thalion pulled up his status screen, eager to see how many free points he had gained as Crippled Eclipsari. Instead of free points, he was granted raw stat increases: five in Strength and Dexterity, ten in Intelligence and Wisdom, three in Agility, and—most curiously—two points in Fate.

He raised an eyebrow. Damn, that’s a lot of points for an F-grade.

The power gap between someone with a high-rarity class from the start and a regular fighter must be insane. It made sense why the so-called “Gods’ Chosen” were so terrifying. He’d be shocked if they had anything less than a Legendary class at F-grade.

His gaze lingered on the two points in Fate. What exactly do those do? Would they have some subtle effect over time? He could only hope that, when the time came to evolve into E-grade, he’d be able to keep the rarity of his class. He’d likely need an even higher rarity if he wanted his arm to regrow. His eye, though… that was another story. Even now, he could feel the elemental’s presence within the empty socket—a swirling mass of black mist coiled within. Hopefully, it wouldn’t decide to sprout into a third eye. That would look horrible.

Thalion let out a low chuckle before snapping back to reality. The battle wasn’t over yet. His attention flickered to the remaining spiders. They were no longer mindlessly charging at him. Instead, they were retreating—vanishing into the safety of their massive web.

Cowards.

The darkness around him rippled as he shot forward, his domain still cloaking the battlefield. The moment he reached the first strands of silk, he came to a halt. With a slow breath, he exhaled a thick mist of Umbral Miasma, letting it seep into the webbing. The effect… was disappointing. The strands resisted dissolution, stubbornly holding their form despite the corrosive nature of his attack.

Frowning, Thalion switched tactics. The black tendrils of Abyssal Devourer lashed forward, carving through the web with ease. Yet, even then, he sensed something wrong. There was resistance—not physical, but mental. This wasn’t ordinary spider silk. It’s laced with something. It should have disintegrated instantly, and yet it clung to existence, as if fighting back.

Not that it helped. With steady steps, Thalion continued forward, darkness shifting around him like a living entity. The spiders that had hoped to remain hidden were swiftly dispatched, their bodies impaled by spikes of shadow before they could react. Others attempted ambushes, only to be torn apart by the tendrils or trapped by the suffocating blackness that clung to the battlefield.

If it weren’t for this damn web, I’d be done by now. The thought irritated him. The web slowed him down—not enough to endanger him, but just enough to be annoying. Then again, perhaps that was a good thing. This extended battle gave him ample time to test his new form. Who knew how much time he had left before one of his scouts discovered the vampires? Or worse—before they stumbled upon another living faction. That would be a far bigger problem. If Amalia and Jim realized they had options beyond the undead, their entire dynamic could shift. And Thalion didn’t like uncertainty.

His thoughts were interrupted by an unsettling realization. Just how big is this damn web? He had traveled hundreds of meters, and yet the silk still stretched endlessly into the darkness. The spiders, too, had changed their behavior. They no longer attacked. They simply… watched. Keeping their distance. Waiting. Even the elemental was displeased. The web provided little darkness, and it had grown restless from the lack of proper nourishment.

And then—

The web shuddered.

Not a mere tremor. A deep, resonant vibration, pulsing through the strands like a heartbeat.

Thalion froze.

A slow grin crept onto his lips.

There’s something bigger in here.

Anticipation curled in his chest, his blood thrumming with excitement.

And to his delight did the elemental felt the same.