Arachne didn’t wait. She blurred again, closing the distance instantly, but this ti she didn’t commit to a single, powerful strike. Instead, she flowed around him, a whirlwind of dark limbs and flashing chitin.
Her two primary arms feinted high while her smaller, shoulder-mounted limbs stabbed low, aiming for his legs and joints.
The speed was dizzying.
Fin reacted purely on instinct, his staff becoming an extension of his will. He blocked, parried, twisted, barely keeping the razor-sharp points from finding purchase. Sparks flew as chitin scraped against the tal staff.
Each block sent jarring force up his arms, but he held his ground, his feet planted, his focus absolute.
"Faster than you thought, human?" Her voice was a low hiss, seeming to co from multiple directions at once as she circled him. "Your clumsy stick can’t keep up."
He didn’t reply, conserving breath, tracking her movents.
She was right. Her speed was phenonal, her attacks unpredictable, coming from four limbs simultaneously. He was purely defending, unable to mount any offense.
She saw an opening as he recovered from blocking a low thrust. One of her upper limbs lashed out like a whip, the hardened tip slicing across his ribs.
He gasped, stumbling back a step. Pain flared along his side, hot and sharp. He felt warmth spread beneath his shirt – blood.
Before he could fully recover, she was on him again. A kick swept his feet out from under him. He crashed down onto his back, the impact driving the air from his lungs.
She landed lightly nearby, her six eyes narrowed. "Stay down. Make this easier."
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, spitting blood. The world swam slightly. "Not... done yet," he rasped, gripping his staff and using it to lever himself upright again. Every muscle scread, his ribs throbbed, but the core inside him pulsed steadily, dulling the worst of the pain, knitting torn flesh.
She watched him rise, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. This human’s durability was becoming irritating. She needed to incapacitate him, not kill him, and breaking bones seed insufficient. Perhaps another dose of toxin? A stronger one.
She lunged again, faster this ti. He t her halfway, staff thrusting forward, trying to keep her at bay. She slapped the staff aside with one arm, while another darted forward, aiming not to strike but to inject. A needle-sharp spine extended from the knuckle of one of her smaller limbs, coated in a faint, oily sheen.
Fin saw the glint of the spine too late. He twisted, trying to avoid the attack, but the tip grazed his forearm, piercing the fabric of his sleeve and scraping the skin beneath.
A familiar coldness spread instantly from the scratch, far more potent than the dart’s poison had been. It wasn’t just numbness this ti; it felt like liquid nitrogen pouring into his veins, slowing his thoughts, making his muscles heavy and unresponsive. His vision blurred at the edges.
His silver core flared brighter within him, fighting the invasive toxin. He felt an internal struggle – warmth pushing back against the paralyzing cold. The core was working overti, straining against the stronger poison, but it was holding. Just.
He staggered, dropping to one knee, his left arm spasming uncontrollably.
Arachne stopped her assault, observing the effect. "There. That should slow you down." Her voice held a note of satisfaction. "Now, cease resisting."
He looked up, his vision clearing slightly as the core gained ground against the poison. He saw her standing over him, cautious but confident. The rage from before was gone, replaced by a cold determination. He needed contact. One touch.
"Never," he gritted out.
He surged upward from his knee, not attacking, but lunging forward into her space, his poisoned left arm flailing, his right hand grasping desperately for any part of her.
Arachne reacted instantly, her eyes widening in alarm. She leaped backward, dodging his clumsy grab with contemptuous ease. But in her haste to avoid his touch, she misjudged the angle.
His flailing left hand, numb and barely under his control, brushed against the tip of one of her trailing spider-legs.
It wasn’t a solid grip, barely a glancing contact.
Yet, Fin felt it ignite.
A connection snapped into place, sharp and imdiate. Not the demanding, hungry pull that required constant focus and physical contact like before. This was different. It was like flipping a switch. The link was established, locked in place, even as Arachne leaped clear.
He rembered the berserker zombie, the spider matriarch and all the monsters he fought – how he needed to maintain his grip to keep the power flowing. He rembered the frustration when contact was broken.
But this... this felt persistent.
He looked down at his right arm, the one free from the numbing poison. Faint, intricate lines, like glowing silver circuits, began to trace pathways beneath his skin, pulsing softly. They started at his fingertips and wound their way up his forearm, a visible manifestation of the invisible siphon he’d just established.
Arachne landed gracefully several yards away, her six eyes narrowed, ready to press her advantage now that he was poisoned and kneeling. She took a step forward, preparing another assault, but then she faltered.
A frown creased her brow. She glanced down at herself, then back at Fin, confusion flickering across her sharp features. She felt... weaker. A subtle but undeniable drain on her energy, pulling away from her core reserves.
But how? He wasn’t touching her. He knelt yards away, poisoned, struggling.
"What did you do?" she demanded, her voice losing so of its earlier contempt, replaced by a wary edge.
Fin pushed himself slowly to his feet, the silver core still working against the lingering effects of the poison, the warmth battling the cold. He flexed his right hand, feeling the thrum of absorbed energy already trickling in, feeding his own reserves, counteracting the toxin’s drain.
He looked at the silver lines on his arm, then at Arachne’s confused and slightly alard expression. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
It wasn’t just the relief of surviving the poison, or the grim satisfaction of turning the tables. It was the intoxicating thrill of this new, evolved power.
One touch. That’s all it took now. The connection was made, permanent until broken by sothing stronger than re distance.
"This," he said, his voice raspy but filled with a dark exhilaration he barely suppressed, "is new." He loved it. More than he probably should.
Arachne didn’t understand, but she knew sothing was fundantally wrong. The feeling of power loss intensified, a steady, unwanted outflow. Panic began to bubble beneath her fury.
"Stop it!" she hissed, abandoning caution. She blurred forward again, not with the calculated precision of before, but with frantic speed.
Even weakened, she was still faster, stronger. Her primary arms lashed out, aiming to disable or kill, the earlier orders to capture forgotten in her rising fear. Fin barely managed to get his staff up, deflecting a strike that numbed his arm despite the block.
Another blow, a kick this ti, caught him on the already bruised ribs. He gasped, staggering back, the silver lines on his arm flaring brighter for a mont.
He was still being physically overwheld. The drain wasn’t instantaneous, and her raw power still dwarfed his own augnted strength. But every second the connection held, she grew weaker, and he grew stronger, the absorbed energy fueling his body, accelerating the poison neutralization.
"Whatever trick this is, human, cease it now!" She snarled, pressing her attack relentlessly. She landed another glancing blow, cutting his cheek. He parried a thrust from one of her smaller limbs, the impact jarring him.
He could feel her power flowing into him, tainted with her venomous nature and cold fury, but his core processed it, adding it to his own. The exhilaration was intense, addictive.
Arachne lunged, trying to grapple him, perhaps believing physical contact was still required on his part. He twisted away, using her own montum against her, but she recovered instantly, spinning low with a sweep kick.
He jumped it, but clumsily. She followed through, slamming a hard elbow into his chest that sent him stumbling backward again.
"How are you doing this?!" she shrieked, her movents losing a fraction of their blinding speed. The drain was becoming noticeable, affecting her stamina, her force.
Fin spat blood, a feral grin still touching his lips despite the beating he was taking. "Just borrowing a little energy. You looked like you had plenty to spare."
Enraged, she launched one final, powerful kick. It connected squarely with his chest, sending him flying backward once more, crashing hard onto the ground several yards away.
He lay there, groaning, the world spinning slightly. The kick had been solid, painful, but significantly less powerful than her first one.
Arachne stood panting, her extra limbs twitching slightly. Her pale skin seed even paler, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She took a step toward him, intending to finish it, but her leg wobbled precariously.
She nearly fell, catching herself at the last second. The steady drain continued, relentless, unstoppable.
She looked at Fin, lying prone but clearly still connected to her power, her six eyes wide with a mixture of fury, confusion, and sothing akin to desperation.
"Please..." she whispered, the sound barely audible, stripped of all its earlier nace. "Stop."
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