---

Fia didn’t care much about who or whatever Vesemir meant by authorities. Now that their time within the library and vault was finished, she hoped that perhaps the scroll the archaeologist claimed could end the otherwise endless torment that lingered within the forgone city. It alone seemed to be enough to drive the phantoms back as they made their way towards camp. But was it enough? Fia didn’t know.

“I would care if you quelled the suffering that remained.” commented Fia, but offered no other urgency to the matter. It was late, and despite the brave faces many of the others displayed, Fia could tell that fatigue and weariness was weighing down on everyone. Fia herself wasn’t immune, feeling her eye lids grow heavier as the sight of the carriage and fire from the camp was coming into view.

Alas, rest seemed to be put on hold again. While the party was wandering the seas of shadow and discovering the buried treasures within, the camp was not entirely safe from the forgotten wilds of the twilight forest. A single man approached, distraught, and down right inconsolable as he clung to their host’s leg. Nothing in camp seemed amiss besides the workers’ disappearance. Whatever took them didn’t seem to be man or beast. Perhaps the phantom stretched beyond the city limits and pulled them into that illusory realm of past torments.

Fia walked to the crumbling man in a panic. Roxas knelt by the man, invoking some of her magic to help calm him down. Fia moved closer. “It’s alright, dear. You’re not alone anymore. We’ll find the rest.” said Fia, she stood straight and looked towards Forbann, but kept her eye on the man, “Forbann here will keep you safe, won’t you, darling?” With Forbann staying at camp, Fia returned to the group. Vesemir was on the brink of heading out alone, and Gray was right there with him.

“I’ve still half a tank, I’ll help find them.” said Fia. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawned. Then she put her hands together and raised both of her arms into the air, stretching out her whole body trying to stay awake. “I hope we can sleep in the coming morning after this, though. But since we are going to be leaving camp again…”

Fia put her palms together and whispered a few words to herself. She raised her index finger to her left eye and just above the carriage manifest a glossy white sphere with a pupil and red iris. The orb was an exact replica of Fia’s own eye. The face of the eye rotated all around, testing its field of view. “Now I can keep an eye on the camp while we’re gone. We don’t want any more surprises.”

Either Roxas' healing spell soothed the soul as it was to the physical injury, or it was simply the charm of a lovely elven lady, the young porter no longer throwing demented fits anymore, and soon was convinced to rest inside the wagon after someone assured him that his friend will be found.

"I've known Stepan for almost a decade. There is no way I am going to leave him behind!" Declared Vesemir with a sheer resoluteness. He then returned to the group that would conduct the rescue effort.

When the disembodied eyes formed on a vantage point Fia had choosen, Gray couldn't help but be curious. He thought the sorceress had magically dismembered her own eye and had it floating in thin air, but then came the explanation, and that wasn't the case.

"That's a useful spell..." Gray muttered before counting the participants and looked up to the sky, where the Polaris shone. He nodded at Fia's commentary about their delayed resting time, and notified that they still had a few hours until the dawn.

"And, yeah, let us not waste any time."

And so it began another march into the forest. The first trek after they walked past the paved road was anything but dry, likely due to the heavy rain several days ago. It allowed Gray to pick up the missing henchmen's trail immediately, and as far as their sole prints indicate, it seemed all four were drawn together like a herded flock.

The lantern shone ever bright, but it did little to accelerate their speed. The trail was getting a more vague as they took a turn and routed past a giant boulder on the left side of the path. The forest were thicker in this area, and there was a great tree, and before that great tree (that hopefully wasn't another ent) the pathfinder finally stopped, his masked face stared at the bushes nearby, where stains of blood could be seen in its silky leaves.

With great caution, he walked slowly, and as he arrived at the other side of that tree, Gray suddenly unsheathed his eastern sword and placed the lantern on the ground, which revealed strange marks on the soil, akin to something that was made by dozen of poles being stabbed to the ground repeatedly.

"Ready your weapon!" he commanded before kneeling near a silhouette of a man lying on the ground. His coughing and wheezing indicated that this unfortunate poor sod was still alive, but severe wounds on his body and blood-frothed breath didn't make his condition look optimistic. He would not survive without any immediate medical attention.

"I am wrong," said Gray, the direness of this situation seeped out from his emotionless mask. "This is not a work of a phantom, not at all---"

Suddenly a melodious voice sounded in the cold misty air. It felt distant, but also clear at the same time. The ominous singing resonated like magic that halted the flow of time. Like a lullaby sung in unknown language that somewhat felt soothing.

Avea, avea, mont kein, Híris Ingwën...
Im ithen ava heliañ...

♫

Pedir sánë bezañ qualin rhovan
Lyen ket lerta tremen

The singing came from the east.

Even someone as seasoned as Gray Flame was somewhat distracted by the singing, and although the ranger was quick to regather his senses, he did not expect the dying Tretagoran porter to suddenly reach his hand upward and stiffly but surely brought himself to stand.

"Yes, my lady! I will come for you..."

Gray was alerted and retreated from the shambling wounded man, reaching for his eastern sword as his eyes scanned the surrounding darkness. Vesemir was visibly disturbed by the scene and was the first to call that man out and seem to have intended to stop the man.

"Dimitri, where is Stepan? Hey, Dimitri! Where are you going? Someone stop him! Look at all that blood!"

---

Roxas stumbled after them as they moved to follow the trail. She looked up, brows furrowed as she watched a few crowd over a man. Her brows lifted as she promptly watched the man get up and stumble away.

“What the..” She swiftly moved forward, pushing throw Grey and Vesemir before running over to the man. She grabbed her short sword and smacked the poor man’s head with the butt of it. She watched him crumple to the ground, then glared at the group for a moment. She moved back over and laid her hand on his chest and started healing the man. “Be hopeful no one else is this wounded..”

She was letting them know she didn’t have a ton of mana left.

---

Carnatia followed the group to the forest. For a while, there was nothing except the sound of nocturnal animals and the chilly night air. Eventually they encountered one of the missing workers. Wounded, but alive. For a few short moments, Carnatia had the whimsical thought that maybe this would just be a simple rescue mission. Just as Carnatia thought so however, Gray Flame issued a warning before an ominous singing pierced through the night's air, as if trying to prove her wrong.

Avea, avea, mont kein, Híris Ingwën...
Im ithen ava heliañ...

♫

Pedir sánë bezañ qualin rhovan
Lyen ket lerta tremen

As she felt her train of thoughts coming to a halt, replaced by an uneasy feeling of tranquillity, Carnatia realised that this was no mundane singing. And so, just as he had done with the phantoms earlier, Carnatia entered her zen meditation and emptied her mind, attempting to focus on her rapier and immediate surroundings rather than the eerie song.

As she regained her bearings, she noticed the wounded porter suddenly standing up seemingly in a trance.

"Yes, my lady! I will come for you..."

As she thought, the song was no mundane singing. It was magical. A compulsion, perhaps? It clearly affected the porter more than the rest of them, perhaps related to the attack on the camp.

Seeing Roxas managed to subdue the man with little issue, Carnatia turned to Gray Flame.

"You were saying something about this is not the work of phantoms? That would indicate you have an inkling of the entity behind this, yes? Care to elucidate us?"

---

After failing off-load his twin falchion over to someone else, Tillius is now carrying multiple weapons at his disposal now. Truly a multi-wielder he is.

On the usual march that Tillius had grown more than used to at this point, they encountered a badly-injured man. After leaving a silent prayer to the man that Roxas would be able to finish the healing before her mana ran out, the orc readied his spear and shield when the singing start. He didn't understand the language, but the voice was so relaxing it was contagious. While fatigue had yet to creep up onto Tillius, and his muscle memory kept his grip on his weapons firm, he was slowly losing his sense of touch on them.

"Not much that I know about this one." said Gray enigmatically, only to continue before Carnathia furrowed her brows.

"Even the myth about it was never consistent. Some account says 'she' was an elf, captured and mutated by Dagorlad warlocks and transformed into a weapon of war, the other said she was a powerful djinn that inhibited this land even before the elves. Most rangers in my era never raise our blade against that creature, because we know how to avoid its lure."

When Gray saw Roxas spring forth and bash the wounded man with her sword pommel, he followed the healer carefully and positioned himself in front of her. A stream of flame ignited on his blade as he put up a stance to guard the elf.

"A long time ago, we called her the white spider. If memory serves right, she is not supposed to be here. But many things had happened in decades and we never thought a Tretagorian and their fondness for Vodka was a bad mix in this land. Vesemir! Get your lantern here, Master Nanashi, I need you and your sword here with me. Engelbert, guard our rear! Everyone else be on your guard!"

As if trying to deter the resoluteness, the singing continued.

Avea, avea, mont kein, Híris Ingwën
Im ithen ava heliañ
♫
Pedir sén heimnya sánë bezañ míra verian
Adh ithnan nitya seldë

The Master Shinobi used to accompany the elven healer while venturing along with the rest of the active part members. He kept himself with the elven woman until she volunteered proceeding on the wounded stranger for a medical work. He was been watching over when party went became stationary until the seasoned elven called him.

Nanashi proceeded to Gray and scrutinized the situation. Heard the details about the foe in front of them. He clogged his ear in a resourceful way and focus his mind to dangerous foe. He made pose to activate inner demonic ki and slide his finger to the blade, igniting his blade with mysterious aura. He made a stance with his blade, ready to anticipate the mysterious creatures attack with Shukuchi and Perfect Counter.

There was a survivor, though badly hurt and not completely right in the mind. Potential concussion aside, knocking him out was the right thing to do. The last thing they needed was having to chase a deranged porter through the darkness of this accursed forest.

"I carry some healing potions with me, Lady Roxas. For emergency." Engelbert stated from the back of his line, blade held close to his armored shoulder. Tapping into his inner reserve, his awareness spread in a sphere around him as the familiar disconcerting feeling of overlapping perception flooded his senses. Each person in the vicinity "lit" in varying intensity based on their constitution and mana pool, the trees and grasses and various critters taking a dimmer but still distinct shape. And as the sphere expanded...

Im mendë ola mawt kein
Adh im mendë hinnan túlie lyen
Im mendë meinas uta yenā, Im mendë nendur itya seldënya
Im mendë anuir na leyan

"Ah bollocks- It's coming!"

An ethereal figure glided into view above the treeline, an elf pale as porcelain clad in tattered white dress, pristine white hair trailing like wisps of gossamer. She continued that mesmerizing song, its haunting notes echoed through the woods as if a hidden congregation was singing along, waving and beckoning the party to come forward. Come closer. It's such a tantalizing offer, and so reasonable. If one couldn't trust this mysterious singer, then who could be trusted? She's so serene, so peaceful. It couldn't hurt to come along. Just for a short while. Surely no harm could come from that?

---

"Not much that I know about this one." said Gray enigmatically, only to continue before Carnathia furrowed her brows.

"Even the myth about it was never consistent. Some account says 'she' was an elf, captured and mutated by Dagorlad warlocks and transformed into a weapon of war, the other said she was a powerful djinn that inhibited this land even before the elves. Most rangers in my era never raise our blade against that creature, because we know how to avoid its lure."

Carnatia was somewhat surprised that Gray actually was forthright without the need for further prodding. Perhaps her needling had worked, after all. If so, then Carnatia would give herself the proverbial pat on the back. Unfortunately, on the other hand, it seemed that Gray did not have something more concrete than legends. Carnatia supposed that was par the course for this land, but it would be nice to have something more concrete to design a countermeasure against.

Nevertheless, Carnatia drew her blade and kept on guard, as Gray ordered. Not long after, the singing continued, as an ethereal figure glided toward the group, all the while singing its mesmerising song. As she did previously, she emptied her mind, this time focusing on the ethereal figure itself, her mind honed to look at the most vulnerable spot to strike. The song felt as if it was beckoning her to come closer, and so she did, walking slowly as if she were in a trance even as she maintained her zen state, hoping to catch it off guard, trusting her precognition to warn her should the figure realised her deception and moved in to strike. But should Carnatia manage to get close enough within striking range, her magic-enhanced rapier would quickly strike at its vulnerable spots in a burst of flame.

Carnatia walked out, drawn closer to the mesmerizing figure. Never had she seen a woman so perfect before... though, in what way? It's difficult to put into words. The entire being was strange, thick with a jarring sense of inexplicable incogruity, like something was horribly wrong but one couldn't tell what exactly. If only she wasn't overly distracted by the floating elf, she'd probably be able to figure it out. Unfortunate.

Closer and closer she walked, exact details of the elf and her surrounding growing blurrier as the song reverberated deep into her core. How could one bear to hurt such a wonderful person? Yet hurt her she must, so the noblewoman persevered in a single-minded goal that felt very wrong at the time. Stab and cauterize, nothing more and nothing less.

Logic and experience dictated to strike the chest, right through the heart. Or perhaps the head, that'll be a quick mercy. Yet instinct screamed for her to attack much further down, between where the feet of the siren would be underneath that dress. That's foolish. There's nothing there. It's dark and blank, nothing was present there. No dozens of beady eyes gleaming with ravenous hunger, no razor-sharp mandibles chewing on a severed leg-

Carnatia struck the horrible monster in the face, and with a horrendous screech the spell broke.

With the insidious compulsion gone everyone regained their senses, fully taking in the monster that had warped their thoughts and approached so close to their midst. The singing-elf as not delicate at all, she's deathly gaunt with her skin cracked and leathery from exposure to the elements. Her yes glazed and long since dead, the face perpetually contorting wiht immense agony. Yet despite of that she never stopped singing and beckoning like a broken record, though thankfully whatever magical compulsion that came with it seemed to have broken for good. What looked like hair was truly layers of gossamer, wrapping haphazardly around her, strings to keep a broken puppet upright. Her bottom half wasn't visible, merged at the torso into the head of a misshapen spider of titanic proportion, one that's frantically rubbing at the cauterized hole where one of its dozens eyes used to be.

It was nothing but a monstrous abomination using an elven siren as an angler's lure. However many had fallen prey to it over the ages was hard to say, but it's evidently enraged that the midnight snacks dared trying to fight back. And perhaps it was a bit too close for comfort, considering the size of those mandibles...

To the trained eyes like Gray Flame's, The White Spider wasn't fooling anybody. Not a beautiful, singing lass floating in the darkness; It was a monstrous being, ancient with a voracious appetite. It showed itself rather prematurely as if more confident with its raw strength rather than its trademark deception. For some reason, it wasn't really a good sign, especially in regard to the missing porter's fate. It likely had devoured them all, save this wounded Dimitri, and greedily sought more than a few Tretagorian to quench its hunger.

Gray flame made his move as soon as Carnathia lunged forth to fearlessly swing her blade toward the giant monstrosity in front of them. The naked humanoid being attached to that spider's head swayed helplessly following its main body's movement. It was still singing in agony, and although looking more like a half-decaying zombie, still a relatively normal-looking person. One could only imagine how many life was lost trying to rescue it.

With Carnathia hurting that monster and having it recoiling back, it was only sensible that they would expect a counterattack. The thing flaunted its protruding jaw, and with its attached body, they shrieked in morbid unison. Surely Carnathia can handle a predictable retaliation, so Gray went to the Spider's front leg; it looked like a sturdy hairy log that had been hardened by time, so he slashed it on its less-chitinous joint.

Behind them, Vesmir hastily approached Roxas and hung his lantern on his belt. "My dear, we have to relocate! It's too dangerous here," he said to the elven healer as he reached under Dimitri's arm and grasped his own wrist ready to drag that man somewhere safer.

---

Roxas looked over as she had been healing, seeing the now spider monstrosity. Her attention was grabbed as Vesemir came over. She nodded, her healing mostly done anyway. She stood, and promptly pulled Dimitri over her shoulders, much like you would if carrying someone out of a burning building.

She moved after Vesemir when she nodded him to continue. She could carry one more just fine. She needed to clear any obstacles for the others to be able to use their full strength. Once out of the way, she yelled back; "CLEAR!" Letting them know they were out of crossfire.

She set the man down then, and pulled out a small carving from her belted pouch. She clipped it onto Dimitri quickly, then held out her hands to the ground. She took a deep breath and then, from her feet a circle stretched out and out til it stopped. She knelt down then and went to further asses Dimitri's wounds, and if needed, applied bandages.

Her circle wouldn't falter for three minutes, so if anything came close that didn't have her carvings, would get some serious gashes.

---

It didn’t take long. Already on their search for the missing hands from the camp, the came across one. He was disoriented, bloodied and confused. It was a miracle the man was still alive in his condition. Broken and bruised. Fia held out her hand, a sphere of light manifesting just above her right palm. It did little other than reveal their position, but the increase in light felt needed. Something dangerous was lurking around and an increase to the field of vision should help.

Roxas immediately went to tend to the man, while Gray Flame remained vigilant, keeping his eyes scanning through the trees. The musical melody that roused the otherwise indisposed man became eager to follow the voice. It wasn’t just that man either, many of the rescue party felt roused one way or another. Carnatia joined Gray in an effort of vigilance. Nanashi was also up there with them. Fia stood her ground, maintaining her little ball of light. She would let those melee oriented characters take the lead, but Fia remained vigilant herself.

The song continued, and while some members were feeling its sway, most still kept their composure. Tillius looked ready to follow, but his stance and grip on his weapons remained strong. Fia just waited, contemplating whether she should toss her light ball forward to illuminate the way ahead. Her hesitance would catch up, as the singing entity revealed itself. A celestial looking elf appeared, her song getting louder upon her approach. The voice matched her appearance, but the situation felt wrong. Nothing Fia could pin point, at least not until Carnatia followed through with her attack.

Now fully exposed, whatever tricks it was using to deceive the party faltering. A giant white spider with an elven woman gruesomely assimilated into the head of the arachnid. So this is what took the hand aids away. An eight legged giant using an enchanting song as a lure. Impressive and intriguing, and dangerous as well. Who knows how many others were like it within this forest. The phantoms of the lost city of Lasse was just the beginning, at least those were locked in torment within the city walls. But this was a taste of what else they might come across just wandering the twilight forests.

The light in Fia’s hand dimmed as it was replaced with a ball of fire. Carnatia was already engaged with the monster, and Gray Flame charged forward as well. Fia focused waiting for Roxas and Vesemir to back away, clearing the space for engagement. Fia took a step forward and offer her own words of warning.

“Watch out, darlings, it’s going to get warmer.” said Fia. The ball of fire in her hand began to shrink. More specifically, it started to condense. The heat remained even as the color of the fire deepened from red and orange to black. In the dead of night, it was barely perceptible. She moved her arm forward as though she was pushing the now marble sized magic into the air. The orb flew just over the humongous spider monster’s abdomen. There, the true force of the spell erupted. It was her own personal variation of molded elemental magic. It was her signature when it came to manipulation of magic.

The little marble of black fire expanded like a bomb into a 20 foot ball of black fire, highlighted in dark blues. Hundreds of flaming tongues whipped about the edges of the fireball, each surrounded in white aura outlining their forms. There was some light emitted, but not much in comparison to any bonfire of a similar size. The spider would be engulfed in the fire. Fia took care to make sure the fireball detonated so both Carnatia and Gray would be out side of its radius. It would not protect them from the emanating heat, but they would be safe from the blast itself baring any last second movements. The fireball lasted under a second, but the power was deliberate. Fia let out a quick sigh. While it would be nice if that finished the job, Fia would wait until the dust had settled.

Gray struck one of the foreleg's joint, yet the feeling was akin to striking a hardwood pillar. His sword went halfway into the hairy limb before it lost all momentum, remaining stuck in place when a jerking yank ripped it off his hands. The leg didn't move quite right and ichor spilled from the cut, but it was a long way to go before the eight-legged behemoth could be considered crippled.

Light should not be black, yet there Fia's spellflame defied the norm in a dark conflagration that momentarily highlighted the surrounding in eerie shades of black. Visuals aside, the heat was no different to regular fireballs and some flickering orange joined the fray as errant branches and leaves caught aflame from the proximity. Acrid scent of burnt hair and cooked bug flesh permeated the air, the carapace sizzling and cracked through the center where hot steam merrily rose from.

The momentum of the blast momentarily grounded the beast, leaving a rare opportunity to reach its body. Engelbert was right on the spot to capitalize on that, audaciously stepping onto the mandibular fang for leverage as he leapt onto the creature's head. The siren-elf was summarily batted aside with a spine-snapping crack before he plunged his blade into the center of the eye-cluster, going a third of the way in on the first go before an armored fist hammered it deeper-

The shriek rose to a new cacophonous crescendo, now coming only from the spider as its puppet laid broken. It had taken more damage in the last sixty seconds than in its entire lifetime, and... true to a natural predator behavior, it turned around and fled. The pace was awkwardly stilted, far cry from the stealthy approach from earlier, but it didn't affect the creature's speed by too much considering its size. It barelled through the nearest tree, felling two in quick succession as it clumsily tried to drag its broken form away. Engelbert in particular hang for dear life on his sword, which had stabbed deep enough to be a stable if dangerously sharp handhold.

Nearby, Dimitri's not doing very well. From the look of it something had stabbed through his chest, puncturing through a lung and slowly lead the organ into collapse. Someone with sufficient medical knowledge would know that letting out the built-up air was necessary to save his life, on top of stopping the bleeding. Bandage alone was probably insufficient for this purpose.

Rezello

---

With business in the library concluded, the group made their way back outside the abandoned building and returned to their camp, taking a more direct path than during their approach - enabled by the magic of the scroll they had acquired keeping the phantoms at bay.

Ah, leaving Lasse already. It's too bad we didn't visit any of the sections I was familiar with. Another time, perhaps.

You going to tell me what we'd find there?

No.

Upon their return, they found that several of the workers in the camp had disappeared, leaving behind only one rather panicked individual armed with an axe. Though there was no immediate signs of a struggle, the man that remained was ranting about something he referred to as "the shrieker" taking the others into the forest. Once more, the party set out from the camp, Forbann staying behind to keep watch - assisted by a spell of Fia's - and guard the survivor.

Following the tracks left behind by the missing men, the party made their way through the forest until they found one of the men, lying on the ground, mutilated. Before he could be treated, a sudden melody began a short distance to the east, an ethereal song in an unfamiliar language. Despite the man's wounds, he managed to stand, entranced by the music and shambling towards its source for a brief time, only to be interrupted by a swift blow to the head from Roxas. The song carried on, its words resonating with an arcane power; though the party endured its disarming enchantment, it was clear that the disappeared workers were not so resilient, and that the source was responsible for their current predicament.

Soon enough, it had revealed its presence, appearing as an exceptionally light-skinned elven woman garbed in a white dress, floating past the boughs of the trees above as she made her approach. The strength of her song grew as she moved closer, though it was not yet strong enough to overcome their mental fortitude. Though the spell compelled Rezello to trust her, to consider her as a friend, lay down his arms and forget the details that didn't add up; how the edges of her tattered dress sat motionless while she drifted through the air, as if they rested upon something unseen beneath. How the porter they had found before, who momentarily was drawn toward her spell-song, had been torn open, as if attacked by some vicious beast. How she used such magic in the first place, as if there may be some reason for the group not to trust her otherwise.

As Rezello focused on these details, bolstering his mind against the magic, Carnatia slowly moved forward, her approach into melee culminating in a rapid succession of attacks; a thrusting strike from her rapier into a hidden cluster of eyes, revealing a monstrous spider that the elf - whose appearance more resembled a corpse now that its song's effect had been dispelled - had been attached to; a slashing blow from Gray Flame into one of the spider's front legs, the sword lodging itself into the limb and being pulled from his grasp; explosive black flames, courtesy of Fia; and a plunging attack into the creature's head from Engelbert. Moving towards the leg opposite the one Gray had attacked, Rezello lifted his hands above his head, summoning his newly acquired warhammer in a flash of sliver light as he brought it down in a mighty swing.

At the same moment, the spider turned. Had he been quicker to attack, or more used to the weight of his new weapon, he might've struck the leg he had been targeting, but as he began his attack it was already gone, and now he was in the path of the turning body. Without time to think, he reflexively pulled himself and the warhammer away, its great weight carrying him backwards as he stumbled to the ground, just managing to drop below the spider - and briefly pinning himself to the ground under the weight his weapon - before it started to flee, trees knocked aside by its charge. Returning the warhammer to his armory, he quickly got back to his feet before summoning his spadone and giving chase.

---

The singing voice was heavenly, like a mother's lullaby. The siren song could pull any men, lesser men, into the throes of whatever machination they intended, and Tillius was close to it, but he learned to separate as much as possible the mind and the body. So while his mind was slowly getting seduced by the beautiful woman posing in front of him, his body forced him to stay still, grip tight on both his armaments, his feet planted onto the ground. Like a tree to the storm, he bore through the song while Carnatia stripped it of its fake beauty.

Once the mask had been unveiled to this abomination of a once beautiful woman, the spell was broken, and Tillius gave a firm headshake to throw off any stupor remaining in his system. He was careful not to over commit while everybody was simultaneously attacking it. At the same time, he steadily put his shield back onto his back and took out his two javelins, as whatever moves that thing could do to him, a shield wouldn't help anyway.

As the spider turned to run with Engelbert hanging on for dear life, Tillius was able to swing his newly acquired polearm once at the creature before it dashed away from range. The orc threw a javelin at its direction, though not hoping it would do anything substantial.

Gray tried to yank his sword back, but the combination of bad angle and the sudden jerking from the gigantic eigh-legged monstrosity caused him to lose a grip on his jian. A series of reckless retaliatory reactions then followed in response to Fia's unadulterated blasting, and the only sane option to not get himself smacked by one of those nasty appendages, or get squashed to death by its gigantic rear, was to move away.

And he did. It turned out that Engelbert thought the opposite.

The leap was spectacular, and the strike was equally so. Engelbert's one-and-a-half-meter greatsword plunged deep into the spider's eye cluster, and he nailed it even deeper now with his iron fist--- unnecessarily so because the greatsword was now stuck in that thing, and it wasn't dead yet.

Recoiled, likely by the pain or fear, it was quick to rely on its survival instinct. It rapidly turned around, haphazardly brandishing its front legs to scare away the potential attacker, and dislodged Gray's jian in such a wayward process. The masked Rezello was not quick enough to capitalize on the opening, for the spider had already started to flee and the distance was too far already.

"Ah great! Just what I need right now!"

Gray Flame immediately started his pursuit but then stopped the moment he saw Tillius launch his spear toward the retreating spider. It was too dark to ascertain whether the spear found its mark, but the plan was sound.

His diamond-shaped arrowhead shone in pale luster as he channeled for a power shot and unleashed it before the Arachnee could get too far. Even in the dark, its massive abdomen was certainly hard to miss.

---

Roxas grabbed Vesemir's hand, making him drop his cane and had him put pressure on the wound that was seeping blood from the man's chest. She took a deep breath before shaking her hands of access blood and then rummaging in her side pouch. She pulled out a couple items and then reached over and ripped at Dimitri's shirt. "I'll repair it if you live." She mumbled to herself.

She leaned over him, and moved her hand to feel around on his chest. The blood made it slick, but from the books she read, this should be easy. She grabbed a small knife from her pouch and cut into him. She then moved the piece she grabbed earlier and slid it into the slice a little forcefully. She waited for a moment, til the heard the hissing of the air leaving.

A relief of breath sounded and then she was going back to the wound on his chest, knowing the air would be fine for a moment. She moved Vesemir's hands to slid her fingers into the wound to see if she can feel if there was any punctures she needed to close.

Dimitri was unresponsive, but at least he breathed. Vesemir was still applying the pressure when Roxas performed her field surgery, and all things considered, the man would survive.

For now, at least.

The chaos had been shifted, now everyone was chasing after that fleeing Arachnee. Had he not been so occupied with assisting Roxas, he would have gone after them. It was not unusual for a predator of that type to lure its pursuer into a trap, so he heard.

Of all people, Gray Flame should know better, that was why he saved his breath and did not shout another warning at them.
But he hoped that they would find the others.

Looking back at Dimitri, the optimism he felt earlier was somewhat diminishing. A forest is not an ideal place to recover, even less so in this Land of Twilight. They could afford to have Roxas taking care of one wounded person, but what about three more?

Biting his lips, the idea of having less manpower alone had already been grating his senses, let alone abandoning the entire expedition for the sake of those who were thoughtless!

"Are we done?" he asked Roxas, coldly, yet his gaze was straight toward the pursuing party. Seeing them like a scholar witnessing a wasted opportunity.

"If he will be alright, you should catch up with them. Just leave Dimitry to me, I will watch over him."