A wall of shields formed behind Lyssandra. They were stained dark, dripping with the thick, viscous blue liquid of spiders.
The sheer sight was enough to make The Mother growl in annoyance. She could feel it in her veins - her children blood and flesh.
"Advanced!" Lyssandra called, her voice like an unspoken command.
The wall of shields stepped forward.
With each step, it loomed larger. Then, with a heavy sound, the shield army charged ahead.
The Mother had no time to think. She bellowed and sent dozens of thick, poisonous shots at them.
They exploded in bursts of sizzling patches on the shields, only to be stopped.
The thick material of the shields was not easily torn. They only weakened slightly.
The force was still enough to break most normal shields, but the one that formed a wall to stand behind it… they weren't meant to stop everything.
Then, the Mother moved, her arms and legs struggling against the momentum she now faced, a new terror in her expression.
She tugged a cord above her, and suddenly the room filled with movement. Eggs she had planted around the area wriggled with life.
Some cracked, and from within emerged dozens of pale, small spiders. Their tiny fangs were bared, their bodies twitched like young children waiting for a long-awaited feast.
"Go and get your fill, my children!!!" The Mother screeched, her arms high like an executioner's.
The spiderlings rushed forward like a tide, thousands of them.
But the shield wall had prepared for this. Every spider that came in contact was smashed like minced meat, reduced to messy blue jelly upon impact.
It was the same for each one after.
Then came more and more. It seemed endless, and soon they would overwhelm even the strongest shield wall.
Lyssandra was sweating profusely, her breathing came out in harsh, labored puffs. She could see that they were being pushed back, but her will was still strong. They weren't going down that easily.
With a shout that tore through the air like a siren call, Lyssandra roared at her followers.
"Use it! Everyone, crouch!"
The goblin army obeyed. In a perfect, synchronized move, almost all of those goblins, even those at the front, ducked down until their faces were almost touching the ground.
A hush fell over the battle, and in that silence, the hidden units emerged from the shadows.
Five swift goblins came forward, moving like ghosts. Each carried a massive weapon.
These weren't the usual crossbows that needed to be reloaded again and again. These were repeating crossbows.
Each was massive, as tall as a goblin, and only manageable if crouched low and carried with both hands. They hummed with an eerie energy as their triggers were pulled in unison.
"Fire!" Lyssandra commanded.
The battle's turn came in a rain of death.
As a single pulse from the crossbow, dozens of magic bolts left at once.
With every burst, hundreds of tiny spiderlings were impaled or splattered into goo on the ground. One bolt could kill few dozen spiderlings at once. With each round fired, the numbers of the enemy plummeted rapidly.
The field was nothing but a swamp of smashed spider flesh and scattered legs.
The spider army had been decimated, their bodies piled like the remnants of a bloody war. The Mother, now wrapped in her own web, used the cocoon as a shield. Each bolt passed through, leaving a trail of big wounds, but her massive size prevented them from hitting the heart.
With a growl, she tore through her web cocoon, her face contorted in shock, her eyes wide and full of despair. She stood tall, yet there was a tremor in her voice as she said,
"No… my children! You've killed them all!"
Her claws dug into her own flesh as tears poured down her pale, bloodstained face.
"Surrender," Lyssandra said, cold and unwavering. Her voice held no emotion, no mercy, only the promise of finality. "Or I will finish what they started."
The Mother's body shook, her hands trembling as if she were trying to keep her rage at bay.
Time stretched as she stood there, her mind racing to find an escape, an option. But none came. Her spider-haunted world was ending, and the only answer lay at her own feet.
In a moment of sheer desperation, a voice rose. "Archers! Ready your weapons!" Lyssandra commanded, her words a sharp signal of impending end.
The Mother hesitated, the weight of her choices bearing down on her like the world itself. Her lip trembled as she bit it hard enough to draw blood, her face twisted in pain.
Then came the words, words she had never expected to utter. "I yield. Please… don't kill me."
She knelt, her spider-like legs wobbling from the strain of the unnatural movement.
"Enough!" Lyssandra barked, her tone a sharp command. The archers obeyed, lowering their weapons as if releasing a long-held breath.
"Casualty?" she asked.
"None" a hobgoblin answered.
"Good".
[Congratulations. You have leveled up!]
[Congratulations. You have leveled up!]
Ignoring the system notifications, Lyssandra approached The Mother, her expression unreadable as she held the collar she had summoned. A smooth, dark stone-like collar with an enchanted chain dangled from it. It was not made of ordinary material, but a special kind.
"I didn't think I had this one," Lyssandra said as she pulled the chain tight. "But here it is… For a very, very expensive reason."
The Mother gasped as the collar snapped around her neck, and her world went silent with the finality of defeat.
On the way back, Lyssandra's eyes caught sight of Luna—still in her slime form, wobbling behind her.
Luna floated close, her soft slime body shimmering with the remnants of a strange, unsettling energy. "Finally, it's over," she sighed, her tiny voice almost a whisper.
She hesitated before asking, "You're all right?"
Lyssandra exhaled, the tension in her shoulders loosening as she straightened. Then she paused, her fingers trailing over the heavy, swollen belly she had not yet examined closely.
The scent of the spiders was still fresh on her skin, The Mother's eggs buried deep inside her.
Her mind filled with images of the battle—her enemies, the pain, the pleasure, and then… the favor. But it was a favor only The Mother had understood.
"You can say that," she answered, a dry smirk pulling at her lips. Her attention drifted over her shoulder to the army behind her. They moved as a single entity, not yet allowing themselves to believe that their leader had returned victorious.
Some of the goblins cast her furtive, longing glances, their eyes flicking toward her chest, her hips, that massive erection sticking out just enough to be visible between the folds of her tight bodysuit.
It was an erection that pulsed, aching with something deeper than hunger.
They had all watched her fight naked, with no shame.
They had all seen the way the glow of battle made her look, the way she had bled and still fought, and the way the spiders had left her with something new inside her—a weight that pulsed gently inside her womb.
The goblin females paused mid-conversation, their eyes wide with shock as Lyssandra stepped into the hut, their cheers quickly transforming into murmurs.
Before she could even reach the center of the group, they were around her, eager for any hint, any trace that might explain why her stomach was so bloated, so obviously full, perhaps pregnant with something far worse than an infant.
She shifted, feeling the subtle, relentless pressure in her belly.
"Why is your stomach so big?" one goblin finally asked, her voice thick with awe.
The questions were louder now, more insistent.
Why? How? Was it intentional?
Lyssandra gave a dry chuckle, though her body had a different reaction, her nipples stiffening from the attention, her crotch tensing as she sensed their interest in the new weight, the new fullness, the possibility of more.
"It wasn't in the plan, i will tell you all later" she replied, shaking her head.
Lyssandra sat on the bone throne, the cold surface digging into her skin as she processed the information flooding into her mind.
Levels climbed, but they weren't the only things she had earned. Skills, fragments of knowledge, and memories that felt like they weren't hers.
Modern military tactics, advanced agriculture, administrative management—each thought, each lesson, each bit of information pressed against the edges of her consciousness.
She closed her eyes, letting the new data sink in. It was too much, too fast. She needed time to digest.
Then something pressed against her arm.
She opened her eyes. Luna was there, now in her humanoid form, her body shimmering with soft light as she stood before her.
Luna's eyes, calm and expectant, held her gaze.
"About the previous question," Luna said.
Lyssandra's brow furrowed, though the faint curl of her lips betrayed the act. "What question?"
Luna exhaled softly, her patience unshaken. "You know the one. The question of my purpose."
Lyssandra tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. "And you're telling me you've finally found the answer?"
"I have."