The plan was suicidal. But, considering the alternative was being publicly executed by the country's most beloved "hero," suicide seemed like a viable career option.

  We were in the back of Madame Gristle's restaurant. The orc was sharpening a boning knife that looked more like a greatsword.

  "A Rift Arachnid Queen," Gristle repeated, shaking her head. "You want to milk an eight-meter-tall spider."

  "Not just any spider," I corrected, arranging empty vials on a bandolier. "The Arachne Reginae. Her venom has a unique neurotoxic property: it shuts down the connection between the host and external parasites to prevent biological competition. It's the only thing that will make the Solar Knight's parasite reject his body."

  "And where are you going to find one of those without bumping into an elite guild farming XP?" asked Luna. She looked different. She had cut her hair short (with a kitchen knife) so it wouldn't block her vision, and she was wearing a leather jacket reinforced with chitin plates we stole from a scrapyard.

  "In the Northern Exclusion Zone. 'The Slaughterhouse'."

  Gristle stopped sharpening the knife.

  "The Slaughterhouse was condemned by the Association five years ago. The mana there is unstable. They say gravity changes direction and the air turns lungs to stone."

  "Perfect." I smiled. "No one will look for us there."

  Valéria, our illegal mechanic, arrived ten minutes later with the "order."

  She dropped a heavy metal box onto the table.

  "Arthur, your protective suit. Carbon fiber woven with silver threads. It'll withstand acid, but it won't take a direct bite. So, try not to get chewed on."

  I put on the suit. It was black, tight, resembling a tactical wetsuit, covered in pockets and straps. The Parasite vibrated in approval. It liked the efficiency.

  "And for the girl..." Valéria pulled a strange object from the box. It looked like a metal baton with a spherical crystal head at the tip.

  "A microphone?" Luna arched an eyebrow.

  "A Spiritual Resonance Amplifier," Valéria explained. "You said she screams and the ghosts listen? This will focus the scream. It transforms the sound wave into kinetic impact. Basically, you can sing and blow up a Goblin's head."

  Luna's eyes lit up. She grabbed the microphone and struck a classic Idol pose.

  "Showtime."

  The trip to the Exclusion Zone was silent. "The Slaughterhouse" was located in an old abandoned industrial area. The Rift didn't float in the sky like the others; it had sprouted from the ground, swallowing an entire cement factory.

  The entrance was a jagged tear in reality, glowing with a sickly violet light. Signs reading "DANGER: BIOHAZARD LEVEL 5" rusted on the fence.

  We cut the fence.

  "Remember, Luna," I said, stopping at the edge of the portal. "Inside there, we aren't the top of the food chain. We're the appetizer. Don't touch anything colorful. Don't drink the water. And if you see something cute, shoot it."

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Got it."

  We entered.

  The sensation of crossing a Rift is like being pulled by your navel through a straw. The world spun, stomachs churned, and suddenly, the smell of ozone and exhaust was replaced by the scent of damp mold and sweet earth.

  We opened our eyes.

  We weren't in a cave. We were in a forest.

  But the trees weren't wood. They were made of calcified bone, with red meat leaves that pulsed softly.

  The sky was a distant stone ceiling, lit by bioluminescent fungi.

  "What a horrible place," whispered Luna. "It's beautiful."

  "It's a giant digestive system," I analyzed, taking a sample of the moss on the ground. "Look. The soil is acidic. Everything here evolved to digest anything that falls in."

  We walked through the bone trees. The silence was oppressive. There were no birds, only the distant sound of dripping water and the slosh-slosh of things moving in the mud.

  [ENVIRONMENTAL ANALYSIS]

  [MANA SATURATION: 300%]

  [LIFE PRESENCE: HIGH DENSITY]

  "Stop," I ordered, raising a fist.

  Luna froze.

  Ahead of us, the path was blocked by a web. But it wasn't a thin web. They were cables thick as ship ropes, white and sticky, stretched between two limestone towers.

  And caught in the web... was a Guild Transport Carriage, abandoned for years.

  "We're in her territory," I whispered.

  "There's something inside the carriage," Luna pointed the microphone/baton. "I sense a soul. A very old and very angry soul."

  We approached the carriage suspended in the web.

  Arthur (the Parasite) detected thermal movement.

  It wasn't the spider. It was something smaller.

  A figure jumped out of the carriage.

  Luna reacted on instinct.

  "KYAAAA!" she screamed into the microphone.

  A visible shockwave shot from the crystal, hitting the figure in mid-air and throwing it against a bone tree with a CRACK.

  "Don't kill it!" I shouted. "I need to dissect it!"

  I ran to the fallen creature.

  It wasn't a monster.

  It was a man. Or what was left of one.

  He wore rags that had once been elite hunter armor. His skin was gray, his eyes milky. He growled, but didn't try to bite. He was... afraid.

  "A Survivor?" Luna approached, the microphone still humming. "I thought no one came back from The Slaughterhouse."

  I examined the man. He had bite marks on his neck. And something was moving under the skin of his arm.

  "He's not a survivor, Luna. He's a pantry."

  I took my scalpel. I made a quick cut on the man's arm.

  Small white spiders, the size of coins, scuttled out of the wound.

  Luna screamed and started stomping on them.

  "Ew! Ew! Ew!"

  "Brood parasitism," I explained, fascinated, ignoring the horror of the scene. "The Queen doesn't kill her prey. She injects eggs. The hatchlings eat the host from the inside out, slowly, keeping him alive so the meat doesn't spoil."

  The man grabbed my wrist. His strength was surprising.

  "Run..." he croaked, his voice bubbling with blood. "She... feels... the vibration..."

  The ground shook.

  It wasn't an earthquake. It was a footstep.

  I looked up.

  Above the canopy of bone trees, eight legs descended silently. They were black, hairy, and ended in spear points.

  The Arachnid Queen's body lowered slowly down the web. She was colossal. The abdomen was the size of a bus. Eight red eyes glowed in the darkness, focused on us.

  And the worst part: she didn't just have mandibles.

  On top of the spider's head, fused to the carapace, was a female humanoid torso. A kind of biological lure. The torso smiled, revealing needle teeth.

  "Visitors," the spider "spoke," using the human torso. The voice was a cacophony of clicks and whispers. "It's been a while since we had fresh meat that talks."

  Luna raised the microphone, hands trembling.

  "Arthur... did your plan involve fighting that?"

  "The plan involved collecting venom," I replied, activating my suit's adrenaline injectors. My eyes turned red as I let the Parasite take 40% muscle control. "But I don't think she's going to donate voluntarily."

  The Queen fired a jet of liquid web.

  I shoved Luna aside. The web hit the ground where we had been and dissolved the stone instantly.

  "Luna!" I shouted, rolling and getting to my feet. "Sing! Sing the loudest, most annoying song you know! I need her distracted while I climb her!"

  "Climb her?!" Luna dodged a giant leg.

  "I have to get to the venom glands! And they're behind the chelicerae!"

  Luna took a deep breath, cranked the amplifier to max, and looked at the giant spider.

  "Alright, you oversized roach!" she yelled. "You want a show? THEN TAKE THIS!"

  She started singing the chorus of her old J-Pop/Funk hit. The sound wave was so strong it burst two of the spider's eight eyes. The beast screamed, recoiling.

  I seized the confusion.

  I ran toward death.

  I jumped onto one of the spider's legs, drove my scalpels into the chitin, and began to climb the living monster, while the world's most bizarre pop concert exploded around me.

  It was harvest time.