Two minutes! Sys wailed.

Ethan heard him, but the warning didn't perturb him. Instead, he savored the look of palpable confusion in Arty's angel eyes.

Because all around him, his plan was paying off. The swarm of spiders weren't moving a muscle. Yet. And it wasn't for the reasons ol' Arty thought. They didn't give two cobweb-covered shits about Kaedmon. None of the monsters on this earth did. He knew it, because he'd taken them into him during his possessions. He'd lived as they did. He'd known their minds better than even they did themselves.

And the truth was that they had come to know him, too.

The spiders didn't move because they recognized a threat.

They didn't move because they were afraid.

They didn't move… because they saw one of their own.

A ripple passed through the swarm as the scent finally registered. Not just the smell of Revok's monstrous flesh. Not just the poison he'd sprayed down onto Artorious only moments earlier. But something deeper—something ancestral. Something true.

They recognized the essence of Rachneros, the Pale Lord.

The mind of Rachneros that Ethan had devoured in this very place pulsed within him like a beacon. His movements, his aura, his very shadow screamed dominance to them—not as an invader, but as the brood-kin reborn.

And in unison, the spiders bowed.

Ethan, still hovering above the battlefield with his wings crackling and eyes glowing green, gave Artorious a slow, mocking wink.

"You're in my web now," he said.

And then he screamed the command.

"ATTACK!"

The cavern came alive.

The spiders surged forward as one, a tidal wave of clicking limbs and writhing bodies. Crawlers leapt from the walls. Venomfangs descended from silk strands like living arrows. Widowlords—massive and ancient—moved with horrifying speed, their fangs dripping and their web-sacs already swelling with fresh toxin.

Artorious barely had time to brace before they hit.

The first wave collided with his divine aura and evaporated in an instant. But they didn't stop. The second wave slammed into him harder, faster, wrapping his arms, biting his limbs. The third wave smothered him entirely.

He fought like a god.

Each strike from his fists shattered a half-dozen lesser spiders. Every pulse of spirit energy melted through their chitin like candle wax. He moved like a radiant storm, even without his skills—hammering, shoving, stomping—his silver eyes burning holes into the dark.

But there were too many.

Even his celestial strength couldn't match the numbers.

They enwebbed his arms. His legs. His neck. [Enweb] after [Enweb] triggered from dozens of different arachnids, the gossamer filaments stacking into chains even his divine body couldn't shake. Still he raged. Still he struck.

And then his wings flared, and he tried to fly.

But his wings didn't rise.

They'd been tethered.

Ethan could see it from above. The Widowlords had targeted the base joints of the wings, slathering them in thick web strands. Sticky, glowing, reinforced. Wings that once carried him across cities now barely flapped. The webbing stretched. Snapped. Then reformed tighter.

Artorious roared.

"GET OFF ME, YOU VERMIN!"

But his voice was drowned by the sound of chittering.

More spiders poured in. Hundreds. Thousands now. The floor disappeared under the swarm. And the Lightborn disappeared with it.

Gnashing fangs. Mandibles. Stingers.

He was buried beneath the tide.

Ethan hovered above, watching the spot where the angel had once stood become a mountain of spider flesh.

And for a second—just a second—he believed it might be enough.

Then came the voice.

Sys.

Don't celebrate yet.

Ethan's lip curled.

"Let me guess," he said grimly. "Not enough damage?"

You're buying time. That's it. His skills reactivate in sixty seconds.

Ethan's stomach dropped.

He looked down again. The swarm was still consuming, still biting, still piling onto the Lightborn's location. He could see them writhing, pulsing, working to devour a demigod.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

But it wasn't enough.

[Appraisal]

Artorious, Angel of Kaedmon (LVL 200) HP: 2070 / 5000

Still falling.

But too slow.

"Dammit," Ethan whispered.

He's suppressing the damage. Possibly through his own willpower alone. He's got just as much conviction as you do, Ethan. Except he's willing to sacrifice more. Everything. I think that's what's giving him the strength to fight through all this. The sheer bulk of his power's absorbing more than it should.

"He shouldn't be able to do that," Ethan growled.

He shouldn't be able to do a lot of things. But…he's the Lightborn.

The number ticked again.

HP: 2015 / 5000

Five seconds passed, during which Ethan let out a primal growl.

"And I'm the Archon."

He was still not even under two thousand. Still nowhere near dead. Prophet's Pacification was the only gambit he had and he doubted the angel would let him get a chance to use it a second time.

Ethan's claws clenched. His wings buzzed furiously. Every instinct in him screamed that this was the moment. The window. The last chance.

"I have to finish it," he said.

And you can, Sys said. As long as you're willing to do what needs to be done.

Ethan didn't answer.

You can't think about the human he is behind those eyes, Ethan. You know you can't.

He just closed his eyes.

He's the enemy. And it's either him or you.

He took a breath.

Felt the silence around him—the stillness, the fear, the tension.

Fauna's eyes.

Tara's wounds.

Mara's courage.

Klax's impossible belief in him.

The weight of it all.

"I have to," he said softly.

He opened his eyes again.

Green fire burned behind them.

"I have to."

[Storm of Revok]

[Cry of Baphomet]

[Ice Barrage]

[Twilight Edge]

[Arms of the Vigil]

[Barkskin]

[Dive]

He was throwing everything at the Angel that wasn't on cooldown. One strike. One plummet, putting everything behind Revok's weight for the extra Dive damage, and channeling all his damage dealers behind the blow that even Kaedmon Himself would hear.

First, he commanded the spiderlings to disperse, giving him a clear view of this target – flailing, sweating, and covered in bite marks and bloody perforations. He was a blood angel now. And he was about to get a lot worse.

Ethan breathed in the scent of burning power that was surging all over him, the light of Arms of the Vigil's blades that thrummed all around him almost blinding him.

Then he launched himself at Artorious.

The sensation was dazzling. He was a molten comet covered in crystal, surrounded by spinning blades of searing light. Those blades first flew faster than he did, locking down Artorious' limbs into the earth and holding him there, explosing his chest and bloodied, purpled face to what was coming.

He watched the power of all of Argwyll's greatest monsters being hurled against him in a fiery maelstrom of retribution.

Ethan watched those silver eyes waver ever so slightly, betraying the old fear that had so fueled the Lightborn's entire life. Fear that seemed to grow and grow with every inch he came closer to the Angel.

And then, finally, he slammed into him.

The ground came away, shattering and splitting, breaking apart in the wake of the sheer power behind the impact. Ethan and Artorious tumbled down into the depths of the Delve, a conjoined star hurtling through darkness, until they finally reached Rachneros' old lair.

Forty seconds! Sys wailed.

Ethan saw the ground approaching past Artorious' screaming face.

He closed his eyes.

Now!

With a resounding SLAM! they both hit the very spot of Ethan's first triumph over a Boss Creature of Argwyll, causing cracks to form and run down the entire lair, causing the walls themselves to shudder and crumble apart, and calling up a storm of dust and smoke as Ethan's powers deactivated and he felt a geyser of blood spurt into his face.

And only then did he open his eyes again.

…

The light of Fauna's healing magic coursed through Tara's veins while the rest of her comrades readied themselves for anything. The Drytchlings of Malak had set up a thorn wall around their position, using what little natural energies that still swirled in Sanctum to call up the primitive fortifications. Meanwhile, Mara administered to Klax, who still held Jun'Ei's urn case tightly in his bulky, burned arms.

She's almost got him on his feet again, Fauna couldn't help but think as she glanced over her shoulder and admired the work of her star pupil. She'll be an even more powerful mage than me, one day.

Lamphrey was the only one who denied any healing at all. Fauna knew that the Oneiromancer was perfectly capable of administering to her own wounds, but the strangest thing was that she wasn't channeling any magic at all, right now. She simply stayed on the ground, clutching her stave tightly to her bosom, and stared at the ashen ground.

What-

Sudden movement from Tara snapped the Hopla's head right back to her patient. The Minxit had began to stir, coughing up bloodied strips of charred fur.

"Hey, hey," Fauna said softly. "It's OK. You're alright, Sis."

Tara's eyes found hers after some searching, and she let out a slight gasp of relief.

"L-lookin' good, Faun," she said, nodding at the Hopla's singed forehead. "Arty…got rid of your bangs. Pretty good look for you if – ngh - if you ask me."

Fauna wanted to laugh. She wanted to remark on the Minxit's own looks right now – how her parted fringe had been shaven clean off too – but she stopped herself, focusing instead on her healing.

Then Tara's eyes went wide.

"Klax!"

She tried twisting out of Fauna's hands, but the Hopla brought a single paw to her head and calmed her.

"He's fine," she said. "We've got a specialist with him right now."

"And…she's a real talented one," came Klax's croaky voice.

Tara's smile was genuine. It wasn't the roguish, cheeky one she normally flashed at her comrades. When she spoke again, it was in a hushed whisper.

"Thanks…sis."

Fauna nodded, straining to keep a smile on her face. She knew that Tara's eyes were now adjusting and seeing the chaos around them. And those eyes were begging a desperate question: did we win?

Fauna wasn't going to let that question hang.

"We're going to get you both back up," she declared as she wrapped up her healing session. "Between us all we've got a small army here. We've got enough power to go and help Ethan finish off that bastard once and for all."

Tara smiled again.

"Now that's a Fauna I can get behind."

She gripped her sister's hand in her own, letting herself be helped to her feet when she found that her strength had returned to her.

"We're going to the portal chamber," Fauna said. "Ethan needs us. Klax? Are you with us? We're gonna need our big Lycae's stre-"

"I'm sorry, Fauna."

The voice that said those words brought the Hopla's entire world to a standstill.

At first, she couldn't be sure she'd even heard them. But then the voice of Lamphrey spoke again, and this time, there was no mistaking her intent:

"I can't let you do that."

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.