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Chapter 11
The old woman’s cry for her grandchild echoed through the air.
The moment it did, Dermo kicked off the ground, leaping high and swinging his sword in a wide horizontal arc.
Whoosh—
Snap!
The silvery thread pulling the brown-haired boy and his puppy over the fence snapped apart.
“Ahhh!”
The boy, who had been lifted much higher than his own height, flailed helplessly as he fell toward the ground.
Knowing he couldn’t land safely from such a position, he shut his eyes tight.
“Huh?”
Instead of the hard impact he braced for, he felt something soft catch him. Opening his eyes, he found himself in Dermo’s arms.
“Go back to your grandmother.”
Dermo caught the puppy too, lowering both safely before raising his head toward the fence.
“Y-Yes…”
The boy didn’t even think to thank him. The look on Dermo’s face made it clear now wasn’t the time for that. Clutching the puppy, the boy ran back to his grandmother in a daze.
“Sir Dermo! That thing just now…”
Mamot’s voice came from behind, late as always.
“Yes. It’s a demon.”
Ding! Dong! Daaang!
Even before Dermo’s words faded, the alarm bells rang through the village—
the signal that a demon attack had begun.
“Old lady, you should move quickly.”
“Y-Yes, I will…!”
Tom spoke softly, though his eyes weren’t on her.
Under the moonlight breaking through the clouds, something was climbing the wooden fence—
a spider-like demon revealing its grotesque form.
“Shit. That’s a Tarantula, isn’t it?”
“Of all things, a Tarantula…”
“Freaking hell!”
Mamot and his men drew their weapons, muttering curses.
The demon before them was a young Tarantula—a one-star spawn.
Even adult Tarantulas, despite being classified as one-star demons, were infamous for being as troublesome as two-star hunts.
They multiplied quickly, forcing their opponents to face many at once.
And indeed, more spiderlings began crawling up the fence one after another.
“How many do you think there are?”
While the others fretted, Dermo’s expression remained calm.
Rather than worrying about their numbers, he was hoping for more.
“These are all stat points waiting to be claimed.”
To Dermo, Tarantulas weren’t a threat—they were an opportunity.
The spiderlings were only dangerous in groups; individually, they were far weaker than most demons he had faced so far.
Of course, the adults were another story, but that was fine.
For normal soldiers, even the young ones were deadly—one bite, and you’d be poisoned.
That was why the Tarantula’s hunt rank was treated like a two-star mission:
not because of brute strength, but because of their venom.
Who would’ve thought I’d ever be happy to see these things.
Normally, Dermo found the Tarantula quests in Silverrook irritating,
but right now, he was thrilled—because every single one meant growth.
Kieeek!
Four spiderlings now perched atop the fence.
Dermo quickly dumped all his unassigned stat points into Strength.
[Strength 9 → 13]
Just then, one lunged at him.
[Young Demon – Tarantula (★)]
“Dermo!”
Tom’s urgent shout came from behind.
Using it as his cue, Dermo charged straight at the incoming demon.
“Damn it! Help Sir Dermo! Don’t let your guard down—one bite and you’re dead!”
“Yes, sir!”
Mamot and his men rushed forward with shields and blades,
while Tom notched an arrow to his bowstring.
More spiderlings hurled themselves at Dermo.
Thunk!
Screeeech!
His sword pierced the first one’s abdomen clean through, black ichor splattering as its momentum drove him two steps back.
Even impaled, the creature screeched and snapped its dripping fangs at him.
Saving his skills for the adult Tarantula later, Dermo dodged the venomous bite by tilting his head aside and brought his sword down hard.
Slash—
Thud, squelch.
Black blood and innards spilled across the ground as the creature’s head went limp.
Through the carcass, Dermo’s eyes locked onto the next three charging in.
Just as he prepared to move—
Whizz!
Thock!
An arrow from behind struck one squarely in the mouth,
sending it flying backward toward the fence.
The remaining two were bashed away by Mamot’s men.
“Don’t give them a chance to recover—press the attack!”
“Yaaah!”
“Die!”
Their swords stabbed relentlessly.
Stab! Stab! Staaab!
Screeech!
The spiderling convulsed violently, but the two didn’t stop until it stopped moving.
Mamot smashed another one’s head flat with his shield,
splattering more black blood around them.
Not bad, Dermo thought as he walked toward the one still twitching on the ground.
Unlike the ragtag mercenaries in Silverrook, these men were trained soldiers.
Competent, especially Mamot.
[Name: Mamot]
Class: Private Soldier
Fame: 5
Strength: 17 | Endurance: 14 | Agility: 10 | Intelligence: 11
Skills: ,
Info: A soldier serving Baron Heratz. Favors an aggressive fighting style.]
His Strength’s even higher than mine…
Even the weakest of them had better stats than Tom.
Dermo planned to keep them around—at least until he left the barony.
“That’s enough.”
Driving his sword into the last twitching demon’s head, Dermo signaled them to stop.
Mamot, just to be sure, crushed the severed head once more with his shield.
“We’ll be using their remains later. Start harvesting their Soul Stones.”
As he slit open a Tarantula’s belly, the others followed his lead.
While they worked, Dermo turned away so they wouldn’t see the black mist seeping from the Soul Stone into his hand.
Let’s see what skill I get this time.
Since the demon was spider-related, he was hoping for a poison ability—
something useful in a world full of betrayal and intrigue.
[Absorbing soul…]
[Acquired Skill: Tough Spider Thread]
[Skill: Tough Spider Thread]
Generates spider silk from within the body. Can release and control threads at will.
Duration: 1 minute
Cooldown: 30 minutes
[Gained 1 Stat Point]
“Spider thread? Only one point?”
He sighed at the translucent window before him.
“Well, it was just a baby demon…”
One point wasn’t much, but he’d take it.
Four spiderlings meant four points—equivalent to a one-star adult’s reward.
And even if the skill wasn’t poison-based, he could make it work.
“Sir Dermo, we’ve collected the Soul Stones.”
Dermo pocketed them and Mamot asked, “How are you planning to use these?”
“That’s a trade secret.”
“….”
Of course he couldn’t tell them that he was literally absorbing the souls to get stronger.
“Let’s move to the village gate. They’ll need our help.”
Tarantulas invaded from two directions—the area they’d just cleared,
and the main gate. The main gate would still be under attack.
Dermo sprinted toward it, the others following close behind.
To his surprise, when they arrived, it was already over.
Three Tarantula corpses lay sprawled out, surrounded by panting guards and mercenaries.
Why are they here already?
Normally, the mercenaries would have shown up late—too busy drinking.
Then he realized it.
Right… they’d gone outside earlier to give me privacy at the inn.
That’s why they heard the alarm first.
“This turned out differently.”
“What did?”
“Nothing.”
Dermo shook his head lightly and stepped closer.
Even with more people, poison still takes its toll…
Among the bodies weren’t just demons, but three guards and a mercenary, all pale and motionless.
Grabbing one of the spider corpses by a leg, Dermo dragged it toward them.
“Tom, grab me a handful of swampweed.”
“Swampweed? Why—”
“Don’t ask. You’ll understand once you see.”
“…Alright.”
Swampweed was a common poisonous plant—
so toxic that anyone who ate it would spend days glued to the toilet.
Some twisted players had even built an entire “Swampweed Assassin Build” around it.
But those same players had accidentally discovered its hidden property:
in small doses mixed with demon venom, it acted as an antidote.
“Here, swampweed.”
Tom returned quickly.
Without hesitation, Dermo stuffed the leaves into the poisoned mercenary’s mouth.
“What the hell—Swampweed? You trying to kill him faster?”
“Man’s already dying, and you’re feeding him that?”
“He’s gonna haunt the outhouse forever!”
The others looked on in disbelief as Dermo forced the man to chew.
“Listen,” Dermo said flatly. “If you want to live, chew and swallow. If you’d rather die, I won’t stop you.”
“Ugh…”
The poisoned mercenary grimaced but began to chew.
Then Dermo sliced a Tarantula leg, squeezing its black blood over the man’s lips.
“If you want to live, even if it makes you puke—swallow it.”
The man’s mouth filled with the foul black fluid, but he forced it down, trembling.
Dermo then moved on to the next guard, doing the same.
By the time he reached the third—
“Wait, he’s… he’s getting better?”
“Holy hell, it actually worked?”
The mercenary’s color was returning.
“Quick—give me the venom too!” one of the guards gasped, chewing the swampweed desperately.
“So that’s what you meant by ‘see for yourself’…”
“Sir Dermo, how on earth do you know these things?”
Tom and Mamot stared at him, mouths agape.
“Trade secret,” Dermo replied curtly.
“….”
Standing up, Dermo looked around.
“Everyone, fill your canteens with demon blood. You’ll all get poisoned at least once fighting the adult Tarantula.”
“…I’d rather not get bitten at all,” Mamot muttered under his breath.
Dermo didn’t bother correcting him.
Because soon enough, Mamot would get bitten—
as bait.
