Ashar spoke and spoke, trying to force whatever was in the cave to back away, but he realised there was no point. What emerged from the darkness was not a person at all.
It was a black spider, one three times the size of Ashar.
If one were to look into its many eyes, what could be found there besides the cold indifference of nature?
Ashar wasted no more time. He would not give it the initiative. He summoned his Axiom spirit, abandoning his nerves, and drew his blade. He surged forward with Axiom Water—
—and immediately pulled back to reassess.
In that time, in that brief time where he moved forward, he caught a glimpse of the spider's Axiom spirit.
That alone was enough to tell him that a head-on collision was not a wise choice.
The spider struck for his head with its palps.
It was fast, but not beyond Ashar's abilities after all his training in his visualisations. What truly unsettled him was something else entirely. The palps whipped out again, then again, then again, and Ashar used Axiom Air and Water to evade each strike. Every movement was precise, but he knew he was only one mistake away from death. And so far, he had not found the timing needed for a counterattack.
Then it struck him: it was the rhythm!
As warriors gain experience, they become aware of a certain rhythm in high-level combat. They learn to move to its beat. And that rhythm becomes an advantage, until they face someone who does not follow it.
That is the strange strength of the lesser warrior. Their lack of experience means they are not bound by the rhythm. They fight outside of it.
Every seasoned fighter has faced an opponent they should have defeated easily, yet nothing worked. Not because of strength or skill, but because the fight moved to a beat they did not enjoy matching.
Ashar remembered Shenric, and how he had used his Drunken Rhythm against the Faceless Soldiers. Now he understood Shenric's secret. And now it was being used against him.
Of course a spider would move this way where it was frustrating, and unorthodox. It had no knowledge of, or care for, human combat rhythms.
Now Ashar understood. And now he could fight back.
He dodged once. Then again. Then again.
The spider hissed in frustration.
It changed tactics.
The palps lashed out, but stopped halfway in a feint. In the split second that followed, the spider stabbed forward with its fangs, aiming to kill in a single venomous strike.
But Ashar had already seen through it.
Clang!
His Axiom blade caught the attack—but not cleanly. And with that first true counter, Ashar realised another problem.
The long palps were not just weapons. They were also guards for when the attack would fail.
Unlike human opponents, the spider did not dodge. After striking, it stretched its palps outward, intercepting any counterattack. With its size and reach, Ashar was certain this method had worked against every opponent it had ever faced.
And so, the battle dragged on into the second phase.
Both struck with screams and murderous fury. Neither landed the blow they were seeking. They circled each other, manoeuvring for control of the cave's centre, while staring. And in this ambiguous exchange, Ashar formed a plan.
This fight, from the start to the end, all came down to rhythm and timing.
So he would establish a predictable rhythm with his counters, whether they struck the palps or not. Then, at the right moment, he would break the rhythm entirely. That brief lull would let him slip past the palps and strike the spider's flesh.
But why was his body telling him that was he already running out of energy?
He glanced down.
During their exchanges, the spider had spread black webbing across the cave floor. The web radiated Axiom energy.
It was the spider's venom. The poison was embedded in the web itself.
The longer Ashar stood on it, the more his energy drained. He immediately summoned extra Axiom beneath his feet to protect himself. He needed to end this now.
In the next exchange, Ashar felt confident. The rhythm was set.
He waited for the strike.
Dodged.
Pretended to counter.
Then stopped.
As the spider hesitated, Ashar exploded forward with Axiom Water, Axiom Fire already charged in his hand—
Something sliced through him and knocked him aside.
Ashar didn't understand what had struck him.
It wasn't the palps. They weren't long enough.
Then he realised.
Its legs.
He had never seen this before, but once he did, it made perfect sense.
The attack was a whipping motion from a charged leg—light, not powerful enough to kill. That wasn't its purpose. It wasn't even meant to injure him.
It was meant to slap.
The speed of the motion, and the sharp jolt of impact, forced Ashar to reset every time. With this, the spider controlled distance effortlessly, endlessly, without ever committing.
And now Ashar knew something else.
The spider was taking him seriously.
Not as prey.
As an opponent.
Woosh. Woosh. Woosh.
Legs snapped out again and again, slapping against Ashar's Earth guard. There were too many. Closing the distance became impossible. All he could do was remain on the outside and endure the punishment.
And when exhaustion crept in, when his focus slipped for even a moment, the palps shot out without warning.
Ashar dodged once, but pain flared across his face.
A strip of flesh was gone from his cheek.
If that had been a fang, the fight would already be over.
The spider hissed again.
This time, not in fear.
Not in frustration.
Ashar looked into its many black eyes.
It was mocking him.
Woosh!
A leg snapped his head back. He retreated with Axiom Water to reset once more. The venom web continued to drain him.
Less than half his energy remained.
He assessed the battle clearly now.
In speed, the spider was superior.
In strength, it was superior.
In abilities, it was in a different class entirely.
So what could he do?
He studied the exchanges again and again, using his Eye, searching for any opening.
There was none.
Was this it?
Something shifted within him then, mind and body alike.
It happens often in battle. When one fighter takes overwhelming control, an unspoken contract forms. One admits defeat through their eyes. They no longer wish to win. And the other decides whether to spare them.
Was that about to happen to him?
Ashar stared into the spider's eyes and saw no mercy.
But he did not need it.
Because he would find a way, right now.
He decided that now he would be a warrior.